Hearts Awakening (25 page)

Because she had had the presence of mind to tell Grizel to write a note for Jackson before she left, she was not worried about suffering through another misunderstanding like the one that had erupted on Market Day if he returned earlier than usual. Still, she was grateful she would get home before he did so she’d be able to tell him face-to-face why she had left today.

When she finally reached the overgrown cemetery, she was shivering and still suffering with every step she took. She glanced at the overgrowth and made a quick mental note to spend some time here with the boys to clear it out. But that would not be today. All she wanted right now was to get out of these wet overalls and into something dry and to sit down in front of the fireplace in the great room to get warm enough to head back to the Grants’.

When she emerged from the woods and stepped into the side yard, the late afternoon sun was still bright. She stopped for a moment to enjoy the warmth while her eyes adjusted. When they did, she saw Jackson walk out onto the side porch, place something there, and walk back into the house.

“He’s home.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and question after question swirled through her mind as she started for the house, searching for an explanation of how he had arrived home before she did.

Had she left the Grants’ just before he returned there with Michael? If so, they would have told him she was using the shortcut home. Why didn’t he follow her? She certainly was not walking very fast. He would have caught up with her. But he hadn’t.

Maybe they forgot to tell him she was using the shortcut, and he had used one of the three dirt roadways instead. Had she taken so long walking home that he was able to get home before her? And what was he putting out on the porch?

The closer she got to the side porch to see exactly what it was that he had put outside, however, the faster her heart had begun to beat. The band of disbelief that wrapped around her chest grew so tight, she could scarcely draw a breath.

She did not dare climb the several steps to reach the porch itself. Instead, she simply stared at her travel bag lying there just beyond the top step. Apparently, he had packed the bag with everything she owned so quickly, he had not noticed that the embroidered ties on one of the aprons Gram had given her were hanging out.

She shook her head, as if trying to make the travel bag disappear, and pressed her knees together to keep her legs from shaking. When the door opened again, she looked up at her husband, hoping he could offer a reasonable explanation for what he was doing.

She stared at the overalls he was wearing. They were wet, just like the ones she wore. He must have crossed the river, too, but he must have been on foot since his overalls were damp clear up to his waist. He also must have crossed at this end of the island; otherwise, he would have met up with her at the Grants’.

When she finally met his gaze, she found no answers to the many questions she had. She found only disappointment and anger staring back at her.

He reached down and handed her a note without saying a word. She recognized the note as the one Grizel had written for her to leave for him but read the actual words for the first time:

Your missus went to the city. Don’t worry.
Ethan is with me. Grizel

“I believe the note says it all,” he murmured and tossed a few coins, which landed at her feet yet stung her very spirit. “You left the island. You left my son. Now take your things and leave again. But this time, don’t come back. There’s enough money lying in the dirt to get passage on the next stage. Be on it.”

“L-leave again?” she managed. Although she was disappointed that Grizel had not mentioned the emergency that had sent Ellie to the city in the note, she could not understand why Jackson had not waited for her to explain herself.

“You apparently know your way back to the city, so forgive me if I don’t have the inclination to escort you. I have more important things to do.” He turned around and walked back into the house.

When he shut the door, she flinched.

When she heard the bolt slide into place, the blood drained out of her face.

It really did not matter anymore why he had crossed the river to get home. The only question pounding for an answer was whether she was going to be as stubborn as he claimed she could be and fight to save this odd marriage of hers.

She drew in a long breath and squared her shoulders. There was only one answer that made any sense to her at all. She grabbed her travel bag as well as his coins and charged off before she changed her mind.

Twenty-Four

Jackson braced his back against the door and stared at the floor.

His shock and disappointment in Ellie was still profound, but his blinding anger at her for leaving Ethan when he was not feeling well and going to the mainland had already been spent. All that remained was the utter sense of emptiness he had known most of his life.

Even though he was still wet and cold after crossing the river on foot, he refused to take a single step away from this door until he heard her drag her travel bag off the porch and walk away. His mind and his heart were also closed tight against any pleas or explanations she might offer to excuse what she had done.

Finally, when he heard her charge off as if she could not leave fast enough, he relaxed against the door. The tension in his frame slowly ebbed, his heartbeat dropped back to normal.

Until he heard footsteps inside the house. “I forgot to bolt the parlor door,” he gritted.

“Yes, you did.”

Agitated again by the cheerful tone of her voice, he looked up and found her standing in the great room, just beyond the doorway to the kitchen. She was wearing one of his shirts with the sleeves rolled up. A pair of his overalls, still damp from her little adventure, clung to her legs. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the sun, and her hair lay matted against her head.

She waltzed into the kitchen carrying her travel bag as if she were dressed in her Sunday best. She stepped around her mending and sewing notions scattered on the floor—where they had landed after he had shoved them off the table in a fit of anger.

After setting the coins and her travel bag on top of the worktable, she glanced at the floor again and shook her head. “You’ve tracked in an awful lot of mud. I suppose you’re better off if you wait until it dries before you do anything about that mess, but if you’re going to act like a brute, please have the courtesy to pick up after yourself and put the sewing notions back into the basket.”

He clenched his jaw until he could trust himself to speak without raising his voice. “I thought I told you to leave.”

“I heard you,” she said, then walked past him to get to the pump and proceeded to wash her hands.

“Then leave,” he insisted. Growing more frustrated by the second, he unbolted the door and opened it. “Leave. Wash your hands—as if that really matters, given the rest of your appearance. Don’t even bother to change so you can return my clothes. You’ll obviously need them, since I have no intention of asking Michael to ferry you across the river. Just leave.”

She wiped her hands dry with a clean cloth. “You’re right. I might need to wear these clothes again, but not today,” she said, glancing down at the damp overalls, and shrugged. “In all truth, I think these fared pretty well, considering I crossed the river twice and rode for miles today, but you obviously don’t want to hear about that.”

Utterly annoyed that she would have the audacity to be so self-righteous after what she had done, he squared his shoulders. “No, I don’t.”

“Good, then I won’t bother to tell you,” she said and put the cloth down next to the pump. Sidestepping the mud and the sewing notions on the floor, she passed by him again and stopped in front of her travel bag sitting on the table. “Although I’m curious about how you fared at market today, I’m afraid I really don’t want to engage in any further conversation with you until you’re in a better frame of mind.”

He bristled, reluctant to admit how many had come to his stall asking for Ellie today. Many of his customers were disappointed she had not come with him today, although they were quite pleased he had brought her baked treats with him.

She picked up her travel bag. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long, difficult day, and I need to get into some dry clothes and get warmed up before I go for Ethan. Where’s Daniel? Upstairs?”

“No, I sent him home with Michael. I came directly home, but you weren’t here.”

“I’m here now,” she said sweetly, as if she had been waiting patiently here for him all day.

He bristled again. “But you should have been here taking care of my son, instead of gallivanting off to the city and leaving him with Grizel. If we hadn’t broken a wagon wheel on our way home, I’d have gotten here hours ago, packed up your things, and taken them back to your cousin’s so you wouldn’t have needed to step back into my house again,” he said firmly.

“If you’ll recall, I’m not welcome there,” she quipped. “And I had no choice but to leave, but you’ve already said you don’t want to hear about that, so I won’t bother explaining myself,” she said and started out of the room.

“There’s no need for an explanation,” he argued. “I heard quite enough from Christina Schuler,” he said, quite certain Ellie would remember the woman who had been at her cousin’s shop the day they had stopped there to tell her cousin and his wife they had gotten married.

Ellie braced to a halt and very slowly turned around to look him in the eye. Her face was pale, but her gaze was steady.

“Christina was returning home earlier today from visiting with a friend who lives just north of the city. She was a good distance away, but she saw you,” he said, still shaken by the shock and embarrassment of learning about his wife’s adventure today, especially from that woman.

“And even though I’ve only met the woman once, weeks ago, Christina Schuler was so certain it was me that she made a special point of going to market to tell you,” she murmured, her gaze growing troubled.

He shook his head. “No, she recognized Patience. The mare’s got that distinctive patch on her rump, remember? Since Grizel is fair-haired, her mother is twice your size, and Gram is far too old to ride, and you weren’t wearing a bonnet or a hat again, it wasn’t hard to guess who the rider might be. At the time, I didn’t have a reasonable explanation to give her for why my wife was out riding, bareback, wearing men’s clothing, and I have no need for one now.”

“Nonetheless, she’ll no doubt enjoy sharing that bit of news with the gossipmongers in the city, along with the rest of her tale.” Ellie turned and walked away.

Jackson’s jaw dropped, and he stared so hard, he forgot to blink. She . . . she just walked out of the room! By the time he had gathered his wits and followed her into the great room, she was already disappearing into her bedroom. “You can’t walk away from me. We haven’t finished this conversation,” he argued, mindful that this was not the first time she had simply walked away from him when she was upset.

“We weren’t having a conversation. You were conducting an inquisition,” she said and shut the door only a footstep before he reached it.

“Flippant woman,” he muttered and knocked on the door.

When she did not respond, he knocked again. “Open the door.”

He heard the bolt click on the other side of the door.

Rankled, he knocked again. He could hear her moving about in the room, but she made no effort to come to the door to open it. He was tempted to take the hinges off the door, just to prove he could get that door open. Instead, he braced both feet on the floor and cocked his head. He could hear clothes rustling. Maybe she was merely changing her clothes before she left, in which case, he did not want to do anything that might delay her.

Shivering hard, he left to build a fire in the fireplace to take the chill off the room instead. Drawing a deep breath, he added one final log and stoked the fire. He did not relish telling the boys that he had made a mistake by marrying that confounded woman, but he did not think the boys would be very unhappy to learn that Miss Ellie was not going to be a part of their lives anymore.

He was still down on his knees stoking the fire when he heard the door to her room creak open. She had indeed changed into a gown, but the smile on his face died the moment she pulled a rocking chair closer to the fire and sat down wearing that drab brown gown of hers.

“Thank you for making the fire for me,” she said and held out her hands to warm them. The gold wedding ring he had given her only days ago caught the reflection of the flames, but he was not moved by any emotion other than regret.

He stood up and folded his hands over his chest. “I built the fire for myself and the boys so the room would be warm when they got home, not for you. You’re leaving, remember?”

She shrugged. “Remind me again why I’m leaving.” Silence. “Oh, dear—you can’t remind me at all, because you never told me. You just ordered me to leave, or did I misunderstand you?”

He snorted, her coy words nearly draining the last of his patience. “Is this some sort of game you’re playing? Because if it is, you’ll have to play it by yourself. Better yet, you can play it with my lawyer when you get to Harrisburg. I need to get to the Grants’ and fetch the boys. I’m finished talking,” he snapped and walked away.