Jake awakened early the next morning, eager to see Aletta. With everything that had happened yesterday and her retiring earlier than usual last night, they hadn’t had time to talk, just the two of them, about what had happened once the initial shock had worn off.
He’d been so proud of her. The way she’d handled the discovery at the hospital with such graceful strength, how she’d comforted Emmett Zachary even though her own heart was clearly breaking. The way she’d spoken to the other wounded soldiers as they’d left the hospital, tenderly touching a shoulder here, wiping a brow there. She’d insisted they go immediately to Kate Zachary’s house so that the woman’s grief could be turned to joy. And it had been.
On their way back to Carnton, Aletta had asked him to drive by her former home in town. He’d stopped the wagon out front, and she’d simply stared at the house for the longest time, silent tears falling. Then, giving a soft nod, she’d turned and faced forward, the resolution in her spirit nearly tangible.
He closed the cabin door behind him, and as he neared the house, he spotted her through one of the kitchen windows and paused. She was cutting Andrew’s hair. And from the looks of things, the boy was talking a mile a minute.
He watched mother and son for a moment, so grateful that God had brought him to Carnton, and so honored that a woman as fine as Aletta not only would look twice at a man like him, but would open herself up to him. Maybe even entrust her heart to him. A heart he would guard and cherish, and solemnly vow before God Almighty never to disappoint.
But one thing remained . . .
He needed to tell her the truth about his injury. The bullet he’d taken in the shoulder was nothing compared to his other wound, and she had a right to know.
His close-up vision hadn’t changed in recent weeks. Which was good news, according to what the army doc had said. Because if his close-up vision hadn’t changed by now, it likely wouldn’t. But the bad news . . . He could no more see through that rifle sight today than he could a month ago.
Movement from inside the kitchen drew his attention, and he spotted Andrew waving at him. Jake opened the kitchen door and stepped inside, and he felt a slight pang in his chest at the way the boy’s eyes lit.
“Hey, Captain Winston! I’m learnin’ more about stars in class! Miss Clouston, she gave me this to read.” Andrew held up a book with pictures of stars on the front, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “Come spring, me and Winder, we’re gonna have us a sleep out in the field and look up at the stars all night long.”
Jake nodded. “That sounds like a fine plan.” He finally managed to catch Aletta’s gaze, though it took a bit of work. “Morning, Aletta,” he said softly.
“Good morning.” She offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and he wondered if she hadn’t slept well. Understandable, if that was the case.
He gestured to a bowl of eggs. “Want me to get breakfast started?”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m about done here with Andrew.”
“Mama, how come Captain Winston’s hair can touch his collar and mine can’t?”
Jake eyed her, wondering how she was going to respond.
“Because Captain Winston is a grown man, Andrew. And grown men can decide for themselves how long they want their hair to be.”
Andrew frowned as he climbed down from the stool. “But boys with mamas can’t?”
Jake could tell Aletta was trying not to smile. “That’s right. Once you’re older, then you can decide for yourself how long you want your hair to be.”
Andrew seemed to let that settle in, then turned to Jake. “Has your mama died, Captain Winston?”
Jake nodded. “Yes, Andrew. She has.”
“Your papa too?”
“Yes,” he answered softly. “And my only brother.”
“Do you miss ’em?”
“Every day.”
“I miss my papa too.” Andrew bowed his head.
Jake knelt beside him. “You know, as the years have passed, I can still feel my family with me. In here.” Jake touched the place over his heart. “Just like you’ll do with your papa . . . who was a very wise and good man. And you’ll grow up to be just like him someday.”
Without warning, Andrew launched himself at him, and Jake hugged him close, the little boy’s arms around his neck about the best thing he could ever remember feeling.
“It’s going to be okay, buddy.”
“You promise?” Andrew whispered against his neck.
“I promise,” Jake whispered back, praying he could be part of keeping that promise in the boy’s life. And in his mother’s. He caught Aletta’s gaze and saw tears rising to her eyes. He saw something else there too. Something he couldn’t define but that didn’t feel particularly comfortable to him.
“Can I go check on the kittens, Mama?”
Aletta nodded. “You may. But don’t stay long. Breakfast will be ready soon. And wear your coat!”
Andrew grabbed his coat from the peg in the hallway, and Jake was grateful for the chance to talk with Aletta privately. Then Tempy entered the kitchen carrying a pail of fresh milk.
“Mornin’, Captain Winston!” Tempy grinned. “Oh, Andrew. Look at your hair! So handsome!”
Andrew smiled and ducked his head. “Mama did it.”
“Well, maybe your sweet mama could get ahold of the Captain’s hair too.”
Jake curbed his smile. “I beg your pardon?”
Tempy eyed him as Andrew shot out the door. “You cut off that hairy old beard, but you ain’t done nothin’ yet with that hair.” She set the pail of milk on a table. “We got that auction comin’ up and you bein’ the only soldier and all . . . You might wanna tidy up a bit. Sit on down on that stool and let Missus Prescott fix you up.”
Accustomed to Tempy’s teasing, Jake looked over at Aletta to get her take on the conversation. But her eyes held the same reservation from moments before. Only this time, the pain—no, the dread—in them gave him an uneasy feeling. Especially when she looked away.
“You know, Tempy, I think you’re right.” He sat down on the stool, beginning to feel as though the older woman was giving him a little help. “I could probably stand some tidying up. If you don’t mind . . . Mrs. Prescott,” he said softly.
Aletta looked at him as though she suspected his primary reason for being on that stool was to be close to her. And if that’s what she was thinking, she would’ve been right.
She draped a cloth around his shoulders and started clipping.
“Oh!” Tempy let out a sigh. “I forgot to get somethin’ from the spring house. I’ll be back directly. I’d forget my own head if God hadn’t attached it for me,” she murmured, closing the kitchen door behind her.
Jake smiled to himself. Yep, Tempy was definitely helping him out.
He watched Aletta, willing her to look at him, and acutely aware of how close they were, and of her body. Namely, of her belly pressing up against him.
“Did you sleep all right last night?” he finally asked.
She gave a little shrug, then nodded, the snip of the scissors filling the silence.
“Yesterday was a hard day,” he tried again, wishing she’d open up to him.
But nothing.
She moved to the other side, then around behind him, her hands in his hair nothing short of intoxicating. Then he felt something push him hard in the back and he turned around.
“What was that?”
“Jake, be careful! I have scissors in my hand!”
“But . . . I felt something.”
She sighed, the ghost of a smile—and maybe embarrassment—touching her lips. “That was the baby.”
He looked from her face to her belly then back again. “That was the baby?”
She laughed, despite looking like she wished she hadn’t. “You’ve never felt a baby move inside a woman’s womb.”
“I believe that goes without saying, Aletta.”
She smiled then, the natural response he’d grown accustomed to seeing, and looked at him for a moment. She laid the scissors aside. “Give me your hand.”
Never one to be shy, Jake hesitated for a second, then did as she asked.
She placed his hand toward the top of her belly then covered it with hers before gently pressing her belly in on the other side. Then Jake felt it—movement beneath the palm of his hand. Not a quick punch like before. But a gentle pressure that moved across his palm and took his breath along with it.
He looked up at Aletta, her eyes bright even as his blurred.
“That’s—”
“Life,” she whispered.
He started to take his hand away, but she held it there.
“Wait.” She briefly closed her eyes. “I think he—or she—is starting to turn.”
Jake’s mouth slipped open, and he stared at her belly as he not only felt but saw the child within her moving. He sat speechless until she finally lifted her hand.
He drew his hand away and looked up at her, not sure his voice would hold. “Thank you.”
She smiled, but not for long. “Jake,” she whispered. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since yesterday and—” She looked down. “I think it was a mistake. You and I not being . . . only friends anymore.”
“Aletta.” He turned to face her. “You just need time, that’s all. And I’ll give it to you. As much time as you need.”
She shook her head. “I can’t . . . I can’t, Jake. I’m sorry.”
She turned to leave, but he took hold of her hands, and she didn’t pull away. But he could feel the struggle inside her, could see the fear in her eyes. Fear that—instead of pushing him away—had the exact opposite effect.
“I love you, Aletta. And I’m fairly certain you love me. Though not as much as you will twenty years from now when I’m old and bald.”
She gave a throaty laugh but shook her head again. “I can’t go through that pain again, Jake. I’m not that strong.”
“But you are that strong, Aletta. If it came to it, you would be. God would give you the strength,” he whispered, his throat threatening to close. “And don’t think I’m not a little scared too. Because I am.” He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But what scares me more than the thought of one day losing you . . . is the thought of not having spent my lifetime loving you.”
She hiccupped a breath just as the kitchen door opened.
“Funniest thing, I got all the way to that spring house then plumb forgot what I’d—” Tempy stopped in her tracks and looked between the two of them. Then slowly looked up.
Jake followed her gaze, as did Aletta, and he saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging above them. He smiled, but Aletta only looked back at him, her expression saying she wasn’t yet convinced. But that was all right. He had a little time yet. And though Aletta Prescott didn’t know it, he could be awfully persuasive when he put his mind to it.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering only a second before he turned and walked out the door, tossing Tempy a discreet wink.