Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for Jacob\The Forest Ranger's Rescue\Alaskan Homecoming (18 page)

Epilogue

September, a year later

A
nnie watched as her husband chased the little girl around the yard until he caught her. Jacob lifted the toddler high, and she giggled. He set her down, and she stumbled away from him laughing. Annie chuckled as she watched Jacob give chase and capture her all over again, much to the child's delight.

“You're going to tire her out before lunch,” Annie called out.

“You'll eat before you nap, won't ya, Rachel?” Jacob asked the little girl. He bent down as if to hear the child's whisper. “She said she'll eat and then sleep,” he assured his wife.

“But Joan will be coming for her soon.” Annie cradled her large belly as she rose from a wooden chair out on the lawn behind their new home. They had lived in the schoolhouse until their house was finished. “She'll expect our niece to have eaten.” Her sister and her husband had moved back to Lancaster County, much to the family's delight.

Jacob pouted. Annie laughed as she waddled in his direction. He stood still, his expression warming as he watched her approach. “You look more beautiful every day,” he murmured.

Annie beamed at him. “I grow bigger every day.”

“Ja,”
Jacob agreed, “but I couldn't be happier.” He placed a hand on her belly. “He moved!” he exclaimed with delight.

She chuckled. “Thank the Lord,” she said.

“You've made me happy, Annie, happier than I could have ever imagined.” He frowned suddenly as he looked for his niece. When he found her, he grinned and pointed. “I think Rachel decided to take her nap
before
lunch.”

Following his direction, Annie saw her little niece curled up on the grass with her eyes closed. “So she did.” She smiled affectionately at Jacob. “Do you want to carry her inside or should I?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Not in your condition.”

Amused, she watched him tenderly pick up their niece. Jacob had confided that he wanted as many children as she. This wasn't the time, she decided, to remind him that there would be occasions when she'd be large with child, with a little one on her hip.
Jacob, my wonderful husband, will be a
gut vadder. He had made her world complete.

Inside the house, he placed the little girl on their bed. He rose and then met her gaze. “Annie?”

“I love you, Jacob. I'll love you forever.”

His golden eyes glowed as he slipped his arms around her. “I love you, Annie, and I will love you beyond my last breath.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE COWBOY'S FOREVER FAMILY by Deb Kastner.

Dear Reader,

I'm happy that you've decided to visit Happiness in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, home to several Amish families who are characters in my Lancaster County Weddings series.

Hurt by love in the past, Annie Zook has decided to avoid the risk of heartbreak by marrying an older man in her church community, someone who will appreciate her and offer her a safe kind of love. Jacob liked Annie when he was a young boy, but Annie preferred his older brother Jedidiah. Despite her and Jed's breakup, Annie clearly still has feelings for Jed. Jacob gave up on his feelings for Annie long ago. But after Horseshoe Joe, Annie's father, suffers an accident, circumstances throw Annie and Jacob into each other's company and a friendship develops between them. As their feelings toward each other grow, Annie and Jacob stay determined to protect their hearts and keep their feelings for each other hidden.

Annie and Jacob will learn that love isn't something that can be planned or controlled. Love is a gift. Love is God, and by loving another, one knows God.

I hope you enjoy Annie and Jacob's story and that you will return to my little Happiness Amish community another time to learn how Jacob's siblings discover love.

Blessings and light,

Rebecca Kertz

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

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Chapter One

“I
miss you, buddy.”

Slade McKenna's throat burned and he swallowed hard. He shook his head and grunted at his own foolishness. He wasn't in the habit of talking to those who'd passed on. Thankfully, no one was here to witness the rarity.

Stirrup-high Texas grass brushed across his boots as he rode the fence line in search of bent posts or breaks in the barbed wire where the Becketts' cattle might get free. Mending fences kept his mind off the bad stuff.

Mostly.

He wasn't the kind of guy who expressed emotion, verbal or otherwise, but right now his feelings were digging as deeply into his side as spurs, no matter how hard he bucked and resisted to throw his grief.

His best friend Brody Beckett was gone. Forever.

Dead.

He could hardly bear to
think
the word, much less say it aloud, especially when Brody's absence was such a stark, bitter reality. Checking the fences on his parents' ranch property had been Brody's chore since he was old enough to sit straight on a horse, and as his best friend, Slade had often accompanied him in his rounds. When they were both little tykes, Slade and Brody had spent many hours out here on the range together, where the lowing of cattle, the gentle Texas wind and the creak of saddle leather were the only sounds to break the sweet silence.

That, and the howling and hollering of a couple of ornery young boys who'd rather have been wrestling than wrangling.

Riding and roughhousing with Brody. Those were some of the best memories Slade had. And all of Brody he had left to take with him now.

Memories.

Slade pulled his mount up, clenched his jaw and concentrated on pushing his thoughts—and the pain—away.

His black quarter horse mare Nocturne shifted sideways and pricked her ears forward. Slade was suddenly alert and completely attuned to both his mount and his surroundings. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area for the prospect of danger, thankful for the shadow of the brim of his black Stetson against the glaring sun.

He knew his horse as well as he knew his own thoughts. Nock's muscles twitched underneath him. He tightened the reins and squeezed his knees to encourage his horse to remain steady. The hair on his arms stood on edge from the crackle of tension in the air and he strained to listen to the sound of movement within the silence. He didn't know what was wrong, but he had no doubt there was something out there on the Texas prairie. Nocturne wasn't easily spooked.

A snake? A cougar?

But it wasn't the sound of rattling Slade's keen ears picked up on.

Instead, he heard sniffling, coming from just over a rolling mound of earth only a few feet away.

Adjusting the brim of his hat low over his brow, Slade dismounted, leaving Nocturne to graze. He approached the direction of the unlikely sounds cautiously, unsure of what he'd find—or rather, who he was about to encounter. Frankly, he'd rather face a whole pack of hungry coyotes than one weeping female.

If he had to guess, he expected her to be a teenager, one of the local girls who'd just had her heart broken and was hiding out trying to sort her emotions. Bit far out of town for a kid, but she'd probably parked near the fence and decided to walk for a while. Not the smartest idea. A girl could be easily lost. But she probably wasn't thinking straight.

Adolescent angst. Just what he didn't want to have to deal with today.

Slade's first thought was that he shouldn't interfere with whatever drama was going on in the Becketts' backyard. He hadn't yet made his presence known. He could turn around, mount up and ride away and the Mysterious Crying Female would be no wiser for him having been there at all.

He had no business here. For starters, he wasn't any kind of expert in female drama, teenage or otherwise. If the girl was hiding out here fairly far out on the range to have a good cry, she probably didn't want to be found or interrupted, especially by a guy like him.

On the other hand, he couldn't very well walk away if the poor kid needed his assistance. It wasn't in him to leave when he might be needed. He was a cop, for one thing. Helping people was his day job. He figured he ought to at least check her out and make sure she wasn't hurt, even if it did make him feel every kind of awkward. And it was what God would expect him to do, right? Help his fellow man—er, woman?

But consoling a teenager?
So
far out of his comfort zone. This newfound faith of his was going to be a whole lot harder than he'd imagined when he'd first bowed his head at the cowboy church and acknowledged the Almighty.

The ranch was private property, but Brody's parents wouldn't be too bothered by a girl seeking out somewhere to be alone and find some solace. In fact, they'd be urging him to help her out, since he was the one to find her.

He shoved out a breath, resolving to be nice to the kid. Patient, if he could manage it. He wasn't known for that particular virtue, or many others, for that matter. But he would try.

Yanking his Stetson from his head, he topped the grassy mound, his shadow engulfing the female huddled on the other side. “Excuse me, miss, but I was riding by and I couldn't help but overhear—”

His sentence slammed to an abrupt stop at the same moment his gaze met a pair of fiery brown eyes showering sparks at him.

“You.” His voice formed around the word like an accusation because that's exactly what it was. “What are you doing on Brody's property?”

Laney Beckett, Brody's estranged wife and now his widow, scrambled to her feet, all five feet and nine inches of her. She raised her chin and brushed the moisture from her cheeks with the sleeve of her lavender-colored shirt. She might be on the taller side for a woman, but Slade stood at six-two when he was slouching and he towered over her. He squared his shoulders and used his superior height to his advantage.

“I could ask you the same thing, Slade McKenna,” she countered, apparently unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her.

Fury rushed through him, heat rising from the heels of his boots until it burned in his ears. It was all he could do to rein in his temper. He curled the brim of his Stetson until his knuckles were white.

She crossed her arms in a paradoxically defiant and defensive gesture. It was only then that his gaze shifted away from her eyes—and straight to her burgeoning middle.

Slade's breath slammed from his lungs as if he'd been sucker punched. He scowled in disbelief.

The woman was pregnant. Had he lived, Brody would have been a
father
.

Slade clenched his jaw, afraid he was gaping, or that he'd say something he'd later regret. Emotion surged through him. He was angry, shocked, grief-stricken and indignant on Brody's behalf, all at once, and he didn't know what to do with any of the feelings consuming him.

Brody couldn't have known about it. Slade was certain of that fact. Laney must have been pregnant at the funeral, but Slade certainly hadn't been the wiser for it. She hadn't
looked
pregnant. But she must have known she was carrying Brody's baby, even back then. How could she take off without even sharing that information with anyone? It made him sick just to think about it.

He spun away from her and stalked several yards, scrubbing a hand through his thick black hair and forcing raspy breaths into his lungs.

“Why are you here
now
?” he growled. “Especially in that—” he waved a hand in the general direction of her protruding midsection “—condition? It certainly didn't take you long to hightail it out of Serendipity after the funeral. With Brody's baby, no less.”

“I don't answer to you,” she responded, her tone deceptively quiet and even. It wasn't hard for him to hear the barely concealed disdain for him in her voice.

He couldn't care less what Laney thought of him. His only concern was for Brody's honor and memory, for which Laney obviously cared so little. And what about Brody's folks? Did Grant and Carol know they had a future grandchild?

Brody's baby.
How was this even possible? Laney and Brody had been separated. And now she was pregnant? How could he have missed that fact when Laney was here for the funeral? A looming sense of guilt and responsibility clouded Slade's thoughts.

Brody's baby.

“You owe me some answers,” he pressed, turning to face her full-on. One way or another, she was going to tell him everything.

She sputtered and gasped. Her irises flared, darkening the chocolate brown of her eyes. “You are the most arrogant, self-absorbed man I have ever met in my life. This isn't about you, and I'm certainly under no obligation to answer to you. What would possibly make you think I'd tell you anything, especially after the way you've treated me today with all your blustering and bullying?”

Slade flinched. He was many things, but he wasn't a bully. Maybe he
was
trying to intimidate her a little bit, but for good reason. He was after the truth. And Laney
did
owe him that much, even if she didn't acknowledge it right now. He had an obligation toward that baby. But maybe he was approaching her wrong, although he didn't have the slightest idea how to fix that problem. He took a mental step backward, regrouping his forces against the stubborn woman.

“Brody was my best friend.” Nothing like stating the obvious, but he had to say
something
to fill the awkward void left by her question.

“He was my husband,” she launched back, spitting the words. “Not that you would have any idea about the kind of commitment a man and woman make to each other.”

He hissed through his teeth. He had less use for love than he did for Laney. Just look at what it had done to Brody. He glared at her belly rather than meeting her gaze. One way or another, he was going to pull the truth from her.

“I don't understand. You didn't even look pregnant at the funeral, and now you just show up in Serendipity out of nowhere.” A statement of fact, even if it resembled an indictment. “What's your angle, Laney? Why are you really here?”

* * *

What was her angle? What was her
angle
?

How dare he?

Laney pulled in a deep breath through her nose in an unsuccessful attempt to force herself into a state of calm she didn't feel—not so much for her sake but for the baby's. If it wasn't for the little one growing inside her, she might very well have launched herself at Slade and really given him the what-for he clearly deserved. She had the notion he'd never been walloped by a woman before, and it was high time he was taken down a notch or two.

Or ten.

Despite her best efforts, her heartbeat roared in her ears and her pulse skyrocketed. If real smoke could blow from her ears she'd be steaming like a kettle right now.

“I wasn't yet showing at the funeral, but I knew I was carrying Brody's baby.”

His piercing blue eyes narrowed on her and he stepped forward, looming over her and puffing out his chest like a rooster. As if
that
would intimidate her. She was exactly right in saying he was nothing but a schoolyard bully.

“How did this happen?” His voice was low and icy.

“Excuse me?” Both of her eyebrows arched, disappearing under her hairline. If Slade didn't know the facts of life she certainly wasn't going to be the one to explain them to him. The very idea was laughable.

“You and Brody were having a baby together, when I know for a fact you two were separated well before his—” He paused and his voice deepened and turned gruff “—accident happened.”

“Obviously, we spent some time together trying to work things out,” she retorted, clipping her words. “He was my husband,” she reminded him again.

“That doesn't necessarily mean anything.”

Wow. He might as well have slapped her. She could give and take as well as the next woman, but it wasn't only her character he was maligning. It was Brody's. And Slade was casting a shadow over their beloved baby, as if the unborn Beckett was some kind of mistake.

“You can't imagine how I felt when I discovered I was pregnant,” she informed him coldly. “I was so happy. So angry. And horribly, horribly saddened by it all. I'm responsible for raising Brody's baby all on my own. He or she is all I have left of my husband.”

He shrugged. “But you sure didn't take any time after his death to grieve for him, did you? You ran away to—wherever—instead of sticking around.”

“Take that back.” She shoved at his chest and he immediately raised his arms in surrender.

“I'm only saying how it looked to me.”

“Then maybe you need to get glasses. Not to mention giving me—and Brody—a little more credit.”

He jerked his chin. She wasn't sure whether he was agreeing with her or merely acknowledging what she'd said.

“I had my reasons for leaving town after the funeral. And Brody and I
were
trying to work it out,” she reiterated, in case there was any doubt whatsoever in the big oaf's mind. “Brody is the only man I've ever loved. But it didn't help that you put ideas in his head, did it? Led him away from his family obligations without a care for how it affected me. Don't you have a conscience?”

He had the good grace to flinch, but the way he was eyeing her rounded middle, as if weighing her words for truth, made her want to cover her belly with her arms to protect the child within.

“Why were you crying?”

His question caught her off guard, not only the words themselves, but the muted tone in which they were asked. Surely he hadn't picked now to decide to control that wicked tongue of his. He'd already done too much damage to go back now.

“I—” She started to deny she'd been crying at all, but that would have been a lie. She
had
been crying. He'd caught her with tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn't very well deny it now. “Sometimes my emotions catch up with me. I try to keep them in check, but every so often, something reminds me of Brody and it's just too much of a burden for me to bear.”