Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
H er heart hurt too much to shed a single tear. In fact, she hadn’t cried once during the long, sleepless night.
Now at dawn, as she knelt in front of the tent door and began to lift the flap, she hesitated.
She didn’t want to see Jackson or talk to him this morning. All she wanted to do was search for Augusta, find her, and then ride back to Victoria together in the comfort of each other’s presence.
That’s why she’d come on this journey in the first place, so that she could locate Augusta, rescue her, and continue being her lady’s maid. She hadn’t come to draw closer to Jackson and practically throw herself at him and make declarations of love.
With a low groan, she buried her face in her hands, feeling the mortification once again, just as she had last night after she’d spoken the words. Oh why had she done it? Why had she told him how she felt?
She’d been foolish, too forthright, too na?ve.
Apparently over the past days of traveling with Jackson, she’d lulled herself into believing he cared about her just as much as she did him. She’d felt his attraction, she’d basked under his attention, and she’d even felt a deep connection with him unlike any she’d had with past men.
But she’d obviously been wrong about him, just like she’d been wrong about David. Why had she been so mistaken? She’d spent the night making mental lists of all the possibilities, of all her flaws, of all the explanations why neither man had been right for her.
She’d come up with every plausible reason to add to each list. She would hang on to them tightly and remind herself of those lists every time she started to think about having more with Jackson and every time she contemplated changing her mind about becoming a spinster.
She’d been right about the need to remain single. That was the better path for her after all. She’d just allowed her head to get turned, to think more highly of herself than she ought, and to let hope for a future take up residence inside her.
She’d risked everything on loving Jackson, and she’d lost him anyway.
“I learned my lesson,” she whispered. “I learned it well.”
Even as the words settled over her, so did the pain—a pain so deep her heart felt as though it had been wrenched from her chest, which wasn’t possible since it had already been ripped out the moment Jackson had left her alone in the tent last night.
The pain pulsed through her veins and to her limbs, and for a moment she couldn’t move or breathe with the force of it.
It was worse than what she’d felt when David had left her. Then she’d cried and silently railed against him, mainly because she’d been feeling sorry for herself and all that she’d lost. And because she’d been embarrassed about having to tell everyone about her cancelled engagement and David finding someone else.
In the end, she hadn’t really missed David. She’d missed the idea of the perfect life she’d planned for herself.
This time, she hadn’t planned to have a happy life, she hadn’t planned on falling in love, and she hadn’t planned to even tell Jackson her feelings last night. But somehow it had all happened anyway.
She supposed it had slipped out because she’d sensed he was hurting and needed someone by his side as he faced his past. She’d wanted to be that person for him, had wanted him to know she cared.
But she’d said too much. She could have assured him she cared but then stopped there.
With a sigh, she lifted the tent flap. Even though his rejection hurt terribly, it was better that it had happened now before she allowed herself to care about him even more.
As she ducked outside into the early morning, the fire was low and smoky with the heavy scent of fried fish in the air. The sun hadn’t yet risen over the eastern edge of the river valley, but the sky was light and cloudless, promising a beautiful autumn day ahead.
Pastor Abe was sitting on a log beside the fire, a plate balanced on his lap and a mug of coffee steaming in one hand.
At the sight of her, he offered a guarded smile, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that Jackson had spent the night outside of the tent instead of inside with her. “Good morning, Mrs. Lennox. I hope you slept well.”
Mrs. Lennox. Should she correct him and tell him the truth about her fake marriage with Jackson? She tried to smile back and prayed it didn’t look like a grimace. “Good morning.”
She glanced around for Jackson, hating that she wanted to see him even though she’d resolved to put him out of her mind. Thankfully, he wasn’t present, which gave her a few more moments to compose herself before interacting with him today.
From the barrenness of the campsite, the others in their party had already packed up and left, as had most of the other groups. Only a few men remained, and they were in the process of folding up their items and strapping them to their horses.
Soon, she and Jackson would be left alone. Yesterday she would have been thrilled at the prospect of countless hours with him—talking, hiking, and continuing to put their minds together to find Augusta. But today…she dreaded having to pretend she wasn’t hurting when every part of her body ached.
“He’s over there.” Pastor Abe nodded upriver in the direction of the bridge debris.
She followed his gaze to find Jackson attired in his suit and hat and looking as gentlemanly and handsome as always even though he’d slept in his clothes and still hadn’t shaved. He was standing in a rocky section of the riverbank in front of a heap of stone and wood. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, and his shoulders were slumped.
The ache in her heart radiated for him and all that he must be feeling this morning as he viewed the site of the accident after months away. Even though she hadn’t known him long, she knew him well enough to realize he was torturing himself this morning with the memories and with all he could have done differently.
“Would you like some breakfast?” Pastor Abe set aside his plate and reached for the pan that was resting on a stone beside the fire pit.
“I don’t want to impose?—”
“You’re not imposing.” He began scooping a forkful of fish onto another plate. “I’m more than happy to share.”
The morning air was cold, and a light frost coated the grass. As she took the plate from the reverend and began to eat, she huddled closer to the fire for warmth. He also offered her a mug of coffee, which she drank gratefully.
“I imagine you must be wanting to leave soon,” she said after finishing her last bite.
“I’m not in a great hurry. I told your husband I can wait to leave until the two of you are ready.”
Guilt once again prodded her. She couldn’t lie to this man of God any longer about her relationship with Jackson. She glanced again at Jackson, who had started lifting away boards and stones, as though he was searching for answers to all his problems in the depths of the wreckage.
“Reverend?” she said hesitantly. “Jackson and I aren’t really married.”
The reverend, in the process of taking a swallow of coffee, spluttered.
“We’ve only been pretending so that we don’t cause a scandal.”
The reverend wiped his sleeve across his mouth and lowered his mug. “I admit I’ve been curious about the two of you, but you’re both so in love with each other that I naturally had no reason to believe you weren’t married.”
“So in love?” She couldn’t keep the scoffing from her voice. “Jackson doesn’t love me. That’s the trouble?—”
“That man definitely loves you.” Pastor Abe chuckled lightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “He’s so in love with you, he could hardly keep his eyes off you.”
This was a strange conversation to be having with a holy man, but she was already feeling better at having confessed the lying. “I won’t deny he’s—we’re attracted to each other. But he doesn’t reciprocate the love.”
“He’s not putting on an act. It’s clear he deeply cares about you.” Pastor Abe shifted his gaze to where Jackson was rummaging through the rubbish. “But it’s also clear that he bears some burdens that might be holding him back.”
“He blames the bridge collapse upon himself.” Why was it so easy to share with this pastor? Was it his kind eyes? His gentle demeanor? Or perhaps after facing another rejection, she needed someone to confide in before she went crazy.
“It’s easy to blame ourselves when things go wrong.” Pastor Abe spoke quietly, as if he was remembering a time in his own life when things hadn’t gone so well. “But much of what we face happens simply because we live in a broken world—a world like that bridge, one that’s unsteady, incomplete, and unreliable.”
She could attest to the brokenness. She’d seen it all around her in Manchester where poverty and disease and unemployment were the lot of life. The people born into that life—like her family—weren’t to blame for the conditions.
“Even if he finds a way to repair the bridge,” Pastor Abe continued, “eventually it will wear down and break again. That’s just what happens.”
“That sounds hopeless.”
“We do what we can to fix the brokenness here in this life while we’re alive, but ultimately we can never find complete wholeness here. Our real hope is found in the one place where we’ll have a perfect life—in heaven with God.”
She took a sip of coffee. That made sense. She’d already been learning that she had to stop striving after perfection, that it wasn’t attainable. Maybe this was one more lesson in her journey, to remember that perfection could only happen in the next life, not in this one. And maybe Jackson needed to hear that too.
Pastor Abe nodded at the bridge remains. “Relationships are like bridges too.”
“How so?”
“It takes a lot of work to build a bridge from both sides that eventually allows us to connect with one another.” This reverend was proving not only to be a good listener, but he was also wise beyond his years. She didn’t know his age, but if she had to guess, she would say he was in his mid to late twenties.
The bridge ahead jutted out over the river, the crumbling edges much more visible in the daylight than they had been the previous evening when they’d arrived. Would the bridge ever be able to span the distance and meet in the middle and become complete?
Pastor Abe poured himself another mug of coffee from a pot sitting among the embers. All the while, his expression was contemplative. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that with as much as you both care for each other, don’t give up too soon in trying to build that bridge. You just never know when you might end up connecting.”
Was she giving up too soon? Perhaps. But what could she do if he wasn’t ready for a relationship yet?
She finished draining her coffee and then placed the coffee mug in the grass next to her plate. “Thank you, Reverend. I appreciate not only breakfast but your advice.”
He smiled, his face taking on an almost boyish quality. “Good. Then you won’t take offense when I tell you that until the two of you are officially married, you should refrain from traveling alone. I recommend that you have a chaperone with you at all times.”
She ducked her head, unable to meet his gaze. Everything about their situation was embarrassing, including the reverend’s foregone conclusion that she would eventually marry Jackson. “As soon as we find Jackson’s sister, she’ll be our chaperone.”
“Perhaps you would allow me to accompany you until then?”
She met his gaze to find only kindness and not condemnation. “We don’t know where Augusta’s been taken by her kidnapper. We assumed we’d find her in Hope, and here we are miles north of Hope and we’re still searching.”
He gave a casual shrug. “The offer is available if you need it. I’m heading north to Lytton and from there to Dugan Lake. I can go that far with the two of you, and if you need to go farther, I know many people in the region and will help you find a new chaperone.”
For the first time since leaving Victoria, she released a freeing breath. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Good.” The reverend stood and stretched. “I think it’s time to go build a bridge, or at the very least figure out why it’s broken.”
She didn’t quite know what to say. Was he referring to the Queen’s Bridge or the one that needed repairing between her and Jackson? She was fairly certain both would be difficult to fix, but should she at least try?