Isaac kept his jaw hard, his face resolute, but she caught the flash of relief in his hazel eyes. The entire town knew Elijah Cummings went out on volunteer rescues, just as assuredly as the entire town knew his brother Isaac opposed the idea. What must it feel like to be Isaac? Stuck waiting while a loved one risked his life to save others?
“Will Dr. Harrington be very long?” Olivia huddled against Isaac’s chest.
Isaac looked down, seeming to realize he still held Olivia, then carried her to the sofa and set her down, never mind Olivia’s boots getting snow on the couch.
“Something wrong, sweetheart?” A weathered sailor stopped at the edge of the couch, concern etched into the craggy lines of his face.
“My ear hurts.” An icy little tear slipped down Olivia’s cheek.
Jessalyn bent to undo Megan’s buttons, then hung her daughter’s things on the peg before scurrying over to Olivia.
“I’m sure it won’t be much longer.” She laid a hand on Olivia’s brow. Though the girl had just spent a quarter hour outside, her skin was turning warm with the fever that often accompanied her earaches.
“I’ll get the doc’s wife. See if she can help with anything.” The sailor turned for the kitchen.
“Thank you.” Jessalyn bent to work at the laces on Olivia’s boots. She couldn’t complain about Isaac laying her daughter down, but surely Dr. Harrington and his wife Lindy didn’t want snow ruining their sofa.
She’d just set the boots on the floor when Lindy swept into the room, her honey-blonde hair glistening in the lamplight. She headed straight for them and gave Olivia a side hug. “Don’t tell me you have another earache, Olivia. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you have some willow bark tea while we wait?” Jessalyn unbuttoned her own coat.
“Of course, but it shouldn’t be much longer before Seth’s done with his patient.” Lindy gave Olivia another squeeze, then headed into the kitchen in a flurry of swishing petticoats.
“Here, let’s unbutton your coat, even if you don’t want to take it off.” Jessalyn began at the bottom of the coat while Olivia started at the top. A quick sweep around the room told her Megan and Claire had headed straight for the toy box in the corner—bless Dr. Harrington for thinking of children and keeping toys in his parlor. Isaac paced by the door to the sickroom, his wide shoulders hunched and his face as dark and brooding as the storm clouds outside. The other men were milling about, some drinking coffee and eating cookies, some sitting in the chairs placed around the sizable parlor.
“I said I don’t need any more treatment.” A voice rose from behind the door of the large sickroom, loud enough to drown out the chatter in the parlor. “I’m perfectly fine, or I will be…” The door flung open and a large man stood in the frame. “As soon as I find my…”
The man stared at her.
Jessalyn sucked in a quick breath, but just as suddenly, her lungs forgot to work, trapping the air inside her.
“Jessalyn,” he said.
Or maybe he didn’t say it. Maybe he whispered it, or mouthed it, or thought it.
But she felt the impact of her name on his lips through every inch of her body.
“Thomas.” He was back. The man who had once shared her life. Her husband. Her heart hammered against her chest. How many times had she dreamed of this day, ran it over and over in her mind until her body ached with the loss of not having him beside her? How many times had she imagined what she’d say when he finally returned, each and every word of it?
He took a step toward her, his body so large and familiar she nearly went to meet him, nearly wrapped her arms around his chest and settled her head on his shoulder. How long since she’d felt the strength of her husband’s arms as they held her?
How long? She stiffened. Five years, five months, and eleven days.
She’d thought him dead, but he was certainly alive and well.
Which meant he’d knowingly abandoned her and their daughters.
And if it had taken him that long to come back, then she could stand on the other side of the room for five minutes without going to him. She could force herself to forget about the way his arms would feel around her and his heart would sound beneath her ear. She’d already forced herself to forget a great many things about him. Two more shouldn’t be any trouble.
Except her husband hadn’t been anywhere close those other times. It was a lot harder to ignore a person when they stood ten feet away.
“What…” She forced her tongue to move, forced her dry mouth to form words. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you need to ask? I came for you, Jess.” His gaze slid past her to Olivia on the couch. “For my daughters.” He started toward her, his heavy footfalls causing the floor to tremble.
Whatever he’d been doing the past five years hadn’t turned him soft or weak. She didn’t need him to roll up his shirtsleeves to know that corded muscles still rested under the fabric. If anything, her miner husband seemed larger and stronger than she remembered.
He stopped a couple feet away from her. Close enough she couldn’t take her eyes from him, yet far enough away she couldn’t tell whether he still bore his once-familiar scent of sunshine and work and man. She swallowed, and the dryness in her throat made the simple action painful. If he wasn’t dead or hurt or injured, then why had he stayed away so long? And why had he decided to come back now, of all things? The time for that had been in the months after he’d left, when she hadn’t known what to do with herself, when she would have starved if not for the generosity of folks like Elijah and Isaac Cummings.
