Home for Good. Jessica Keller
I’m sorry. I’d do anything to change the fact that I left.”
“But I need to know, before we become partners in this, are you a better man now?” She jammed a finger into his chest, and he knew exactly what she meant. You still a drunk? Ornery? Will you leave again?
He lifted his hands, palms out. “I’m a man surrendered now, Kate. Still make mistakes. But I haven’t touched a bottle in five years, and I’ve made a promise to God that I never will. I won’t hurt Ali. I came back to make good on my wedding vows...to honor and protect her, to fix what I did. But she doesn’t want me at all.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“But what about Chance?”
Kate held up a hand and shook her head. “Not my story to tell.”
Sweat slicked his palms. “Don’t know, Kate. I was watching her just now. She smiles for everyone but me. She started crying when I talked to her. I think she’d relish watching the buzzards pecking at me before seeing me again.”
“That’s because if she lets down her guard with you, she stands to lose the most.”
“Meaning?”
“You cowboys are all seriously dense.”
He rolled his eyes. “Continue.”
“She’s closed off to you because she loves you the most. That makes you the biggest danger of all. If someone else rejects her or betrays her, she can shrug that off, but you? That’s everything to her. Has been since you two were kids.”
Well, that was clear as mud.
“So here’s the plan.” She glanced back at Ali, then leaned toward him. “In a minute these fireworks will be done, and I’m going to ferret away Chance with the lure of some sparklers.” She patted the bulge in her purse. “That’ll leave you a good amount of time to talk to Ali.”
“But what do I say?”
“If you can’t figure that out, cowboy, then you don’t deserve my sister.”
* * *
Alone, lying back and scanning the night sky through the leftover smoke hanging in the air, Ali almost breathed a thankful sigh—but then he sat down next to her, took off his hat and tapped the brim against his leg.
“I don’t want you—”
“I know.” He wound his hat around in his hands, and the motion tugged at all the broken places inside her. “I know you don’t want me. And after a time, if you still feel that way, I’ll honor that. I’ll leave you alone for good.”
“Good, I want that. Now.” She started to sit up, gathering the blanket Chance and Kate shared during the show, but his warm hand on her arm stopped her. He gently turned her to face him.
She sighed. “Okay, if I let you talk, we’ll be done? You’ll leave after that?”
“If that’s really what you want.” He ran his fingers over the rim of his hat.
“It is. So go ahead, shoot.”
He gave the slightest sign of an outlaw smile. “Not a good thing to say to a cowboy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Speak, rover. Talk. Say whatever it is you’re so bent on telling me.”
He shifted. “I should have never left.”
“You’ve got that right.”
He placed a hand on her arm and gently squeezed. “Let me talk, woman, please.” Jericho removed his hand. “That day. You’ve got to understand that I had to go. I had no choice. I was so afraid that I’d hurt you, Ali. I loved you so much, and I sat there watching myself destroy the one person in the world who meant anything to me. That day when I lost it...tossed your lamp...well, I saw a streak of my pop in me, and it made me sick. I got in my car and just took off, kicking up a cloud of dust.”
Blinking the burn away from her eyes, Ali moved to stand up. “I don’t need to hear a replay of this. In case you forgot, I was there.”
He stopped her with a touch of his hand. “Please stay.”
Who was he to beg her to stay? But like a fool, she hunkered back down.
“I stopped at Pop’s house and had an all-out yelling brawl with him, then lit for the state line. I got a job driving a tour bus at Yellowstone. They canned me a couple months later when they found out I hit the scotch before the rides. I spent the next year or two working as a ranch hand at different places, most of the time herding at the back, eating cattle dust and that’s about all I felt I was good for. I thought about coming back—wanted to—but I was a sorry mess that you didn’t need. I drank more than before. Drank all my money away. But God kept me alive, so I could come back to you and—”
“I hardly think God has anything to do with it. You were a drunk, lying, good-for-nothing boy.”
He nodded. “I can’t argue you about that. I was. And I took the coward’s way. I just needed—” he closed his eyes “—escape.”
Ali bit back a stream of words. Adults didn’t get the choice of escape. They bucked up and dealt with it, like she had. “Escape from what? Me?” Her muscles cringed. Never enough. Her love couldn’t heal him. She’d failed as a wife, and that’s why he left.
“No. Never you. I needed to escape me.” He thumbed his chest. “I was furious at God for taking my mom, hated Pop for becoming a cruel drunk—then hated myself just as much for becoming everything I despised in him. I was angry that I couldn’t be what you needed. I talked you into running away from your family in the middle of the night, into marrying me when you were only eighteen. I had nothing to give you but my heap of troubles. I was just a kid myself, and I didn’t have the first clue how to take care of you properly. What kind of man was I? So I drank. I wanted to be numb. I wanted nothing to matter anymore, but I kept seeing your face, kept catching whiffs of pretty flowers that reminded me of you.” His ratty straw hat flaked apart as he twisted it round and round in his hands while talking.
With a bull-rider’s grip on her purse, Ali chewed her bottom lip. Jericho’s humility unnerved her. He was supposed to be cocky. He was supposed to smell of alcohol, combined with the cigar smoke from whatever bar he’d rolled out of at three in the morning. But no, he sat here emitting an intoxicating mixture of hard work, rain and alfalfa.
He paused, his soft eyes studying her. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “It got worse, though. I found myself sneaking into barns at night just for a place to sleep away the hangover. Homeless...can you imagine?” He gave a humorless laugh. “The great ranch baron Abram Freed’s son, homeless.” He threw up his hands. “One night an old rancher found me, and I thought he was going to shoot me between the eyes, but he invited me inside. Let me sleep in his guest bedroom. He was a veteran, and when he talked about his time in the service he just became a hero to me. This man had been through so much terrible stuff, but he was even-keeled and kind. And I wanted to be him. So I enlisted. I owe that man the life I have now.”
“You’re really a soldier, then?”
He put back on his hat, steepling his hands together. “Ali, who’s Chance’s dad?”
The question froze every inch of her that had thawed during his story. “He doesn’t have one. He’s my son. That’s it.”
“Unless he’s adopted...that’s not really possible.”
“Are you done?” She knew her harsh tone would wound his open spirit, but she didn’t care. Not when Chance got pulled into the conversation.
He sighed and worked the kinks out of the back of his neck. “After I enlisted, I went through training and spent some good time learning what it means to be a man of discipline and determination. After a couple years my group got drawn for deployment, and I wanted to call you, wanted to say goodbye, but didn’t feel like I