The Marshal's Ready-Made Family (19 page)

She had to find her courage. And Jo knew just where to start.

“Ma,” Jo said, her voice ragged with emotion. “Your job will never be over. I’ll always be your daughter and I will always need your love and help.”

Edith pulled her into a sobbing hug, and Jo returned the fierce pressure.

Being vulnerable was tougher than feigning courage, but it sure felt a whole lot better.

Chapter Twenty-Four

G
arrett snatched his saddle and tossed it over Blue’s back. He tightened the cinch and then led the horse into the clearing. Hoisting one foot into the stirrup, a sound caught his attention. He turned and discovered Jo meandering up the driveway, blissfully unaware of the panic she’d caused.

He tossed the reins over the hitch and stalked toward her. “Where have you been?”

Her eyes widened at his tone. “Mrs. Sundberg had her baby.”

“Why didn’t you send word?” Garrett planted his hands on his hips. “I’ve been worried.”

Jo halted. “Why didn’t you ask Beatrice?”

A flush crept up his neck. “I was just heading back into town. In the future, let me know if you’ll be late.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he snapped back.

With the sudden release of tension, he fully absorbed her disheveled appearance and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She appeared fragile, exhausted, and all his worries rushed back. “You scared me,” Garrett reluctantly admitted.

“I said I was sorry,” Jo grumbled. “What more do you want?”

“I’m sorry, too. Except I get mad when I’m scared.”

“You’ll fit right in with the McCoys,” Jo grunted. “Once, Abraham stepped on a nail and he got so mad, he threw a hammer at the wall.”

“And that didn’t scare you?”

“He didn’t throw it at me.”

Garrett’s heart continued pounding uncomfortably in his chest as he wrangled his emotions back in check. “Let’s start over again.”

“Agreed,” she replied, her voice thick with exhaustion. “How was your day?”

“Fine. I guess I should ask about the baby,” he added sheepishly.

“He’s doing well now.” Her lips trembled. “I didn’t know what would happen. The baby had the cord wrapped around his neck. But Ma managed to save him.”

Garrett wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she sank into his embrace. “I’m glad you were there for her.”

An air of melancholy surrounded her. She leaned against him, and he felt a swift, sharp relief at her show of trust.

“Actually, so am I.” She linked her arm around his waist. “And Ma and I had a good talk.”

Garrett let out a low whistle. “What about?”

“I’ll tell you, but not now.”

Hesitating, Garrett opened his mouth then changed his mind. “Fair enough.”

He didn’t understand the complexities of a mother-daughter relationship, and he respected Jo’s privacy. Yet she’d always been open and honest with him, more than he’d ever given in return. Emotion shimmered in her expressive emerald eyes, sparking a pang of yearning. He had no right to ask her for her secrets when he’d guarded his own so fiercely.

They broke apart when they reached his tethered horse, and the heat of her touch lingered against his side. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you wait inside while I take care of Blue.”

“I’d rather hear about your day.” She trailed him into the barn and opened the first stall door. She grasped the top slat, then rested her chin on her knuckles. “Word in town has it that Tom Walby’s been arrested for Mr. Hodges’s murder.

Garrett lifted the saddle off Blue with a grunt. “Word travels fast.”

“Did he really kill him?”

Garrett met her sorrowful gaze. “That’s how it appears. He doesn’t even remember what happened that night. His day in court would have gone easier if Tom had come forward sooner.”

Tugging off his gloves, he approached her, nervous at the soft reproach in her gaze. “I had to arrest him, you know that.”

“I know.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “There’s no love lost between us, but I’m worried about his wife. His son.”

“Tom can’t change the past. He can only move forward.”

She tossed him a cryptic smile. “I thought you said people didn’t change.”

“Can’t a man be wrong sometimes?”

“We all get to be wrong sometimes,” she answered enigmatically, then straightened her shoulders, throwing off the somber mood. “Say, do you realize we just had our first fight?”

Her announcement threw him off for a moment. “I guess so.”

Jo shut the stall bar behind him. “That wasn’t bad, was it?”

“You’re right.” He absorbed her words, hoping he didn’t look as addled as he felt. “It wasn’t.”

Jo tilted her head. “You feeling all right?”

For the first time in a long while, he felt strong in spirit. He was addled, all right. “Great. I’m feeling better than I have in a month of Sundays. I’ll finish mucking out the stalls and then I’ll help you with dinner. Unless you want to rest first,” he added quickly.

She’d perked up during the conversation, but he sensed she’d had an exhausting day.

“Nope,” Jo replied. “I think I’m getting my second wind.”

She sketched a wave and retreated into the house.

Mulling over the revelation, Garrett set about his chores. As he lifted another pitchfork full of hay into the milk cow’s stall, his sense of bewilderment increased.

He’d spent their brief marriage walking like a man crossing grizzly country, tiptoeing around and dreading a confrontation. But they’d actually survived their first argument. Jo hadn’t cried, and he hadn’t yelled. All in all, the experience was nothing as he’d expected. For the first time since he’d made his hasty proposal, he felt more optimism than fear.

Staying away from her had been a good choice. In a few more months, when they had a solid foundation, he’d tell her the truth. First, he needed to foster their relationship without the distracting pull of attraction.

A sound caught his attention and he turned. Jo stood in the open double barn doors, her outline silhouetted against the late-afternoon sun. She’d changed into a pretty blue calico dress with lace at the collar.

Garrett couldn’t see her features and he shielded his eyes against the sun. She approached him, her steps more hesitant than usual, a basket hooked over her elbow and an unfamiliar red tartan blanket thrown over one shoulder.

“Is it suppertime already?” Garrett asked, brushing his hands together.

Jo held the basket aloft with both hands. “I thought we’d do something different tonight.”

She tilted her head, and Garrett glanced behind him, feeling as if he’d missed something. “Like what?”

“A picnic.”

“Ah, okay.” He glanced down at his dusty clothes and Jo’s neat dress. “I’ll be right back.”

Garrett stepped into the house, dashed upstairs, rinsed his hands and face in the washbasin and slicked back his hair. Cora was staying with the McCoys overnight, and he sensed a difference in Jo this evening.

He slipped into a clean jacket and considered changing the rest of his outfit, then reconsidered. He didn’t want to keep her waiting. After a final assessment before the looking glass, he loped down the stairs and across the clearing toward the barn.

Jo lifted her head as he approached. “There’s a lovely spot by the stream.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll carry the basket.”

With a shy smile, Jo handed over the burden. Garrett hooked the handles beneath his arm. On a whim, he stuck out his opposite elbow. To his surprise, Jo looped her hand through the crook. His chest swelled.

Though Jo normally charged ahead on any journey, she kept the pace slow and measured. The summer days had lengthened, and the heat had given the late afternoon a lazy feel. A peaceful lassitude stole over him.

Nature had bloomed over the countryside, brilliant and unrestrained. As they neared the creek, sheltering trees rose before them, their leaves saturated with emerald-green.

Jo touched his sleeve with her free hand. “David caught up with me on my way home from Mrs. Sundberg’s. That’s how I found out about Tom.”

“Your brother should have given you a ride.”

“I wanted to walk. I needed to think. And of course I had to ask him about Mary Louise.”

Garrett recalled how his deputy had been mooning around the office. “How is the courting progressing?”

“Excellent. He’s ready for marriage.”

“Her father won’t be pleased.”

“Nothing short of a fortune will please Mr. Stuart. But if Mary is content, that’s all that matters.”

“What about you?” Garrett asked, gathering his courage. “Are you content?”

She tilted her head, considering the question. “Cora laughs, and she seems happy and healthy.”

Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. She pointed out the site for the picnic and unfurled the tartan blanket draped over her arm.

The girl who’d boldly demanded his hand in marriage had disappeared, leaving behind this shy, beautiful woman. There was an air about her, a sense of hesitant determination.

Garrett helped arrange the covering. “Is this blanket new?”

The blush on her cheeks intensified, and his mood soared. She’d bought the blanket specifically for this outing. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

He set down the picnic basket, and Jo flopped onto the edge of the blanket.

She plucked a black-eyed Susan from a scraggly patch of wildflowers and twirled the stem. “David said Tom was sweet on me growing up.”

“I told you so.” Garrett raised his eyebrows, daring her to refute him.

Jo playfully chucked him on the arm. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The sun hovered low on the horizon, blazing red behind a thin cover of clouds. Jo’s hair fluttered in the breeze, pulled loose from its bindings. Instead of wearing her dark hair in a single braid down her back, she’d been twisting several braids in a knot at the base of her neck. He realized she’d been taking more care with her appearance lately and the result was breathtaking.

She’d always been beautiful and now she was stunning. Other people had noticed, too. With pride and not a little jealousy, he’d seen gentlemen tip their hats to her on the boardwalk. As much as he wanted the secret of Jo’s allure all to himself, he liked seeing the townspeople react to the radiance he’d always seen, a beauty the folks around her had taken for granted.

He reached for a stray lock and tucked the soft strands behind the gentle curve of her ear. “You’ve been wearing your hair different. I like it.”

“Thank you.” She smoothed a stray lock, her movements jerky and self-conscious. “I guess I was afraid of trying something new.”

Her announcement stunned him. “I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything.”

“You’re the second person who’s said that to me today.”

He thought he’d been the only one in town who saw Jo, really saw the person inside, but he’d been just as blind as the rest of them.

She caught his gaze and smiled shyly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

Secrets and lies.
How much of his life had been shaped by secrets and lies? He went through all the false motions—smiling when he was sad, laughing when he was angry and never telling anyone of his past. He was exhausted from hiding, exhausted from covering his true feelings.

Jo cleared her throat. “Remember when you asked me what Ma and I talked about?” She plucked at the weeds near the edge of the blanket. “We made our peace. I didn’t like helping my ma with midwife duties. We had a big fight about it a couple of years ago. Everyone thinks I’m tough, but I’m not. I’m afraid of childbirth.”

“That seems normal to me.”

She absently braided several long, green stalks. “None of my friends from school are. They all have babies.”

Garrett handed her a black-eyed Susan, and she delicately wove it into her chain.

“That doesn’t mean they’re not scared,” he said.

“What are you afraid of?”

She needed his honesty right then, but he couldn’t reveal his shame just yet, not when their budding relationship was this new and fragile. “I’m afraid of not being the man I want to be. Of hurting someone I love.”

Jo stilled at the revealing admission. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His gaze dipped to her lips.

Something happened then that he could not explain later. One moment he was revealing his deepest fear, the next moment she was wrapped in his arms. The evening sun warmed his back, and the air around them smelled deliciously of new leaves and freshly tilled earth.

Stirred by a depth of emotion he hadn’t thought himself capable of, he surrendered to the foreign sensations. The embrace was right and good, a culmination of the feelings he’d kept rigidly in check since the moment he’d met JoBeth McCoy.
His wife.

Nothing in his past had prepared him for the feelings rocking his carefully ordered world.

Realizing the enormity of what he was doing, he abruptly let go. Jo stared at him, her body still, not even breathing for a moment.

A shy smile spread across her face. “When I asked you to marry me last spring, you asked what would happen if I ever wanted children of my own.”

“You said we’d cross that bridge when we got there.”

“We’re there.”

His chest constricted. He knew what she was telling him. She wanted children. She wanted a real marriage. Garrett stood and stumbled back a step, putting some distance between them.

He was no better than any other addict. Like Tom Walby swearing off drink, he’d sworn to keep his distance. He’d broken that promise. “I can’t. I’m sorry. But I just can’t.”

What if he hurt her? He’d promised himself he wouldn’t touch her and he hadn’t even kept that promise for a day—for an hour. He was a weak man, and weak men did not make good husbands.

“Why?” Jo demanded. “Is it me?”

“No, of course not.” He raked his hands through his hair. “You’re wonderful. It’s me. I’m not the man you think of I am.”

“Then who are you?”

Her words shot through him like a bullet. The question was deceptively simple, the answer needlessly complicated. He was a flawed man. No better than Tom. No better than his own father. He made promises to himself he didn’t keep. Promises to his family he broke.

“I’m not the man you think I am,” he repeated, his voice a jagged whisper. “I can’t.”

She deserved a whole man. And he wouldn’t be whole until he made his peace with God, and with himself. Only then could he be a man worthy of Jo’s love.

Love.

“Give me time.” He dragged in a ragged breath. “Please just give more time.”

As a cloud drifted over the sun, the radiance of the afternoon leached away. The budding confidence in Jo’s eyes faded into a dull torpor.