Beyond This Moment Page 41

  "That's a real pretty name:" A shy smile crept over his face. "I read the book;' he said softly, his voice tender with admission.

  It took Molly a second to make sense of that. "You read Little Women?"

  He nodded. "But don't tell anybody" The gentle lines around his mouth and eyes crinkled when he smiled. "I saw it on your desk that first day. Then later Billy told me it was your favorite:' He gave a slight shrug, looking more like a boy himself than a man. "It just seemed right to read it:" The tip of his index finger dwarfed her baby's hand. "I liked Josephine March. She reminded me of you:'

  Molly couldn't have spoken right then for the world. That he would have done that ... for her. She stared up at him, realizing how much she'd thrown away.

  He cleared his throat and rose to his full height. "Rachel told me about what Brookston did during the delivery. That sounds like it was really something:"

  "Yes, I guess it was. I'm grateful for his skill:"

  "So am I;' he whispered.

  He held her gaze for the longest time, and Molly sensed a question coming. Not one spur of the moment, but one he'd been considering.

  "Did you leave Franklin College of your own accord?"

  She trembled at the look in his eyes and slowly shook her head, hoping her voice would hold. "When President Northrop found out about my ... indiscretion," she said softly, "he `strongly encouraged' me to resign. I was ... reluctant, at first, especially knowing that the father of my child wasn't being given the same ultimatum:'

  James frowned. "He was a teacher there too?"

  She nodded.

  "And they allowed him to stay?"

  She nodded again, tempted to tell him about Jeremy marrying, about the donation to the college, about everything. Yet she knew that, in the end, it didn't matter. Because it wouldn't change the decision she'd made that one night. "It was only after President Northrop told me what he intended to do if I didn't resign ... that I realized I had no choice:"

  James stared, his expression unreadable, his silence asking the unvoiced question.

  "My father dedicated his life to teaching at that college." Molly closed her eyes and pictured her father standing before her, proud and tall, her diploma in his hand. Tears slid down her temples into her hair. "Before he died ... they named a scholarship after him, as well as a new building. He was so honored, and humbled;' she whispered, her voice shaking. She firmed her lips, the weight in her chest making it difficult to breathe. "If I didn't agree to resign and come here, President Northrop told me"-she remembered his exact words-"that he would strip my father's memory from every brick, from every piece of paper, and that he would do everything he could to make it as if my father had never been there:"

  She choked back her emotions, determined to hold herself together.

  For the longest time, James said nothing. Then he reached down and took hold of her hand. "I'm so sorry, Molly," he whispered.

  She didn't know which was worse-the gentleness of his touch and knowing she'd never feel it again, or the pitying look of compassion she'd seen from him before, when he looked at Lori Beth.

  The silence lengthened, and everything she thought of to say didn't fit the moment. When she was certain she couldn't take one more second, James took a step back, and let go of her hand.

  "Well, I'd better go. Let you get some rest. I know you must be tired:"

  Hearing what he wasn't saying, perhaps what his decency wouldn't allow him to say, she nodded. "Yes, that would probably be best:"

  He didn't move. "We packed you up this morning. Josiah, Elijah, Ben, and me. The boys helped too. Kurt packed your bug board real well. So no need to worry about that:"

  She hiccupped a laugh, and another traitorous tear slipped past her defenses. "Thank you ... for doing that:"

  "Ben's storing your trunks in his back room until you're ready to move into the hotel:"

  Her throat a vise, she smiled. "Please give them all my thanks" She'd never known civility could be so agonizing. "Thank you for coming by."

  He walked to the door and turned back. "Maybe we can talk again, in a few days. If you're feeling up to it:"

  Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded again, praying he would leave before she broke down. But instead of leaving, he walked back to her and kissed the crown of her head. When he pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes.

  And when she heard the clinic door close behind him, she sank back on the pillow and wept.

  James swung the axe high and brought it down with such force the log severed clean in the middle and joined its predecessors in the heap of kindling and shards of bark littering the snow. The burnished glow from the lantern hanging on the barn cast a dingy halo in the dark, and James's breath came heavy.

  "I'm sorry, James. Please ... forgive me."

  Every waking hour the memory of Molly's whispered voice cried softly inside him, over and over, just as she'd done as Brookston had prepared for her baby's birth. He forgave her. That wasn't a question. But forgiveness didn't mean things could just be put back the way they were. He scoffed in the darkness. Especially when things hadn't been right to begin with.

  The crunch of footfalls sounded as he reached for another log.

  "I'm still keeping your dinner warm, James. And the boys are already in bed."

  "Thanks, Rachel. I'll be in later." He placed the log on the tree stump and gripped the axe.

  "You said that over two hours ago. It's dark now. You need to come in and eat:"

  He clenched his jaw as he brought the axe down. The log separated and went flying. He exhaled, the air puffing white from his lungs. "I said I'd be in directly. I want to get this finished."

  This time the axe sank deep into the stump, and it took three tries to get it out. His shoulders burned from overexertion and his chest muscles ached from the cold. But he welcomed it compared to the pain inside.

  "Come inside, James. You've chopped enough wood for two winters:"

  He kept working.

  "You're going to make yourself sick if you don't-"

  "Not now, Rachel" He laid the axe aside and began stacking the wood against the barn, waiting to hear her retreating footsteps ... that didn't come.

  "I saw her today" Rachel's voice was quiet-and cut like a knife. "Jo too:"

  The ache inside him that he'd managed to dull over the past two hours rose again to a steady thrum.

  "She's still at the clinic. She'll be there for a while, she said. At least until-"

  "Rachel!" He turned, another load in his arms. "Please ... don't do this:"

  "I'm just trying to tell you how she's-"

  He threw the logs down. "No you're not. You're not just trying to tell me how she's doing. You're trying to fix things, like you always try to do. But this isn't something you can fix:" He put his back into the work until his muscles screamed-anything to avoid seeing the hurt on his sister's face.

  "I know what's going on inside you, James. I know you better than you think I do:'

  He swallowed, hearing the determination in her tone, and reached for patience beyond what he possessed. "You think you know me." His throat tightened, making it difficult to get the words out. "But you don't."

  He went back to chopping wood, hoping she would give up. She didn't speak for the longest time, and he thought she'd gone. But when he looked back, she still stood there, staring at him.

  He sank the axe into the stump, grabbed the lantern, and strode past her into the barn. But when he walked inside and saw the sleigh, he stopped cold. All this time, he'd known there was something Molly wasn't telling him. But he never, ever would have guessed the secret she hid from him-from the whole town.

  The soft crunch of Rachel's boots on the hay told him she wasn't giving up easily.

  "You told Kurt not long ago that no matter what he did, you would still love him. And that he couldn't do anything to change that"

  Lantern in hand, James turned back. "And I meant every word of that." Rachel loved Molly-he knew that. But
he also knew that Rachel needed to understand why this was especially hard for him to accept.

  For years he'd told himself he hadn't shared his secret with her because he didn't want to burden her with the truth. But the truth was, he didn't want her knowing because he feared it would change the way she looked at him. He'd worked so hard, ever since his father had bequeathed his legacy, to be a man people respected. And not just respected, but a man who stood for what was right and who upheld it at all costs.

  "Rachel, there are things you don't know about our family. About me. About our father." He took a breath. "When I was born, I-"

  "I know;' Rachel whispered.

  He stared. Then a fire, white-hot, shot up inside him. "Molly told you.

  A tender smile turned Rachel's mouth, reminding him so much of their mother. "Mama told me before she died."

  He bowed his head and closed his eyes. "So ... all these years ... you've known."

  Her soft sigh drew his gaze. "It doesn't matter where you came from, James. What matters is who you are. What you've made of yourself. What God has made in you. And-" Her smile faded, but the love in her eyes didn't. "Other than Thomas Boyd, you're the finest man I've ever known" She turned to go, then looked back. "Love like yours and Molly's, like mine and Thomas's-" her voice broke-"doesn't come along but every so often. Don't throw it away so easily, James:'

  He watched her walk back to the house, and all he could hear was Molly's voice. "I'm her," she'd whispered. "I'm that woman...."

  "Bring her trunks in here, please, Charlie:" Lori Beth gestured. "Right over there beneath the window will be fine:"

  Molly nodded for Charlie to go on in, then followed with Jo nestled snug against her chest. "Are you sure this isn't going to be an intrusion, Lori Beth?"

  "An intrusion?" Lori Beth put her hands on her hips. "Please tell me you're kidding. I couldn't be happier about this, Molly." Lori Beth fingered the white crocheted cap hugging Jo's little head. One of several she'd made in various colors, along with matching booties. The red-ribboned cloth bag had been stuffed full. "She's a doll, Molly. And you're welcome to stay here for as long as you like:"

  Charlie hefted the last of the trunks into the corner, which barely left enough space to walk. "Lori Beth's been talking of nothin' else for the past two days, Miss Molly. So she's tellin' the truth:'

  Lori Beth smiled. "See?"

  Molly hugged her tight. "Thank you. Thank you both:"

  Charlie tipped his hat. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on things."

  Lori Beth walked him outside while Molly stood and looked around the bedroom. She'd stayed the past three weeks at Dr. Brookston's cliniclargely for Jo's health, Dr. Brookston wanted her close so he could check on her often-and when the time came to move elsewhere, Molly had planned on moving to the hotel. But the agreement she'd had with the proprietor had somehow changed.

  The rent was double what he'd quoted her the first time-since he'd learned, along with the rest of Timber Ridge, that she wasn't a widow and had never been married.

  Molly hadn't put up an argument.

  She'd delivered a face-to-face apology to the town council, reliving all over again the look on James's face as he'd sat, eyes downcast, listening. She'd visited the parents of each of her students. Most of the couples had been solemnly accepting, though a handful hadn't even allowed her entrance into their homes. It wasn't as if she hadn't realized what telling the truth would cost her. She'd had plenty of time to consider the consequences. The cost was exacting. But it still didn't equal the pain James had suffered over her betrayal.

  Or did it outweigh the price of ultimate forgiveness for what she'd done.

  Christmas had come and gone quietly. Ben and Lyda had invited her and Jo, Dr. Brookston, and Angelo and his family over for dinner. Afterward, the Mullinses had graciously offered her the use of a room above their mercantile, but that would have meant coming and going through the store. And the few times she'd visited the mercantile in past weeks she'd noticed that people hung back from her, and moved away from whatever aisle she was on. Two customers, when seeing her, had set their items down and left the store entirely. But it had been greeting former students and having their mothers gently usher them away-with false smiles and under the guise of being late-that had hurt the most.

  No one openly cast stones or harangued her in the streets, but their silence delivered about as equal a blow. And the withdrawal of their acceptance was deafening.

  So when Lori Beth had offered a bedroom in her cabin, Molly had gratefully accepted, knowing it was only temporary. As soon as Dr. Brookston gave her and Jo clearance to travel, she would leave Timber Ridge. The thought of leaving renewed the near constant ache in the pit of her stomach. As hard as facing some of the townspeople had been, it didn't compare to the ache she felt when she considered never seeing James again.

  Yet the handful of times she had seen him in recent weeks had been heartbreaking. The ever-so-polite conversation, the distance, the reminder of what might have been.

  At one time, she'd thought that maintaining a friendship with him would be possible, even if they couldn't mean more to each other. But that had been short-sighted on her part. It was impossible for her to be with him and not want more. She thought she'd glimpsed that same desire in his eyes too-once, when they'd met by chance on the street-which made her even more determined to leave town as soon as possible.

  She couldn't allow him to sacrifice his life in Timber Ridge, his reputation, all the good he'd done in this town and would do in the future, for her. Because if she did, she would be destroying the very man she loved. Taking something just because she wanted it, no matter howbadly, wasn't love. Being willing to do what was best for the other person-even if it meant sacrificing what she thought was best for herself-was. And her love for James wouldn't allow her to do any less.

  A few days later, Charlie drove her and Lori Beth out to Little Italy. Molly had heard about the progress that had been made but could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw the rows of clapboard homes standing straight and tall and proud. Gone were the tents and the makeshift lean-tos. Someone had even constructed a seesaw and swing. It was a real community now.

  People came out of their homes to greet her, and Mrs. Giordano met them on the street and kissed her cheeks. Angelo had returned home in recent days, his cuts and bruises all but healed. His right arm was out of the sling, and Miss Clara's cooking had put some meat on his bones, as the woman had promised it would.

  "Dr. Brookston;' Angelo said as they walked. "He teach me about medicine. He say I learn well:"

  Molly smiled. "You do learn well, Angelo. And you learn quickly. You're a very smart young man:"

  They stopped by the wagon, where Charlie and Lori Beth were already seated and waiting. "But I would not have this learning. We would not have this"-he looked around-"if not for you, and Sheriff McPherson. I am glad God brought you from this Georgia where you were, Dr. Whitcomb:" He looked up at Lori Beth, who held Jo bundled in a blanket. "I miss your Jo. But not her crying at night:'

  Molly laughed and hugged him tight.

  On the way back into town, she couldn't help thinking of the good that had been done in Little Italy and in Angelo's life, and this after so much bad. She stared across the fields covered with snow and listened to the rumble of the wagon wheels. The Scripture she'd read the other night was holding true-God really did work all things together for good for those who loved Him, and who were called according to His purpose.

  His purpose though. Not hers.

  Charlie drove through town on the way back to Lori Beth's, and Molly sat wedged beside Lori Beth on the bench seat, Jo having nursed and resting contentedly in her arms. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, but occasionally they would wander and she would brush the gaze of someone she knew. Some people looked away quickly, acting as if they hadn't seen her. Others met her gaze and gave a solemn nod. Still others simply stared, then looked away.

  "Daggett! Slow up!" />
  Molly recognized the voice, and her heart leapt to her throat. She turned and saw James riding toward them.

  He guided Winsome alongside the wagon, next to her. "Good day to you all:"

  "Good day, Sheriff." Charlie motioned behind them. "We just been out to Little Italy. I was showing the women what's been done:"

  James smiled. "It's really coming along. We've got a church to build yet, come spring, but we'll get it done:" His gaze fell to Jo. "How's Miss Josephine?"

  Molly swallowed before speaking. She seemed to have a perpetual catch in her throat every time she saw him. "She's doing well. Dr. Brookston says he's very pleased with her progress:" She made a point of touching the pink blanket James had given her the day following Jo's birth. "Thank you again, for this. It's her favorite:"

  James smiled, keeping Winsome's pace with the wagon's. "Would you be willing to have dinner with me this weekend ... Miss Whitcomb?"

  The question caught her off guard, as did the way he addressed her, and Molly had trouble responding. A subtle nudge from Lori Beth helped that along. "I ... um. . " Molly knew she shouldn't. She needed to say no. But when she looked into his eyes... "Yes, I'd ... like that very much."

  "Good:" One side of his mouth edged up. "I'll pick you up Saturday night, at seven:"

  Molly turned to watch him as he rode away.

  Molly was ready by five oclock on Saturday. She stood in front of the mirror, trying to decide whether she should wait until seven, when he arrived, or if she should ride out to Rachel's to tell James what a bad idea their having dinner was.

  "Stop fidgeting, Molly. You look stunning:"

  Molly looked past her reflection in the mirror to see Lori Beth standing in the doorway. She gave a soft laugh. "What am I doing, Lori Beth?"

  "You're going to dinner with a man who-telling by the way he looks at you-loves you very much:"

  That wasn't what Molly needed to hear, but it was exactly what she was thinking. "But that's just it. Nothing can come of this, so why am I acting as if it could? I can't stay here, Lori Beth. I've told you before ... I'm not as strong as you are:"