Arness. She’s the preacher’s wife. She’s promised to find you something to wear, and Mikey, too. Mikey, say hello to Mrs. Arness.”
“’Lo.” Muffin had returned to his side and Mikey clutched at the dog’s back.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Emily said. Annie was married to the preacher?
“Likewise.” Annie turned to Jesse. “You didn’t tell me she was beautiful.”
Jesse gave the woman a look so full of warning it surprised Emily that she didn’t lose her smile. Instead, she chuckled. “I’ll behave myself. Don’t worry.”
“You better.”
Emily recalled his grandmother’s words about him having high expectations of others and wondered if Annie had disappointed him.
Annie turned her attention back to Emily. “I am sorry to hear of your misfortune, and both my husband and I will pray you regain your memory quickly.” She clapped her hands together. “In the meantime, I’ll take care of finding you some fresh clothing. Jesse, where’s my bag?”
Jesse held forth a valise and Annie took it from him.
“I brought a few of Evan’s things that are too small for him.” She pulled out two pairs of overalls, three little shirts, nightwear, socks and other necessities. “I think they’ll fit Mikey okay. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anything handy that would be your size. Jesse said you were taller than Gram, here, and shorter than me.”
Emily’s head began to hurt at the rapid delivery of Annie’s words.
Jesse caught Annie’s arm. “Emily needs to rest.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll return with a few things.” She slipped away.
Emily called her thanks then closed her eyes. She heard the chair next to hers being pulled out. A warm hand touched her elbow.
“Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and looked into Jesse’s concerned face. She would have nodded but knew the movement would hurt, so she whispered, “I’m as good as can be expected, I suppose.”
He chuckled. “The doc would be proud of your answer.”
She grinned, already feeling better.
Mrs. Whitley moved a pot on the stove. The scraping sound reminded Emily she had offered to help prepare supper.
“I need to finish peeling the potatoes.” Emily picked up the knife to resume her task. She felt Jesse’s study and paused to look at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” He jerked his gaze to the basin of potato peelings.
Mrs. Whitley chuckled. “He’s pretending he hadn’t noticed that you are, indeed, beautiful.”
Heat stole up Emily’s neck and stalled at her cheeks. “I’m a mess, and I know it. My clothes are grubby and no doubt my hair is untidy. I can’t remember who I am.” A sob choked off the last of her words and she clamped her lips together. She would not cry. It made her look weak and needy.
“Everything will be okay.” Jesse sounded so reassuring she allowed herself to believe him. Any minute she would wake up and remember exactly who she was and where she was going.
She pushed aside the swirling darkness her thoughts caused, finished peeling the potatoes and handed the pot to Mrs. Whitley.
The older woman thanked her. “Jesse, why don’t you take Emily and Mikey outside? Sitting in the sun will do them both good. A change of scenery might help her feel better. Take Muffin with you, too. She needs to go out for a bit.”
“Good idea.”
Emily wondered if they’d had the same thought as she...something outside might trigger her memory.
The dog had already rushed to the door at the mention of her name. Jesse reached out a hand to invite Mikey along. He waited at the door for her to join them.
Emily got to her feet, pleased that she felt no dizziness, and went to his side. He took her hand. He might have done so to make sure she didn’t fall. She might have let him for the very same reason or it might be she found courage and strength in the way he held her as he led her to a bench by the side of the house. She hadn’t been able to see it from the windows. Nor had she seen the little shed at the end of the wide stoop.
He sat beside her.
Mikey chased Muffin across the small patch of grass, giggling with joyful abandon.
She took in the flowers against the weathered picket fence, the shade-providing trees, the vegetable garden and the bushes, and relaxed with a sigh. “Everything about this place is serene. Your grandmother has a special touch.”
“My gram is a special person.”
“I can see that. So...you live with your grandmother?”
* * *
Jesse startled at her question. People didn’t often ask him about why he lived with Gram. Those he considered friends knew. But he didn’t mind telling her. In fact, with her eyes closed, he found it easy to talk of his past. “I was told that my pa died when I was two, and that Ma couldn’t deal with it and started to wander. She left me with Gram. That was before we moved to Bella Creek. We saw Ma maybe two or three times a year. And then we didn’t. I was eleven when we learned she had died.” And when he’d learned the truth about his parentage.
“How sad for you. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how I would react to such news.”
He chuckled in a self-mocking way. “I got angry. I wondered why I couldn’t be enough reason for her to stay around. And I don’t refer to her death.”
Emily said nothing, but he sensed her waiting and he continued.
“I always believed she had died in an accident, but one of the bigger boys—a bully—told me she died in a house for soiled doves. At first, I thought that was a place for unhappy women, but that misconception was soon cleared up for me. Turns out she didn’t even know who my father was.” He thought of that troubled time in his past. “I thank God that someone cared enough to set me on the right path.”
“Your grandmother?” She studied him, her eyes shadowed with pain.
“You should be resting, not listening to my personal history.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed. “Who knows what will make my memory return? Besides, your voice eases my headache. Please continue.”
“Very well.” He returned to their conversation. “My grandmother was doing her best with me, but was on a losing track until Grandfather Marshall came to visit. His wife had been Gram’s best friend. He saw how things were going with me and suggested she move to Bella Creek. Said there was need for a good seamstress. But he knew I needed a change of scenery...a chance to direct my energies in a positive direction.”
“It seems to have worked. Right?”
Another mocking laugh. “Not at first. The then-sheriff found me setting a fire behind the hotel. He led me to the jail. I thought he was going to lock me up, but instead he gave me a job cleaning his office and running errands. He spoke slowly and carefully. And I listened.” Jesse lowered his voice to imitate Sheriff Good’s way of speaking. “He said things like, ‘Every decision you make takes you down a road. Make sure you choose a road you want to be on at the end.’ ‘A man is only as good as his word.’ ‘When it comes to right and wrong, there is no compromise.’ ‘Avoid all appearance of evil.’”
He leaned back. Thinking of Sheriff Good always filled him with pleasure. “He was a fine man.”
He had taught Jesse to be proud of himself, and he still was. His smile turned downward. Not all people valued him as he’d like. Four years ago, Agnes Breckenridge had moved to town with her family and she’d made it obvious she liked him. They courted. But