yearning for what used to be.
Making herself comfortable, his niece clasped her dainty hands together over her chest, big eyes blinking up at him. “I don’t wanna sleep in this bed.”
Sitting on the mattress’s edge, he flicked a stray piece of hay from his pant leg. “Miss Jane and Miss Sophie cleaned it out today just for you. There’s fresh straw inside to make it comfy.”
“I want my old bed.” She surveyed the cabin’s interior. “Our other house was bigger. I wanna go home.”
The plea in her tone punched him square in the chest. “I know this place doesn’t feel like home yet. It’s been empty a long time. No one’s been around to take care of it.” His attention wandered to the empty rocking chair, the basket of knitting needles and yarn near the hearth, and a fresh wave of grief crashed over him. He could use a bit of his ma’s insight right about now. “Did you know that your pa and I were born in this very cabin?”
Her face reflected astonishment, and she looked so much like Charles that he could hardly catch his breath. “Really?”
He made do with a nod. Sometimes he despised his brother for not being strong enough to cope with Jenny’s death. For abandoning Clara. He abandoned you, too. Don’t forget that.
Giving up wasn’t in Tom’s nature. He hadn’t thought it of Charles, either.
Granted, he didn’t understand what it felt like to lose the love of his life, the mother of his child. But Charles had a daughter who needed him. Going off on a reckless self-pity binge was just plain selfish.
“Uncle Tom?”
“Hmm?”
“When will Pa meet us here?”
Snapped out of his reverie, Tom worked to conceal his emotion. He covered her folded hands with his own. “I’m not sure, Clara.”
He hadn’t told her that he had no idea where her pa was. Whether or not he was safe.
This is how Jane must’ve felt when I bolted, he thought dumbly. All those months of wondering where I’d gone, how I was faring... Knowing her proclivity to imagine the worst, it would’ve been torture for her.
No wonder she’d been so devastated. She had a right to be angry.
Like Charles, he’d selfishly disregarded her feelings.
And the one person who’d known, who could’ve eased her worry, had been sworn to secrecy, thanks to him. Stupid move, Leighton.
Clara yawned widely and snuggled deeper into the mattress. “Will you tell me a bedtime story?”
Exhaustion had seeped into his marrow, and he longed for his own bed, but he couldn’t deny her. Tucking the quilt under her chin, he wove a tale of adventure.
Her lids heavy by the time he’d finished, she mumbled, “Is Miss Jane coming to see us tomorrow?”
“Jane has her own farm to take care of.”
She wouldn’t be visiting again soon, he was certain. After overhearing Josh, she’d made sure not to be alone with Tom the remainder of the day, giving him no chance to apologize. Would she change her mind about accompanying him to Megan’s?
“You like her, don’t you?” he said.
“She’s nice.”
“Yeah, she is.”
Nice wasn’t the only adjective he’d use to describe Jane. Insightful was one. Sensitive. Beautiful. That moment by the water resurfaced, the mental image of her upturned face, eyes closed, pale lashes resting against her cheeks as he brushed away the stray one filling his mind.
“Amy is, too.” Clara’s voice jarred him. “She played dolls with me.”
With much effort, Tom refocused on the present. He’d seen Caleb’s young sister-in-law playing with Clara beneath the big maple tree in the yard. In Kansas, Clara had been somewhat isolated from feminine company, surrounded by rowdy, manners-challenged ranch hands. Having the O’Malley women around would benefit her.
Despite the difficulties, coming home to Gatlinburg would be good for her. He’d make sure of it.
* * *
“I can’t believe you agreed to this.”
Jane didn’t look up from her journal. Tom and Clara would be arriving any minute to pick her up, and she wanted to finish her entry. Expressing her thoughts and feelings on paper helped her make sense of her world.
“What excuse could I possibly have given him, Jess?”
Her twin popped up from the top step and paced the length of the porch, blue paisley skirts swishing with each step. “I don’t know. Chores? Errands? Visiting the sick?”
With a sigh, Jane shut the clothbound book and slipped it and her pencil into the leather satchel at her feet. She started the rocker moving with the tip of her boot. “He’s concerned how Megan will react if he shows up there alone. As her sister and his friend, I’m the obvious choice to accompany him.”
“He’s concerned about Megan.” Jessica snorted. “Of course he is.”
Anguish arrowed through her. “He loved her, Jess. Once you love someone, that never goes away.”
At least, it hadn’t in her experience. How many times had she yearned for the empty hole in her heart to mend? Or be filled with someone else? She’d thought that, with time, Roy would’ve come to mean more to her. “Besides, Tom hasn’t the slightest idea how I feel. In his mind, this is simply an opportunity for me to visit with my sister.”
Jessica knelt before her, halting the rocking motion with her hands on the armrests. Looking into her face was like peering into a mirror.
“I’m worried about you, sis. Not only are you dealing with Roy’s deception, but the return of your infatuation. The hero of your daydreams. The man you haven’t been able to forget.”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
Interest kindled in Jessica’s rounded eyes. “You’re going to confess everything?”
The mere idea had her heart doing palpitations. “Can you honestly picture me doing that?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. If you were to work up your nerve. It’s not a horrible idea.” She snapped her fingers. “I know, I can pretend to be you and do it for you.”
Jane glowered at her twin. The handful of times they’d switched identities as children had been spectacular failures. And they’d gotten punished for their efforts. “Forget it, Jess.”
“Okay. How about flirting with him? Giving him subtle hints that you’re open to a relationship?”
Gently nudging Jessica aside, she pushed to standing and went to the railing. “My plan is to live my life apart from his. After today, I’m going to see to it that our paths rarely cross outside church. I won’t even sit with him during the service.” Not like old times, side by side with Tom and Megan on the wooden pew.
Jessica joined her, retying the shiny blue ribbon that had come loose about her thick mane. “He’ll be included in all the O’Malley events.”
“I can handle it.”
“Has he told you what he’s been up to all this time?”
“Not exactly.”
“You do realize he might be married. Or engaged. Not all men wear wedding bands. Anything could’ve happened in two years.”
Married. The possibility hadn’t occurred to her. Surely he’d been too distraught over Megan to notice other women! Dread and something too much like desperation cut into her. She couldn’t bear the thought, and that frightened her. Because it meant she wasn’t over him.