Jillian Hart - Last Chance Bride

“I don’t mind.” Bittersweetness tugged at her heart. She might never get another chance to see Emma. “It’s too hot for a picnic outside.”

“And too dusty. I don’t like town.” The girl wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t like town, either. The forest is so beautiful.” Libby settled onto the floor and tried not to sound wistful for the log cabin home in the woods.

“Sometimes we get trouble with bears. They wanna eat our horses.”

Jane began unpacking the basket. “But your pa built the stable doors solid, so the bears can’t get in.”

Libby helped with setting out the food. Jane brought tin plates and flatware knives and forks, and crisp blue cotton napkins. Libby fetched fresh water from the hotel’s kitchen to go along with the corn bread, fried chicken and fresh, raw green beans.

They talked of Jane’s upcoming trip, of the town and the people in it. Libby managed to keep the conversation light until Emma burst out, “Don’t you like my Pa?”

Jacob. Libby felt her heart twist. “I think your pa is a fine man,” she hedged.

“But do you like him enough to marry him?”

Libby stared hard at her plate. She knew what the girl wanted to hear. “That question goes two ways, Emma. Your pa has to like me well enough, too.”

“He’s awful lonesome.” Emma’s blue eyes widened, an obvious show of her not-so-innocent intentions.

The little matchmaker. Libby hid her smile. “I’m awful lonesome, too. But I don’t think your pa will marry me.”

“That’s not fair. He likes you. I know he does.”

“Sometimes liking someone isn’t enough reason to marry them.” Libby studied the pain pinching Emma’s deep blue eyes. “I’m sure glad you came to visit me. I wondered what kind of surprise you and Jane made for dessert.”

“Huckleberry pie!” Emma announced. “Jane and I spent all morning picking berries. It took forever to get enough.”

“That’s because you kept eatin’ ’em.” Jane teased.

Libby’s stomach tolerated the meal. She ate slowly, because Emma would leave when the meal was over. Libby didn’t want her to go.

“I tried to invite Pa, but he was busy with a customer.” Emma finished her piece of chicken and caught Jane’s gaze. “I cleaned my plate. Can we have dessert now?”

“Yes, little one.”

While Jane cut thick wedges of juicy pie, Libby cleared the dishes and stacked them neatly in the basket.

“I think Pa would have come if I asked him. He hardly saw you at all yesterday,” Emma commented, her eyes sincere, her face pink with hope.

Libby’s heart sank. Now she knew Emma’s and Jane’s true purpose—to convince her to stay, then talk Jacob into wanting her. “I thought we already talked about this.”

“I want you to be my mother.”

“I’d like that, too, Emma. Very much. But wanting doesn’t make it so.” Libby felt the words cut like a razor blade against the back of her too dry throat.

“Pa has to like you. I know he will if I ask him to.”

So much pain rose in those heartfelt words. Libby winced. I don’t want to hurt you, Emma. “It’s not that simple. I’m sorry. I wish things could be different.”

The little girl bowed her head, hiding what shimmered in her eyes.

Tears. Libby ached with them. “I hope you’ll keep the doll I made for you and always remember me.”

“I’ll never forget you.” A depth of feeling resonated in her small voice, sad like the dying ring of a church bell.

“Have you decided on a name for her?”

“I’m going to call her Beth.”

Even Libby knew why Emma had chosen it. Jacob called her by her given name, Elizabeth.

Heavy boots thudded to a stop outside her open door. Libby twisted around to gaze up at the darkly dressed man framed in the threshold.

Jacob.

At the dark wrath in his eyes, Libby braced herself. He didn’t want her. And he didn’t want her near his daughter.

Libby stood. “We were just saying goodbye.”

The tight slash of Jacob’s mouth told her the depth of his disbelief. “It didn’t sound like it to me.”

“Pa, this is the pie I helped Jane make.” Emma hopped to her feet, excitement shining in her eyes. “Come have a piece with us. Please.”

“No, Emma. This isn’t going to work. I’m not changing my mind.”

“But—”

“Help Jane pick up the dishes.” His hands fisted tightly at his sides, an effort at control.

Libby’s heart skidded in her chest. He didn’t understand. She tore her gaze from the sight of him, so strong and heart-drawing, framed by the threshold, and began stacking the huckleberry-juice-stained plates into the bottom of the basket.

“Pa’s got a temper,” Emma whispered. “But don’t go away because of that. Nobody’s perfect.”

She certainly wasn’t Libby closed her eyes. Awareness tingled down her spine. She turned around to find him watching her.

“Don’t get angry with Emma because of me,” she pleaded.

Tall and formidable, he said nothing, stepping into the room. “Say goodbye, Emma.”

He thought the worst of her. Libby slipped the last plate into the basket. The packing was done.

Emma obediently stood. “I know I already thanked you for making me the doll, but I really love her.”

All those hours spent late into the night pushing a threaded needle through muslin now felt like too little. “You take good care of Beth for me.”

“I will.” With sadness in her eyes, Emma ambled past her father, into the hallway and out of Libby’s sight.

Jane placed a hand on her arm. “I live in the little white house on the trail north out of town. I won’t be leaving for another few weeks yet. Remember me, if you need anything. Even someone to talk to.”

Jane’s kindness warmed her like nothing she’d known in so long. “Thank you,” she managed to reply.

Jacob waited until Jane closed the door before he turned to her, his gray eyes as harsh and as cold as a winter’s storm. “Just what game are you playing with my daughter?”

Chapter Five

The color drained from her face, her slender hands clenched rigidly at her sides. She looked ready to break apart.

“Jacob...” Elizabeth’s lower lip trembled. “I’m so sorry about the way this looks. I didn’t invite her, although I’m glad she came.”

“You had no right to keep her here.”

“You have no right to think I would use her.” Embarrassment might flicker in her eyes, but pride lifted her chin. “I promised you I would never hurt Emma, and I meant it.”

“Why was she here in your room?”

“Why do you think?” Her eyes filled. “She thinks she can still get us together.”

“She’s wrong.”

“I know that.”

Silence.

Jacob watched the fight slide from the rigid line of her shoulders. Fragile. She was so fine-boned, so small. He suspected most women were fragile, tenderhearted and easily hurt.

“Jacob, I’ve hurt her, haven’t I? By coming here, letting her think we would marry and I would be her mother.” Tears stood in her eyes. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

His breath caught. “No, she understood all along this might not work out. I prepared her. I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t end up with a broken heart.”

“She’s just a child. She doesn’t understand....”

Their gazes met. He saw anguish in her morning-sky gaze, remorse, and guilt. But her heart was there, too, pure and good.

She wasn’t a bad, deceitful woman. Deep down, he knew it. Jacob’s heart twisted in his chest. “Emma will be disappointed,” he said at last. “I will make sure she understands. She won’t show up here trying to matchmake again.”

It wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault. He knew Emma had motives of her own and needed a talking to.