bringing two people together who wouldn’t normally marry otherwise.”
“But what if you want children of your own someday?” he spoke, not quite meeting her eyes.
The memories of all the births she’d attended rippled through her. All the fragile bodies she and her ma had swaddled in christening blankets for untimely burials. Not every mother survived the process, and not every baby. Garrett might be a marshal, yet Jo was certain she’d seen more death than he had.
She pushed back a wash of sadness. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. No one knows what the future will bring. But we do know what needs to be done right now.”
She leaned forward and cradled his hands. They looked at each other for a long moment, and her breath grew shallow. His shoulders were broad, strong and capable. Sitting this close, the room bathed in lamplight, she noticed how his eyes were rimmed by a darker circle, making the color appear even deeper.
Could she do this? Could she spend the rest of her life as his friend without wanting more?
He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand and her whole body pulsed with his touch.
Jo tightened her grip. What choice did she have? She could marry him and risk her heart, or risk never seeing him again. As much as she adored Cora, they were a package deal. She couldn’t have one without the other.
He dragged his hands away, stood and turned his back. A sudden sense of emptiness overwhelmed Jo. In that moment, the room appeared lifeless, abandoned. Unfinished place settings covered the table, unfilled waterglasses sat near the sink, empty chairs remained strewn haphazardly around the room.
When he faced her again, his face had smoothed into an unreadable mask. “We can’t rush into this.”
A heavy weight settled on Jo’s chest. She felt him moving away, physically and mentally, regretting his hasty words already. Her last, best chance for a family of her own was slipping away. Was she selfish for wanting him to agree?
Her stomach churned. “Please don’t make any decisions without telling me first.”
“I couldn’t keep something from you even if I tried.” He tossed her a knowing look. “Not with Cora around.”
“You can’t keep secrets with a child underfoot.”
He chuckled, the sound more grim than amused. A flash of lightning sparked in the distance, brightening the room for an instant and illuminating his somber expression.
Garrett squinted out the window. “Looks like we might get some rain. That’s bad timing with the creek rising fast from the melting up north.”
“Not much use in worrying about something you can’t control. My pa likes to say, ‘Keep your faith in God, and one eye on the river.’”
“I like the sound of that.”
The image of the raging creek resonated in Jo’s head. It felt as though her beliefs about herself were slipping away, eroding beneath a deluge of new possibilities. Somehow, she’d always imagined things going on just the way they had. The boys growing and marrying. Her little room at the boardinghouse. Coming home for dinner on Sundays.
Then she’d found herself picturing her own family, having her own Sunday dinners.
Marshal Cain approached her and grasped her shoulders, his touch light. “You have to know something about me. I’m not good husband material. If you’re looking for love, if you think this might grow into love someday, you’ll be disappointed.” He interrupted her murmured protest. “It’s not that I don’t like you, admire you, but I just can’t.”
Can’t or won’t? Once again the words balanced on the tip of her tongue, but her courage deserted her when she needed it most. Besides, what did it matter?
She must remain focused on the true problem. “We’ll be friends. We’ll both love Cora, and that will be enough love for all of us.”
“I still need to think.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m not saying no, but I need to think this through. We can’t make a rash
“But what if you want children of your own someday?” he spoke, not quite meeting her eyes.
The memories of all the births she’d attended rippled through her. All the fragile bodies she and her ma had swaddled in christening blankets for untimely burials. Not every mother survived the process, and not every baby. Garrett might be a marshal, yet Jo was certain she’d seen more death than he had.
She pushed back a wash of sadness. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. No one knows what the future will bring. But we do know what needs to be done right now.”
She leaned forward and cradled his hands. They looked at each other for a long moment, and her breath grew shallow. His shoulders were broad, strong and capable. Sitting this close, the room bathed in lamplight, she noticed how his eyes were rimmed by a darker circle, making the color appear even deeper.
Could she do this? Could she spend the rest of her life as his friend without wanting more?
He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand and her whole body pulsed with his touch.
Jo tightened her grip. What choice did she have? She could marry him and risk her heart, or risk never seeing him again. As much as she adored Cora, they were a package deal. She couldn’t have one without the other.
He dragged his hands away, stood and turned his back. A sudden sense of emptiness overwhelmed Jo. In that moment, the room appeared lifeless, abandoned. Unfinished place settings covered the table, unfilled waterglasses sat near the sink, empty chairs remained strewn haphazardly around the room.
When he faced her again, his face had smoothed into an unreadable mask. “We can’t rush into this.”
A heavy weight settled on Jo’s chest. She felt him moving away, physically and mentally, regretting his hasty words already. Her last, best chance for a family of her own was slipping away. Was she selfish for wanting him to agree?
Her stomach churned. “Please don’t make any decisions without telling me first.”
“I couldn’t keep something from you even if I tried.” He tossed her a knowing look. “Not with Cora around.”
“You can’t keep secrets with a child underfoot.”
He chuckled, the sound more grim than amused. A flash of lightning sparked in the distance, brightening the room for an instant and illuminating his somber expression.
Garrett squinted out the window. “Looks like we might get some rain. That’s bad timing with the creek rising fast from the melting up north.”
“Not much use in worrying about something you can’t control. My pa likes to say, ‘Keep your faith in God, and one eye on the river.’”
“I like the sound of that.”
The image of the raging creek resonated in Jo’s head. It felt as though her beliefs about herself were slipping away, eroding beneath a deluge of new possibilities. Somehow, she’d always imagined things going on just the way they had. The boys growing and marrying. Her little room at the boardinghouse. Coming home for dinner on Sundays.
Then she’d found herself picturing her own family, having her own Sunday dinners.
Marshal Cain approached her and grasped her shoulders, his touch light. “You have to know something about me. I’m not good husband material. If you’re looking for love, if you think this might grow into love someday, you’ll be disappointed.” He interrupted her murmured protest. “It’s not that I don’t like you, admire you, but I just can’t.”
Can’t or won’t? Once again the words balanced on the tip of her tongue, but her courage deserted her when she needed it most. Besides, what did it matter?
She must remain focused on the true problem. “We’ll be friends. We’ll both love Cora, and that will be enough love for all of us.”
“I still need to think.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m not saying no, but I need to think this through. We can’t make a rash
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