Chapter 13 #3
Jesse gave what he hoped sounded like a happy chuckle. “It’s safe.”
The women hustled about, cleaning the kitchen and preparing for church. While they worked, Jesse slipped out and circled the block, looking for anything suspicious. The worst thing he saw was a kitten meowing frantically in a tree and a little girl crying on the ground.
“Can you save my kitty?”
He reached up, scooped the kitten from the branch, and handed it to the grateful child. If only he could as easily deal with Emily’s problems.
Back at the house, the trio was ready to leave.
He was more than half tempted to wear his sidearm to church, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Instead, he clattered up the stairs and found the older model derringer Sheriff Good had given him and stuffed it into his pocket.
It was virtually useless except at close range, but he did not intend to take Emily out in public without some protection.
Gram had already gone when he returned to the living room. His nerves twitched as he stepped out into the open, and he drew Emily’s arm through his. He would not let her get one step away from him until they were safely inside the church. He insisted Mikey stay close to them.
He hurried them across the churchyard and inside.
“I wanted to speak to Annie,” she protested.
“Here she comes now.”
Emily furrowed her brow at him. “I’m not a prisoner under escort, either.”
He smiled.
Annie overheard her comment. “You’re a prisoner?”
“I would be if Jesse had his way.”
Several other Marshalls gathered round them as Jesse and Emily vied with each other to explain what was going on.
Annie gasped when she heard about the torn and dirty shirtwaist and again when Emily said she meant to wander about the streets. “Emily, are you sure it’s safe to leave the house?” Annie’s sisters-in-law murmured in agreement.
“It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who thinks your plan is foolish.” Jesse crossed his arms, feeling triumphant.
Emily ignored him and turned to the women. “Tell me which one of you would be happy as a prisoner in your own home.”
The women shook their heads and confessed they wouldn’t.
“There you go,” Emily said with conviction. “So don’t expect me to be.” She found Mikey, who played with Evan, took his hand, marched to a pew, and sat down.
Jesse followed and let out a long, frustrated sigh. Why must she be so stubborn?
She leaned close. “Aren’t you always reminding me to trust God? Perhaps it’s time for you to practice what you preach.”
“Harrumph.”
She laughed softly. “You sound very much like Grandfather Marshall.”
He considered her comment. Perhaps if he appealed to Grandfather Marshall, the older man would persuade her to be more reasonable.
Their conversation ended as Hugh stood behind the pulpit. “We’ll open with the hymn, ‘All the Way the Savior Leads Me.’”
Emily nudged Jesse’s side as if to say it was time to do as he said she should do and trust God. But it was easier said than done. By the time the service ended, he was more resigned than accepting, more accepting than trusting.
He patted his pocket as they stepped out into the sunlight and stuck close to her. So close that she stepped on his toes every time she turned.
“Jesse, I appreciate your concern, but perhaps a little room to breathe, if you don’t mind.” She spoke kindly, but he didn’t misunderstand her meaning that she thought him overprotective. Reluctantly, he put two feet of distance between them.
It was Sunday, and he had plans for the afternoon. Plans that would serve both their purposes. If he could get her to agree.
They refused an invitation to go the Marshall Five Ranch, though he could not say her reasons. Surprisingly, Gram agreed to ride to the ranch with Kate and Conner. No one missed the fact that Grandfather Marshall rode in the same wagon, but having her away suited Jesse fine.
Jesse stared after them. Had Gram put her life on hold because of him? He hoped not.
Annie and Hugh were preparing to go home. “Can Mikey come with us to play with Evan?” Annie asked.
“That would be fine,” Emily said.
Jesse knew by the relieved look on her face that she wanted Mikey out of the way so she could march up and down the street begging for someone to jump out of the bushes and grab her.
Well, he might have something to say about that.
“That leaves us on our own,” she said and took his arm as they headed toward home. “There’s enough bread and cheese for sandwiches. Is that okay with you?”
“Sandwiches are fine, but why not put them in a basket? I’ve got something to show you. We can eat there.”
She took a few more steps before she stopped and faced him. “Why do I get the idea you have in mind to keep me out of sight?”
“I had planned this a couple of days ago.” And if it suited him even more now, he wasn’t about to complain.
“You’re sure?”
“Do you doubt me?”
She smiled. “You’ve never given me a reason to do so.”
He grinned. “I never will.”
Her smile flattened, and her eyes got that faraway look in them that he knew signaled she’d remembered something. He kept very still, holding his breath, waiting to see if her memory would come flooding back. And if it would leave him and her time in Bella Creek forgotten.
She blinked, and her gaze came back to him, blue and focused. “I thought I remembered something, but nope. Nothing.”
They continued homeward where he got the basket and gathered together cookies while she made sandwiches. He put a dipper in with the food and covered it all with a cloth.
“Where are we going?” She had asked several different ways, but he always gave the same answer.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“You’re a tease,” she said after her fifth attempt to get him to reveal their destination. She tickled him in the ribs.
Little did she know how ticklish he was. He laughed and pushed her away. Her eyes narrowed, and he silently groaned. Now, she knew and was determined to use her knowledge to torment him. She chased him and tickled him again before he caught her hands and stopped her.
“No tickling.” His voice and words were firm.
“Who says?” She wriggled her fingers, but he wouldn’t free her.
“I do.”
“Are you saying you don’t like it?”
He never had, but to have her touch him and make him laugh wasn’t so bad. “My mother used to tickle me unmercifully until I was sick.”
She moved closer until their clasped hands were pressed to both their chests.
“I would never make you miserable. Don’t you know that?
” She looked up at him with such pure sweetness that he forgot every word of warning about trust that he’d ever scolded himself with, every painful lesson about believing promises, everything but the look on her face.
“I guess I know it.”
“Guess is not a very strong word.” She lifted her head and planted a kiss full on his surprised lips, then withdrew before he could think.
His reaction came quickly and swiftly, though.
He lowered their clasped hands to their sides, closed the few inches separating them, and claimed her lips.
Found them warm and willing. He lingered over the kiss a moment before he broke away, his joy going clear down to his boots.
He turned her toward the cupboard and gave her a little push. “Is that picnic ready to go?”
Then, remembering that he’d finished packing it, he grabbed the basket, hung it from his arm, took her hand, and they stepped out into the sunshine.
He led her in the opposite direction of the town square.
They passed several houses, and he lifted his fingers in greeting when he saw people in their yards enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon.
He had plans to do the same.
“Are we almost there?” she asked, looking about, trying to guess where they were going.
“Soon.” They went two more blocks.
“We’re almost out of town.”
“Not quite.” He stopped. “We’re here.”
She took in the house before them, standing alone at the end of the block. “This is where we’re going?”
“Yup.” He opened the front gate for her.
“It looks empty.”
“It is. It’s one of Grandfather Marshall’s houses that he rents out.
The latest residents left a short time ago.
” He explained about the woman’s illness and the need to be closer to medical care.
“Grandfather asked if I would check on it. It has a pretty backyard that I thought would make a nice place for us to have our lunch.”
“Oh, fun. I like exploring. Do we get to see inside the house?”
He lifted a key. “We do.” He opened the front door, and they walked into the living room, where all the furniture was gone except for a large bookcase.
The house appeared to be much the same design as Gram’s, except there were two small rooms to the side of the living room. They entered the first. She circled it and opened the closet door. Inside, an object lay on the floor. “It’s a baby sweater. They must have dropped it in their packing.”
“Did they have children?”
“No. How strange.”
“Who knows? Perhaps they planned one and prepared for one, and her illness prevented it. How sad.”
“Indeed.”
“They must have planned to use this room for the nursery.” They moved to the next one. A desk had been left behind. “They must have used this for the main bedroom or an office. What did the man do?”
“He was an accountant.”
“Well, there you go. He likely worked from home some of the time.”
The kitchen was empty, the cupboards bare. A small pantry held a crock and several empty jars.
“Can we go upstairs?”
“It would be remiss of me not to check on the whole house.” He checked the windows in the four bedrooms upstairs and closed a closet door.
They returned downstairs, and she hurried to the back door. “I’m anxious to see the garden.” She waited while he unlocked the door and stepped aside to let her out.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “A gazebo and a swing and look—” She hurried off the step toward the overgrown garden. “Roses.” She bent over to sniff one. “It’s a lovely yard.”
He brought the picnic basket, and they went to the gazebo. Benches built along the inside perimeter provided them with seating. He swept the bench clean and waved his hand to indicate she should sit. “My lady,” he said in his most formal tone.
“Thank you, kind sir.” She curtseyed, then swirled her skirts and sat down.
The pleasure in her eyes was unmistakable as she took in the neglected flowers growing in wild profusion.
“What a shame that they had to leave. It’s just right for a young family.
” Her gaze went to the swing. “I can see Mikey—” She stopped abruptly, and her shoulders heaved as she sighed.
Not wanting any regrets to mar the afternoon, he lifted the cloth from the picnic basket, spread it on the bench between them with a flourish, and set out the lunch.
He dropped his hat to the floor, reached for her hands, and bowed his head.
His heart was so full of gratitude, worries and unspoken wishes that he had difficulty thinking where to start.
“Heavenly Father, thank You for Your many blessings, for food, for this beautiful picnic spot, and for love. Grant, I ask, protection and safety for Emily. In Jesus’ name.
Amen.” The words did not begin to express the fullness of his heart.
“Amen,” Emily echoed. “I’m hungry.” She took a sandwich. He did the same.
They ate a leisurely lunch and then explored the yard more fully. They lingered for hours. It appeared she was no more anxious to return to the reality of their lives than was he. He couldn’t have asked for a better, sweeter, more promising afternoon.
A wagon rumbled by but didn’t stop. They’d walked, so no one would even suspect they were in the backyard.
She returned to admiring the roses. He stood back a few feet, enjoying her. After a few minutes, he took out his knife and cut three stems. He was jabbed by thorns but ignored the minor pain as he handed her the flowers.
“Thank you. I need to get home and put them in water.”
“We’ll put them in water right here.” He’d pumped water from the well for drinking, pleased at how sweet it was. He hurried into the house, found a jar he deemed to be the right size, filled it with water, and let her arrange the roses in it.
She saw the blood on his thumb. “You’re bleeding.” She dampened her hankie with water and dabbed his thumb clean.
He didn’t know which felt better. The cold water on his puncture wound or her warm touch to his hand.
Thudding horse hooves sounded from the street. The animal slowed as it came abreast of the house.
His heart stalled. Had someone discovered their location? He patted his vest pocket. The little gun wouldn’t stop much. He should have strapped on his gun belt, even if it was Sunday.
He strained toward the sound and let his breath ease out when the horse passed. “We need to get home.”
She nodded, her eyes wide. She, too, had heard the horse slow in front of the house.
He pulled her to his chest and rubbed her back. “I’ll find those men and lock them up. I promise.”
“I wish you could also promise to give me back my memory.”
He couldn’t do that. A part of him didn’t even wish it. He didn’t want to be forgotten by her.