“No, it wasn’t wrong of me to chase my dreams.”
Emily tilted her head. “Then why do you keep blaming yourself for everything?”
Jessie stopped picking at her nails. They needed to be filled. If Patrick were here, he’d insist she make an appointment today to get her nails done.
But Patrick isn’t here.And Emily is right. I don’t need to keep blaming myself for everything.
After so many years of trying to please Patrick, she had a feeling it would be easier said than done.
“Robert says the same thing. He keeps telling me to stop apologizing for everything.”
Emily smiled and stood. “Robert’s a pretty smart man. I mean, he didn’t get to be sheriff by his good looks alone.”
No, but he could have.
“And don’t censor yourself. People may not always like what you have to say, but you don’t have to apologize for how you feel or what you think.”
Emily opened the back door, and Jessie followed her into the house. They stepped into the kitchen, and Lottie, the ranch’s housekeeper, who had always been like a second mother to Robert, froze at the sight of Jessie.
Jessie had always liked Lottie, despite the older woman’s stern expression and no-nonsense personality. She didn’t take crap from anyone, least of all Robert, who liked to tease.
The older woman dropped her spatula and approached Jessie, stopping a few feet away. Lottie reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from Jessie’s bruised eye, her touch gentle and confident. She smiled, and a twinkle lit her eyes. “It’s about time you came home.”
And here came the tears again. Jessie hated roller coasters, especially emotional ones.
Lottie pulled Jessie into her arms and squeezed her tight.
* * *
Despite Robert’sfamily’s unconditional acceptance, Jessie felt like a fraud. She sat on the back patio, staring at her painting propped on a small table.
Patrick’s right:It is garbage.
Jessie turned her gaze toward the stables. Why did she think she could still paint?
She recalled hearing the parable of the talents in Sunday School. The man who buried his talents for fear of losing them had them taken away.
God’s done the same thing to me.
It didn’t take a skilled eye to know that the problem with her painting was more than just a balance issue. The lines were all wrong, and the colors were off.
The tranquility of the ranch couldn’t wash away Patrick’s voice in her head. Couldn’t magically make her something she wasn’t. Couldn’t take away the unsettle feeling in her stomach.
A niggling voice in the back of her mind told her the frequent nausea and exhaustion were caused by something much more serious than anxiety. But Jessie couldn’t even consider that right now; it was too overwhelming.
Instead, she recalled her desire to paint the picture for Robert. But what was the point, now? He’d pawned her off on his brother. Apparently, all those times she’d still felt a connection to him had been one-sided.
Grabbing the painting, she marched around the house and stuffed it in the trash can. It didn’t fit, but she didn’t care. She was done daydreaming that maybe Robert could forgive her and come to care for her again.
She turned away from the garbage can to find Jake walking out of the stables, leading a horse. His gaze bounced from her to her canvas sticking out of the dumpster and back to her again.
He tipped his hat up as he drew close. “Looks like you could use some horse therapy.”
Jake and Emily made the perfect pair. She healed the psyche, and he healed the soul.
Jessie smiled as she walked toward him. “Horse therapy sounds exactly like what I need. But I haven’t been on a horse in years.”
“It’s just like riding a bike. It’ll all come back to you once you’re in the saddle. Honey will take good care of you.”
