“I didn’t expect money from you right away, no. But eventually, as more and more time passed without hearing fromyou…” She slipped a pale hand out of her pocket and wiped the hair away from her face, only to have the wind blow several of the strands out from behind her ear again. “At some point I started assuming you were dead.”
Dead. Did she realize her guess was only off by a hair? That if he’d been standing five feet to his left when the mile tunnel collapsed, she never would have laid eyes on him again? “As I said before, I had no idea you weren’t getting my letters. I thought you had them but were too upset to write me back.”
She pressed her lips together, her blue eyes and blonde hair and dark red coat a startling contrast of color against the white snow. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters at least a little. Those letters prove I never meant to leave you entirely on your own.”
“The past is past. Neither of us can go back in time and change things.” Her gaze slipped around him to their daughters, whose happy voices carried across the snow. “I know you want to make up for the time we spent apart, but your version of that involves moving to South Dakota, and I can’t because I’m moving to Chicago in the spring. I’ve got clients, well-paying ones, who want me to make them dresses, and it’s too good of a chance to pass up. So you really should consider going back to Deadwood now, before we get more snow and travel becomes more difficult.”
Chicago? No. No. No. This was all wrong. He raked a hand through his hair. She’d just apologized to him, now she was supposed to forgive him and agree to leave for South Dakota.
Jessalyn dipped her head toward their daughters, where her gaze had been fastened this entire time. “And in that regard, I saw you were playing with the girls earlier.”
His body, which had been warm beneath his heavy coat from romping in the snow, turned suddenly cold. She wasn’t going down this path, absolutely not.
Except she was Jessalyn Dowrick née Hessleman. The woman didn’t leave a pebble unturned or blade of grass unplucked if either stood in the way of something she wanted.
“They’re everything to me, Thomas. The shop I own, all my hard work, it’s for them, so they can have a better childhood than I had. I understand they’re your daughters too, but you’ve been gone for most of their lives. I won’t say you can’t spend time with them, but please be careful. You’ll have to say goodbye eventually, and I don’t want them hurt when that happens. Olivia cried herself to sleep every night for a month last time, and that’s not something I want to repeat with Megan or Claire.”
Olivia had cried herself to sleep? Something twisted in his stomach. What other things had happened after he’d left?
“Since you’ve had them to yourself, maybe they should come live with me in Deadwood for the next five years. It would only be fair.” He blurted the words before he could think better of them. He didn’t intend to take his daughters from their mother, but he didn’t want to never see them either. Surely it wasn’t asking too much for Jess to move to Deadwood. If she could sew for clients in Chicago from Eagle Harbor, why not from Deadwood?
“You wouldn’t take them from their mother.” Jessalyn’s face had gone as white as the snow blanketing the ground.
“I want a chance to be their father. Ideally that involves you being by my side. But if you dig in your heels…” He tilted his head up to the sky, but the dark clouds didn’t offer any insight. “I’m praying it won’t come to that.”
“You’d truly try taking them from me?” Her voice carried a panicked, squeaky edge.
“Jess.” He nearly groaned her name. “Why are you looking for a fight when there doesn’t need to be one? Just give me a chance.”
“A chance to what?” She swiped more hair away from her eyes, this time keeping her hand behind her ear to pin the wayward tresses. “I know I was wrong for letting money get between us before, but that doesn’t mean I can trust you now. And I certainly don’t intend to give you another chance to abandon us. Especially with the girls old enough to remember you.”
“I won’t abandon you, not ever again, no matter whether you tell me to or not.” He reached for her hand, which was probably half frozen, and rubbed her pale fingers between the mittens Isaac had lent him. “I was wrong when I took the last of our savings and left five years ago. I was wrong every time I sent a letter to Chicago rather than coming to collect you myself, each day I threw myself into work in Deadwood instead of leaving. I’m sorry, and I need you to forgive me. And then I need you to try building a life with me.”
“I forgive you, Thomas. But as for building a life with you all over again, I don’t see…” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she shook her head. “I can’t…”
He sucked in a breath of sharp, frigid air. How could he convince her to try again? Or was everything lost to him? It was almost as though she’d turned into the miners in Cornwall, the people who took one look at him and decided he’d never amount to more than a drunkard like his father.
What would she say if she knew about his shoulder? Knew that if his hotel failed for some reason, he’d never again be able to earn a living by swinging a pickax, or pushing a tram filled with mine rock, or hauling crates around a warehouse? Would that make him only more worthless in her eyes?
Surely not. She’d never thought him worthless before. Maybe he was rushing into things, not giving her enough time to adjust to the idea of moving to Deadwood. He blew out a breath andmet her eyes. “I still want a life with you, Jess. Are you sure you can’t give me a second chance?”
Tears filled her eyes. “How am I supposed to build a life with you when I can’t trust you?”
“So let’s start with the trust part.” He was a different man than the one who’d walked away from her five years ago. Surely she’d see that if they spent some time together. “What if we go to the bakery tomorrow after the girls are at school? We can sit and talk, catch up. You can tell me some of the things I’ve missed over the past five years, and I can tell you about Deadwood.”
Her eyes flicked to the girls, and she bit the side of her lip. “I don’t know, Thomas. I need time to think about it.”
“Time to think about eating pastries with me?” Were they really that distant from each other? Yes, he’d been gone for too long, but in his mind, she’d still always been his wife.
While you’d been dead to her.
She shook her head again, her eyes still moist with tears. “We both know it’s not just eating pastries.”
“No, but I’d like to try it anyway.”And have a chance to prove myself to you. A chance to show you I’ve changed.
She gave her head a small shake. “This is all coming so fast. At this time yesterday, I thought myself a widow. But I’ll let you know, about the bakery, that is. Will you send the girls in if they start to get cold?”
