Reclaiming His Past (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

I
have a lot to be thankful for, Lord.

Her gaze roaming about her aunt and uncle's living room, crowded with relatives on this Thanksgiving Day, Jessica prayerfully listed her blessings. The brightest one lay nestled in her arms. Joy slept deeply, despite the loud conversations and occasional outburst of laughter. Her perfect, dainty mouth made sucking motions. Her tiny fingers held on to Jessica's with surprising strength. What she wouldn't give for a baby of her own.

Funny, she'd contemplated marriage to Lee, but it had been an abstract notion. She certainly hadn't given much thought to children. Grant was different. She had no trouble envisioning being his wife, living with him day in and day out, raising a family. He'd be a tender, giving husband, a wise and patient father.

She held in a sigh, lest she earn another worried look. Her loved ones had been walking on eggshells these past weeks. Afraid to make a reference to Grant. Afraid to say anything remotely upsetting.

Had her feelings for him been that obvious? Had her mother let the truth slip to Aunt Mary, and it spread from there? Or, more worrying, had they simply put two and two together—his absence and her lingering despondency?

Evan entered the cabin and called for the room's attention. “Juliana? Will you come here, please?”

A slight frown on her face, Juliana rose from her chair and hoisted their sleepy two-year-old son onto her hip. Jessica tensed. The couple had written ahead about their plans to spend the holiday in Gatlinburg. Whatever he'd been busy arranging these past months, Jessica prayed it would please her sister.

When Juliana reached him, Evan curved an arm around her waist. Love shone in his gaze. There was tension in him, though.

“Juliana, as you know, I've been working on a surprise for you. Something I hope you approve of very much.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “You know I trust your judgment. I won't lie and say I haven't been anxious these past weeks, however.”

“I appreciate your patience, Irish. The wait is over.” Turning to the expectant gathering, he said, “Everyone, we're going on a short trip. The wagons are waiting outside.”

They filed out into the yard. Four wagons had been readied, the beds lined with hay squares for seating. The kids bounced up and down. Nicole cradled her sleeping daughter to her chest. She leaned close to Jessica. “I wonder what this is about.”

“I can't imagine.”

“Quinn knows something. I'm sure of it.” Her violet eyes snapped. “But no amount of pestering would budge him. I didn't glean even a bit of information.”

The baby in her arms squirmed. Cooing softly, Jessica rocked Joy until she settled.

“You're a natural with her,” Nicole said with a smile. “Any chance your marshal will trade in the badge for mountain living?”

“You're the first to mention him to me.”

“No use avoiding the obvious. You're miserable without him.”

“Why would he want this when he can reside in a bustling city, hobnob with government elite and get paid to live out adventures?”

“What if that no longer appeals to him? What if he's miserable without you, too?”

If Jessica allowed herself to hope for such a thing, she'd live with constant disappointment. No. Better to focus on getting through each day the best she could.

Ahead of them, Nathan assisted a heavily pregnant Sophie into the wagon bed. Because of her petite frame, her belly looked large and uncomfortable. Surely the twins would be born soon. With her situated, he turned and helped Nicole and then Jessica. The wagons finally started off down the lane. Instead of heading toward town, their procession turned toward Jessica and Alice's. They passed their property and, about a mile down the lane, parked alongside a newly cleared field.

Evan led the way into the middle of the field, leading Juliana by the hand. Alice held Sammy, and young James huddled close to her side.

When everyone had gathered around, Evan took his wife's other hand so that they were facing each other. “My darling Juliana, for years it's been your dream to return to your home. I know how much you've missed your family. The land you're standing on is ours. If you agree, we'll start work on our new home right away. We can be moved in by Christmas.”

There were gasps and clapping. Tears streamed down Juliana's cheeks. “
This
is what you've been planning? Truly?” she exclaimed, glancing about her at the fields, the trees and the mountains in the distance.

“Are you happy?”

For an answer, she squealed and threw her arms around his neck. Evan's smile bore testament to his relief, as well as his adoration for his wife. Jessica found herself blinking away tears. She could hardly fathom that her entire family would be together again.

As everyone gathered around the couple, she hung back, apart from the celebration. While she was thrilled for Juliana, sadness permeated her soul. All around her, her sisters and cousins stood with their spouses. Some, like Megan and Lucian, had large families. Others, like Nathan and Sophie, Jane and Tom, were just starting theirs.

In that moment, she experienced Grant's absence, his
permanent
absence, as if a part of her heart had been ripped from her chest. Solitude was a bitter friend. Jessica ached to see his lopsided smile. His bright eyes full of mirth. To hear him humming along to a tune he was playing on his guitar.

She longed to have him beside her, a ring on his hand proclaiming to the world that he belonged with her.

It was nothing but a pointless, silly dream. He was in Virginia now. And he wasn't coming back.

* * *

Grant answered the succinct rap on his door. His brother waited on the stoop. Behind him, single riders, conveyances and pedestrians traversed the busy thoroughfare. After the peacefulness of the mountains, the constant activity was jarring.

“Taylor said you were looking for me.” His cheeks were chapped from the blistering wind.

“Come in.”

Grant moved to admit him into his quarters, a spacious but utilitarian room in the marshals' barracks, located in the heart of Arlington. It was large enough to hold a bed, wardrobe, desk and chair. He'd had a clapboard house once upon a time, he'd been told. One he'd sold shortly after Susannah's death.

Aaron eyed the open trunks and the wardrobe's doors thrown wide. Before he could comment, Grant said, “I've remembered something.”

“Seriously? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me right away?”

Striding to the bed, he rifled through a box of their grandparents' things, mementos Aaron had given him, and lifted out a necklace with a heart-shaped locket.

“I was looking through this box late last night when I came upon this.” He closed his fingers around the locket, the thrill of the memory still fresh. “I saw her, Aaron. I remembered Grandmother.”

His brother's elation was plain. “What did you remember, exactly?”

“She and I were sitting at her kitchen table. The tablecloth was made of lace. And faded. She wore her silver hair in a bun.” Closing his eyes, he recalled the details, warmth infusing him as if he were back there in that kitchen with her, the smell of cinnamon cookies in the air. “Her apron was pink and white and frilly.”

“That was her favorite apron,” he said. “Did you remember Grandfather? Or anyone else? Pa?”

“No. Just her. She gave me this locket and explained that it had belonged to our mother. Grandmother was a sweet lady, wasn't she?”

“She was the best.” He clapped him on the back. “This is just the start, Garrett. Before long, you'll get all your memories back. Life can finally return to how it used to be...you and me, making the world a safer place.”

Grant carefully returned the necklace and turned to face his brother. This was the hard part. “I'm leaving, Aaron. Memories or no, I can't resume my former life as if nothing happened. I can't pretend I haven't changed.” As he watched Aaron struggle to accept his decision, he added, “This wasn't a decision I made lightly.”

In the six weeks he'd been here, he'd struggled to readjust to his former life. He'd done everything he could think of to jog his memory. He'd visited his grandparents' old homesite. Taken flowers to their graves and his father's. He'd stood on a busy street and stared at the home he and Susannah had briefly inhabited. Taylor had gifted him with a new silver star and, while he'd felt proud to wear it, he didn't deserve it. Without his memory, he didn't have the knowledge or skills to step into his former role. And deep down inside, he didn't want to.

His colleagues had been patient with him. They'd plied him with story after story about how he'd tracked down notorious outlaws, protected federal judges and witnesses, arranged for court proceedings. Just that morning, when he'd handed in his letter of resignation, Taylor had advised him to give it more time.

He didn't need more time. What he needed was to see Jessica again. Thoughts of her crowded his mind at all hours of the day. Sleep didn't bring relief. He worried that she was sad. He worried that she wasn't, that she'd completely put him out of her mind, that she didn't ache for him as he did for her.

“I had a feeling this was coming. I kept thinking that regaining your memory would solve everything.” Aaron spun the desk chair around and straddled it, his bulky wool coat bunching at the sleeves. “It wouldn't, though, would it? You'd still choose to leave.”

Grant folded another shirt and placed it in the trunk. Then he came and sat on the corner of the bed. “This isn't the life I want anymore.”

“Words I never thought I'd hear you say.” Unhappiness wreathing his features, Aaron waved a hand to encompass the room. “Being a marshal was your lifelong dream.”

“Dreams change. God allowed this to happen to me for a reason. Has it been easy? Of course not. I'd give anything to be able to remember working alongside you. As much as it would hurt, I want to remember what happened with Susannah. But if I hadn't been ambushed, I never would've met Jessica...” He trailed off as fierce emotion gripped him. Fisting his hands, he stared at the swept floor, willing himself to regain control.

Aaron didn't speak at first. “Have you worked out what you're going to say to her?”

He lifted his head, grateful for Aaron's effort to understand. He cleared his throat. “Not yet. Thought I'd practice my speech on the way. Maybe I should purchase a ring first.”

“I didn't get a chance to really speak to her, but from what I saw, she'd accept you with or without a ring.”

He didn't share his confidence. “I shouldn't have left her.”

Not once had she ever said she loved him. There were no guarantees, no way to know if she desired a future with him.

“But then you would've always wondered if you'd made the right choice. You gave this life a try. Discovered it's not for you.” Aaron chuckled softly. “If our father knew you'd given up the marshal's life for that of a farmer...”

“He wouldn't understand.”

“Not at all.” Pushing to his feet, he shoved the chair beneath the desk. “Plan on frequent visits from me, big brother.”

Grant stood as well and pulled him in for a hug. “Whether I wind up a happily married man or a miserable hermit, you'll always be welcome.”

“Trust me. She'll say yes.”

Clapping him on the back, Aaron broke the embrace and walked over to the wardrobe. “Let's get you packed.”

Grant joined him, praying with everything in him that Aaron was right.

* * *

With only twelve days until Christmas, it was far too cold to be outside on the porch. Jessica sat bundled into a layer of quilts. Her cheeks and nose tingled and the tips of her ears burned. Everything else was relatively warm. The creak of the rocker was the only sound in the tranquil December night. If she stopped the motion and strained her ears, she could just make out the patter of snowflakes landing on the brittle earth.

She would've been toasty inside by the fire but hadn't been able to resist observing their first snowfall of the winter. And this spot, more than any other, held special memories of Grant.

Closing her eyes, she relived their many conversations on this porch. The music they'd made together. Even after all this time, she could clearly picture his teasing smile, the way his eyes danced with mischief. Countless times she'd been tempted to pick up pen and paper and write to him. Countless times she'd discarded the idea.

Why prolong her agony?

The air was heavy with the scent of pine, reminding her of those fleeting moments she'd spent in his arms. Feeling the rush of sorrow stemming from broken dreams, she reluctantly squirmed to standing. Stringing popcorn for the tree they'd cut that day would divert her thoughts. She just had to be quiet and not disturb her mother.

Jessica had her hand on the door latch when the indistinct tinkling of bells reached her.

Treading to the top step, she held on to the railing and waited as the musical sounds drew closer. Was this a late-night visit from one of her sisters? They'd all done their very best to cheer her. Not that their efforts had paid off, at least not for any length of time. But she appreciated what they were trying to do. It proved how much they loved her.

Lanterns swinging from a conveyance scattered shards of light onto the lane. Snowflakes whirled and dipped as a pair of horses clopped through the wet accumulation, their breaths creating white clouds of steam.

Jessica considered going for the gun inside her room. She didn't recognize the team or the lone figure leading them. Something held her there, something about the way his Stetson was pulled low on his head and the set of his shoulders.

Hope exploded deep inside, and her knees threatened to buckle.

The team jerked to a stop near the barn. After setting the brake, the man leaped to the ground and strode across the yard, his attention on the layer of snow beneath his boots. Her grip tightened on the rail.