Chapter Fourteen
Almost a week had passed since the argument, and Hope noticed that instead of his awkward apology pushing her away, she felt increasingly intrigued by Jackson.
There’d been something in his manner that told her Jackson was hiding something, or at least that there was something he was ashamed of, and that was not so different from her own past. She’d mentioned Daniel, but hadn’t had the heart to tell Jackson she’d abandoned her only brother.
Who was she to judge Jackson for hiding some of his own past from her?
No matter what he’d done in the past, he’d still saved her, and she’d always be grateful for that.
As the weeks rolled by, she found she loved working on the ranch.
She much preferred the chickens and sheep to the wild laborers demanding meals from her at the boardinghouse.
Margaret’s gardens and the sight of spring flowers blooming brought Hope daily joy.
And she could choose what she wanted to cook every day, instead of having to follow the boardinghouse menu.
Even if Jackson never said another word to her, Hope believed she would be her happiest on the ranch.
Hope hung another wet sheet over the line, pausing to wipe the sweat from her brow since Montana was having its first glimpse of a warmer spring.
She surveyed the rolling green valley and the immense mountains in the distance, now a familiar part of her everyday view.
Smiling, she lowered her gaze, and spotted Jackson working in Margaret’s vegetable garden.
“Dig a hole here. I’ll fetch us some water,” Margaret instructed from somewhere beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
Jackson dug his shovel into the earth without much effort. Everything about his movements was efficient and smooth, seemingly wasting no energy. She saw him pause and, apparently feeling the heat of the day, pull his shirt over his head in one quick movement, tossing it onto his mother’s chair.
Hope touched her hand to her mouth in shock.
She’d caught a glimpse of him exiting the washroom without a shirt on once or twice before, but Jackson had always ducked into another room as soon as he’d sensed her presence.
Now he was out in the open, and his muscular torso and arms glistened with sweat in the afternoon sun.
As Jackson resumed his digging, Hope leaned against the wooden pole holding up the wash line, tracking every movement Jackson made.
He paused mid-dig and turned slightly, his gaze settling on her.
Hope realized that she had been staring for far too long, and to make matters worse, Jackson had caught her in the act.
She tried to step behind one of the bed sheets she had hung up, only to trip over the bucket of laundry at her feet.
Catching herself on the line, she whipped around and hurried inside the house, her face glowing with embarrassment.
Why was she behaving like such a schoolgirl?
Hope walked into the kitchen in a daze, half-heartedly inspecting the dough she had made earlier, then walking over to the wash basin to see if there were any dishes she could wash, though her mind kept floating back to the sight of Jackson outside.
She glanced out the window, standing on her tip toes to see if Jackson had resumed his digging, but he was no longer there.
Hope turned at the sound of his steps, her stomach fluttering as Jackson walked into the kitchen.
Thankfully, he was wearing his shirt again, though it hung loosely over his broad shoulders, not fully buttoned.
He locked eyes with her and walked over to the table, stubbing his toe on a chair. He winced, but recovered quickly.
“Hope,” he said with an embarrassed smile.
“Do you…” she started, her hands flicking the curls out her face and feeling heat in her cheeks. She berated herself silently for being so flustered in his presence. “Do you need something, Jackson?” she asked, her tone a little formal.
He looked around, taking a while to answer. “Some water,” he finally said, as if he was also a little out of sorts.
Hope leapt towards the jug, grateful for something to do. She watched him gulp down the glass she poured him, a drop of water sliding down his chin and dropping onto his chest.
“Thank you,” he said, handing her back the cup.
She felt his fingers brush against hers, and they felt as hot as hers must have been.
“Would you…” he began, until words failed him. He cleared his throat and looked her in the eye.
She took a breath, bracing herself.
“Would you like to come with me to Ethan’s ranch later? I have some goods from the store I need to take around to him.”
“Oh,” Hope said, failing to hide her disappointment. She squashed the expectation that he’d want to do anything else with her. “I don’t think it would be appropriate. I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“We’d like you to meet Clara,” Jackson said.
“But she’s so unwell, and-”
“Her health has improved,” Jackson assured her. “And I think she’d appreciate a little female company for once.”
Hope took a moment to absorb this, and found herself inclined to agree, despite her hesitation.
The last thing she wanted to do was be on a wagon alone with Jackson and endure another round of awkward conversation.
She’d likely only embarrass herself again, especially since he’d just caught her staring at him without a shirt on.
But she had been concerned for Clara, and if a little company might alleviate her suffering, then Hope felt she had to accept.
“I’d like that,” Hope said, managing a small smile. “Thank you.”
“Well, here you are,” Margaret said as she entered the kitchen, eyeing her son and then Hope as she came upon them. She set down a pitcher of cold water on the table. “I thought you might need a drink, but it seems you found one.”
Hope thought Margaret might have winked at her, but she couldn’t be sure. Her presence had certainly brought a little color to Jackson’s face, and he quickly made an excuse about finishing the digging and hurried out of the kitchen.
“We’re going to Ethan’s later, and I’ll be visiting with Clara,” Hope said. “Will you be joining us?”
“Oh no, dear,” Margaret said with a smile.
“I think there’s only enough room on the wagon for the two of you.
And you don’t want an old lady hovering around while you socialize!
Now, what do you have in your pantry to send to Ethan?
That boy will taste one slice of your pie and feel the regret of rejecting you for the rest of his life. ”
Hope couldn’t help but giggle as Margaret began helping her pack a basket for the Blakes.
***
Hope stood uncertainly at the edge of the porch, looking up at the Blake house and feeling the overwhelming rush of memories of that day three weeks before. Jackson gave her a reassuring smile before knocking on the front door.
“Hope,” Ethan said warmly as he walked out to meet them. He extended his hand for her to shake, and she stared at it until it felt too rude not to take his hand. “Thank you for coming to see us.”
“Ethan,” Hope greeted him, her smile feeling stiff.
“Jackson tells me you’re settling in well,” Ethan commented while leading them into the house.
Hope nodded, and found the intensity of Ethan’s gaze a little unsettling. He had been so dismissive when they’d met that his sudden interest was overwhelming.
“Before you go see Clara,” Ethan said, lowering his voice and giving Jackson a look, “I wanted to apologize, Hope.”
“That’s not necessary,” she began.
“No.” Ethan shook his head, and the earnest look he gave her reminded her of a small dog begging for scraps under the table.
“I caused you great distress and embarrassment, and I’m sorry, Hope.
It was foolish of me to write that advertisement and then not follow through.
I’m forever grateful to my friend for saving you when I let you down. ”
Hope absorbed his words and nodded stupidly. Though Ethan’s warm flow of words made her feel silly for even being upset in the first place, she appreciated them all the same.
“Thank you, Ethan,” Hope managed, relieved that the apology was over and they’d all be able to move on from that awful day.
“Now, I’ve prepared a tray of tea for you to have with Clara,” Ethan said, lifting it off the table. “She’s very excited to see you.”
“Oh, yes, I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Hope said, accepting the bulky tray and following his directions to Clara’s room.
She didn’t know why, but she felt nervous about meeting the woman whose health had changed the course of her own life.
Had it not been for Clara, she would’ve been living here.
Instead of begrudging her, she found herself feeling oddly grateful.
Did that mean she was happier with Jackson? Hope pushed the thought from her mind.
“Come in,” Clara called, her voice faint as Hope approached.
Hope walked into a light-filled room that smelt of spring and the fresh mountain air rather than sickness. A jug of wildflowers stood on a side table, and the window offered a view of the grassy pastures and grazing cattle, the mountains standing watch in the distance as always.
“Ethan likes to make sure I have a view of the outside,” Clara explained, her voice low and her words coming in between slow, deep breaths.
“It’s beautiful,” Hope observed. “It’s lovely to meet you, Clara.”
“And you as well, Hope. Come sit,” Clara said, waving a hand at a chair next to her bedside.
Clara had wispy blonde hair with the same reddish-gold tinge as Ethan’s.
Her eyes were the same color as her hair, and though her skin was pale, there was some color in her lips.
She looked frail and weak, as though the pillows behind her head were all that was keeping her upright.
She smiled faintly at Hope as she sat down.
“Oh, how I’ve longed to have another young woman’s company,” Clara said wistfully, her cold fingers wrapping around Hope’s.