Authors: Tamera Alexander
Remembered (31 page)
“Okay, hand over that plate, Mr. Brennan.” She reached out. “We don’t allow shy eaters here at Casaroja. One of Miss Maudie’s rules.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Jack held onto his fork.
The young woman returned minutes later with an even larger slice than the first.
“My thanks again, ma’am.” He loaded a bite onto his fork. “How’s Miss Maudie doing since the accident?”
It was Claire’s turn to hesitate. “Doc Hadley said her leg should heal up just fine, as long as she doesn’t try to do too much, too soon. But she’s still having those dizzy spells. Doc doesn’t know what’s causing them either.”
“I’d imagine keeping a woman like Miss Maudie down would take some doing.”
“You’re telling me!” Claire glanced in the direction of the nearest barn. “Thomas stopped by earlier to let me know that one of our mares is expected to drop her first foal in the next couple of days.
When Miss Maudie heard about it, she could hardly wait. Said she wanted to be there, that she hadn’t missed a first birth in years. Then Thomas reminded her that it was against Doc’s strict orders for her to be up and walking about. . . .” She shook her head. “You’d have thought he’d told her Christmas was cancelled.”
A cackle of feminine laughter floated toward them through the open door.
Claire smiled. “She’s entertaining guests right now. I haven’t heard her laugh this much in a long time, even before the accident.” Her expression softened. “Does my heart good after all that sweet woman has been through.”
Claire’s comment, similar to one her husband had made, caused Jack to wonder just what Miss Maudie’s story was, and what had happened to her nephew.
Footsteps echoed in the kitchen, accompanied by voices—one of them unmistakable.
Jack peered over Claire’s shoulder just in time to notice Véronique’s face brighten when she saw him. It didn’t necessarily reflect the surprise he’d expected, but then she had a way of hiding things when she wanted to. He’d learned that early on.
He held open the door for them and enjoyed the way Véronique lightly touched his arm as she passed.
“
Bonjour
, Monsieur Brennan. What brings you to Casaroja?” Her accent gave the name of the ranch a pleasing sound.
“
Bonjour
, Mademoiselle Girard.” Jack winked when only she was watching. “Mr. Hochstetler asked me to deliver an order from the mercantile. So I loaded up and came on out.” Wondering at Lilly Carlson’s coy smile, Jack greeted her before returning his attention to Véronique. “I didn’t know you knew Miss Maudie.”
“I did not have that pleasure before Lilly invited me on this outing.” Véronique slipped an arm about the girl’s shoulders and gave Claire Stewartson a sheepish look. “We had a most enjoyable time, but I think our laughter exhausted the dear woman. She was asleep before we left the room.”
“It wasn’t our laughter that put her to sleep.” Lilly nudged her in the side, and Jack sensed a deepening friendship between the two.
“Véronique rubbed her shoulders and back, and Miss Maudie said she hadn’t felt that good in years.”
“Speaking of which . . .” Claire took a step back toward the house. “I think I’ll run and check on her.” She reached for Jack’s empty plate. “Thank you again for delivering those supplies so quickly, Mr. Brennan. And Lilly, feel free to show Miss Girard around the place if you’d like. The wild flowers just over the hill are in full bloom, and they’re a sight to behold!” Claire grinned as she let the door close behind her.
“Oh, let’s go see!” Lilly exclaimed, urging Véronique to follow her.
Véronique turned to go, then paused. “Would you like to accompany us, Monsieur Brennan? Or are you not a fan of wild flowers?”
“I appreciate flowers as much as the next man, and the wilder the better.” He wriggled his brow. “But I’ve got some things I need to see to in town. Thank you for the invitation though.”
“Perhaps some other time, then?”
That sparked an idea within him. “Perhaps some other time . . . like tonight?”
Her expression turned sweetly suspect.
“For dinner, I mean, with me. Not to look at flowers.” To say he was rusty at this would have been an understatement. The other night had been easier, when he’d discovered her already seated in the dining room. Jack could feel Lilly’s stare from where she stood a few feet away. Clearing his throat, he decided to start over again. “If you’re not otherwise engaged, Mademoiselle Girard, I would like to take you to dinner tonight.”
Seeing the sparkle in her eyes, he discovered he could hardly wait to get back on the trail with this woman. Who would have ever thought . . . ?
“
Oui
, I would like that very much, Jack. And for the record . . . I am not otherwise engaged.”
Standing nearly a foot taller than she did, Jack noticed how she tipped her head back in order to look up at him. She’d worn another one of her fancy gowns, and though it wasn’t too revealing, it still invited the eye. He tried not to linger overlong on the inviting curve of her neck or the soft hollow at the base of her throat, or at the slow rise and fall of her bodice as she—
Realizing he was failing miserably at not lingering, Jack cleared his throat again and forced his attention elsewhere.
Véronique leaned slightly to one side as though to catch his eye again. If she only knew how effortlessly she did that already. “So I will see you tonight, Jack?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll come by and pick you up at seven o’clock.”
“And I will be waiting for you.”
As he watched Véronique walk away, he couldn’t help but think of Mary, and how different a man he’d been with her. And how different a woman she’d been from Véronique Girard.
He walked toward his wagon—wait,
Véronique’s
wagon, he corrected—and tried to recall what he’d been like with Mary. Tentative and shy at first, unsure of himself. Everything about their relationship had been so new, for them both. And that time of discovery, of learning together, had been exciting.
But things were different now.
When he looked at Véronique, it wasn’t through the eyes of some wide-eyed schoolboy. It was through the seasoned perspective of a man who knew what it was like to be married, to have an intimate relationship with a woman. In the same breath, Jack reminded himself that Véronique did not have that same perspective. At least he didn’t think she did.
She’d obviously never been married—the title of mademoiselle told him that much. He didn’t know much about her background other than what Sampson had told him, but he would bet she’d had plenty of beaus lined up on her doorstep. It struck him then that he probably ought to tell her about Mary and Aaron. The timing just hadn’t seemed right yet. Not that he thought it would matter to her, but it was part of his past, part of who he was. And he would forever carry a part of Mary and Aaron with him.
He guided the wagon down the front road of Casaroja, admiring again the beauty of the ranch. For so many years he’d never stayed in one place more than a few days, and that’s how he’d liked it. But not anymore. He looked forward to settling down and— He yanked back on the reins and cocked his head, certain he’d heard something.
Once the horses came to a standstill and the squeak of the wagon quieted, he heard his name being called. He stood in the wagon and peered over the fields. After a minute, he saw a man waving.
Jack secured the wagon and jumped down.
When he reached the lower field, he recognized Thomas Stewartson kneeling in a sea of blue and white columbine. Beside him, a mare lay on her side, breathing heavily. Thomas was rubbing the horse’s distended belly in slow arching circles.
Jack was winded when he reached them. Taking a minute to catch his breath, he quickly read the situation. “Has her water broken?”
“About ten minutes ago, but nothing’s happening yet. She keeps trying to roll and raise up.”
The mare let out a sudden high-pitched whinny and did just as Stewartson said. Pressing his weight against the horse, Stewartson managed to keep her down.
“It’s all right, girl,” Jack cooed, running a hand over her belly and feeling the foal move inside. “Her first?”
“Yes, and she wasn’t showing signs of dropping this soon. We normally bring them into the barn for their first deliveries. Make them as comfortable as possible. One of Miss Maudie’s rules.”
With a laugh, Jack rolled up his sleeves. “That woman seems to have a lot of those.”
“You have no idea, Brennan. But there’s a heart of gold behind each one.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Jack bent to inspect the mare’s progress. “The foal looks to be presenting fine.”
Stewartson nodded. “I rode out this morning looking for her. Couldn’t find her, and that’s when I knew.”
The mare reared her head. Her body shuddered. Bathed in sweat, her tan coat glistened in the afternoon sun.
Jack rubbed his hand over her haunches in smooth, firm strokes, whispering to her.
“Thanks for stopping.” Thomas pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “No matter how many times I see this, it never gets old.”
Jack understood. “It’s like assisting God in a miracle.”
“Claire and me . . .” Stewartson paused. “We’ve been trying to have children for a while now. I keep thinking it’s gonna happen for us. But so far, it hasn’t.”
“It will. Sometimes it just takes some trying.” Jack thought back to the night Aaron was born, and how happy he and Mary had been. He’d been so thankful for her brief labor and for a healthy son.
“Don’t get me wrong—I don’t mind the tryin’ part.” Stewartson caught his eye and they both smiled. “But it’s seeing Claire get her hopes up and then it not comin’ about that makes it hard. You married, Jack?”
“I was, many years ago. I lost my wife and son in an accident on our way out west.”
For a moment, Stewartson said nothing. “I . . . I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“I appreciate that.” Jack slowly swept a hand across the tops of the wild flowers growing beside him. “Aaron, our son, would have been sixteen this year.” He laughed softly. “Hard to think of me having a sixteen-year-old son. Come to think of it, that’s not far from the age I was when I got married.” He shot Stewartson a look. “Thanks for makin’ me feel so old.”
Stewartson shrugged as if to say it wasn’t his fault.
A thought crept up on Jack, one he hadn’t entertained in a long, long time. Did God take Aaron at such a young age because he knew Jack wouldn’t be a good enough father to the boy? Even as the punishing question tried to take root, Jack refused it. Again.
For years he’d struggled to search out the
why
behind Mary’s and Aaron’s deaths. And gradually he’d been led to accept that he might never know. Odd, the older he got—though he thought he still had some good years left in him—the less of a hold this life had on him. Maybe age did that to a man. Or maybe it was God that did it, preparing him for all that waited on the other side.
Death marked another beginning for him, not an end. He’d come to see it as part of his journey to God.
“You know, Jack, if you’re ever—”
The mare whinnied, and followed it with a low moan.
Jack knelt for another look, then exhaled aloud. “Stewartson, looks like we’re in business.”
O
NE MORE HILL?”
Lilly’s eyes danced.
“I am willing if you are.” Véronique breathed deeply, relishing the scents of spring. “But I do not want you to strain yourself.”
Lilly paused at the crest of the hill. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt too badly today.” She motioned off to the right. “Let’s take this way. It leads around the lower pasture and brings us up in front of Casaroja. There’s a whole bed of columbine blooming there. I saw it when we drove by. Which reminds me—you did very well on your first driving lesson, Mademoiselle Girard.”
Véronique offered a brief curtsy. “
Merci beaucoup
, Mademoiselle Carlson. I had a very good teacher,
non
?” She was careful to watch where she stepped, as Lilly had warned earlier. She and Christophe had often walked through the pasture behind the Marchand stables in the evenings, so she was accustomed to this. But as fine as Lord Marchand’s stables and horses were, they could not compare to the boastings of Casaroja.
“May I ask you a question, Mademoiselle Girard?”
She glanced beside her to find Lilly watching. “Of course,
ma chérie
.”
Lilly looked away. “It’s personal.”
“It is good that it is personal, since you and I are friends of that nature.” Véronique wondered if this had anything to do with the boy Lilly had told her about earlier. That Jeremy, the
racaille
.
Lilly looped her arm through Véronique’s. “How did you get Mr. Brennan to like you so quickly?”
Véronique stopped short.
“Pardonnez-moi?”
Her face heated. She thought back to how they’d kidded together in Miss Maudie’s bedroom. “Mr. Brennan and I are friends, Lilly. If I have led you to believe there is more between us, I have misspoken. I admit again, as I did with you and Miss Maudie, that I like him . . . very much. But he has given me no indication of anything beyond friendship on his part.” Though there were moments when she’d questioned it.
Lilly curled her tongue between her teeth, and slowly nodded. “He just asked you out to dinner. I saw the way he looked at you.”
Véronique liked the way Jack Brennan looked at her, but that certainly wasn’t an indicator for a man’s true feelings. She’d seen many men—married gentlemen—take second and third looks at a woman, when a first glance should have more than sufficed. “
Oui
, he asked me to dinner, and I will enjoy Mr. Brennan’s company.”
Lilly’s expression said she wasn’t convinced.
Véronique took the girl’s arm and drew her forward toward the flowers. “Jack Brennan is the type of man who is kind to everyone, Lilly. I have observed this about him. It is his nature to be cordial and caring.” How did she explain their relationship when she wasn’t quite sure of it herself? “I have hired Mr. Brennan as my driver, and that affords us a . . . closer relationship of sorts because we spend more time together, but it is not what I believe you are thinking.”
