32

As the bell over the door tinkled, Aimee looked up from the shelves she was dusting. She hadn’t expected to see Nate, especially not Nate looking the way he did. Dressed in his Sunday suit, his hair freshly cut, a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers in his hand, this was a Nate she’d never seen.

“Hello, Nate.” Her mouth suddenly dry, those were the only words she could force out. Not sure what else to say or whether she would be able to speak at all, Aimee looked around for Warner, but he’d disappeared. A moment ago, he’d been in the back room; now the store was empty except for her and Nate.

She laid the feather duster on the counter and stared at the customer who did not look like a customer. Why was Nate here hours before he normally joined her, and why did he look like a man who’d come courting? Aimee’s heart pounded at the thought that that might be exactly what he was doing.

As the door swung shut behind him, Nate turned the sign from “open” to “closed” and took a step toward her, and as he did Aimee realized that the farmer who’d once been afraid to talk to her had disappeared, replaced by a man who exuded confidence.

“I was going to wait until the store closed, but I couldn’t wait another minute. Those two weeks with chicken pox were the longest of my life. But what am I doing? I almost forgot.”

Extending his arm, Nate handed the flowers to Aimee. “These are for you. Rachel warned me that they would wilt, and they did. I hope you like them anyway.”

Aimee buried her nose in the bouquet, smiling at both the fragrance and the realization that this was the first time a man had brought her flowers. Grace had told her that if Nate’s love was true, it would not be altered by the story of her father. If these flowers were any indication, Nate’s love was indeed true.

“They’re beautiful.” Some might believe that the simple wildflowers could not compare to the roses that bloomed in what had been her grandmother’s garden, but to Aimee nothing could be better than the bouquet she held in her hands. Not only had Nate given them to her, but he’d picked them especially for her. “Thank you, Nate. They just need a little water.”

She started to turn, planning to fetch an empty jar and some water from the back room, but Nate stopped her. “That can wait. There’s something I want to say first.”

He looked at the wilted flowers and frowned. “I don’t know what kind of flowers you like. I don’t know a lot of things about you, but I want to. I want to know your favorite flowers, what you like to eat, which authors you prefer—everything about you.”

For a man who’d once been tongue-tied around her, it was quite a speech. Aimee didn’t know what had caused the change, but she liked it. Oh, how she liked it!

Nate smiled at her, and the expression she saw in his eyes made Aimee’s heart leap with joy. Nate was looking at her the way Clay looked at Sarah, the way Travis looked at Lydia.

He took a shallow breath, then straightened his shoulders and smiled again. “What I’m trying to say is, I love you, Aimee. I want to marry you.”

“Oh, Nate. C’est ça que j’ai esperé.” As happiness washed over her, Aimee found herself unable to find the English words to tell him that that was exactly what she’d hoped for.

Seemingly unconcerned by her inability to answer, Nate continued. “Rachel told me a man’s supposed to ask his gal’s father for permission, but since I couldn’t do that, I did the next best thing. I asked your brother, and he said yes.” Nate’s grin confirmed that Warner’s sudden departure was no coincidence. “Will you marry me, Aimee? Please.”

“Are you sure?” Though he’d spoken to Warner and now knew the truth behind her birth, she had to give him a chance to reconsider.

Nate nodded so vigorously that a lock of hair came loose from the Macassar oil he’d used to tame it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything. So, will you take your chances with this goat farmer?”

“Yes, Nate. Oh yes!”

As he opened his arms, she raced into them. What a wonderful, wonderful day!

“What do you mean?” Thea stared at Jackson, wondering whether he had somehow guessed how much the house appealed to her.

Catherine rose, lifted Stuart from the basket, and nodded at her husband. “Let’s give them a little time alone.”

When the trio had left the kitchen, Jackson took the seat next to Thea. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way. The truth is, I’ve been looking for the perfect time and place, but I haven’t found it. Somehow, the words just popped out.”

He leaned forward ever so slightly, but it was enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath as he asked, “What do you think about the house?”

Thea chose her words carefully. “I think it would be an ideal place to raise a family.” She could picture Stuart chasing another child or two from room to room, then hiding behind the settee in the parlor to avoid detection. “I know Austin wants to be in town and closer to his patients, but I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave here if this were mine.” Jackson remained silent, as if waiting for her to continue, and so she did. “It’s what you said you wanted—a home, not just a house.”

Thea hoped Jackson wouldn’t repeat his other question, because she wasn’t ready to tell him that she could indeed picture herself living here, that the instant she’d stepped inside the front door, she’d felt as if she belonged here. She wasn’t ready to tell him that she’d imagined herself dusting the mantelpiece in the parlor and pulling a roast from the oven, placing it on this very table in front of her family—Jackson, Stuart, and a little girl with Jackson’s red hair.

Jackson appeared satisfied with her assessment. “That’s what I thought. I rode out here a couple weeks ago when I heard that Austin might be willing to sell it, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since. I keep picturing us living here.”

Us. “Oh!”

He shook his head. “There I go, getting ahead of myself again. The first time I asked you to marry me, I did it all wrong, and it seems I’m not doing any better this time.”

Thea shivered with anticipation and apprehension. This was what she wanted, and yet . . .

Jackson’s expression remained solemn as he said, “I know it’s probably too soon for you. Folks tell me a person needs a whole year to get over a death, and you had two to deal with. If you want to wait, I’ll try to be patient, but I don’t want to wait another day to tell you that I love you. That’s why I want to marry you.”

He loved her! One of the doubts that had plagued Thea began to fade.

“But you said Stuart . . .”

Jackson clenched his fists and relaxed them in a gesture she’d seen him use when he was frustrated. “I told you I did it all wrong the first time. I probably left you believing the reason I was talking about marriage was because Stuart deserved two parents.”

Thea nodded. She wouldn’t tell Jackson how much that had hurt, how she’d felt as if he were rejecting her the way Daniel had.

His eyes clouding as if he understood and regretted her pain, Jackson continued. “It’s true: Stuart does deserve that, but that’s not why I want to marry you. I love you, Thea, and I know that you’re the only woman who can make my life complete.”

Those were the words Thea had longed to hear, the words that made her heart sing. The man she loved loved her. He wanted to marry her as much as she longed to marry him. And yet the fears were still there. It wasn’t only her happiness that hung in the balance. So did Jackson and Stuart’s. She couldn’t make another mistake.

When she didn’t respond, Jackson reached out and took her hands in his. To Thea’s amazement, she felt the slightest of tremors in his. “Do you love me even a little? If you’re not ready yet, can I hope that one day you’ll marry me?”

Thea swallowed deeply, trying to dislodge the lump that had taken residence in her throat. How was it possible that this strong man, this fierce warrior, was practically pleading with her to marry him? What had she done to deserve a love like that?

“Oh, Jackson, I’m so confused. I care about you.” She saw disappointment shadow his eyes and regretted her choice of words. “I care about you a great deal.” The disappointment began to fade. “I think what I feel is love, but I’m afraid.”

The hope that had filled his eyes turned to confusion that mirrored her thoughts. “Afraid of what?”

“That I’m wrong. That what I feel isn’t love. That it’ll fade the way Daniel’s feelings for me did.” She’d begun to bare her heart. Though she wanted to stop before the pain became too intense, she could not. She owed Jackson a complete explanation. “It hurt me. It hurt me terribly to know that his love had died. I can’t do it, Jackson. I can’t take the risk of hurting you that way.”

He was silent for a moment, as if he needed time to digest what she’d said. “What if Daniel’s love didn’t die? What if he didn’t break his vows?”

“What do you mean?” Thea couldn’t imagine why Jackson was asking those questions. He’d never met Daniel, and nothing he’d learned at the orphanage would have led him to that conclusion. “I smelled the perfume on his shirts. Every time Daniel went to San Antonio, he came back with another woman’s scent on his clothes. What other explanation could there be?”

Jackson tightened his grip on her hands, perhaps fearing she would pull away. “It’s possible that he met a woman when he bought things for the store, but I believe that was just a pretext and that the real reason he traveled was to meet the rest of the Gang for another heist.”

“You said that before, but how does it explain the perfume?”

A gust of wind rattled the windows, reminding Thea that there was a world outside the kitchen, even though Jackson remained focused on the story he was telling.

“We know one of the members of the Gang is a woman. I believe it’s her perfume. It’s possible she and your husband worked together to load the booty onto their horses. If so, they could have been close enough to each other that her scent would have transferred to his shirt. Jacob Whitfield told me that particular perfume is too strong for most women.”

And that raised another question. “Why would someone wear perfume when she was robbing stagecoaches? I thought you said that she dressed like a man and that your brother was the first to notice that she was a woman.”

Jackson shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense to me, either, but I can tell you that whoever ransacked Helen Bradford’s house wore the same scent as Mrs. Allen.”

“How do you know what perfume Belinda Allen wears?” It was a silly question. What Jackson had just revealed had challenged Thea’s beliefs about her husband, and all she could do was ask how he’d learned the name of a perfume.

If Jackson thought the question odd, he gave no sign. “Jacob Whitfield at the mercantile ordered it for her. He let me sniff it, and it was definitely what I smelled at the Bradfords’ house. I may be wrong, but my instincts tell me your husband loved you and that he didn’t break his vows.”

Jackson managed a small smile as he said, “My parents told me true love doesn’t die. I know they had their share of problems, but even during the rough times, their love didn’t fade. I don’t believe yours would, either.”

Thea tried but failed to match his smile. “I want to believe that.” Her thoughts were whirling faster than leaves in a storm as she considered everything Jackson had said. There was no question that Daniel had lied about many things, but if what Jackson said was true, and she had no reason to doubt it, it was possible Daniel’s love had not wavered. If that was true, then maybe her fears had been unfounded. Maybe Jackson’s parents were right and love did not die. Maybe what she felt for Jackson would endure. Maybe. Thea’s head spun with the possibilities.

“I need more time,” she said slowly. “Until I’m sure about my feelings, I can’t let you risk your heart.”

Though he made no effort to hide his disappointment, Jackson nodded. “Then I’ll wait.”