Jessica Keller - Home for Good

Blinking the burn away from her eyes, Ali moved to stand up. “I don’t need to hear a replay of this. In case you forgot, I was there.”

He stopped her with a touch of his hand. “Please stay.”

Who was he to beg her to stay? But like a fool, she hunkered back down.

“I stopped at Pop’s house and had an all-out yelling brawl with him, then lit for the state line. I got a job driving a tour bus at Yellowstone. They canned me a couple months later when they found out I hit the scotch before the rides. I spent the next year or two working as a ranch hand at different places, most of the time herding at the back, eating cattle dust and that’s about all I felt I was good for. I thought about coming back—wanted to—but I was a sorry mess that you didn’t need. I drank more than before. Drank all my money away. But God kept me alive, so I could come back to you and—”

“I hardly think God has anything to do with it. You were a drunk, lying, good-for-nothing boy.”

He nodded. “I can’t argue you about that. I was. And I took the coward’s way. I just needed—” he closed his eyes “—escape.”

Ali bit back a stream of words. Adults didn’t get the choice of escape. They bucked up and dealt with it, like she had. “Escape from what? Me?” Her muscles cringed. Never enough. Her love couldn’t heal him. She’d failed as a wife, and that’s why he left.

“No. Never you. I needed to escape me.” He thumbed his chest. “I was furious at God for taking my mom, hated Pop for becoming a cruel drunk—then hated myself just as much for becoming everything I despised in him. I was angry that I couldn’t be what you needed. I talked you into running away from your family in the middle of the night, into marrying me when you were only eighteen. I had nothing to give you but my heap of troubles. I was just a kid myself, and I didn’t have the first clue how to take care of you properly. What kind of man was I? So I drank. I wanted to be numb. I wanted nothing to matter anymore, but I kept seeing your face, kept catching whiffs of pretty flowers that reminded me of you.” His ratty straw hat flaked apart as he twisted it round and round in his hands while talking.

With a bull-rider’s grip on her purse, Ali chewed her bottom lip. Jericho’s humility unnerved her. He was supposed to be cocky. He was supposed to smell of alcohol, combined with the cigar smoke from whatever bar he’d rolled out of at three in the morning. But no, he sat here emitting an intoxicating mixture of hard work, rain and alfalfa.

He paused, his soft eyes studying her. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “It got worse, though. I found myself sneaking into barns at night just for a place to sleep away the hangover. Homeless...can you imagine?” He gave a humorless laugh. “The great ranch baron Abram Freed’s son, homeless.” He threw up his hands. “One night an old rancher found me, and I thought he was going to shoot me between the eyes, but he invited me inside. Let me sleep in his guest bedroom. He was a veteran, and when he talked about his time in the service he just became a hero to me. This man had been through so much terrible stuff, but he was even-keeled and kind. And I wanted to be him. So I enlisted. I owe that man the life I have now.”

“You’re really a soldier, then?”

He put back on his hat, steepling his hands together. “Ali, who’s Chance’s dad?”

The question froze every inch of her that had thawed during his story. “He doesn’t have one. He’s my son. That’s it.”

“Unless he’s adopted...that’s not really possible.”

“Are you done?” She knew her harsh tone would wound his open spirit, but she didn’t care. Not when Chance got pulled into the conversation.

He sighed and worked the kinks out of the back of his neck. “After I enlisted, I went through training and spent some good time learning what it means to be a man of discipline and determination. After a couple years my group got drawn for deployment, and I wanted to call you, wanted to say goodbye, but didn’t feel like I had the right to. Not one person I cared about knew I was over there, knew I could die at any minute.”

Die? Her head snapped up. Could he have died without her ever knowing? Wouldn’t her heart have felt the loss? Regardless of her anger, she would never have wanted that.

Across the field, Kate and Chance picked their way toward her.

“...but then one day we were sent on this mission and—”

She cut him off. “That’s great, Jericho. Sounds like life without us worked out just fine for you. Our lives have been good without you, too. I got some schooling and started a nonprofit that I really care about.” She rose, hoping he’d follow suit.

“Without us?” He took the blankets from her arms.

“What?” Her tongue raced against the back of her teeth.

He quirked both eyebrows. “You said us, plural.”

She pushed him away with her best glare. “Us...as in the Bitterroot Valley, your dad, the people here in Montana that you grew up with.” Her hands shook. Almost gave it away. Foolish mouth.

Chance’s rapid steps approached.

“Your story, well, it doesn’t change much for me. I still want you to turn on those boots and do that walking-out bit you’re so good at.”

“I can’t, Ali, not yet.”

“But you said you’d leave if that’s what I wanted, and I do.”

“I came back because I have to ask your forgiveness. And if we can, I want to fix our marriage. Be there for you like I promised nine years ago.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Hey, Mom! You found Jericho!” Chance frolicked around the two adults.

“How were the sparklers, buddy?” She dropped down and pulled her son into her arms.

Chance’s gaze flew to Jericho, and his cheeks colored. The little imp wiggled free. “They were great. My friend Michael told this girl Samantha that he was going to put a sparkler in her hair and light it on fire. But Kate told him that someday he’ll be sorry he ever talked to girls that way.”

“I’m sure he will be.” Still on her knees, she smiled.

Chance turned toward Jericho. “You’re a guy. What do you think?”

“I think your mom and your aunt are right. A real man is always nice to a girl.” His gaze locked on Ali. “Always.”

Chance grabbed Jericho’s sleeve, pulling the man to his level. “Were you talking to my mom again? Do you know her?”

Ali jumped in. “Jericho and I did know each other, but it was a really long time ago, pal. His dad’s ranch backs up to ours. We were neighbors.”

Chance took her hand. “That’s cool, so we can share him.”

Behind him, Kate attempted to hide a laugh with a cough.

“Hey, Jericho, it’s my birthday in two days. Will you come to my party? Looks like you already know where our house is.”

“Chance! Did you ever think Jericho might have other things to do with his time?” Ali’s eyes widened. Please let Jericho have something to do that day.

Jericho spread out his arms and let a low, rumbling laugh escape his lips. “I’ll be there, champ. I’m free.”

“Then will you promise to teach me to ride a ewe?” The child’s eyes lit up, hands clasped together.

Jericho rose. He rubbed his jaw and looked to Ali. She shook her head. “I think you’re too big for mutton bustin’. The kids who do that are five or six.”

Chance crossed his arms. “It’s not fair. Our ranch hand, Rider, won’t teach me. Now you won’t, either.”

“I could teach you something else. How about roping? Do you know how to lasso a steer? ’Cause that’s loads harder than riding sheep.”

“You promise you’ll come teach me?”

“I’ll bring the dummy steer and everything.” Jericho smiled down at Ali’s son, and her heart squeezed—with panic or tenderness, though, she couldn’t be sure. One thing she knew—Jericho Freed was back in her life, whether she wanted him there or not.