“Finish setting the table then go get your Papa.”
Jackson stole glances at Caroline throughout the noon and evening meals, wondering if he’d made the right decision. She’dagreed to stay on his promise to reveal a secret he’d sworn he’d carry all the way to his grave. And now he was having second thoughts.
She was still furious at him, as well as hurt—beneath her quiet demeanor, a slurry of potent emotions churned—and hurt people lashed out.
But she was also pragmatic and wise. He’d just have to trust that, even if she felt no loyalty toward him anymore, she wouldn’t stigmatize the memory of her sister.
Noah had recruited Caroline to read the bedtime story, so Jackson sat at the table and waited patiently, though his insides twitched as if someone had sounded a battle call. He closed his eyes and drew a slow breath when the floorboards creaked overhead, then watched as she descended the stairs.
Just as at supper, her posture was perfect, and her face gave little away. She stopped when she reached the bottom, and he stood.
“Are the children asleep?”
“Yes.”
Between that and the wind howling through the cracks, the kitchen would be private enough.
Jackson held out a hand, indicating she should join him at the table, then circled around and helped her with her chair. “I’d take you for a walk if it wasn’t so cold and trying to snow,” he remarked as he returned to his, partly stalling, but also hoping to ease some of the tension.
A shuttered gaze met his. Caroline’s jaw was set, and the tilt of her chin said she was listening, but only because she’d agreed to.
“Thank you for staying,” he said sincerely. “I hadn’t realized until today how much my actions had hurt you. I don’t know if what I tell you tonight will make any difference, but it’s something I feel you should know.”
Her rigid posture eased, and her eyes softened some.
“I don’t have a right to ask you for anything, either,” Jackson went on, “but I will. I need you to give me your word that you won’t repeat what I’m about to say to anyone, ever.”
A slight crease appeared between her brows then smoothed. “All right,” she said in a quiet voice. “I promise.”
He felt as if he was about to plunge headlong off a cliff, and at the same time, a weight was lifted. He’d forgotten how freeing it was to share his burdens and confide in his best friend.
“When Amanda came to me for help,” Jackson said, bracing his forearms on the table, “she told me Ross had paid calls on her and led her to believe he was a serious suitor. He used that to seduce her, then he abandoned her. I know you believe some of the blame is hers, but I don’t. It belongs squarely on my brother. He should have behaved honorably. Instead, he coerced an innocent girl.”
The mental image made Jackson want to snarl. Ross had a way of compelling behavior from others, like a current nudging a fallen tree loose until it was washed downriver. He didn’t use threats or force. He’d convince them with a series of unrelenting prods to disregard their scruples and join in his misconduct, smiling the entire time.
“Your sister was distraught, and she feared bringing shame on your family. I promised to help, thinking I would track Ross down and make him take responsibility. But when I went to town, to ask his friends as to his whereabouts, there was a letter from the army waiting at the post.”
Jackson paused. Once he spoke the words aloud, he couldn’t take them back.
“The letter was intended for my parents,” he went on, unable to keep the shame from invading his tone, “but I recognized the address where it originated, so I opened it. It stated Ross had been captured and executed for desertion.”
Caroline gasped, and her hand came up to cover her mouth. She blinked several times as her hand fell away, the curve of her brow shifting from shock to sadness to confusion. “But when he returned to Greenvale, the war was over.”
“He’d already been on the run for weeks,” Jackson said, frowning at his own gullibility. “He showed up at my camp and told me he’d been discharged. Then he lied again when he asked me to help him escape. He said he was fleeing a group of men, because he’d cheated them at cards. I was disappointed, but, after all he’d been through, I didn’t see the point of turning him in for something so petty. If I’d known his true crimes…”
Ross had blurred the lines between right and wrong from the time he was a boy, but his youthful transgressions had all been mild. Jackson stared at his hands, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. If he’d listened to his better judgment and not made excuses for his brother's poor behavior all these years, Ross might’ve grown to be a better man.
He lifted his head to see Caroline looking at him with the one thing his soul longed for, short of her love. Compassion.
He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “After reading that letter,” he said in a rough voice, “I realized the gravity of Amanda's situation. With Ross gone, there was no one to take responsibility for her and her unborn child. So, I did the only thing I could—told her I was unable to find him and offered marriage, knowing it meant sacrificing my future with you.”
“Amanda didn’t know?” Caroline asked, barely able to get the words out.
He shook his head. “You’re the only person I’ve told.”
“What about your family?”
“The shame would devastate my parents. My father, especially. I sent a reply in his place that ensured they wouldget no further correspondence on the matter, nor delivery of the body.”
