“Longer.” Fabulous. How would she ever last without seeing him? Talking to him? Making him listen to her? Jericho was a former Marine. He knew all about survival and getting by in the woods with no more than a piece of string and a knife. He could stay gone for weeks.
“It’s none of my business what’s going on between the two of you,” Sam said softly, “but whatever it is, you’ll work it out.”
“Not if he doesn’t come back.”
“He’ll be back.”
“I wish I was so sure,” she told him, moving across the room toward the refrigerator. She opened it, pulled out a bottle of water and opened it. After a long drink, she admitted, “He’s furious, Sam. What if he doesn’t come back?”
The older man gave her a smile. “He will. This is home. He’s never been able to stay away too long. Besides, he loves you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Well, I do,” Sam said and walked to the coffeepot. Getting down a heavy mug, he poured himself a cup, took a sip and sighed. Then he continued, “I’ve known Jericho for years and I’ve never seen him the way he is with you.”
That was something, Daisy thought, hope beginning to rise inside her again. If Sam had seen something in Jericho change and grow, then maybe what they’d found together would be strong enough to get past what she was sure Jericho saw as a betrayal.
Oh, God, she had betrayed him. Hadn’t meant to, but she could see now how it would feel to Jericho. How he might not be able to trust her. How he might think she was using him. And how could she change his mind if he didn’t come back?
“Thank you,” she said, taking a seat at the high breakfast bar. Late morning light spilled through the windows, dazzling against the appliances. Outside, the sounds of construction rang out. Hammers, saws and the shouts of men as they worked together rebuilding the damaged section of the barn.
“That means a lot to me, Sam. But the truth is, I really hurt him. I didn’t mean to, but I did just the same.”
“He’s a big boy with thick skin. He’ll get over it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Usually am,” he said with a quick grin. Then his features sobered and he stared down into his coffee for a long moment before he looked at her again. “I haven’t said this to you before, but you coming here was a good thing, Daisy.”
“I’d like to think so,” she admitted. It would make her own sense of guilt much easier to bear. God, she kept seeing the flash of emotion in Jericho’s eyes and it all but choked her. She’d been so happy when she saw the positive pregnancy test. So pleased that she’d gotten her wish. That she was carrying Jericho’s baby.
Then, when she was sure he was going to propose, she hadn’t been able to let him go through with it. Not without telling him the truth. Now she didn’t know what to do. What to feel. She had her baby, but had she lost Jericho forever?
“How can it be a good thing,” she said quietly, “if my coming here has made him so miserable?”
“Everybody gets mad, honey. Can’t go through life without wanting to kick the furniture once in a while. But I’ve noticed that the only people who can really set us off are the ones who matter.”
“You think?”
“I’m not the only one who’s noticed the change in Jericho, you know.” He locked his eyes with hers as if trying to impress upon her just how important what he was about to say was to him. “He’s easier with everyone. Like a heavy weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. When your brother died, it tore him up some.”
Tears welled in her eyes at the mention of Brant and the reminder that her brother and the man she loved had once been close. “I know they were friends.”
“They were,” Sam agreed. “But it was more than that. As often happens to those who serve together, Jericho and Brant became more brothers than friends. Suppose he already told you how hard it hit him when that kid died. Guess you know how Jericho struggled for a long time with wondering whether he might have prevented Brant’s death.”
A ball of ice dropped into the pit of her stomach. “Prevented it?”
“You always wonder, you know,” he said, shifting his gaze to the commotion on the other side of the window. “Hell, years later, I still see faces in my sleep. Of the men I served with. The ones I saw die and I ask myself…could I have done something different? Could I have changed that somehow?”
Was that all it was? she asked herself. Was Jericho haunted by the images of what might have been? Or was there more to it? Had he had the opportunity to save her brother? Her breath came faster now as she listened and, though she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, she had to ask the question.
“Why did Jericho think he could have saved Brant?”
The older man whipped his head around to meet her gaze, and he must have seen that she’d known nothing about this. That he’d told her something that Jericho had been keeping from her. And panic flickered briefly over his features before they once again became carefully blank.
“Uh,” he said, setting the coffee mug down onto the counter. “Don’t mind me, my mouth starts running, there’s no telling what might come out of it. I better get out there, ride herd on those guys and make sure they’re hammering everything together right.”
“Sam…” She hopped off the high kitchen stool and stared at him. Her heartbeat was staggering wildly, as if it couldn’t quite find the regular rhythm. Her breath was whooshing in and out of her lungs and her mind was screaming. It was all she could do to keep her voice low and controlled. “Tell me. Did Jericho let my brother die?”
“No, he did not,” the older man said tightly. “But I can see I spoke out of turn. Whatever else happened is for Jericho to tell or not as he sees fit. I admire you a lot, Daisy. But this is not my story to tell. Now, excuse me, I’m going back to work.”
Stunned, she simply stood there, speechless. What did it mean? Was this the secret Jericho had been keeping from her? What had happened on the day Brant died? What was Jericho hiding?
Alone in the bright, cheerful kitchen, with sunlight pooling all around her, Daisy felt as if she were at the bottom of a deep, dark hole.
Sam would have been surprised to know that Jericho hadn’t gone to the high country at all. Instead, he’d steered his Jeep down the mountain and had driven directly to Justice’s ranch. He’d needed to talk to somebody, to try to straighten out everything that was in his head and he had known that Justice would talk straight and say exactly what he was thinking—whether Jericho liked it or not.