The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) Page 22

“Take your man home, Mrs. Jessup,” he said, beaming.

  “Thank you, Dr. Sawyer.” Becky turned to the doctor’s wife. “Thank you both for your excellent care and hospitality.”

  “My dear, you’re welcome here any time.” Mrs. Sawyer, a middle-aged woman with a motherly air, patted Becky’s arm.

  Dr. Sawyer shook Isaac’s hand.

  “I’ll settle up the bill next time I’m in town, all right?” Isaac asked.

  “No need. Your wife here took care of it.”

  “She did?” Isaac asked, looking confused.

  “You’re a strong man,” the doctor continued, to Becky’s relief. “I’d say you’ll be back to work in a few days, a week at the most, if I had to guess.” The doctor led them out back to his stable, a sturdy two-stall affair, and helped Isaac into the saddle.

  “Just make sure he takes it easy for a few more days,” the doctor said to her. “And I’ll take good care of that gun of yours.”

  Hoping Isaac hadn’t heard that last comment, Becky gave the doctor a smile and accepted his hand up to mount her mare.

  He grinned as he noticed the lack of saddle. “You’re a remarkable woman, Mrs. Jessup.” He chuckled as he waved them off. “Remarkable.”

  ***

  As Isaac rode beside Becky up the mountain trail, he saw her again as that amazing frontier woman who’d barreled toward him in the woods. Gone was the delicate-looking waif he’d first met at the Pearsons’ house. Sure, she was still a tiny thing, but now, he could actually imagine her surviving in wild Seattle.

  Survive?

  She’d done more than survive that day with that bear. She’d saved his hide.

  “Becky—” He cleared his throat and smiled as she turned to meet his gaze. “You were amazing with that gun. How’d you ever learn to shoot and ride like that? And don’t tell me you learned that from me. I know better.” He studied her features as if seeing her for the first time, filled with admiration and not a little confusion.

  “You mean you don’t mind me being an absolute hoyden?”

  He tilted his head to one side and let out a laugh. “What?”

  “You’re not upset your wife’s not a proper lady?”

  “What good’s a ‘proper lady’ up here? I’m glad you’ve got some spirit. You’ll need it.”

  “Thank you.” Her cheeks colored at his praise.

  She seemed to sit her horse more comfortably then, as if a weight had fallen from her shoulders. He sensed he was seeing her as she really was now, and he found her fascinating. How could he have failed to see this, to see her?

  “I grew up riding and shooting,” she admitted, “but men don’t want their wives doing those things...at least that’s what I thought.”

  She thought he wanted some prim and proper miss with wide skirts and white gloves?

  “Think again.” He grinned. “I like you like this, Becky.” He reached over and stopped Siren, then lightly grasped Becky’s wrist, took her small hand in his.

  “And I like that,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “You calling me Becky. It’s so much better than Rebecca. That never quite sounded right to me. The only one who ever called me that was Papa, and only when he was angry with me.”

  “Then Becky it is.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was so smooth and soft...and distracting.

  “But you said I didn’t belong here,” she reminded him, sounding hurt.

  He gripped her fingers. “Look at me, Becky,” he commanded.

  As she lifted her eyes from their horses, he noticed with brief amusement that his gelding was stoically ignoring the fact that her mare was trying to nip at his mane. He bore it with such an air of grim tolerance, like a longsuffering husband. Which wasn’t nearly what Isaac felt for Becky at that moment. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to hold her.

  Isaac waited until Becky met his gaze, then continued clearly, “When I said that...well, I wasn’t quite in my right mind. I was so full of fury for what Jem had done. And I was afraid. When I think what could have happened to you...” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I said that. I wish to heaven I could take it back. I want you here with me.”

  “But you keep pushing me away.”

  “I thought you still loved Jack. That’s what I thought.” He pressed his fingertips to the bandage wrapped around his forehead, trying to ease the ache there. “You talked in your sleep on our wedding night and told me how much you loved ‘your darling Jack.’”

  “I did?” she asked, her face turning slightly pink. “Really?”

  “You did. And hummed that blasted waltz tune.”

  “On our wedding night?”

  “The very same.”

  “Oh, so that’s how you knew about Jack.”

  Isaac nodded once, struggling against the weariness eating away at his strength. He hated being so tired. Hated feeling weak. Knew he’d probably have to lie down as soon as they got back. It was in no way what he wanted though. He wanted to appear whole and strong, like he could take on the world. Like he could protect her and not the other way around. There was also something bothering him that he knew he needed to air. He’d never felt comfortable talking about feelings or bringing up incidents from the past, but he forced himself to go on.

  “Becky...” he began. When she looked at him, his heart gave an unsteady bump. “I heard you sobbing in your room one night. Not that long ago.”

  How can you say you love me when I heard you crying over another man?

  He didn’t say it aloud, but the question hung in the air between them.

  She hesitated, seeming to gather her words. She closed her eyes for a second as if bringing back the memory of that night. “It was kind of a ceremony, I guess you could say. Saying goodbye to old memories. I’d grown up with Jack. And I guess I always loved him—ever since we were children. Then he came back from the war, and he had a wife, and all my dreams dried up to nothing. I wanted more. I wanted something new. A fresh start, maybe. That’s why I signed up to come here. That’s why I married you.”

  Her hand was trembling, Isaac noticed. As he listened to her story, he wondered why it hurt so much to hear her tell him again that she loved Jack. She was staring at him, her eyes so huge, so earnest. He pressed on his temple again and tried to think clearly. He couldn’t very well expect her to say she’d never loved anyone else. That would be a lie. She’d been honest from the first that she hadn’t come here with dreams of falling in love with him. She’d told him straight out she didn’t expect a love match, that her heart wasn’t free.

  He cleared his throat. “You talked in your sleep again the other night. You said you loved me. Please don’t tell me I was dreaming.”

  “I do love you,” she said, and her smile turned his insides all soft. “I was coming to tell you. That’s why I followed you that day. I was coming to tell you everything, honest. That night...that was the night I let Jack go. He wasn’t the man for me. I know that now. I was young, I guess, and it wasn’t meant to last. Do you know why I chose your letter? Or I guess it was Sam’s letter.” A brief frown marred her brow. “It was because of your name. I thought it was a sign: an Isaac for my Rebecca. Silly, I guess, but maybe it really was a sign. I was meant to come here. I was meant to marry you. What I felt for Jack was just calf love and nothing more—I can see that now. I love you. Like a woman loves a husband. Fully and completely, with all I have inside.”

  “Is that right?” If Isaac weren’t so weak still, he might’ve pulled her off the saddle and into his arms right then.

  She must have sensed the direction his thoughts had taken, for she blushed and nodded.

  “I love you too, Becky. You can’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say those words to me now, but you will soon... I promise.”

  “Oh,” she said and gave him a shy smile that made him wish he wasn’t still recovering from an accident.

  ***

  Every morning now it seemed Becky woke up
with a happy heart. Looking back over the past week, it was as if she and Isaac had found a wonderful peace with each other. He’d made startling progress, healing quickly, as the doctor had predicted, and his leg only seemed to give him trouble when he was tired. She marveled at how much had changed between them. All the strain of living like strangers had melted away to a warm closeness. Even now, as they ate breakfast together, she kept glancing over at her husband, liking the way he looked in the morning, all smooth-cheeked from a fresh shave, ready for the day. She liked how he looked in the red flannel shirt she’d made him—remembered his surprised pleasure at her gift. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but he seemed to like it nonetheless. With a warm rush of embarrassment, she also remembered the wonder of the marriage bed. Mama’s awkward pink-cheeked talk hadn’t prepared her in the least for the experience. She hid a smile.

  Isaac leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You’re looking good enough to eat, Becky, but I have to go to town to place an order.”

  An order?

  Becky nearly choked on her milk.

  “Isaac, don’t. Save the money for your men.”

  “What?” The look he gave her made her pause. Like she’d lost her senses. “What are you talking about?”

  Hurrying to his old trunk, she grabbed up the ledger resting on top and returned to his side. She plunked the book down on the table and flipped through the pages.

  “There has to be a mistake here, Isaac,” she insisted.

  “There’s no mistake, I promise. There’s no mistake with the numbers.” He sounded so firm, so sure.

  Could she have been wrong?

  “But Jem said the men have gone without pay for weeks.” She looked up at him and wondered how he could possibly explain that away.

  Isaac pulled himself up, his shoulders stiff and proud. “Gone without pay? Never. The only truth in that is Jem went without pay for a while. I had to dock his pay because he wasn’t doing his work. But I assure you, my men are well provided for, and they always have been.”

  Becky gazed around the cabin, taking in the ragged potato-sack curtains, the worn furniture. Nothing matched. It was so small. Why, the porch was even crooked. It sloped downhill.

  What he was saying made no sense.

  Why would they live this way if they had as much money as his records said?

  Isaac rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by her inspection. “I guess I never explained things properly,” he said. “I can’t blame you for thinking we’re poor. It’s just, well, Pop and I never cared much what the place looks like. It’s just a place to sleep, mostly. Always has been. In fact, the only thing that means anything is that old cook stove. It was my mother’s.”

  Becky looked at the stove with new eyes. “It was your mother’s?”

  “Becky,” Isaac said, claiming her attention. He seemed a little anxious now, as if he had a secret to share. Which made her anxious too. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I’ve got plans to build you a house, one with an indoor pump. With all the things a woman needs to raise her children.”

  A house?

  For her?

  It was a dream come true. An answer to a prayer she hadn’t even realized she’d prayed.

  Looking in Isaac’s eyes right then, Becky felt like every dream she’d ever had just came true. Except for one. He’d said children—plural—which was interesting and made her heart race a little too quickly. That was one dream she was still waiting for. Although for all she knew maybe it had been answered too. Maybe even now, a baby was growing inside her.

  The open ledger lay before her. All those neat columns and rows. All perfectly balanced.

  “I’m sorry, Isaac. I should’ve known better—I should have asked you sooner, but I—”

  Before she could finish, he bent to capture her lips in a long, drawn-out kiss—a full-fledged, knee-buckling kiss that made her wish he didn’t have to leave for work.

  “I’ll be back before dark,” he promised.

  “I’ll be here.” She followed him outside and stood on the porch, waving goodbye as he rode away. A warm glow of contentment washed over her simply from watching him. She loved the way he moved. Like he owned the place. Which was appropriate, she thought with smile, since he did. Looking up at the bright blue sky and the sun glinting off the snow-topped mountains made her feel as close to heaven as she could ever be here on earth. It reminded her of the day she’d prayed in the farmer’s field back home. How desperate she’d felt. It seemed so long ago now. Her prayers had been answered after all. Not like she’d expected, but even better.

  This was where she belonged. Right here.

  Her home was—and always would be—here with Isaac in wild Seattle.

  EPILOGUE

  Isaac loaded up the skid with Becky’s trunks and all the remaining items they’d be taking over to the new house today. Tying everything off with one last yank of the rope, he stepped back. Today, he’d bring his wife to her new home. Fighting a nervous tightening in his chest, he reminded himself she was sure to like it—anything was better compared to this drafty old cabin she’d lived in for the better part of a year. He felt eyes on him and glanced back. There was Pop on the porch, watching him with a distinct air of fatherly satisfaction.

  Isaac raised a hand in a welcoming wave. Meddling old man, he thought with affection. Pop would never let him live this down now, not after it turned out to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. Isaac sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to put up with Pop’s meddling in all sorts of other ways in the future.

  “Mr. Jessup?” A tall, broad-shouldered young man with black hair and fair skin approached, a knapsack slung over his back. He was on foot, no sign of a horse. And he looked weary, his feet dragging a bit, as if he’d come a long way.

  “Jem? Is that you? It’s been a while.” Isaac greeted him warmly, recognizing him as he drew closer. He shook Jem’s hand and grasped his shoulder.

  “Spent time with a crew of loggers outside Sacramento. Learned a lot about the business—and myself.” Jem smiled, but his eyes were sober. He looked years older. “You seen my pa?”

  “No sign of him,” Isaac assured him, but from Jem’s creased brow he knew the young man was worried his father would return to take revenge.

  “I came back to ask if I could join the crew again.” Jem rushed on quickly without waiting for Isaac’s response, “I know I acted the fool—‘kicking against the goads’ so to speak—but I’m willing to work wherever you feel’s best. I felt called to return. I’m hopin’ you’ll take me back?”

  Isaac looked the young man over thoughtfully. He did seem willing to take direction. Time would tell, but after seeing how Jem’s father had treated him, Isaac felt the young man needed more than a second chance.

  “How’d you like to learn the business from a real expert?” He directed a questioning gaze at Pop, who walked over and stood beside him.

  “I’ve got an extra room in the cabin that needs a body,” Pop declared. “Don’t need no shenanigans though.” He fixed Jem with a steely-gray stare, the one Isaac had heeled to his whole life.

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, then, I ’spect we could use an assistant.”

  “You don’t mean it?” Jem looked back and forth between the two older men, his gaze incredulous.

  “Do I have to ask twice?” Sam shrugged and started to walk off.

  “No, sir!” Jem stepped closer and offered his hand. “You’ve got an assistant.”

  “Well, then, let’s get you started.” Pop led the young man toward the current logging site, talking to him as they went. “Enjoy your new home, Son!” he called back with a cheery wave. “I’m expecting to hear all about it tomorrow.”

  “Make it the day after. I’m taking tomorrow off,” Isaac shouted back. He could hear Pop chuckling as he continued walking on. His father bent his head in toward Jem, no doubt settling in for a lecture on the dangers of the logging business.
>
  ***

  After a short ride though the forest, Becky followed Isaac until they reached the edge of a clearing.

  This was it.

  He was finally going to show her their new home. Countless delays had cropped up to keep the project going for months longer than Isaac had planned, but several days ago he’d declared the new house ready, and she’d packed for the move in a flurry of activity.

  With her mother’s letter tucked in her pocket, she felt everything in her world was right. He father had even scrawled a note at the bottom saying simply, “Miss you. Hope all is well, Papa.” Those few words made her cry every time she read them. Simply thinking about them now made her eyes smart with tears. Who would’ve guessed that leaving home and moving to the other side of the country would have the unexpected side effect of bringing her closer to her father? That, in and of itself, was a miracle. God had brought her here and given her a home—a place to belong. He’d given her a wonderful husband to share it with. She looked at Isaac with a contented smile.

  He helped her dismount and immediately covered her eyes with his hand.

  She leaned back against him, felt his arm slide securely around her waist.

  “Do you trust me?” He whispered close to her ear, making her shiver a little, in the best way possible.

  “Of course.” She smiled. “That’s a silly question.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and guided her forward. “Just a little farther now.”

  Her heart skipped along a little faster, and she laughed from sheer excitement.

  “Here we are.” His voice sounded a little deeper than usual, like he was nervous. He dropped his hand, but she kept her eyes shut, delaying the suspense.

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Then open your eyes, woman.” He playfully tickled the small of her back.

  “All right.” She popped one eye open and then the other. “Oh, Isaac.” A quaint little cabin with a covered porch stood in the clearing before her. “The windows are so big! And you planted flowers?” She glanced over her shoulder at him, a smile nearly bursting from her face. “It’s perfect.”