18
JESSE
FREE FALLING
It’s late when we arrive back at the ranch. Mitch has fallen asleep on the couch in the den with his hands crossed over his belly and his mouth open. I touch him gently on the shoulder, not wanting to give the man a heart attack by waking him too quickly. “Mitch, we’re home.”
He awakens with a long inhale of breath and blinks his tired eyes.
“Did you find Molly?”
“Yeah. She’s upstairs getting settled in with Taylor.”
“That’s good. Me and Barb were so worried.” He sits up straighter and looks to the corner of the room, his expression pensive. “There shouldn’t be any bad feelings between us,” he says tightly. “I can’t tell you I understand what you’re doing here. I can’t tell you that I respect it, either. But you’re like a son to me, and so are those other boys. And Taylor and her sister… well, they need good people around them.”
“They do.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling the weight of two worlds on my shoulders. My past and future are warring, and the people I love face a quandary. It doesn’t feel good.
“Barb told me she thinks Beth was wrong in how she dealt with things. She likes Taylor. She doesn’t want her to think we’re judging her, but this lifestyle doesn’t fit our beliefs.”
“I love her,” I tell Mitch softly. “We all do. And we’ll look after her for as long as we have life in our bones. It might not be a marriage that God can sanctify, but it’ll be a relationship built on affection, respect, and love. I hope you’ll be able to accept that.”
Mitch nods, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Your sister’s going to be a tougher nut to crack.”
“I hope she’ll come around.” That’s all I can think of to say. No one ever got Beth to do a thing she didn’t want to do.
Mitch shifts forward, pressing his palms to the cushions. “Well, I’d better be getting home. Barb doesn’t sleep when I’m not there. She’ll be worrying about Taylor.”
“Thanks for coming tonight and for… you know.”
He struggles to his feet and claps a hand on my upper arm. “The modern world is more and more of a mystery every day, but that’s always been the way for every aging generation.”
I walk him out, waving goodbye and closing and locking the door as he drives into the night. His relationship with Barb is what I want with Taylor; committed to facing all good and bad that life blends into a cocktail together with one heart.
I rest my hand on the cool wood and think again about my own words. It’ll be a relationship built on affection, respect, and love.
Suddenly, my actions feel clearly at odds.
I head upstairs, pausing outside Taylor’s closed door, listening to the hushed whispers between the sisters.
Clint sits on his bed with a glass of water clutched in one hand. Dressed in his sleep shorts and covered with long-faded tattoos, he still cuts an impressive and daunting figure. Maverick appears in the adjacent doorway. His usually cheerful expression has been replaced by fatigue and concern. He nods towards Clint’s room, and I follow him inside. He closes the door behind us.
Clint stands, glancing between us with concern lining his face. “What?”
“We need to give Taylor the option to annul the marriage,” Maverick says.
“What?”
Clint’s shock mirrors my own.
“I know we want her, but this is all wrong.” When Maverick shakes his head, his unease is stark.
I lean against the wall, feeling like he kicked me in the gut.
“She needs us,” Clint says. “Now more than ever.”
“That isn’t what I’m talking about, though. I’m not saying we should put Taylor and Molly out onto the street. There’s no way I’m letting those two girls out of my sight after what they’ve been through. But Taylor didn’t choose this. She didn’t choose to enter the auction. She didn’t choose Clint as her husband. She certainly didn’t choose the four-way relationship we’ve encouraged her into.”
I sigh, knowing what he’s saying is true but not wanting it to be. Taylor’s happy with us, isn’t she? She won’t want to break apart what we’ve been building.
“Won’t this shake her foundations? She needs us to be strong for her. She needs stability.” Clint grips his hand over his mouth and chin, eyes lowered somberly.
“And we can offer her all of that as friends. But we can’t just keep going as we are.” Maverick shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and widens his stance as though he needs more stability to face up to this hard truth. “I don’t want to be with a woman who’s only with me because of dire circumstances. I need her to have a choice about what she’s doing with her life.”
“And what if she says she wants out,” I say. “Could you accept that?”
“It would hurt,” Maverick admits. “Of course it would. I don’t want to lose her. But maybe we never had her—not truly in a way that counts.”
I don’t want to lose Taylor. I want to hear her sing while she bakes and laugh at Maverick’s stupid jokes. I want her to understand Clint’s reserved nature and see past my ornery exterior. I want her to know us, like us, respect us, and love us. I want what I planned for us all.
But Maverick’s right. I can’t control everything. Taylor has to choose us, or this will never work. She’ll just be looking for ways to get out, and I couldn’t deal with her leaving, not after we become even more invested. At least, like this, we’re doing the right thing.
“Who’ll talk to her?” I ask.
Maverick puts his hands up, palms forward. “I can, but I think you should.”
Clint nods in agreement.
“Even though she’s your wife?” I ask.
“She’s my wife, but this was your idea. This is your ranch. It has to be you.”
“You trust me not to mess this up?”
They both nod.
“Okay. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
For the first time since Taylor arrived, she doesn’t wake up to make breakfast. I understand why. She’s emotionally wrung out and exhausted. Instead, we do what we did before she made this house a home: fix ourselves toast, and glug down extra-large mugs of coffee to keep us awake.
When we return at lunchtime, Taylor and Molly are in the kitchen. Taylor’s fixing a meal that scents the air richly, and Molly is currently decorating cupcakes which smell like sweet apples and cinnamon. She has her wispy blonde hair tucked behind her ears and is biting her bottom lip in concentration. Everything about her is so childlike, even though she’s only a few years younger than Taylor.
“Hey,” I say.
Molly’s eyes widen at the sight of me as I remove my hat and leave my boots by the front door. Has Taylor told her about our relationship? Would she be mad about her sister being involved with us or relieved to have a safe roof over her head? Maybe she’s as fearful of us as she was of her father. The thought moves through me like a poisonous cloud. Clint and Maverick do the same, moving with more care and less noise than usual. It’s like we’re all treading on eggshells.
“Lunch will be ready in twenty minutes. I’ve already boxed up sandwiches, fruit, and cake to take to the workers.” Taylor points to a box at the end of the counter.
“Great. Thanks.”
The cupcakes on the table look so pretty with their sweet frosting and sprinkling of chopped nuts. The truth is that Taylor’s idea of running her own business isn’t a pipe dream. She has the talent, and she has the ideas. She just hasn’t had the opportunity.
Maybe it’s something I can rectify. I stroll to my office, and call Barb, hoping that Mitch will have talked to her. She answers the phone with her usual cheerfulness, and another weight drops from my shoulders. Like Mitch, she’s found a way to put her problems with our relationship aside.
“I need your help with something,” I say.
“Tell me.”
So I do. I outline what I need: someone to help research the permits Taylor will need to supply baked goods, information about what an independent bakery business will need in the short and long term in terms of equipment, and places she can advertise. Barb used to have her own cafe in town but retired around ten years ago. Things will have changed since then, but she’ll know where to look and have some useful contacts.
“That all sounds straightforward,” she says brusquely. “Leave it with me. And Jesse, can I be the first to place an order. I’m hosting a charity fundraiser next week. The idea of baking for days when my knee is bad is unappealing. Could I jot down a list of items for Taylor to make for me? Of course, I’ll pay her a fair price.”
“Taylor will be happy,” I say, already imagining her face when I tell her.
I ask after Mitch, and then we say our goodbyes, and I head back into the kitchen.
Clint and Maverick are watching Molly finish the cupcakes. Taylor’s plating up what looks like lasagna and salad. I peer over her shoulder, breathing in the rich meaty, garlicky scent. “That looks absolutely delicious,” I say. I want to kiss her cheek, and breathe in her sweet rose scent, but I hold back. Until I’ve had the important conversation, I won’t touch her again.
I take two plates and place them in front of Clint and Maverick. Molly stands with the tray of cakes, walking slowly and carefully to where Taylor has a rack set up. “What do you think?” she asks her sister.
“I think they’re amazing, and if I ever get my own bakery business off the ground, you’ll be my first employee.”
The young girl blushes with pride.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s eat.”
As anticipated, the food is mouthwatering. Taylor watches us all with a secret smile playing on her lips.
“We’re going to need to get Molly registered with a school,” I say.
Taylor’s eyes widen. “I guess.”
“Would you prefer to go to the local school or home school?” I ask Molly.
Before she has a chance to reply, Taylor steps in. “I think the local school would be better. She’ll need to make friends?” She voices the last part as a question.
“She will,” I confirm. “I know you’re both away from what you know, and it’s important for you to put down roots.”
Taylor nods and focuses on her plate. She lets out a long breath through pursed lips like my words are a source of relief. She may have been worried that we’d be unhappy about Molly’s arrival. She couldn’t be more wrong.
When lunch is finished, I tell Maverick and Clint that I’ll meet them in a half hour. With our three workers, my presence isn’t so desperately required.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask Taylor. “In my office.”
It sounds ridiculously formal, but there’s no way around it. What I have to say isn’t for Molly’s ears.
“Sure. Molly, can you finish the clearing up?”
Without argument, Molly starts scraping the plates into the trash and Taylor follows me into the hallway. Once we’re inside my office, I close the door. Taylor waits expectantly, her posture tight and her gaze fixed on the floor.
I sit and urge her to do the same. As soon as her butt hits the chair, she starts. “I know you didn’t sign up for a child, Jesse. If it’s too much for Molly to stay here, we’ll move out. I’ll just need some time to get set up.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask. “You want to leave?”
My heart already feels lacerated, watching as uncertainty clouds her expression.
“I want whatever you want,” she says.
Sweet, sweet girl. She’s too used to putting her feelings aside for others, but I won’t let her anymore, even if her choices contradict what I want. “No, Taylor. That’s not going to cut it. Tell me what you want. If it’s to move out with your sister, be honest. If it’s to stay here but without a relationship with one or all of us, just tell me. Whatever it is, it’ll be fine.”
“Don’t you want me anymore?”
The pain in her question tears my heart even deeper. “Of course I want you. And Maverick and Clint feel the same. It’ll kill us if you decide you want to walk away. But we’d understand, Taylor. That day at the auction, I thought it was what you wanted. Marriage. A family. Maybe not with three men, but with one, at least. I hoped you’d come to feel something for all of us in time. But now we’ve discovered that it was for your dad’s benefit… we just want to make sure you’re with us because you want to be.”
“I do,” she says quickly. She reaches across the space between us, taking hold of both of my big, rough hands in her small, dainty palms. She laces our fingers and gazes up at me. “I never believed I’d find men like y’all. Men who’d fight for me. Who’d take on my problems and share them? Who’d make me feel worth something? But—” Her eyes drift to the window. “I’m not ready to be a momma, Jesse. I don’t want that. Not yet. And I’m scared you won’t want me if I can’t give you what you need.”
I bring her hands to my lips, kissing her palms softly. “I understand, sweet girl. I do. I want you to have your dreams. We’ll do everything we can to make Taylor-Made Bakes a reality. And one day, when you’re ready, I know my dreams will come true, too, as long as you stay with us.”
When I look into her eyes, tears are already welling. “I want that,” she says, “but what about your sister? I’m not going to be responsible for breaking your family apart.”
“I’ll work on my sister,” I say. “It might take some time, but she’ll see what we have is real, and everything will be fine.”
As I pull Taylor into my arms and kiss her deeply, relief steals the breath from my lungs.
But although I’ve tried to reassure Taylor about Beth, a part of me doubts that she’ll ever come around. And if she doesn’t forgive me for this relationship, will Taylor ever truly feel like her rightful place is with us?