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130
He shook his head and started to draw away. "I don't think?"
"Good. Now, get in."
They stared at each other for a long time. Later Jack
would wonder what it was he'd seen in her eyes, wonder
if it was simply another manifestation of his weakness.
But right now, in this instant, he saw a woman he'd never
seen before. A gentle, caring woman who wasn't trying to
hurt or destroy him. Someone who simply wanted to help.
"Please," she whispered. "You're tired."
She was right. He was too tired to fight her now. He
could wage the battle tomorrow; maybe he could even win
it. But that was tomorrow. Tonight he needed sleep.
He crawled into bed and pulled the coverlet tight to his chin. She kneeled beside the bed and began to stroke his unshaven cheek. The quiet, even strains of her breathing caressed his lips.
"Why are you doing this?" he murmured. "Because you need it."
He didn't know what he expected her to say, but that wasn't it. He searched her eyes for some hint of cruelty or irony or playacting. In the dark brown depths, he found nothing but compassion. It left him utterly speechless.
"Where were you tonight?" she asked, still stroking his cheek.
He winced at the question. / don't know. God help me, I don't know. The truth almost slipped out; he wanted to tell this woman who was his wife and yet wasn't. This woman who touched him with a softness he'd always ached for and never known. It took all his inner strength to say, "Out."
She seemed to sense his anguish. "It's okay. Jack. Just go to sleep. Shh. Shh."
He closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was the velvet-soft stroking of her fingers against his cheek.
131
* * *
The next morning dawned bright and hot. Tess hiked her skirts up to her thighs and straddled the small chair, scooting closer to the table. An array of jars was spread out before her. Beside her, a book lay open to a page titled Fruits and Vegetables: A Canner's Guide.
Today, by God, she was going to teach herself to can. She flipped open the instruction book and turned to the section on preserves. She was concentrating so hard, she almost missed the sound of a wagon driving into the yard.
Visitors.'
Tess flew out of her chair and raced to the window, flinging the flimsy curtain aside. A wagon rolled up in a cloud of dust. The driver tossed down the reins to Jack, who tied the horse to the railing alongside the chicken coop.
Jack pushed the hat higher on his head and smiled up at the small, hunch-shouldered man sitting alone in the wagon. The man doffed his hat, revealing a nearly bald head that reflected the hot spring sun.
The men talked for a moment, then they both looked uneasily toward the house.
Tess waved.
Jack gave her a tense, humorless smile.
