“Oh.” Noah stood there, eyeing him, his fingers worrying the fabric of his breeches. “If you don’t come, who’s going to say the blessing?”
“You can, or your aunt.”
He lowered his head and turned away.
“Noah, wait. I’ll come, but I need a bath first. Ask Aunt Caroline to heat some water.”
“You certainly do,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “You stink.”
Caroline looked up from setting the table when Jackson came in. He was filthy from the top of his head to the soles of his boots. “The tub is ready,” she said, flicking a hand in the direction of the washroom.
“Appreciate it,” he said as he went, leaving a trail of dirt and chaff.
She swept up the mess then began setting out the food when the splashing ceased. By the time she’d called the children to the table and settled Jewel in her chair, he’d emerged, hair damp and wearing clean clothes.
Jackson didn’t say much at supper, and Caroline didn’t push him. He’d been visibly affected when she’d told him about Walsh, though it wasn’t the only thing weighing on his mind. The rapidly approaching separation from his children didn’t sit easily either.
Her heart longed to spend one last evening reading to her niece and nephew, but she gave it to Jackson instead.
While he was occupied upstairs, Caroline donned her coat and stepped out onto the porch. Jackson had mentioned a desire tobuy land and move west a few times before the war. Now she understood why.
The sky that had been awash in hues of rose and lavender was now a dark dome filled with stars. The land stretched wide, its fields of bare furrows catching the moonlight like ripples on a pond, and the chilly breeze carried scents of earth and the sweet smoke of a warm home.
The entire place was wrapped in winter’s quiet. It was a stillness born of peace—a moment suspended between the labor of the day and the hush of the coming night.
The door creaked behind her, and Jackson joined her by the rail. He didn’t say anything, just stood there taking in the view.
Caroline didn’t want to cause him pain, but she needed one more answer. “May I ask you something personal?”
He looked at her. “If you must.”
“I’ve been pondering the space between Noah and Jewel. Did my sister lose a child?”
“No.”
Jackson looked back out at his land and drew a slow breath. “Amanda was my bride for nearly two years before I made her my wife,” he said in a quiet voice. “I didn't withhold my affections out of spite or revulsion. I put it off because I didn't want to impose myself on a woman who’d been forced into a union not of her choosing. She avoided it because of guilt, I suppose. It was just the way things were between us.
“When we finally consummated the marriage, she cried, for you and herself. And for me a little, too, I think. She knew how much love I felt for you... how much I'd sacrificed to rescue her.”
He looked at her sideways, barely moving his head.
Caroline nodded, her throat too clogged with emotion to speak.
She passed behind him and descended the steps, choking on silent sobs and walking as far as the light from the house would allow. Jacksonhadloved her. He’d truly loved her.
He wasn’t to blame for the mess they were in, but he was right when he said he’d ruined three lives.
People would say she was the fortunate one. Walsh was waiting for her—a suitor who treated her as if she ranked with the angels and was as good a man as Jackson. But how could she commit herself to a future with him knowing the truth?
Pure bitterness had enabled her to move on when Jackson left, and spite had allowed her to contemplate a life with someone new. Now his honesty had stripped all that away. He’d left her raw and defenseless, and wishing with every fiber of her being she could travel back in time.
Jackson walked up behind Caroline and placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling as foul as the muck he’d left behind in the wash water. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things—wouldn’t, if I’d known it would upset you so much.”
She stepped away from his touch then turned around, silver trails glistening on her cheeks. “Do you still love me, Jackson?”
He swallowed, and his breath seized with the knowledge that his reply would carry a graver consequence than anything he’d ever uttered.
Her gaze wavered. “If you have to think ab–”
