Heart of Texas Vol. 3: Caroline's Child. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
dated since Jake died?” Travis asked.
She shook her head.
“What’s the matter with the men in this town?” he asked in a way that suggested they were idiots.
“Grady Weston asked me to the big summer dance last year.”
“And?”
“And I turned him down. Glen Patterson, too.”
“Nell, no.” He planted his hands squarely on her shoulders. “Wake up. Look around you. Breathe in the cool night air and let it fill your lungs. Let yourself feel.”
He spoke with such intensity all she could do was stare at him.
“You don’t believe anything I’ve said, do you? I can see it in your eyes.”
Instantly she lowered her gaze. “I’ll never have with anyone else the kind of love I had with Jake.”
“Of course you won’t,” he said.
The man said and did the most shocking things.
“Jake was Jake,” he continued. “Any relationship you might have with another man will be different from your marriage to Jake because that man will be different from Jake.” He paused. “The problem, Nell, is that you haven’t seen it this way. The way you see it, any other man is destined to fall short because he can never be a replacement for the original.”
She had to admit Travis made sense. It was exactly what Ruth and Dovie and several others, Savannah included, had been trying to tell her. Either she hadn’t fully understood or she hadn’t been ready to listen.
It hit her then that Travis spoke as if he was familiar with this type of loss. “You lost your wife?” she asked him.
Now it was Travis who looked away. “In a manner of speaking.”
“What manner?” He’d prodded and pried, now she did the same.
“I’m divorced.”
“You loved her?”
“Very much,” he said, “and I assumed she loved me. But apparently I was wrong.”
Nell waited for him to go on, and after a moment he did.
“She met someone else.” Travis buried his hands deep inside his pockets as though he felt a need to suppress his anger, even now. “Someone who could give her the things she needed, the things I couldn’t—and I’m not just talking about money.” He sounded philosophical, but beneath his matter-of-fact statement, she recognized his pain. Recognized it because she’d experienced a similar pain.
“Tony, Val’s new husband, sets her on fire,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t.”
Nell might have accepted the words at face value if not for one thing. He’d held her and kissed her. There was definitely fire in him, and it was burning strong. Maybe his ex-wife hadn’t provided enough kindling, she mused—and felt some amazement that such a thought had occurred to her. “Bitterness wouldn’t solve anything, so I decided to do what I could—go on with my life, put the past behind me.”
“Have you?”
“I like to think so.” He said this as if he expected her to challenge him. “How is it we’re talking about me? You’re the one who’s still living in the past, not me.”
“Really?”
Travis chuckled and held up his hand. “Enough. Your point is well taken. We’re both among the walking wounded.”
Nell smiled. “Perhaps we could learn from each other,” she suggested.
Travis nodded. “Perhaps we can.”
They drove back to the ranch in separate vehicles. Travis pulled into the yard seconds behind her.
“Good night,” she called, offering him a friendly wave as she headed toward the house. A single light shone above the back porch door. In all likelihood Jeremy and Emma were sound asleep; it would surprise her if Ruth was still up.
“’Night, Nell.”
Once inside the house, she climbed up the stairs to her room, undressed in the dark and sat on the edge of her bed, reviewing the events of the day. When she turned on the bedside lamp and took out her journal, it wasn’t the five-hundred-dollar prize money she thought of. Instead, she found herself writing about Travis’s kiss and the discussion that had followed.
JEREMY AND EMMA had been up for at least an hour by the time Nell got out of bed. Sundays were just as hectic as schooldays because chores needed to be finished before they left for Sunday School and church.
Nell had coffee brewing and was cracking eggs for French toast when the kitchen door opened and Travis strolled casually inside. “’Morning,” he said, helping himself to coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, whipping the eggs into a frothy mixture before adding the milk. The griddle was ready and she had six slices of egg-soaked bread sizzling in short order.
“You coming to church with us?” Jeremy asked as he and Emma dashed in.
“Ah…” Travis glanced at Nell.
“It’s the Lord’s day,” Emma said severely as if there should be no hesitation on his part.
“You’re welcome to join us if you wish,” Nell said.
He didn’t show any sign of reluctance. “I’d enjoy that.”
At breakfast Jeremy sat on one side of Travis, Emma on the other, the children accepting him as easily as they would a much-admired uncle.
“We’re lucky Mr. and Mrs. Patterson didn’t have any rooms left to rent,” Jeremy said.
“Real lucky,” Emma agreed.
“With the rodeo over, the Pattersons should have plenty of room,” Ruth muttered as she walked into the kitchen, yawning.
The news landed like a bombshell in the kitchen. The children stared at each other as though they’d just learned the horrible truth about Santa Claus. Nell felt an immediate sense of disappointment, but Ruth was right. Phil and Mary would have space available for Travis now, and the accommodations would be far more comfortable than a too-short mattress in the bunkhouse. At Phil and Mary’s, Travis wouldn’t need to worry about a goat eating the socks off his feet, either.
“That’s true. Mr. Grant could move into town,” Nell said, trying to sound as though it made no difference to her. It shouldn’t, but hard as she tried to convince herself it would be best if Travis left, she hoped he wouldn’t.
Every eye went to their guest. “Move into town?” he repeated, glancing at each in turn. “Would anyone mind if I stayed on here? Your goat and I have recently come to terms. It would be a shame to leave now.”
She shouldn’t be this happy, Nell decided, but she was. She really was.
“WHAT TIME IS IT?” Frank Hennessey mumbled as he rolled over in the large feather bed and stretched his arms to both sides.
“Time for you to be up and dressed,” Dovie said. “Church starts in less than thirty minutes.”
“Church,” Frank groaned. “Dovie, you know how hard it is for me to sit through Sunday service.” But he eased himself up in bed to enjoy the sight of his wife fluttering about the room, hurriedly dressing. Dovie was a fine-looking woman and he took pleasure in watching this woman he loved.
It’d taken him long enough to make the leap into marriage. Not many men waited until they were sixty years old—maybe that was why the decision had been so hard. He might have remained single all his life if not for a woman as wonderful as Dovie. Their arrangement was perfect, he’d thought. Twice a week he spent the night. Two of the best nights of any week.
Dovie,