Reclaiming His Past (16 page)

Chapter Sixteen

S
he was waiting for him on the porch.

His mind like a dry wheat field on fire, thoughts churning and melding before he could fully process them, he'd ridden without thought to his surroundings. Fortunately, Galahad knew the way home. After settling him in the barn, Grant trudged across the short grass, his tread heavy on the steps.

She stood off to his right, using the railing for support.

“Will went home.”

A sign of good faith. “You waited up to tell me that?”

“Don't flatter yourself,” she scoffed.

He climbed another step. Moonlight washed her features in dreamlike radiance, her unbound hair like crimson waves of silk. She was still in her traveling clothes, the scooped-neck blouse with flowing sleeves tucked into a plain navy blue skirt. She looked like a prim schoolteacher in the outfit. Funny. Jessica was anything but prim.

“Couldn't sleep, then?” he said, his arms too empty without her in them.

“Something like that.”

He reached the top step. “Well, I'm exhausted.” If he lingered, he wasn't sure he'd make wise decisions. “I'm going to bed.”

Jessica was suddenly blocking his way. Face lifted, eyes troubled, she fisted her hands at her sides. “You hurt me. More than I can express.”

He bowed his head. “I know, and I'm sorry. I should never have said what I did.”

A soft sigh shimmered between them. “That's the thing, Grant. It's not in your nature to lash out. Something happened between the time we said good-night last night and this morning. I want to know what it was.”

After everything she'd done for him, he owed her an explanation. The word would eventually get out, anyway.

Meeting her searching gaze, he said, “I discovered valuables in my bag. Deliberately stashed in the lining.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “What sort of valuables?”

He described the pieces. “There's too much for it to have come from one source.”

Understanding dawned. “You took them to Shane, didn't you? That's where you've been?”

“He's going to store them at the bank until he finds out more.” He kneaded his stiff neck muscles to keep from reaching out to her. The need to hold her was like a fire in his blood. “I'll understand if you want me to find another place to stay.”

“No.” She shook her head, moonlight glimmering in her locks. “No. I don't want you to leave.” Before he could guess what she was about, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “You're innocent, Grant.”

Her lips grazed the sensitive skin above his collar. He shivered. Not from the drop in air temperature, but because of her soft curves, her sweet, sweet scent, her overwhelming faith in his goodness. Resting his hands on either side of her waist, his cheek skimmed hers before he buried his face in her hair.

“I hate myself for hurting you.”

Her fingers danced along his nape, explored the breadth of his upper back. “It's okay. It's forgotten.”

“I was cruel, and that's not okay.”

Shifting, forcing him to lift his head, she framed his roughened cheeks. Her palms were cool, soothing. “I forgive you.”

He swallowed hard. “Jessica.”

His inner voice of reason muted, he mirrored her stance, skimming trembling fingers over her pronounced cheekbones and the smooth curve of her jaw. Her gaze locked on to his. There was an absence of fear in her. No hesitation. Only a shared awe of what was unfurling between them.

Settling his hand beneath her hair, he cupped her nape and dipped his head. He brushed his mouth against hers once. “I don't want to hurt you ever again,” he murmured, struggling to rein in emotions threatening to boil over.

She exhaled, her warm breath mingling with his as she tunneled her fingers into his hair. “I trust you, Grant.”

Her words were a gift. One he didn't deserve.

When he didn't move, adrift in an impossible internal battle, she tugged his head down. Her kiss was tentative, searching. Any lingering doubts scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. A rumbling sound of surrender vibrating in his throat, he crushed her to him, holding her fast. Her embrace was purity and joy and hope, and he clung to those ideals with a hint of desperation.

I can never leave her.

They each possessed what the other required. When he was fire, she cooled him. When she was angry, he mellowed her. They balanced each other.

You promised not to hurt her. What will she do if you're already committed to someone else?

It was as if a bucket of ice had pelted him. Jerking away, his breathing ragged, he stared at her kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair.

“We can't do this.”

She didn't fight him. Sorrow stole over her and, hugging her middle, she looked lost. “Because of your past? Or because of me? Because of my poor judgment with Lee?”

“No!” Gripping her shoulders, he shook his head. “Don't start questioning yourself again.” He gentled his hold. “You and I both know the future isn't mine to do with what I please. Not until I get answers.”

Worrying her lower lip, she slowly nodded.

“I might never be free of the past. And I won't ask you to wait for answers that may never come.”

“You're right. This can't happen again.” Backing away from him, she edged toward the door. “Good night, Grant.”

Head held high, she left him alone in the inescapable solitude of night, once again asking God why and getting no answer in return.

* * *

Jessica squared her shoulders and entered the Plum Café. It was the first time she'd been in since the new owner so ruthlessly and abruptly canceled her and Jane's agreement. She really wasn't in the mood to see him today. Glancing around the eatery, which was practically devoid of customers midafternoon, she spotted Caroline's elegant form in the far corner, along with two other girls on the committee.

Winding her way through the tables, she greeted them. Caroline's china cup clinked against the saucer. “Thanks for agreeing to join us on short notice.”

Pauline and Laura looked up from the ribbons fanned across the linen tablecloth.

Jessica sank into the last empty chair. “Why aren't we doing this at your house?”

“Mother is having the parlor repapered.”

“I thought she had it done last year.”

“Oh, she did.” Her smile was brittle. “She found one she liked better.”

Laura sighed. “Must be nice, getting whatever you want.”

Pauline nudged her in the ribs and shushed her.

Caroline shrugged. “And yet, she's never satisfied.”

The waitress emerged from the kitchen to take Jessica's order. Curious to test their desserts for herself, she ordered a slice of their spice cake and hot tea. When the waitress had gone, the other girls snickered. “Wasted money, if you ask me,” Pauline said.

“It can't be that bad.”

Laura leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. “Pa ate their chess pie last week and was sick to his stomach the whole night long.”

“Are you sure it was the pie and not something else he ate?” Caroline added more sugar to her tea and stirred with delicate strokes. “Their original cook quit. The food isn't near as good as it used to be. I wish Mrs. Greene would come back.”

Winding the string around the ribbon in her hand, Pauline addressed Jessica. “I saw your guest working at the livery yesterday. You didn't mention how handsome he is. The sweat and bits of straw clinging to his clothes didn't detract from his appeal one bit.”

Jessica cut her gaze to the huge window overlooking Main Street, scrambling for an appropriate response. Four days later, his kiss still dominated her thoughts. His position at the livery had proved a blessing. Being around him was suddenly a lesson in restraint, a test of her resolve. She'd liked him before the camping expedition. Her feelings had gone beyond friendship since then, and not simply because of what had transpired on her porch Sunday night. Because of Grant, the guilt and shame she'd been carrying around was dissipating. His insightful, straightforward advice had shaken her out of her skewed thinking.

The day Grant wandered onto her property, she'd questioned God's purpose in bringing another trial into her life. Like Job in the Old Testament, she'd demanded answers of the One who'd created the universe and everything in it. And, while God hadn't owed her a single answer, she'd been granted insight—Grant's arrival had forced her to look beyond her own troubled world and consider someone else's feelings, freeing her from the mire of the past and her own self-absorption.

There was a downside to this freedom.

Where her heart had been locked away in an impenetrable shell, impervious to plunder, it was now exposed and pliable and vulnerable. And it craved a man who was unattainable. A man who could prove to be her ultimate downfall.

Which is why you'll exercise caution
, an inner voice reasoned.
You will let common sense rule. You will not ruin the rest of your life by falling for the wrong man.

“I haven't seen him.” Laura pouted. “What's he like?”

Jessica remained quiet as Pauline described him. Tiny sprouts of jealousy poked holes in her composure. She had no right. He wasn't hers to be jealous over.

Her tea and dessert arrived then, saving her from making inane comments about Grant's appeal. The first bite proved the rumors true. The cake was stale, the raisins chewy instead of plump and soft and the icing had a salty twang.

Hurriedly washing away the taste with bracing liquid, she felt three pairs of eyes on her.

Caroline wore a smug expression. “See?”

“That's horrible.” Jessica poked the dense cake. “Does the man have no concept of good food?”

“The owner's pretty elusive. Hard to tell what he thinks.”

Grant's prediction may prove to be right. She couldn't imagine anyone happy to pay for such poor quality. Scooting aside her plate, she went to work on the ribbons. The conversation turned to the harvest fair and the long list of tasks to accomplish beforehand. Jessica listened with half an ear, preoccupied with a decision she'd delayed long enough.

Once she'd paid for her uneaten dessert, she bade the women good day and headed for the mercantile. The bell announced her arrival. Quinn paused in his sweeping of the aisles.

“Jessica.” His smile was warm. “What's brought you in today? If you're looking for Nicole, she's in the back trying to get Violet to sleep.”

Violet was their young daughter, who, with her black hair and bright eyes, promised to be a beauty like her mother. A pang of wistfulness gripped her. She was the only one in her family who was still unmarried. No loving spouse or infants to lavish her affection upon.

“I'm actually here to see you.”

“Oh?” Leaning the broom against the counter, he folded his arms and waited.

“I've been mulling over your offer—the one where I use your shelf space to sell my desserts—and I'd like to do it. If you're still open to the idea.”

“Come to my office, and you can sign the paperwork.”

Surprised, she blurted, “You've got it written up?”

“Jess,” he said patiently, “I've been waiting for you to agree for months. Your desserts will sell, guaranteed.”

“I don't want to sell by the slice. It's the whole thing, or nothing.”

“Sounds reasonable,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“And I want to start with cakes only, at first. I can add pies later, depending on the response.”

“You're the boss, baker lady.” He flashed a grin.

Inside his small office, she scanned the single paper he retrieved from his desk drawer. “This doesn't say anything about your percentage.”

“I don't require any.”

“You're running a business, Quinn. I can't accept special treatment simply because I'm your sister-in-law.”

“It's because you
are
my sister-in-law that you deserve it.”

While she appreciated that his intentions came from a good place, she couldn't accept his terms. She replaced the paper on the desk, unsigned. “It wouldn't be fair.”

His face screwed up in an adorably boyish fashion. “How about five percent of the profits?”

“Ten percent.”

He cocked his head, a lock of inky-black hair sliding forward making him look endearing. “Do you
want
your sister to make my life miserable? Because she has her ways.”

This coaxed a laugh out of her. “Fine. Five percent.” He slapped a pen in her hand. She signed her name. It was official. She was a businesswoman once again.

I'll be up to my elbows in flour and sugar for the foreseeable future, too busy baking to think about Grant.

“Get your ledger out,” she ordered. “I've got shopping to do.”

Chapter Seventeen

G
rant pushed his plate away and, nursing the remainder of his coffee, watched Jessica drizzle Tabasco over her eggs and sausage. She'd come to the table later than usual. Another attempt to avoid him, no doubt.

Every night this week, he'd returned from the livery dirty, hungry and exhausted, and yet anticipating spending time with her. But she'd been conspicuously absent, off visiting her sister or working on harvest fair tasks. Evading him.

He drank in her fresh-faced beauty. Her hair shiny and slightly damp around her hairline from morning ablutions, she'd restrained it in her usual simple style, the yellow ribbon perky at this early hour. It would droop and slip as the day progressed, and he wouldn't be here to fix it. Her ruby ring flashed on her hand. Had that been a gift from Lee?

Of its own accord, his gaze found her mouth, and he hated himself for wondering if she'd kissed her former beau the way she'd kissed him.

His gut burned. Getting out of town, if only for a day, would give him a chance to regain the right perspective. To dull the memories of their embrace and extinguish this relentless drive to be near her.

Alice indicated his plate. “Would you like seconds? You've a fair distance to travel today.”

“No, thank you.” Patting his stomach, he said, “It was delicious, though.”

Finally tuning in to their conversation, Jessica's gaze skipped from her mother to him. “Travel? Where are you going?”

“I'm riding along with your cousins Caleb and Nathan. While they're getting the best price for the chestnuts, I'll be visiting Maryville's sheriff. Maybe talk to the local shopkeepers and see if I can get any leads.”

Her fork hit the table with a thunk. “And what if someone recognizes you?”

“I can only pray that happens.”

Her disquiet deepened. “What if it's someone who doesn't have your best interests at heart?”

Touched by her concern, Grant patted the weapon in his holster. “I'll have this handy.”

Alice observed their interaction with motherly patience, as if they were squabbling kids. “Well, I think it's a good idea. And it's kind of Mr. Warring to give you the time off.”

“He wasn't thrilled about it.”

Grant had given his all to the job. While a tad mundane for his liking, it satisfied him by offering him a chance to earn a wage with honest labor. His initial earnings would go to Alice and Jessica to reimburse them for the many meals they'd fed him and the clothing they'd bought him. The rest he'd use to fund his new life, a fresh start in a city far from here.

He couldn't live in the same town as Jessica and not eventually give in to this unhealthy attachment he felt to her. That wouldn't be fair to her.

“He must be pleased with your work.” Ambling out of the chair, Alice gathered her dishes. “Jessica, I'm going to prepare a quick snack for Grant to take with him. Then the kitchen will be all yours.”

The floorboards creaked with her departure. Jessica sank against her chair back, her appetite apparently forgotten as she stared at her uneaten meal.

“What did she mean by that?”

Twisting her hair into a long coil, her gaze speared his for long moments before falling away. “I'm going to sell my desserts at the mercantile.”

Surprise filtered through him. “When did you decide this?”

“Yesterday. Quinn and I ironed out the agreement. He's confident we'll both make money.”

The fact that she hadn't shared her monumental news with him shouldn't hurt.
You can't play an essential role in her life. You made that clear, remember?

“Congratulations.” He drummed up a smile, truly happy for her. “I'm proud of you. It takes courage to pursue your dreams. I share your brother-in-law's opinion. People will vie for your desserts.”

“When were you planning to tell me about this trip?”

“I bumped into Caleb in town Monday, and he mentioned they were going. I asked if I could tag along. I would've told you that night, but you haven't been around this week.”

Looking chagrined, she said, “I'm always busy right before a community event.”

He didn't buy the excuse. No point arguing the point, though. She was dealing with the repercussions of Sunday night's embrace in her own way.

“Right.” Downing the last of his drink, he pushed away from the table. “Your cousins will be here shortly. I've got to get my things.”

Ten minutes later, he left the cabin as Caleb and Nathan arrived in separate conveyances. He helped them transfer the women's bushels into Nathan's wagon. He had one foot on the wheel, about to haul himself up, when Jessica hurried onto the porch.

“Grant.” Jogging up to him, she thrust a cloth-wrapped parcel into his hands. “I made molasses cookies yesterday while you were at work. They're still fresh. I thought you might like some to take with you.”

From his perch high on his wagon parked behind theirs, Caleb watched their exchange with a narrowed gaze. Nathan looked intrigued.

Grant's smile was strained. “Thanks, Jess. I'm sure I'll enjoy them.”

Worry shimmered in her luminous eyes, and the need to soothe away those worries nearly overpowered him.

“You'll be careful?”

Finding her hand in the folds of her skirt, he gave it a firm squeeze. “Of course. We'll be home late tomorrow night. Don't want to miss another week of church services.”

“Are you two done? Because I'd like to reach Maryville before supper.” Caleb scowled his displeasure.

Reluctantly, he hoisted himself onto the weathered seat and tipped his hat. The fact that he hated to leave her, even for a short trip, indicated serious problems ahead. Because he wasn't sticking around forever.

Nathan waved to her and set the team in motion. He didn't ask any questions as they left Gatlinburg behind. After several side glances at the bundle in Grant's lap, Grant offered him a cookie. Nathan grinned his thanks.

Grant centered the conversation on the man's wife and the impending arrival of their twins. The middle O'Malley brother was more reserved than the others, in possession of a keen mind and steadfast demeanor. If Nathan was anxious about becoming a first-time father, he didn't show it. The girl he'd married had grown up on a neighboring farm. They'd been friends since childhood, and he hadn't seen her as anything more until she nearly married someone else. Grant experienced a twinge of envy. Would he ever have a wife and family of his own? Or would he be relegated to a life of solitude, forever wondering, yearning for something he couldn't have?

He repeated the same prayer he'd uttered while waiting for sleep to claim him the night before.
Guide me on the right path, Lord. Lead me to people who can provide clues to my identity.
A verse from Psalms popped into his mind.
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.
God's promise brought comfort and confidence.

The conversation turned to neutral subjects. He could only be thankful he hadn't had to ride with Caleb. He wouldn't have hesitated to interrogate Grant.

The route was a scenic one and well-traveled. The sun was nearly kissing the horizon by the time they reached their destination. Maryville was a large, bustling city tucked amid rolling, green fields, the larger mountains they'd left behind giving way to foothills arrayed in their autumn glory. They would spend the night on the outskirts to save the cost of a hotel bill. When they had readied their camp and eaten the meal the women had sent along, Grant announced his intentions of going to see the sheriff.

Caleb pointed out a horse. “You're welcome to take that one.”

“My legs are stiff from the long ride. I'll walk. Thanks anyway.”

Nathan offered to tag along. “Jessica wouldn't be too happy with us if we let you get whacked on the head again.”

“Or mugged and held at gunpoint.” Using a wagon wheel as a back rest, Caleb sat with one knee drawn up to his chest, his arm resting on it while he twiddled a blade of grass between his fingers. “What's with the hand-holding and the special treatment? You notice she only gave
you
cookies. You were supposed to be keeping your distance.”

Nathan tossed another log on the fire. Sparks danced in the air. “How's he supposed to do that when they live under the same roof?”

“Maybe it's time you found other lodgings, seeing as how you have a steady income.”

“Believe it or not, I've been giving the matter some thought.”

Leaving the O'Malleys' home wasn't what he wanted. But he couldn't be dependent on their hospitality indefinitely.

“We'll be happy to ask around on your behalf.”

Caleb's offer and accompanying smirk stayed with him during the short walk into town. While he respected the other men, their continued distrust rankled. He craved a good name and solid reputation. Without it, his intentions would constantly be evaluated, his character called into question, his actions judged.

Asking the first man he encountered for directions to the jail, he found it between a leather shop already closed for the day and a quiet café emitting the mouthwatering aroma of fried chicken.

The desk was vacant, the spacious, high-ceilinged room draped in shadows.

“Hello?”

Snoring came from one of the cells. Walking over, he saw that the sleeping stranger sprawled on the cot wore a sheriff's badge. All the other cells stood unused.

“Excuse me.”

When there came no response, Grant entered and cautiously nudged his shoulder. The sheriff fumbled into an upright position. His considerable paunch quivering, he ran a hand over thready patches of remaining gray hair. “Who are you?”

Grant stepped backward through the cell door, hands raised in a gesture of innocence. “The name's Grant Parker, and I'm in town with some acquaintances of mine from Gatlinburg. I was hoping to ask you some questions.”

“Parker, eh?” Brushing past, the sheriff ambled to his desk and opened the top drawer. He slapped a piece of rumpled paper on the desk. “Got this letter from your sheriff a week or so ago. Kept meaning to write a response, but I've had my hands full with town business.”

Grant had a feeling it was more a case of laziness. The man's office was as messy as his person. His too-tight shirt boasted stains on the front. And the stench of sweat had nearly overpowered him a moment ago.

“So you're familiar with my situation?”

Hefting up his waistband, the sheriff dropped into his chair and sighed. “I am. Afraid I can't help you. The only Parker I've come across was a young marshal who passed this way about a month ago. And you ain't him.” He picked at his teeth with his fingernail. “I never forget a face.”

Grant sat without permission into one of two chairs facing the desk, his spirits sagging. “He was a US marshal? Don't their badges look like silver stars?”

“Sure do.”

“What was he doing in the area?” When the lawman frowned, Grant added, “If you don't mind my asking. I've had flashes of that badge. Maybe I knew him.”

“He didn't have business here. Said he was on his way to Kentucky to set up court proceedings.”

Grant's mind raced, frantic for a breakthrough.

A distinctive rumble filled the silence. “My nap ran long, which means I missed supper.” Standing, the sheriff fiddled with the keys dangling from his belt loop. “I've gotta hurry if I wanna make it to Millie's before closing time.”

Grant followed the man out onto the street. “I'll be in town until tomorrow evening around this time if you think of anything else that might help.”

“Sure, sure.” He waved him off, his mind no doubt already on his upcoming meal.

Grant stared after the retreating figure, hands fisting into balls as disappointment collided with frustration. How come the one man with a promising clue turned out to be incompetent?

* * *

Grant woke the next morning with a pounding headache.

He'd lain on his pallet staring up at the stars for hours, reviewing the details of his dream and vision, desperate to remember.

The coffee tasted acrid on his tongue, the day-old biscuit nearly choking him. To Caleb's and Nathan's credit, they kept their distance. They'd ridden into town together and dropped him in front of the first hotel they came to. The plan was for him to meet them at the café beside the jail at six o'clock. They'd eat there before heading home.

Grant sized up the modest establishment. The exterior of the brick building was in good condition, the windows clean and shutters sporting fresh paint. Removing his hat, he fluffed his hair and strode inside, where he asked the attendant to direct him to the manager.

The manager's neat appearance and professional manner was a major improvement over the sheriff's. “Lawrence Fisher,” he introduced himself as they shook hands. “What can I do for you?”

Grant explained what he was after, and the gentleman graciously agreed to check his ledger.

Grant examined the furnished lobby while he waited.

“Mr. Parker?”

The feminine voice behind him held a note of pleasant surprise. As he spun on his heel, spurts of adrenaline dumped into his system. The young woman wore a uniform of black and white, and her blond curls were partially hidden by a cap.

“Do you know me?” His fingers crushed his hat's crown.

She blinked up at him. “My apologies, sir. I thought you were someone else.”

Grant edged closer. “Was this someone a US marshal? Can you give me his description?” The blood rushed through his ears. “Why would you mistake me for him? Do we favor each other?”

Apprehension gripped her rosy features, and she took a step back. “I—I have duties to attend to. Good day—”

“Wait—” He extended a hand.