Exultant Montana Christmas: Bear Grass Springs, Book Nine Page 3

  She looked at him intently. “Tell me, Ewan. Tell me. Why have they been miserable?” Her eyes flashed with anger and pleading. “Why?”

  He shook his head. “Are ye tellin’ me ye’re content with how things are? That ye dinna miss the way things were?”

  “Why, Ewan?”

  He gripped her arms, ignoring when she stiffened under his touch. “I miss holdin’ ye in my arms. And, no, no’ just to make love. Holdin’ ye, hearin’ ye snuffle out a wee snore as ye sleep in my arms, kennin’ ye’re safe. Knowin’ there’s nowhere else ye’d rather be. Talkin’ with ye late into the night. Sharin’ my fears and my hopes with ye. Receivin’ yer wise counsel, as ye have a keen insight into people and problems. Seein’ yer eyes light up with joy at the sight of me.” He shook his head as he dropped his hands and took a step away. “That’s what I miss, Jessie.”

  When he released her, she turned away, a deep breath stuttering out, as though she were fighting a sob. “I … not now,” she whispered.

  “Did ye ever love me?” he whispered. He took a step away from her when she bowed her head, and her shoulders shook with sobs. “Forgive me, lass. I never meant to cause ye sufferin’.” Rather than wrap his arms around her and hold her against his chest as he longed to do, he backed away. At the door, he looked at her again, a deep ache in his chest, before he shut the door quietly behind him.

  Ewan sat in Bears’s kitchen, watching Bears with his family. Ewan had accused Jessamine of envying their friends, and Ewan acknowledged that he felt envious too. Fidelia and Bears had everything Ewan dreamed of. A home filled with love, laughter, and hope, even on a frigid winter evening. Children asleep in bedrooms and the dream of more to come. He rubbed at his chest, admonishing himself for yearning for what could never be.

  Fidelia emerged from the back room, where she had just put her infant son, Jack, to bed in a cradle Ewan had constructed for him. Bears was in the other bedroom, reading to his daughter, Bright Fawn, or Mildred as the townsfolk called her.

  Before she sat, Fidelia filled up his cup of coffee. “I’m glad you didn’t sneak away as we attended the children. I feared you might,” she said. Her light-brown eyes shone with concern, and her chestnut hair was loose from its bun. The front of her burgundy wool dress had small stains smattered over the front, but she appeared unconcerned about her appearance as she focused on Ewan.

  She and Ewan had an interesting history. Fidelia, known as Charity when she had worked at the Boudoir, had resented the arrival of her sister, Annabelle, to Bear Grass Springs in 1884 and had resisted forming a relationship with her. However, a few years ago, Ewan had won Fidelia’s freedom in the last poker game he ever played when the Madam had bet Charity in the final hand. Fidelia knew she would be forever grateful to him for the part he had played in earning her her freedom.

  “I dinna desire returnin’ to an empty house,” he muttered as he took another swallow of coffee.

  Fidelia frowned. “I had hoped the town gossip had exaggerated the discord between you and J.P.,” she murmured. After a moment she said, “Jessamine has been distant since the birth of Jack.” She and Bears had named their son after Bears’s father, Jack Renfrew.

  Ewan flushed. “I’m sorry she was no’ more helpful after the bairn’s birth.”

  Fidelia shook her head. “Between Anna, Leticia, and Helen, I had plenty of help. It’s J.P.’s friendship I’ve missed.” She frowned. “We all miss her.”

  He tapped his fingers on the tabletop and nodded. “Aye. I dinna ken what to do, Dee. She’s no’ happy. An’ I dinna ken how to make her happy.” He covered his eyes a moment. “That is no’ somethin’ easy for a man to admit.”

  Fidelia gripped his hand and waited for him to drop his other hand to meet her compassionate gaze. “When’s that last time you truly spoke with her? Shared your fears?”

  He shrugged. “I tried tonight. All I did was make her cry.” He looked at Fidelia with despair. “She doesna want me at home. Whenever she’s there, an’ I arrive, she invents a reason to leave. Then she’ll go to her print shop, with the door locked, an’ sit by the fire in a daze. I’ve stood outside, too many times, watchin’ her.”

  “Perhaps that’s part of the problem, Carpenter,” Bears said as he joined them. “You’re watching her rather than holding her.” He sat next to his wife and clasped Fidelia’s hand. He wore tan pants with an indigo shirt that highlighted the light brown of his skin. A leather band held his thick hair back, forming a black river down his back. “Sometimes we have to force those we love to face their fears.”

  Ewan gave a frustrated sigh. “I thought I was doin’ that tonight, but that didna work. She wouldna come to dinner.”

  Fidelia leaned into Bears’s side. “I remember being prickly like Jessamine. I believed I had done something so awful that I was no longer deserving of being loved.” She looked at Ewan, who she considered a brother, with compassion and concern. “It may be hard for you to accept, but Jessamine might need your forgiveness as much as she needs your love.”

  Chapter 3

  Two weeks before Christmas, the family gathered to celebrate the coming season. They also used it as an excuse to celebrate all the anniversaries they had failed to celebrate earlier that fall before the early winter weather arrived. With the birth of Bears and Fidelia’s baby, Jack, the focus had been on him, rather than anniversaries. Jessamine stumbled into her brother-in-law’s kitchen, her steps hesitant, freezing when Annabelle MacKinnon squealed with joy and raced to hug her.

  “J.P! It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” Her joyous smile faltered as she studied Jessamine, and Annabelle pulled Jessamine close again. “You have been missed at the bakery. We yearn for your wit and the tales you tell.” Her black hair was in a tidy bun at her nape, and her light brown eyes shone with joy. An apron covered her evergreen velvet dress.

  “I’d think you’d miss Sorcha for that. She was the one who could jabber on endlessly,” Jessamine said. She grimaced as she realized how surly she sounded. She swiped at a loose strand of red hair and then ran a hand down her brown wool dress.

  Annabelle laughed. “Of course we miss her too. We miss all those who don’t visit as often as they used to. Although Sorcha has a valid reason. She lives on a ranch, busy caring for her twins.”

  Jessamine jerked subtly as though she’d been poked. “Of course. Caring for children is always a valid reason.” She slipped from Annabelle’s hold to move toward the living room.

  Peering into the overflowing room, she saw Fidelia sitting on the settee, proudly holding her son, Jack, on her lap with Bears standing beside her. Their eleven-year-old daughter, Mildred, played dolls with Alistair and Leticia’s daughter, ten-year-old Hortence, and with Annabelle and Cailean’s daughter, Skye, who was nearly three. Leticia sat in a rocking chair with her two-year-old son, Angus, in her arms, while Alistair soothed a fussy Catriona, now one year old. Helen and Warren cuddled in a corner, Helen blushing at Warren’s whispered words, and Ben and Jane chatted with Cailean, the eldest MacKinnon sibling.

  “J.P.!” Leticia said with a broad smile. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

  “Aye,” Alistair said as he rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We have no’ seen ye in too long at a family gatherin.’ It seems yer paper is keepin’ ye busier than usual this time of year.”

  Jessamine nodded and attempted to ignore the subtle criticism she heard in Alistair’s voice. “I have been busy, yes,” she murmured. She fought an instinctual desire to wring her hands and yearned for the easy camaraderie she had felt with them since her marriage to Ewan three years ago. When Ewan slipped an arm around her waist, she stiffened.

  “Can ye no’ at least act as though ye still like me in front of my family?” he whispered into her ear, making it look as though he were whispering words of love, as Warren did to Helen. However, anyone looking closely would see the torment in Ewan’s gaze.

  She took a deep breath and attempted to relax into his side but stiffened whe
n Alistair approached with Catriona, holding her out for Jessamine to hold. When Jessamine didn’t raise her arms for her niece, Ewan reached for her, cuddling her on his chest.

  “There’s a good lass. There’s my sweet girl. Now will ye tell Uncle Ewan what’s made ye upset, or should we move past cryin’ an’ have a good giggle?” He tickled his niece’s belly, earning a chortle, and he laughed. “Ah, ye’ve a precious jewel, Alistair.”

  “Aye, I ken. Hard to believe she’s just turned one year old.” He stroked a hand down his daughter’s back.

  “We should be having a birthday party for her, rather than worrying about our anniversaries,” Bears said. His checkered red shirt enhanced his striking looks. Born to a white trapper and a Salish woman, Bears had learned to ignore the prejudice inherent in many of his father’s people, often preferring the company of horses. However, he had partnered with the MacKinnons to help run their livery and was now considered a part of their family, even more so after marrying Annabelle’s sister, Fidelia.

  Annabelle bustled into the crowded room. “Never fear! It’s a celebration for all of us, and I have a little cake, just for this angel,” she said, as she kissed Catriona’s head before moving to her husband, her gaze roaming until it landed on a contented Skye, playing with her older cousins. Annabelle leaned against her husband with a sigh of pleasure. “How wonderful it is to have us all together again.”

  Jessamine had slipped out of Ewan’s embrace to stand beside him as he held Catriona, watching as he played with her and helped her out of her fussiness. Soon he had her squealing with glee as he raised her over his head repeatedly, kissing her cheek as he lowered her down. Tears blinded Jessamine—the image of her husband holding a child, too precious and too painful—and she fled the room, unnoticed, as the family focused on their joy rather than her silent misery.

  Ewan laughed as Catriona shrieked, soothing an ache he had not realized needed tending. He lowered her, kissing her cheek again, and looked for Jessamine to share a smile with her. However, she was no longer near him, and a quick glance around the room proved her to be absent. After kissing Catriona on the head again, he passed her to Alistair, now deep in discussion with Ben and Jane.

  Ewan squeezed his brother’s shoulder and moved to the kitchen. Rather than locating his wife, he found an empty room, filled with food to be eaten as they celebrated their good fortune as a family. Cakes lined the hutch, while a stew bubbled on the stove and bread cooled on a rack. He absently stirred the stew and then leaned against the counter, his gaze distant.

  “She left,” a soft voice said, interrupting his ruminations.

  “Aye,” he murmured. “I dinna ken what I did to upset her.” He attempted a chagrined smile as he met Annabelle’s worried gaze, but he knew he had failed as the concern in her gaze deepened.

  “What can I do to help, Ewan?” She moved to stand near him, her presence a balm.

  “I dinna ken, Anna,” he whispered as he scooted his legs out far enough so that he could rest his head on her shoulder. “I dinna ken what is wrong. An’ I have no idea how to make it better.” He shook his head. “She willna talk with me. She will no’ share with me what bothers her.”

  “Which is not like Jessamine,” Annabelle said. “She’s always straightforward. I’ve always admired her directness.”

  “Aye. It’s been a gift, no’ havin’ to guess what she means or what’s upset her. When she’s told me, I’ve kent what I should or should no’ do in the future.” He sighed. “But she willna talk with me, Anna.”

  “Perhaps you should write her a letter. She is a fan of the written word,” she said as she kissed his head and then moved away to tend the food.

  “Are you canoodling with my wife?” Cailean asked as he entered the kitchen with Skye in his arms. He leaned over to kiss Annabelle, and Skye kissed her too.

  “No, just receivin’ a little comfort from a sister-in-law. An’ a little advice.” He shared a long look with his brother, who squeezed his arm.

  “We’d best feed this horde before they storm the kitchen,” Cailean teased as he tickled his girl. “Come. Let’s wash our hands.” He made a show of washing his, encouraging Skye to wash hers, even though the water was cold. He set her down, drying her hands on a cloth.

  “Oh, ’tis refreshing!” Ewan said with a shiver of delight, earning a giggle from Skye.

  “Silly Unca Ewan!” she said as she grabbed his hand and led him to the table. After Ewan sat down, she climbed onto his lap.

  “Well, it seems I know who’ll be my dinin’ companion,” he said with a wry smile, any hint of melancholy hidden as he stared adoringly at his niece.

  Soon everyone was in the kitchen, assembled around the dining table, with Hortence and Mildred sitting near him too. He glanced around at his family, his heart filled with joy and pride at the love and the promise that surrounded him. He only wished Jessie were here to share it with him.

  My darling wife,

  I miss you. I wish I were a poet and could write you odes about your beauty and your wisdom. That I could extoll the magnificence of you. But I am not so blessed. I am a simple man, my Jessie. A man who loves you.

  I miss you, and yet you lay beside me every night. I do not dare touch you, as you do not seem to want any tenderness from me these past days that have turned into months. I miss holding you. Cherishing you. Feeling as though you cherish me too.

  I miss the times when we could be across a room and still communicate. I do not know what I did to put such distance between us. I do not know how to make it right. Never before have you kept yourself apart from me with such an icy determination. Can you help me, lass? You must know I’ll do anything to make things right between us again.

  I want you to know that I will always want you in my life. I will always want you by my side. When I turned to find you had fled Cailean’s house tonight, it was as though you had cut out my heart. Nothing is as joyful, as beautiful, as wondrous, as it could be if you are not beside me. Do you not know that?

  Come back to me, Jessie.

  The following afternoon a brisk wind blew, and few townsfolk lingered outside. Thick clouds obscured the bright sun of the day before, heralding the impending arrival of another storm. Harold Tompkins, owner of the Sunflower Café with his wife, Irene, and honorary grandfather to the MacKinnons, called out to Ewan as he was about to enter his worksite.

  Ewan shivered in the cold and motioned for Harold to enter.

  Harold followed Ewan inside the relative warmth of the space.

  Ewan’s men worked in one part of the new restaurant, and Ewan saw Harold stare at it in appreciation. The sitting area would be half again as large as the space at the Sunflower Café, while the kitchen would be the same size as Harold and Irene’s. Also a large unfinished basement would act like a root cellar. A living space would be built upstairs.

  “This will be a fine space,” Harold said. His gaze roved over the dimensions, and his mind seemed to be working overtime. “When they fail”—he winked at Ewan—“I know Irene and I will find a way to work both cafés.”

  “I wouldna let Irene hear ye say such things. She’s already talkin’ about slowin’ down an’ gettin’ in help. I doubt she’d be interested in yer idea of purchasin’ another establishment to run.”

  Harold shrugged. “It never hurts to have another source of income, especially if the ranch has lean years.”

  Ewan chuckled. “Always a businessman.”

  “As are you,” Harold said. “I assume you’re constructing all the furniture for this place?” At Ewan’s nod, Harold smiled. “Good. That’ll keep you and your men busy through the winter.” He slapped Ewan on the shoulder and motioned for him to walk into the small room where the floor plans were tacked up.

  Ewan shooed out a few of the men taking a break in there and shut the plywood door to give Harold and him a small amount of privacy, motioning for Harold to sit on one of the stools.

  The older man grunted his appreciation at the op
portunity to rest. “I’m always surprised how achy my old bones get with the cold,” he said with a sigh. He tilted his head to one side toward the closed door and shrugged in resignation. “Hopefully they won’t listen in too much.”

  Ewan paused, listening intently, and then smiled. “Ben’s arrived. He’ll jabber as much as you an’ keep the men occupied so we can talk.” He took a deep breath and braced himself as though awaiting catastrophic news. “What brings ye by in the middle of a busy day at the café, Harold?”

  Harold leaned forward, flushing. “You know I hear things at the café, and I try to ignore most of what is said.” His jaw tightened, and he shook his head once. “Irene has always insisted I not spread gossip about what we hear. However, this time, she was the one insisting I come to speak with you.” Harold nodded as he saw the shock in Ewan’s gaze. “Irene adores you, and she can’t abide the thought of anyone hurting you. Not even your lovely wife.”

  Ewan rose and paced, his boot heels clunking on the wood floor. “Ye ken I’m not keen on gossip either, Harold?”

  The older man nodded and heaved himself up to stand in front of Ewan. “I know. And I’m still uncertain if I should say anything. But Irene was insistent. She believes that the gossip is harming your marriage and that, if there is a way to put an end to it, you and Jessamine will find your way back to each other.” He gripped Ewan’s arm. “However, if what I heard was true, I’m not certain what you’ll do.”

  Ewan stiffened his shoulders and stood still. “What did ye hear, Harold? That my wife is playin’ me false? That she entertains men in her print shop after hours because she can no longer abide the man she married?” His brown eyes flashed with hurt as he recited the horrible words whispered in his presence by the gossips, just loud enough for Ewan to hear. “Do you think the townsfolk are tactful enough to hide their malice?” He shook his head. “Nae, they wanted to watch me bleed.”