Karen Kirst - The Bachelor's Homecoming

“So lend me one.” He shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you rather pass a pleasant Sunday afternoon with your wife?”

Arm linked with Nathan’s, Sophie smiled. “He’s promised to take me fishing later. For now, I’m going to help Jane. Good to have you home, Tom.” She bussed her husband on the cheek before slipping away.

Silver eyes sparkling with good humor, the other man drawled, “Don’t be stubborn, Leighton. We’re family, got it? And family helps each other out. Now, point me to the tools.”

Tom complied. He expected Jane to leave right away. Instead, she and Sophie carted buckets of water to the porch and began scrubbing the windowpanes, conversing in low voices so as not to disturb the still-sleeping Clara. She did avoid looking at him, however. Having kindhearted Jane upset with him was not a pleasant experience.

With company around, he’d have to wait to try and smooth things over.

While he, Josh and Nathan attacked the overgrown vegetation around the barn entrance, more O’Malleys arrived—the men’s parents, Sam and Mary, who were like a beloved aunt and uncle to Tom, and the youngest son, Caleb, who brought his wife, young sister-in-law and adorable eighteen-month-old son, Noah. Everyone pitched in. And there, in the midst of the sweaty, backbreaking work, surrounded by these people he considered family, he acknowledged how much he’d missed them all. Missed this town.

Despite the grief and turmoil that had spurred him home, he was glad to be back.

Leaning his scythe against the barn wall’s weathered boards, Josh motioned for Tom to follow him to the stream. Resting a knee on the grassy bank, Josh submerged his handkerchief and mopped his face and neck.

“How did Jane seem to you yesterday?” Josh said.

Scooping up water with his hat as he’d done earlier, Tom reveled in the cold shock of it as it slid down his head and beneath his shirt collar.

“Distressed.”

He wouldn’t soon forget that encounter. Her breathtaking beauty. The fact she’d come close to fainting in his arms.

Josh tunneled his fingers through his hair, a disgusted noise gusting out. “The ceremony was a disaster of epic proportions. I’m not surprised she took off.”

“Who’s the lout she was supposed to marry?” Anger at an unknown stranger bloomed inside. Not many men were worthy of Jane. She deserved someone truly special, someone who’d recognize her true worth and cherish her gentle spirit. Not someone who lied to her, humiliated her in front of the entire town.

“Newcomer named Roy Crowley.” He stood.

“You allowed her to get engaged to a man like that?”

“She didn’t ask my permission. Besides, he struck me as a solid, responsible man. Treated her well. Everyone approved of the union.”

Her misery fresh in his mind, Tom clenched his fists. “She must be devastated.”

“Jane’s not one to confide in me, but I got the sense she wasn’t as invested as she ought to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she didn’t have the look of a young woman in love.”

Turning so that he had a clear view of the cabin, Tom crossed his arms and sagged against the tree base. She wasn’t hard to spot, what with that shining red hair and cool mint-green blouse. At the moment, she and Sophie were emptying the bed mattresses of the old and no doubt moldy corn husks.

Was Josh’s assumption true? Tom hoped so. If she didn’t love the guy, she wasn’t suffering more than bruised pride. Marrying for convenience’s sake was a practical solution if one was facing financial difficulties or needed a spouse to help with farm chores. But Jane and her family weren’t struggling with either. Why would she agree to such a union?

Chapter Five

“Time for bed, birdie.” Tom folded back the freshly washed quilt and patted the mattress. “Hop in.”

Taking a final sip of her water, Clara plunked the cup on the table and climbed onto the bed pushed up against the main room’s wall. The same one he and his brother had shared when they were young. Here on this farm, the memories were everywhere. Inescapable. At least at the ranch, there hadn’t been anything to remind him of the good times. Nothing to resurrect futile yearning for what used to be.

Making herself comfortable, his niece clasped her dainty hands together over her chest, big eyes blinking up at him. “I don’t wanna sleep in this bed.”

Sitting on the mattress’s edge, he flicked a stray piece of hay from his pant leg. “Miss Jane and Miss Sophie cleaned it out today just for you. There’s fresh straw inside to make it comfy.”

“I want my old bed.” She surveyed the cabin’s interior. “Our other house was bigger. I wanna go home.”

The plea in her tone punched him square in the chest. “I know this place doesn’t feel like home yet. It’s been empty a long time. No one’s been around to take care of it.” His attention wandered to the empty rocking chair, the basket of knitting needles and yarn near the hearth, and a fresh wave of grief crashed over him. He could use a bit of his ma’s insight right about now. “Did you know that your pa and I were born in this very cabin?”

Her face reflected astonishment, and she looked so much like Charles that he could hardly catch his breath. “Really?”

He made do with a nod. Sometimes he despised his brother for not being strong enough to cope with Jenny’s death. For abandoning Clara. He abandoned you, too. Don’t forget that.

Giving up wasn’t in Tom’s nature. He hadn’t thought it of Charles, either.

Granted, he didn’t understand what it felt like to lose the love of his life, the mother of his child. But Charles had a daughter who needed him. Going off on a reckless self-pity binge was just plain selfish.

“Uncle Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“When will Pa meet us here?”

Snapped out of his reverie, Tom worked to conceal his emotion. He covered her folded hands with his own. “I’m not sure, Clara.”

He hadn’t told her that he had no idea where her pa was. Whether or not he was safe.

This is how Jane must’ve felt when I bolted , he thought dumbly. All those months of wondering where I’d gone, how I was faring... Knowing her proclivity to imagine the worst, it would’ve been torture for her.

No wonder she’d been so devastated. She had a right to be angry.

Like Charles, he’d selfishly disregarded her feelings.

And the one person who’d known, who could’ve eased her worry, had been sworn to secrecy, thanks to him. Stupid move, Leighton.

Clara yawned widely and snuggled deeper into the mattress. “Will you tell me a bedtime story?”

Exhaustion had seeped into his marrow, and he longed for his own bed, but he couldn’t deny her. Tucking the quilt under her chin, he wove a tale of adventure.

Her lids heavy by the time he’d finished, she mumbled, “Is Miss Jane coming to see us tomorrow?”

“Jane has her own farm to take care of.”

She wouldn’t be visiting again soon, he was certain. After overhearing Josh, she’d made sure not to be alone with Tom the remainder of the day, giving him no chance to apologize. Would she change her mind about accompanying him to Megan’s?

“You like her, don’t you?” he said.

“She’s nice.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Nice wasn’t the only adjective he’d use to describe Jane. Insightful was one. Sensitive. Beautiful. That moment by the water resurfaced, the mental image of her upturned face, eyes closed, pale lashes resting against her cheeks as he brushed away the stray one filling his mind.

“Amy is, too.” Clara’s voice jarred him. “She played dolls with me.”

With much effort, Tom refocused on the present. He’d seen Caleb’s young sister-in-law playing with Clara beneath the big maple tree in the yard. In Kansas, Clara had been somewhat isolated from feminine company, surrounded by rowdy, manners-challenged ranch hands. Having the O’Malley women around would benefit her.