Beyond This Moment (37 page)

"I've given it time, James" She sank down in her chair and rested her head in her hands. "I've lost my hand with the boy."

"No, you haven't" James leaned forward. "He's simply trying to figure out where he fits in now that ... Thomas is gone. And since he realizes his papa's not coming back:"

The frustration drained from Rachel's face and raw uncertainty took its place.

James started to get up and go to her, but Molly reached out a hand. Rachel grabbed on and held tight, as if Molly were a lifeline in a stormy sea.

"I still miss him so much;' Rachel whispered, closing her eyes. "It's not proper to speak of the deceased, I know. But-" She raised her head and looked at Molly, her eyes swimming with tears. "Do you ever still ... feel your husband with you? Beside you?"

James watched, waiting. How many times had he wanted to ask Molly much that same question? Ask about her former life. Yet he hadn't felt at liberty to. And she'd volunteered so little.

He saw Molly's grip tighten on Rachel's hand. A single tear trailed her cheek. She opened her mouth as though to speak, then closed it again and said nothing.

"Sometimes .. " A fragile smile curved Rachel's mouth. "Sometimes when I'm in the barn early in the morning, or when I ride up in the mountains like we used to do together, I'll sense him with me. I'll stop for a second, and-" she sighed a soft, humorless laugh-"I'll be so sure that when I turn, he'll be there:' Her breath caught. "But he's not. I know he's gone, and that he's waiting for me in the hereafter, but ... it feels like he took part of me with him when he went. A part I still need to get along in my life:'

Tears slid down Rachel's cheeks, and James struggled to control his own emotions. Molly sat, quiet and pale. After a moment, she leaned over and put her arms around Rachel. Rachel hugged her back, and James sensed this moment might be best left to the women alone.

He rose. "I think I'll go check on the boys. See if they need any help"

He didn't wait for a response and noticed they didn't give one. He was nearly to the door when he remembered his coat. He quietly backtracked to his bedroom and was on his way out again when he heard Molly's voice.

"You and your husband, Thomas-" she took a stuttered breath"shared something that I've-" A deep exhale, followed by a sob. "That I've never known;" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry Thomas was taken from you, Rachel. I'm just so sorry."

James closed the front door noiselessly behind him and stood on the porch, looking out across the mountains that had become his home and where-for all he knew-he would breathe his last on this earth. Wiping his cheeks, he peered upward into the brilliant blue of a September sky and thanked God for bringing Molly Whitcomb when He had.

He wasn't about to guess what all God had planned, but he knew what he was going to do, and already felt God's hand in it. He was going to give Molly Whitcomb as much time as she needed to heal from her loss, while also moving ahead with loving her in a way she'd never been loved before.

Regardless of what she'd said to him the other night-that she wouldn't be changing her mind about him-he saw the way she looked at him. She just needed time. He remembered what it been like to hold her, to feel her against him, and a tender passion threaded through him again. He sensed a loneliness in her. One he understood. And that he wanted to fill, if she would only let him. But that would mean telling her the truth about his past, about who he was.

He couldn't change how he'd come into the world, but still-in moments like this, when he reflected on his heritage-he felt a layer of shame. Shame passed from father to son.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode toward the barn. He peered inside to find the boys working, and walked on down the path that led to the stream.

His eyes burned as he thought of his mother-not the woman who had given him life, but the woman who had loved him despite how he'd been given it-and he thanked God again for her generous heart.

His mother had been a kind and gentle woman, poised and gracious, and had supported her husband without question-even when he'd come home one night with a newborn baby boy wrapped in his arms. "The mother died this afternoon during birth, Savannah;' his father had told her. "She had no family. No one to take the boy in." His mother had recently delivered her first child, a stillborn son. So at her husband's encouragement, she had taken the "orphaned" boy as her own, seeing him as a gift from God.

Only, he wasnt quite a gift, not in the truest, most innocent sense. Not when Dr. Andrew McPherson had kept a mistress on the side. One pregnant with his own child when she'd died during labor.

James paused by the streambed as a woman's faceless image rose in his mind. He didn't know anything about the woman who had given him birth, only that she'd died during it. But what kind of woman gave herself to a man like that? A man who wasn't her husband? And to a married man ...

Having seen his father for the man he was when he confessed the night he died, and contrasting that with the man the city of Franklin, Tennessee, thought they'd known, he'd determined to live his life rooted and grounded in truth. His word would be binding. If he said he would be somewhere, he would. If he said he would do something, he would do it. And the man that people thought they knew would be the man he would try his best to be.

Not perfectly. Certainly not without fault. But without willful deceit.

And if he was expecting Molly to care for him in a deeper way, then it was only fair that she know the truth about his heritage, however much lesser it was than her own.

James kept Winsome at a slow pace, glad for the time alone with Molly. "Thanks for letting me see you home:"

"And thank you for offering to accompany me:" Molly rode beside him, handling her mare with ease on the winding mountain trail.

Shortly after he'd returned from the stream to check on the boys, Molly and Rachel had joined them in the barn. Once the boys had finished-with him helping to speed things along-they'd all hiked to the waterfall farther up the mountain. It was a place Thomas and Rachel used to take their sons, and Kurt had been especially quiet. James had hiked downhill with Kurt on his shoulders and had even managed to get the boy to smile a time or two.

Molly had also been subdued, but he could tell she'd enjoyed herself, and thought she could grow to love this place as much as he did. When they reached the ridge overlooking town, she reined in, and they sat in silence.

"I bet you never get tired of this view."

"No, ma'am;' he answered softly. `And I don't think I ever will:'

She turned, slowly, and raised a brow. "I was speaking of the mountains, James McPherson:'

"Yes, ma'am. I know that." He fingered the reins, liking that she didn't look away from him but held his gaze steady. "But I hope you don't mind me looking ... on occasion:"

She gave him a smile he'd carry with him into the coming week.

"I don't mind;' she whispered. "I'm touched that you would" Mellowness softened her voice, almost as if she was thinking of something else as she spoke. She urged her mare down the trail and he followed.

After a while, she glanced back. "You're certain the town council approved of my report?"

"More than approved. Davenport was chompin' at the bit for more information. I don't know what he plans to do with it, but he was eager to understand what it is you're doing in the classroom:'

"I'll get started on it as soon as I get home:"

The trail narrowed as it sloped downward into town, and he waved her on ahead of him. "So exactly what is it you're doing?"

Laughing, she described a typical day in the classroom, enthusiasm filling her voice. That she loved teaching was obvious. And that she loved teaching the children in Timber Ridge was too.

After a brief stop by the livery to board her mare, James leaned forward in the saddle as Molly snugged her boot into the stirrup, and he pulled her up behind him. They continued through town toward her cabin and met the stagecoach rounding the corner at the end of the street.

Lewis rode up top and waved when he saw them. "Evening, Sheriff." He pulled back on the reins, a wide grin on his face. "Evening, Dr. Whitcomb. Nice to see you again."

"You keeping busy, Lewis?"

"Yes, sir, Sheriff. This new stage is a beauty. And business is good." His focus shifted to Molly. "I hope you haven't forgotten, ma'am. My offer to you still stands. Anytime you need to go to Sulfur Falls, you just say the word and you've got free passage on my stage. Comin' and goin: "

"I haven't forgotten, Mr. Lewis. And thank you. That's very generous of you, sir"

From her tone, James could tell that a trip in that stagecoach-or any other-wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. Not that he could blame her.

James tipped his hat and nudged Winsome on. Down the road a piece, he glanced to the side. "A nice coach ride doesn't hold much appeal?" He grinned at the sharp jab in his back.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to ride in a coach again. And surely not on that road."

"How about this offer ... Anytime you need to travel down the mountain, let me know. I'll accompany you. I'd even trust you to ride lead."

Her laughter was soft. "A sheriff who lets a woman ride lead-that's a first:'

"I didn't say just any woman, Molly. I said I'd let-"

"Dr. Whitcomb!"

James saw Brandon Tolliver approaching and slowed up. Of all the luck. "Evening, Tolliver."

The man nodded, that smug look on his face. "Sheriff."

"Good evening, Mr. Tolliver."

The man reached for Molly's hand and kissed it. And it was all James could do not to goad Winsome into flying down the street, leaving Tolliver and his finely pressed suit in a cloud of dust.

"Dr. Whitcomb, I received your card in the mail, ma'am. To say the least, I was pleasantly surprised and appreciate your personal correspondence."

"I'm glad you received it, Mr. Tolliver. And I'm pleased you enjoyed my ... brief note of thanks:"

"I'm curious. Which did you enjoy more, ma'am? The candy? Or the flowers?"

James bristled inside but worked to hide it. He'd figured the flowers and candy had been from Tolliver but hadn't known for sure.

"The flowers were beautiful, Mr. Tolliver. But actually, I'm sorry to say I never tried the candy. I'd already been treated to a delicious apple that day-"

She paused, and James couldn't help but think she did it for his benefit.

"-but the students enjoyed the candy immensely. It served as a wonderful reward for those who completed their mathematics lessons on time that afternoon. Which, if memory serves, was everyone that day."

Tolliver looked like he'd just sucked on a persimmon. "Well, I can't tell you how much it pleases me, Dr. Whitcomb, that my gift was put to such ... productive use, ma'am."

James smiled. "Consider it a donation to the education of children in Timber Ridge, Tolliver:"

Tolliver's expression was barely cordial. "I'll do that, Sheriff. Now, Dr. Whitcomb, about that dinner at my resort. You declined my invitation once but indicated you would entertain another. I've been remiss in following up on that offer but would like to do so in the near future. If you're still open to that:"

"Yes, I am, Mr. Tolliver. I'd like to see what the town of Timber Ridge is talking about:"

Tolliver's smugness returned. "Very well, then. I'm leaving town in a few days, but when I return, I'll be in touch:" He tipped his fancy top hat. "Sheriff McPherson, my best wishes for a most pleasant evening:"

"Tolliver;" James said with a nod, and gave Winsome a soft kick in the flanks.

They reached the turnoff to Molly's cabin, and she leaned close. "The only reason I accepted Tolliver's invitation, James, is to see the resort. Angelo is working out there now, and when I visited his mother, she expressed concern for him:"

James felt some missing pieces falling into place for him. Not in a pleasant way. "You ... visited Little Italy? That's where you'd been on Friday afternoon?" Hearing the hint of accusation in his tone, he knew she probably did too.

"I walked there with Angelo. He was going to walk me back, but I told him it wasn't necessary. Everything was fine until-"

She didn't finish her sentence.

James stopped by the porch and dismounted, then helped her down.

He chose his words carefully, remembering the warning she'd given him, about not fighting her battles. "As someone who cares about you, Molly, a great deal, I'm asking you, please, not to go there again."

She stared up. "I would never consider going there, or coming home, unescorted again. But the families, they need help, James. They have so little. And the places where they live-"

"I know. I've been there. Many times:'

"I told Mrs. Giordano I'd visit again and would bring food this next week. I'd like to keep my promise to her and the other families" She bowed her head briefly.

And when she peered up at him, James knew that whatever she was about to ask, it would have to be sinful in order for him to say no. And even then, it would be hard to deny her.