Chapter 6 #2
Gram caught Jesse’s arm. “Make sure they are okay before you leave them.”
“I will.” He hurried to help Emily to the seat, stowed their things, and climbed up beside her. He sat motionless, unable to bring himself to flick the reins. If she spoke one word of doubt, he would leave them both with Gram and go explain to the Newmans there’d been a change of plans.
She glanced in his direction, then away again, and said nothing. Her wishes were plain to see.
“Giddyap.” The wheels turned slowly at first. He could halt the wagon in an instant. But no one uttered a word. He glanced at Mikey. The boy’s bottom lip trembled. Jesse looked at Emily. She stared straight ahead, her jaw set hard, her hands clenched so tight her knuckles were white marbles.
The town fell behind them, and the open road lay ahead. It would take several hours to reach the place George had described. How would he endure watching Mikey and Emily in such misery for the length of the trip?
“I wonder if there’s a little boy who would like to help drive the wagon?” he asked.
Mikey jerked toward him, his eyes wide with surprise. “Me?”
“Yup. You’re the best boy for the job.” Jesse pulled Mikey to his knees and cupped the little hands in one of his.
Mikey took his task very seriously and spoke orders to the horses. Of course, neither the adults nor the horses understood a word.
Jesse shifted closer to Emily. “If you’re not happy with the situation, you can change your mind.”
“I know. But I wouldn’t leave Mikey on his own until he’s settled.”
He’d meant Mikey as well as Emily, but he didn’t say that. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the beauty of the drive because you’re worried.”
“Who says I’m worried?”
He wrapped his arm around her stiff shoulders. “You are so tense I could rest a board across here, and the muscles in your cheeks are twitching.”
She relaxed her shoulders and gave a smile that was almost a grimace. “All gone. See.”
He chuckled. “Good. Now look around you. See the mountain peaks. Some people like them best with snowcaps. I like them this time of year, all blue and moody.”
She looked at him. “Why Jesse Hill. I think you might be a poet.”
Thankfully, his dark skin would hide his blush.
She touched his cheeks. “Too much sun?” Her innocent tone did not fool him.
His skin had given away his embarrassment.
She smiled and shifted her attention to the mountains.
“‘As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the LORD is round about his people from henceforth even forever.’” She slowly faced him.
“The Lord is with us. He will guide and protect.”
He nodded. He knew it and wanted her to find comfort in the words, but sometimes, it was hard to let the Lord run things when they seemed to be going in a direction he didn’t care for.
She continued. “I have been praying to regain my memory, and this journey is the only thing I have that provides direction.”
What could he say? He wanted her to get her memory back. Wanted her to learn her past and who she was. The trouble was, even in such a short time, he’d grown to like who she was in the present. He knew she might forget him when her memory returned.
He should be used to being forgotten after all the times his mother seemed to have done so. And then Agnes. And the other girls he’d not allowed himself to grow fond of. Which, he freely admitted, might explain why they’d so readily moved on to other beaus.
They stopped at a little stream for the picnic Gram had prepared.
He spread a gray woolen blanket for them to sit on, though Mikey wasn’t interested in sitting.
He ran. He paused to turn over rocks and study the beetles scurrying away.
He ran some more, skidding to a halt to look at the leaves overhead.
He saw a crow’s nest. A raucous cawing protested the intrusion, and Mikey jumped up and down in glee.
Jesse and Emily sat on the blanket, laughing at Mikey’s antics.
The boy turned to them and said, “Bird.” His face worked. “Gram, bird.” With a cry, he threw himself into Emily’s arms.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she soothed the child. “Gram’s bird will be singing a little song right about now. Do you know what he’s singing?”
Mikey stopped crying. He puckered his lips as if to whistle, but the sounds he made came from his throat. Yet they were surprisingly like Dickie’s birdsong.
Both Jesse and Emily burst out laughing.
Emily hugged Mikey. “That’s exactly right.”
Jesse turned his attention to opening the picnic basket and putting out the food, not wanting them to see how he struggled to control his emotions. He was reluctant to let Mikey and Emily go to strangers even though he and Gram were also strangers to them.
“Gram outdid herself. There’s fried chicken, buns, baby carrots, and peas in their pods.
” He continued to bring out items. “Savory little biscuits.” Little biscuits made with spicy sausage meat.
She normally made them only at Christmas.
He blinked furiously at the sign of her concern for this unfortunate pair.
Perhaps she was lonely for more family than Jesse.
“I eat,” Mikey said and plunked down on the blanket.
“As soon as I say grace.” Jesse bowed his head but couldn’t make his words come.
“Jesse?” Emily whispered when he didn’t say anything. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” He took her hand and reached for Mikey’s.
He wished they could stay like this forever.
It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to admit how much he wanted to be seen as worthy of a woman’s affection.
However, his mother’s occupation had marked him.
He was a man with no known father. The lack left part of him missing.
All the more reason for him to do his best to help Emily regain her memory.
“Father God,” he prayed. “Thank You for the beauty of the world, for the joy of friends, the enthusiasm of children, and food to sustain us. Grant us a safe journey and provide Emily with the information she needs. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Emily smiled. “That was lovely. Like a blessing.”
“I wish nothing less than for your life to be blessed in every way.” Mikey practically drooled in anticipation, and Jesse handed him a piece of chicken.
They enjoyed the picnic, finishing up with a selection of cookies.
“Gram wanted to be sure we didn’t go hungry,” Emily said as she packed away the leftovers.
Mikey had taken to running again. Not going anywhere. Just running.
“Let him enjoy himself,” Jesse said, in no hurry to leave this spot. “He must get tired sitting in the wagon. Perhaps you’d like to move around, too, before we resume our trip.”
“Good idea.”
He scrambled to his feet and held his hand out to help her, keeping hold of it once she was on her feet. Mikey headed toward a pile of rocks a few yards from where they’d eaten, and they followed him. He climbed on the rocks and waved his arms.
Jesse saw a patch of blue flowers hiding in the grass and guided Emily toward them.
“Bluebells. I love them.” She knelt and lifted each shy head. She sat back on her heels, a look of peace upon her face.
He squatted beside her, wanting to share the moment.
She turned to him, her eyes a luminous blue as if they’d captured the color of the sky and the flowers. “What a good reminder. God tends each little flower. How much more will He take care of me?”
For the first time, he realized how uncertain she was about this trip and what she would discover.
He cupped her chin with his hand and quoted a verse from the passage where Jesus had taught about the flowers of the field.
“‘Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.’” He meant it to encourage her, but it was an equally good reminder to him.
He plucked one stem of the bluebells and handed it to her, knowing he would never again see the delicate flower without remembering this moment.
If only he had time to get to know her better.
Normally, he guarded his heart from such emotions, but her state of mind had brought out a protectiveness in him that was reluctant to let go.
They got to their feet and faced each other.
A cloud drifted over the sun, and a cool breeze teased their skin.
She shivered, and her eyes darkened.
“Are you cold?” He’d welcomed the breeze to relieve the heat.
“Cold? No.” Her gaze went past him, darted from place to place. Tension caught at the corners of her mouth. She made nervous motions with her fingers as if chasing something away.
He wanted to hold her, still her frantic movements, but she seemed unaware of him, and he feared to startle her, perhaps sending her into a panic.
“There’s a storm coming. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t be here. I can’t stay.” Her eyes were glazed as she stared into the clouded sky.
He was almost certain she relived something from her past, and he could no longer stand back and leave her struggling alone. He caught her by the shoulders, cautiously gauging her reaction. “Emily, it’s okay.”
He knew from the way she shivered that it wasn’t. Had she regained her memory? If so, would she remember where she was and who he was? But, more importantly, at the moment, was her memory troublesome?
Emily clung shamelessly to Jesse as the fear ebbed. It was something from her past, but what? And why did the approaching storm frighten her? Why did she feel she had to run away? Why had regret and distress darkened her thoughts? What had she done that was so wrong?
“You’re okay. You’re safe. I would never let anything harm you.” His words quenched the nameless uncertainty, filling her with assurance.
“I’m fine now.” Not quite fine enough to stand on her own two feet, though.
He leaned back to look into her face. “Do you remember who I am?”
She smiled. “Of course. You’re my rescuer, Sheriff Jesse Hill.”