Chapter Thirteen #2
“Hope is a person,” Jackson reminded him. “…but I’ll admit that having her around is not as impossible as I initially thought. I think we’ll become good friends in time.”
“I’m fairly positive you’ll become more than just friends,” Ethan said with a wink.
Jackson shook his head at Ethan and drained his cup.
“I need to go. But I’ll try to bring over some supplies from the store in a few days.”
“When you do,” Ethan said, giving Jackson a pleading look, “won’t you bring Hope along with you so that I can apologize formally?” Ethan begged.
“Only if you promise you won’t tease her,” Jackson said.
Ethan raised his eyebrows and a smile played across his lips. “You’re quite protective of her already.”
“Heck, Ethan, I swear-” Jackson began.
“I want her to meet Clara, too,” Ethan said.
“I think Hope would like that,” Jackson conceded after a beat. “Making some friends of her own would be good for her out here.”
“You’re a good man,” Ethan said to him, slapping Jackson on the back as they walked to the front door.
Jackson nodded at him. “I’m mighty glad to hear Clara’s doing better, Ethan. It’s your devoted care, no doubt about it. Come on, Horse,” Jackson said as he started walking away.
“Get Hope to start naming your animals!” Ethan called after him.
“Every time I name one, they die,” Jackson shot back.
“Well, maybe with Hope things will be different,” Ethan said. “It’s in her name, after all.”
Jackson just gave him a wave and began his ride back to Hale Ranch.
He had to admit that his Ma had been right, and talking things out with Ethan had made him feel lighter.
He suddenly found himself wanting to tell Hope about it, curious about how she’d react.
Despite hurrying out of the kitchen, he had enjoyed their conversation the day before.
Arriving back at the ranch, Hope was not in the barn or the garden.
As it was not yet time for lunch, she was not in the kitchen, either.
He walked up the stairs to change his shirt after such a hot ride, and heard a squeak of surprise as Hope jumped up and stood staring at him.
It looked as though she had been under his bed, a cloth in her hand.
“What in the…” Jackson just barely stopped himself from cussing in front of a woman. “Hope?” he asked, giving her a questioning look. “Why are you in my room?”
Hope’s eyes were wide with shock, and her cheeks were red. Everything about her expression rang of guilt, and Jackson frowned as he tried to think what he had stored under his bed.
“Were you…” he attempted, breaking off and shaking his head. “Were you going through my personal items?”
Hope gulped as she tried to speak, wringing her hands nervously around the cloth as Jackson spoke.
“No,” she declared. “I would never-”
Jackson spotted a wooden crate filled with personal items from his past that he usually kept hidden at the bottom of his wardrobe. He stalked over and wrenched the box upwards, his eye catching on a small brass star on top of some old clothes.
“Why would you go snooping around in my things, Hope?” he demanded, his voice rising in volume as he felt the blossoming trust between them wilt.
Opening up about things he chose to talk about was one thing, but having Hope find out who he really was by going through the stuff in his room? He felt like she’d crossed a boundary. He could feel Hope wanted more from him, but he didn’t think she’d be able to bear knowing the real him.
“You’re not to come into my room!” he said, more loudly than he intended. “I’ve never given you permission to do so!”
Hope closed her eyes and shook slightly as he lashed out at her. Her shoulders were tensed upwards and her arms hung stiff at her sides. He thought for a moment that she was going to cry, but then her eyes flashed open and she glared at him.
“I was cleaning your room, not snooping!” she snapped at him. “I hear you sneezing and coughing all night, and it’s because you’re probably reacting to all the dust in here!” Hope said, tossing the cloth to the floor and marching out.
He heard her stomp down the stairs, and then the crash of pots and pans in the kitchen.
Again, he was reminded that Hope was no pushover.
He’d never told her not to go into his room and if she was only cleaning…
perhaps he had reacted too harshly. He grumbled, feeling the stupidity of losing his temper for a second time that day.
As he rounded the side of the bed to pack away the crate, he saw a bucket of dirty water next to his bed. Jackson glanced around and noticed that every surface shone instead of being covered in the usual dusty film.
Hope was just being Hope. Knowing how hard she worked, she had probably run out of other chores to do.
Or was it that she was trying to care for him, as a wife naturally would?
Jackson shook away the second thought. She still shouldn’t have taken the liberty of going into his bedroom.
He reminded himself that their marriage was one of convenience, nothing more.
Jackson spent an hour brushing down Horse and filling feed troughs. When he had nothing left to do, he stared at the house with resignation, knowing there was nothing else for it.
His Ma’s words crept back into his head for the second time that day.
It was a part of who he was to do what was right, and in this case that meant apologizing to Hope.
He dragged himself to the kitchen, flinching every time a pot was slammed onto the stove or a tin plate went clattering across something.
“Hope,” he said from the doorway.
Hope spun round, her expression fierce as she looked at him. Jackson pushed away the thought that, even when angry, Hope was still beautiful. Her nose was turned up in the air and her cheeks were a delicate pink, but she still looked radiant.
“I… I-” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have, especially when all I was trying to do was help! Why did me being in there upset you so? Do you really think I’m the sort to go through your personals?” Hope asked as she walked up to him, her hands on her hips.
Jackson stepped away, knowing she needed more from him than the weak apology he had offered. He had hurt her and she needed to know why, but how could he tell her?
Hope believed she had married a stable rancher with beautiful land and droves of animals that needed care, and that the ranch was a peaceful place where Hope could feel safe and find work she could enjoy.
Knowing about his past would only change the way she saw him and make her doubt him.
That was why he had chosen to never marry, because his past proved that he could not trust himself to be responsible for anyone.
Hope’s hazel eyes were momentarily replaced with a set of large brown eyes that glared at him venomously before slowly fading away. Would that the memory ever stop haunting him?
“Just stay out,” he mumbled to Hope before walking away from her.
He heard her following him. “Now that’s no real apology, Jackson. Tell me what’s going on!”
He turned on her, his anger threatening to boil over again. She looked up at him, her eyes resolute but silently pleading, and her lips set firmly. Her stare was so intense that he felt as though she could see right through him. There was no point trying to lie to her.
“I got a lot I’m not proud of, Hope,” he muttered, avoiding her stare.
Hope sighed loudly and her hands dropped to her sides. “Well, now, Jackson, you think I’m proud of everything I’ve done? But I’ve still got to believe that over time we’ll learn to trust each other with everything.”
He blinked at her, surprised by her candid response.
“Now come along, I’ve got some coffee on,” Hope ordered, turning and walking away.
Once again, Hope had surprised him. Instead of bursting into tears or packing her bags because he’d been gruff with her, she’d put him in his place and shown him she wasn’t going anywhere. Jackson sighed deeply, but he followed Hope into the kitchen and waited for his coffee.