Chapter 16
Amanda was all that held Jake together. Amanda’s fingers twined through his, the only thing he felt; her support the only thing he recognized. She’d stood by him all night, when he was silent and when he was raging like a frightened child and when he was running again. She hadn’t betrayed pity or disappointment or disdain. All Jake had seen in her eyes had been love and pain and support.
She was still willing to let him lie, to stand by his deception until he was ready to admit the truth. She was willing to take the weight from his shoulders until he was ready to bear it himself.
Well, he couldn’t run anymore. He couldn’t stand the thought of hiding behind her deception. Of having to think of her feeling she had to perpetuate something that had gone on far too long.
Far, far too long.
“Lee was trying to head me off,” Jake said simply. “She knew the Parson’s Creek bridge was out. And she knew I wouldn’t realize it until it was too late. She cut across the meadow on Grayboy.”
“You’re kidding,” Zeke protested. “Wasn’t there even a sign up there warning people? No wonder—”
“There was a sign,” Jake told his brother. “I couldn’t read it.”
Amanda held on tighter. Zeke and Gen turned to their brother, not understanding.
“I can’t read anything,” Jake told him. “I never have. I’m illiterate.”
There was a dreadful silence. Jake held on to Amanda, knowing nothing else would help. Knowing it was the only way to face the stunned disbelief in Gen and Zeke’s eyes.
“What?” Zeke demanded.
“I can’t read,” Jake repeated calmly, his insides twisting in dreadful anticipation.
“That’s ridiculous,” Gen objected instinctively.
Amanda held on tighter. Jake could feel it. He drew on her strength when he had none left, and knew that no matter what else happened he could never let her get on that plane back to Boston. No matter what he had to do or give up or learn, he had to make sure she stayed where she belonged. On the Diamond K with him.
If she’d have him.
“No, it’s not, Gen,” Jake admitted, too tired to cover the weary resignation in his voice. “I never learned to read. I’ve been too ashamed to let anybody know all these years. Amanda realized it. She’s been trying to talk me into doing something about it.”
He saw both Gen and Zeke swing stunned looks at Amanda and then back at him. He saw their identical denial, their wavering balance, just as he’d seen in Lee’s eyes, and knew now that it couldn’t hurt any worse than it had. After what had happened to Lee, it just didn’t matter so much anymore.
“It was my fault Lee was hurt,” he admitted.
“Jake Kendall—” Amanda immediately protested, a fist headed for her hip.
He turned the best smile he could on her, even knowing that it probably looked grim. “Stop sticking up for me, Amanda. It’s the truth. I couldn’t face it when Lee found out. I ran. And I ran so fast I didn’t think. You two were trying to keep me from breaking my fool neck down that ravine.’’
Her answering smile was delivered through tear-swollen eyes. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll accept that. You do have a fool neck.”
“But I don’t understand,” Zeke protested. “You were always reading to us. Homework and books and stories and the paper.”
Jake smiled at his little brother. “You were reading to me,” he corrected him. “Or to each other. Think hard, Zeke. It’ll come to you.”
The two of them—hotshot professionals, top of their classes, out to set the world on its ear—looked like ten-year-olds standing there trying to understand. Jake didn’t blame them.
“You always had us reading, Jake,” Gen protested. “Everything we could get our hands on. You rode us harder than the teachers did when we didn’t get assignments in on time.”
Jake shrugged. “I didn’t want it to happen again. Dad couldn’t read, either.”
It wasn’t the place he’d ever intended to reveal that. He’d never intended to reveal it at all. He’d seen what illiteracy had done to a man, reducing him to quiet isolation, scratching out a living on a farm, sentencing his son to the same. He wasn’t going to do it to his brother and sisters. It was a vow he’d made a long time ago, and one he’d never regretted keeping.
Gen sank straight into her chair. “I didn’t know.”
Jake reached out a hand and tousled her hair. “You weren’t supposed to. Mom always covered for him. She covered for me, too, while she could.”
