A Mother at Heart Page 4

  Jake blew out his breath and laughed shortly. “I would be. In a few years. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to buy it now. Financially I’m stretched as far as I can go.”

  Miriam felt a stab of dismay. She had hoped he would buy it, had hoped he could keep farming it, that somehow something that had once belonged to her would now belong to him, creating a vague kind of connection. Though she wasn’t sure why. “That’s too bad,” she said, threading her fingers together in her lap.

  “At least we agree on that.” His words were clipped, and once again Miriam sensed his anger.

  But she was too tired to say anything back.

  “What happens once you sell the farm?” Jake continued.

  Miriam took a slow breath, willing away her fatigue. She had walked down catwalks in Milan, had modeled famous designers’ fashions with aplomb and self-confidence. Surely she could handle a farmer who needed a shave. “I go back east and put Waylen behind me.”

  Gravel rattled against the undercarriage as they drove down the road, the oppressive silence of two people unwilling to talk to each other filling the cab.

  She was thankful that it was a short trip to the car. As Jake pulled up beside it, Miriam got the keys out of her purse. She climbed out of the truck and unlocked the car’s trunk.

  Jake was beside her, and reached in and wordlessly pulled out her suitcase. Miriam took out a small cosmetics bag and closed the trunk.

  “This is it?”

  Miriam nodded and walked around the car.

  “You travel pretty light.”

  “I’ve made enough airline connections with my clothes headed off to Istanbul while I was going to New York. I’ve learned to take everything I need with me.” Miriam juggled the grocery bags in one hand while she locked the door with the other.

  “I don’t think this car is going anywhere,” Jake said suddenly.

  Miriam frowned up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “This is a dead-end road. You hardly need to lock the car.”

  Miriam tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. It did look silly to lock up a crippled car on a deserted road. “City habits, I guess,” she said, chancing a glance up at him.

  Mistake. He was smiling now, his features relaxed. He looked devastating.

  She forced herself to look away. “Well, that should do it.” Miriam straightened her shoulders and dropped her groceries in the back of Jake’s pickup, frustrated at how quickly the old feelings she had had for him returned. It was as if she had never been gone. As if she had never spent time with any man other than this tall farmer of few words.

  “You might want to put your suitcase in the front. I hauled feed with this truck the other day.”

  “A little extra oats and soy never hurt a girl,” she said quickly.

  Jake dropped the suitcase in the box. When he glanced up at her, he smiled again, and Miriam’s heart tripped.

  Silly girl, she castigated herself. You’re wasting your time on this one. She got in the truck, slammed the door and buckled up. The trip back to her house was as quiet as the trip to her car had been.

  Dusk was gathering by the time they drove down the driveway. Miriam had so hoped to see the place in the light. But as they pulled into the yard, she caught darkened glimpses of overgrown grass, tangled shrubs and flower gardens full of weeds.

  “My mother and I paid someone to keep this place up. What happened?”

  “Velma Rogers? She only took care of the inside of the house. Said she wasn’t paid for more. We tried to keep the outside fixed up, but we didn’t have time,” Jake said, his voice brusque. “We did check on the house every few months, just to make sure everything was still working. Your mother must have had the lawyer we paid to rent the land taking care of the power and gas bills.”

  Miriam nodded, then slowly got out of the truck, looked around. It was unkept enough in the half-light; she didn’t know if she wanted to see it in the sunshine.

  “Thanks for driving me here,” she said, turning. Waves of exhaustion made her legs wobble. She clung to the open truck door. “Don’t worry about the car. I can call a tow truck.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, turning and getting out of the truck. He pulled her suitcases out of the back. “I’ll come by tomorrow, and you can help me bring it into town.”

  “No, really, I know how busy this time of the year is. I know the last thing you need to do is cart me around. Please.” She felt a moment’s warmth kindle in her heart at his thoughtfulness.

  “And how are you going to call a tow truck?” Jake asked as he walked around the front of the truck. “The telephone doesn’t work.”

  “I have a cell phone.”

  Jake nodded. “Of course.” He strode ahead of her to the back door and stood aside so she could open it.

  The sound of the door opening echoed hollowly through the house, and Miriam felt a wave of nostalgia. It was so familiar, so much a part of her youth. How many times had she opened this very door and come running in to throw her books down on the porch floor, asking if there was anything to eat?

  Miriam flicked the switch by the back door, and light flooded the porch. There was a faint musty smell.

  Miriam walked up the three steps into the kitchen, stifling a cry of dismay. All the furniture was draped with white sheets; pictures had been taken off the wall and stacked in corners of the room. It all looked desolate and distinctly un-homey.

  Jake walked over to the taps and turned them. “Water’s still okay, although you might want to drain the hot water out of the tank. I’m sure it’s pretty stale. We did it at Eastertime, but that’s the last time I went through this place. Velma had asked me to go over everything this fall again.”

  “Thanks, Jake. I’ll do that.” Her head was starting to buzz, and she wanted nothing more than to have a nice warm shower and crawl into bed. One look around the house, though, told her she had other things to do first.

  “Do you want some help…” Jake let the sentence trail off.

  “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” She yearned for some time to herself, some time to gather her scattered thoughts. She wanted him gone. She wanted this cold formality between them to end, and it would only happen when he left.

  Jake nodded, his one hand caught in the back pocket of his blue jeans. “I’ll just walk through the house once, just to make sure everything’s okay. Where do you want your suitcase?”

  “Just leave it here, please.”

  The sound of his boots thumping through the house was muffled by the cloths draping all the furniture. Shivering, Miriam walked through the kitchen into the darkened living room, hugging herself against the chill of the house. The room here had a feeling of waiting.

  With a muted rumble, the furnace started up.

  Jake returned and paused in the arched doorway between the kitchen and the living room, looking around. “Well, I’ll be going. Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

  Miriam turned to him, nodding. “Thanks for everything. I’m sorry to be such a pain…” She let the sentence drift off as their eyes met.

  The backlight from the kitchen silhouetted him, and she couldn’t help but acknowledge his appeal. He was taller, broader. Not the young man she had left behind, but a man who had had his own experiences. He had buried a wife, and now had a child, ran a farm and took care of parents that looked so much older to Miriam than they had when she left. He was a stranger to her. A stranger with his own heartaches and his own responsibilities.

  “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow to bring your car into town.” Jake scratched his head as if he wanted to say more. Then with a shrug, he turned and left.

  Miriam walked to the window of the darkened room and watched through the large picture window as Jake started his truck, the headlights stabbing the darkness.

  She lay her head against the cold glass, letting the emotions of the day flow over her. Then, against her will, she felt tears gather. She didn’t know precisely what she cried for; she only
knew that she had felt a deep sadness closing in on her since she’d first seen Jake, then Fred and Tilly. All the memories of her mother’s death returned, hard and fast. Telling the Prins had been like reliving that stark moment when she’d felt her mother’s hand go limp in her own.

  Once again she replayed those moments after the funeral, when all the temporary supports—the nursing home staff, the undertaker, the minister who performed the service—had slowly fallen away, and she’d realized she was all alone.

  She had no one who cared. No one who mattered. The men she had met treated her like a trophy to be won and shown. Other men treated her like a commodity—a model, a face to sell their product.

  There had been only one man in her life. Ever.

  She felt another wave of sorrow thinking about Jake and his daughter. A daughter borne by her best friend.

  She cried for the loss of the dreams that both she and Jake had spun during those innocent long-ago evenings, and for the lives that reality had changed.

  The window was cool and soothing against her hot forehead, and slowly the tears subsided. They always did. And as always, reality returned. She had much to do if she wanted to sleep here tonight.

  Jake turned into Miriam’s driveway, the entrance of which was barely visible in the driving rain, unable to stop a gentle lift of his heart at the thought of seeing her again.

  Yesterday, the surprise of her sudden reappearance after ten years had put him on the defensive.

  And no wonder. She had kept herself away from people who cared about her, himself included, he reminded himself as his truck bounced through a puddle. She had told no one what was going on in her life.

  But even as Jake mentally considered a litany of her shortcomings, he couldn’t help but wonder how she had fared last night, her first night all alone in her childhood home.

  He had thought about her in this empty house during the drive back home, then again as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling in his room. Surprising, how easily the memories had returned. The fun times they had had. The excitement of the first moment of discovering their feelings for each other. Yet Miriam had been more than a girlfriend. She had been his closest friend. There had been nothing going on in his life, past or present, that she hadn’t known about.

  Jake sighed lightly as he came to a halt in front of Miriam’s house. Too much had happened between them, and the only way to get past it was to talk about it.

  But why bother, when she was going to sell the farm and leave again?

  Jake jumped out of the truck and ran up the walk to the house, rain slicing down on his head. He huddled deeper into his jean jacket and rapped on the door. The rain was really coming down now, a typical prairie rainstorm swishing and beating against the peeling woodwork of the house.

  He rapped on the door again and then pushed it open, stepping quickly inside. As he closed the door behind him, he looked up to see Miriam come to the door. She was wiping her hands on a cloth, wearing an apron over a pair of loose cargo pants that hung low on her hips and a T-shirt that barely ended above the waistband.

  “Hi, there,” she said, her expression neutral. “Did you want to leave right away?”

  “If you don’t mind.” Jake slicked his damp hair back from his face, wiping the moisture from his cheeks with the shoulder of his jacket, unable to take his eyes off her. Her hair looked tousled, her feet were bare and, unlike yesterday, today she wore no makeup.

  The effect was captivating. She looked younger, fresher and more approachable. More like the Miriam he had once known.

  He felt his heart stir in response, felt his pulse quicken. Then she lifted her soft brown eyes to his, and in that moment they seemed connected, pulled together by an invisible cord, by memories and old feelings that had never been resolved.

  He blinked and forced his gaze away, breaking the tie. “I’ll be waiting in the truck for you,” he said, looking past her at the wall behind her. “You might want to wear some boots if you have them.”

  He saw Miriam nod and take a step back. “I’ll be right out,” she said quietly. When she turned and walked back, he couldn’t help but watch her go, noting the graceful sway of her hips.

  Pull yourself together, Jake, he berated himself. She’s not for you and she’s not sticking around. With a shake of his head, he left the house. I need to get out more.

  Trouble was, he had no desire to date again.

  He had a father who wasn’t feeling well, an older mother who couldn’t do as much as she used to, a small daughter he never felt he spent enough time with, and a large farm to run on his own. His love life had been luckless, to put it mildly. Women were a complication he could do without. He had Taryn. She was his first responsibility. Tilly and Fred were his second, and together that was more than enough for him.

  He was glad he had decided at the last minute to leave Taryn behind. The almost reverential tone she used when talking about Miriam made him uneasy. Besides, Taryn had lately taken to talking about getting a mommy, like this was an item Jake could take care of for her in a minute.

  He knew Taryn, and he was afraid that her fascination would translate into simple math. Miriam was single, Jake was single. One plus one equals a mommy for Taryn. And in spite of the fancies of his own foolish heart, he couldn’t imagine a more unsuitable candidate for the job than Miriam.

  Jake watched as Miriam picked her way through the puddles on the driveway to the passenger side of the truck, clutching a bright red anorak tightly to her. To his surprise she had on a pair of sturdy hiking boots. He reached across the seat and opened the door. Miriam stepped in, a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume filling the cab as she shot Jake a grateful smile.

  Jake twisted the key in the ignition and tried to ignore that irresistible smell that telegraphed her presence.

  The only sounds in the cab were the hum of the heater fan and the slap of windshield wipers on the window. Just like yesterday, silence lay between them.

  And suddenly Jake was tired of it.

  “How long do you plan on staying here?”

  “I figure about ten days. I was hoping to go to a real estate agent today.”

  “Do you think that’s long enough to sell your farm?” Jake tried to inject a casual note into his voice. It made him angry that she could so easily talk of selling her farm. The idea bothered him for so many reasons.

  “Probably not, but I could only spare that much time here. I have work to go back to.”

  “Modeling?”

  “Yes.”

  Her quiet reply made Jake take a chance and look at her again. She was looking straight ahead, her mouth pressed into a firm line, her fingers wrapped tightly around each other.

  “If you don’t mind my intruding, you don’t seem too eager about it.”

  Miriam laughed shortly, pressing her thumbs together. “It pays the bills.”

  Jake looked back at the road again. He was sure it did. Paula had often spoken with outright envy of how much she figured Miriam made, doing what she did.

  He sighed, tapping his thumbs lightly on the steering wheel as he tried to find something to say. He felt awkward and gauche, and he didn’t like it.

  But she wasn’t the Miriam he used to tease; she wasn’t the Miriam who used to laugh at everything. In spite of his original antipathy toward her, he felt old feelings resurfacing, and through new-old eyes, he could see a sadness in her.

  They turned a corner, and there was her car.

  Jake stopped and frowned over a new problem. Town was west and Miriam’s car was facing east.

  “We’ll have to tow it back to the house to get it turned around,” he said, thinking out loud.

  “Why don’t you pull it to the next approach and turn in?” Miriam suggested.

  Jake rubbed his thumb along his chin, shaking his head. “Then I won’t be able to back out.”

  “How about pushing it around? It’s just a small car.”

  Jake chewed on his thumbnail, considering.


  “You still chew your nails?” Miriam asked, her voice tinged with laughter.

  Jake jerked his head around, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t chew my nails,” he said, dropping his hand.

  “That’s what you always said.” Miriam smiled again at the shared memory, and once again their eyes met.

  Why couldn’t he look away? Why couldn’t he just casually return the smile and turn his head? It was just mechanics—lift mouth in casual way; move neck muscles. Mission accomplished.

  But other messages were ruling his head right now. Like how much narrower her face was than before, how the light caught her high cheekbones, accenting them. He suddenly noticed a delicate fan of wrinkles from her eyes, smudges of shadows beneath them. There was a weariness to her features that he hadn’t noticed yesterday.

  Jake took a deep breath, pulling himself back to the dilemma at hand.

  “It’s not a big car,” she said again. “We could push it.”

  Jake considered this new suggestion, and then, with a shrug, said, “We can try.”

  Jake jumped out of the truck, shut the door and walked over to the car. Miriam was beside him.

  “I could push, and you could work the steering,” Jake said quickly. “The road isn’t too muddy yet, so we should be okay.”

  “Let’s try it.” She pulled the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the car, then put the key in the ignition and put the car into neutral. She positioned herself, gave Jake a nod, and on his count they started pushing. The car was small, just as Miriam had said, but it was also low. Jake had to bend far down to get any kind of leverage, and going on his knees wasn’t an option.

  “Do they get any lower?” he grunted as he strained to move it.

  “Not much,” Miriam said.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t bottom out on these roads.”

  “You always—” Miriam took a breath and pushed harder “—talk this much…when…you’re working?”

  Keeps me from thinking, he thought.

  The car was moving, slowly, but fortunately it was turning in the right direction. The road might just be wide enough.