Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Emily knew from the surprise on Gram’s face when she relayed Jesse’s message that it was not normal behavior on his part. She regretted throwing doubt on his reasons for being a sheriff. Her only excuse was that thinking of him facing such a risk left her mouth desert dry and her bones weak.
Especially on her behalf.
She didn’t deserve it. He’d rescued her once, but she had no desire to see him shot to protect her...a woman with no past and no future.
She went through all the right motions of helping serve supper, cleaning up and then preparing Mikey for the night.
When she told the boy it was time for bed, he went to the outer door, leaned his head on it, and cried. Muffin whined at his feet, but he ignored the dog.
“Honey, what’s the matter?” Emily knelt beside him and tried to pull him into her arms.
He pushed her away and patted the door.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
Gram watched. “He wants to know where Jesse is. So do I. Did something happen?”
Emily studied the floor for a moment, but she must own up to her actions. “We had a little spat.”
“You and Jesse? About what, if you don’t mind me asking.”
She explained about the three ruffians on the trail and how he’d persuaded them to ride on. “I don’t want him to risk his life for me.”
“Exactly what did you say?”
“I accused him of trying to prove he was a good man.” She hung her head. “I know it was wrong. He is a good man and doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.”
“Come sit.” Gram patted the couch beside her and waited until Emily settled. She took one of Emily’s hands. “You may be more right than you know. You struck close to a wound.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m very sorry for my hasty words.”
“You’ll have to tell him that.”
“I will.” She rolled Gram’s words around in her head. “He told me about his mother and the house of ill repute. Is that what you mean?”
“That’s part of it. He was badly hurt when people learned of her circumstances. They judged him for the way she’d lived her life. It’s made him almost rigid in the way he lives and what he expects of others. To him, life is simply black and white.”
“‘A man is only as good as his word.’ That’s what he said to me.”
“Yes. He does not forgive easily.”
She shivered. “That doesn’t sound promising for my intended apology.”
“You do what you need to do and let him work out his way of dealing with it.”
“You’re saying he might not forgive me? That will make it awkward for me to stay here.” She forced a smile to her wooden lips. “Though I hope by tomorrow, I will know who I am and can get on with my life.” Surely. the doctor could help her recall who she was.
“For your sake, I hope you regain your memory. As to Jesse forgiving you, all I can say is he’s dealt with hurtful things in the past and moved on to become the man he is. A strong, noble man with high ideals.”
Emily wanted to know what hurtful things, but it didn’t feel right to learn his secrets from a source other than him.
She sighed. When had life gotten so complicated?
Long before this. She jolted at the words that came to her. What did her past hold that was complicated?
She smiled. She had Mikey. But he wasn’t hers. What was to become of the poor boy while he waited for his adoptive parents?
The little guy stood with his forehead pressed to the door, his eyes closed.
“He’s going to fall asleep right there,” she whispered.
“Best take him up to bed.”
She scooped the boy into her arms. He made a sound of protest and then nuzzled into her neck. He didn’t even wake as she tucked him into bed.
But she wasn’t any better than Mikey. She didn’t want to go to sleep until Jesse came home, so she returned downstairs, chose a book from the shelf, and sat down to read.
A light glowed from the living room, which wasn’t unusual. Nevertheless, Jesse stopped in front of the house and looked in the window. He moved to the right and then the left in an attempt to see inside the house. Someone sat on the couch. It wasn’t Gram.
He rumbled his lips. He had stayed out all evening, had gone down the road, and followed the tracks of the men who’d stopped them.
Far as he could tell, they’d continued northward.
He hoped that meant they were only passing through and wouldn’t be a bother.
Later, he’d taken supper at Miss Daisy’s Eatery.
Her sister, Miss Dorie, waited on tables.
He spent a considerable amount of time deflecting Miss Dorie’s questions as to why he chose to eat there when his Gram was two blocks away.
“She’s not sick, is she?”
“How can you hope to run a profitable business if you try and dissuade people from eating at your establishment?” He was certain he’d kept the annoyance from his voice, but Miss Dorie sniffed, refilled his coffee cup, and marched away to wait on others.
Who—if Jesse was honest with himself—offered her more pleasant company?
He didn’t mean to be grumpy, but Emily’s accusation ground in the pit of his stomach. What made her think he needed to prove to anyone, least of all himself, that he was a good man? It didn’t even make sense.
But no amount of internal argument had settled the matter for him and now she appeared to be waiting for him. Not many hours past, he would have found the idea appealing.
Now, he would have gone to his office and spent the night in the jail cell, but he’d had to sleep there on occasion and found it most uncomfortable.
He wanted his own bed. Sucking in air until his lungs could hold no more, he opened the gate and strode to the door.
His hand hovered above the knob for two seconds, and then he threw back the door and stepped inside.
Emily jumped to her feet. “Thank goodness you’re home. I worried you might have run into trouble.”
“What sort of trouble did you have in mind?” he asked dismissively.
She faltered, then answered him. “Those three men might have turned back looking for revenge for what happened this afternoon.”
He hung his hat on the hook by the door and spent several minutes pulling off his boots. Finally, with nothing more to divert him, he straightened. “You don’t need to concern yourself with me. I’m careful.”
“That’s good to hear.” She took two steps toward him.
Not about to let her say anything more to hurt him, he crossed his arms over his chest.
She read his signal and stopped. Regret drew lines from the corner of her mouth.
He had only to reach out and touch her face to rub them away. But a wall of resistance kept him from moving, even though his heart cried out to comfort her.
“Jesse, I want to apologize for what I said this afternoon. It was uncalled-for and untrue. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” She moved closer. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You’re a good, kind man, and you know it as well as I do.” She rested her gentle palm on his forearm.
All resistance melted. He covered her hand with his. “The trouble is, there is truth to what you said.” He hadn’t admitted it to himself until this very moment.
“How is that?”
“I told you about my mother.”
She nodded, her eyes never shifting away, even at the awkward topic.
Finding courage in her steady gaze, he continued. “I always thought there was something wrong with me because my mother didn’t see any value in spending time with me. I only believed it more strongly when my friends mocked me. Then I met Agnes.”
Emily nodded. “You told me about Agnes.”
“I didn’t tell it all. She lived here with her family for a time.
I courted her and thought she cared for me.
But when I told her about my mother, she drew back.
After that, she refused to see me, and her family moved away a short time later.
The only place where I knew people would respect me was in my role as sheriff, so you were right.
Through my job, I am trying to prove that I am good enough. ”
Both her hands now rested on his arm, warm and steady. Not a bit of shrinking back. Perhaps that would come later. When she fully realized that he was a man with no known father. He’d often wondered why his mother had used the last name Hill on his birth certificate, but she’d never told him.
Emily edged forward until he could smell the scented soap Annie had given her and the little-boy smell from having held Mikey.
“Who are you proving it to? Not me, despite my unfair words. Not to Gram or the Marshalls. I venture to say that anyone who knows you knows you are a good, noble, kind man. Don’t you need to believe it, too?”
He considered her words. “Not everyone would agree with you.”
“Do you need everyone’s approval?”
“I suppose not.” But to have the acceptance of a woman who would take him with his past, his present, and his future would be nice. Perhaps a dream he wasn’t worthy of.
“Do you forgive me for my unkind words?” she asked.
“Of course. And forgive me for being offended.”
She pulled him toward the couch. “I’ve been reading. You have an excellent selection of titles. Have you read them all?”
“Not that novel by Jane Austen.” He pretended to shudder. “Gram reads it at least once a year and sighs repeatedly at the romance.”
Emily laughed, picked up the book she’d been reading, and showed him the cover. “Guess what I’ve chosen.”
He shook his head as if distressed when he read the title, Pride and Prejudice. “Have you been sighing lots?”
She clutched the book to her bosom and sighed, her eyes merry with amusement. “It’s so romantic.” She grew serious—or, at least, she attempted to appear so—as she held the book toward him. “Jesse, you really ought to read it.”
“Would it fix what’s wrong with my life?”
“Well, it won’t help you find those bad guys who held up the stagecoach, but it will provide a little romance in your life.”
Their gazes melded. He wished he could see to the core of her being and know who she was.