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“And you’ll always have me.” CJ looked from one small, precious child to the other, his resolve growing with each beat of his heart.
These girls were his responsibility now. He was committed down to the bone. He would stumble along the way and surely make mistakes, but he would love Sarah and Anna until the day he died. He would protect them with his life.
Emotion ripping at his throat, he risked a glance at Molly. Their gazes locked and held. He remembered what she’d said the morning Ned left town. We’re in this together.
Eyes never leaving his, she stood and took Sarah’s hand. CJ reached for Anna’s.
Together, they guided the girls into the tent.
Chapter Four (#ulink_3b5950aa-4aa2-5813-9e80-173769e8b10d)
Sitting with perfect posture, in a pose of perfect serenity, Molly felt like a perfect fraud. It took every ounce of willpower not to fidget on the thin, wooden bench she shared with CJ and the twins. For the sake of the children, she forced herself to remain outwardly calm.
Inside, she burned.
Truly, there was nothing more trying than pretending all was well when matters were anything but. Lips pressed tightly together, Molly folded her hands in her lap and considered the heartbreak that lay ahead.
When Ned didn’t show, what would Molly and CJ say to the twins? Words formed in her head, disappeared, then reformed again in a vastly different order. While she certainly agreed that “the truth shall set you free,” she also knew that the truth often caused pain and sorrow. Molly didn’t want that for Sarah and Anna.
Too late. The thought whispered through her mind.
Ned had made a terrible, selfish decision. How easy it would be to say something unkind about the man. But that would only upset the girls further.
Out of the corner of her eye, Molly looked down at them sitting between her and CJ. At first glance, they represented the very picture of polite, well-behaved children. Having adopted a pose similar to hers, they were uncommonly still. The hollow look in their eyes warned that the truth about their father was starting to sink in.
Molly wanted to weep for them.
CJ seemed to be fighting his own internal battle. Though his features were impassive, Molly could practically feel the tension coming off him in waves.
She nearly sighed, but the breath caught in her throat and came out sounding like a strangled sob.
Eyes full of silent understanding, CJ reached around the girls and squeezed Molly’s shoulder. The gesture was so CJ, solid and yet somehow tender. For that one, brief moment, Molly let go of her anxiety and simply basked in the man’s quiet strength. Everything was going to be all right. The children would survive this trauma. CJ would make sure of it.
Giving in to that sigh after all, she broke eye contact and forced her gaze straight ahead. Now that the singing had concluded, Mrs. Hickey, all-around busybody and notorious gossip, took an eternity shuffling toward her seat in the front row beside her husband.
The woman might move at the pace of turtles, but with her rust-colored hair pulled tightly against her head and her narrowed gaze sweeping over the congregation, she looked more like a rat contemplating its next meal.
Molly took the opportunity to glance at the crowd as unobtrusively as possibly. She found no sign of Ned, neither inside the tent nor out. Not that she’d expected a different outcome. But still...
Ned, where are you?
A dozen possible answers slammed through Molly’s mind. But then the local preacher took his place behind the pulpit and a collective hush filled the air.
At twenty-eight, Brandon Stillwater was a big, muscular man who resembled a rancher rather than a man of God. Tall, broad through the shoulders and chest, he had piercing silver eyes, light brown hair and a surprisingly relaxed demeanor that put everyone at ease.
His identical twin, Bo, was the more reserved of the two. They owned property just south of town. Bo did most of the ranch work, while Brandon focused on serving the Lord and seeing to his flock.
He gave a wide, welcoming smile to the assembled group, then immediately launched into his sermon. “As Little Horn nears its two-year anniversary and our Founder’s Day celebration approaches, I find myself thinking about journeys.”
Though his smile remained in place, his tone turned serious. “Through the years, our community has enjoyed countless blessings. Yet we’ve also suffered our share of tragedies. We’ve celebrated marriages and births. We’ve endured drought, flash flooding, disease and the death of loved ones.”
He paused, drew in a slow breath.
“The sometimes happy, sometimes tragic road we’ve traveled is not unlike the one the Israelites took out of Egypt.” He grasped the podium and lowered his engaging voice an octave. “Why did the Lord lead His people through the wilderness instead of taking them directly to their destination? Why did a trip that should have taken a month last forty years?”
He waited while the congregation pondered the questions. Then, with a flourish, he opened his Bible.
After reading the entire thirteenth chapter of Exodus, he set the weathered book back on the podium and repeated a portion of the text from memory. “God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near. For God said, ‘Lest perhaps the people change their minds when they see war, and return to Egypt.’”
Securing his gaze on no one in particular, he looked out over the congregation. “What seemed like a wrong turn to the Israelites was actually a protection. The seemingly easy path would have taken them into a battle they were ill-equipped to fight.”
Molly, thinking of her own journey, smiled down at Sarah and Anna. Her path had certainly not been easy, but it had been rewarding nonetheless. Ever since that first day she’d traveled to the Thorn ranch to reconnect with her best friend, Molly had been captured by the sweet innocence of Penelope’s adorable daughters. In the past six months, as she’d taken over their care, Molly had grown to love them with the heart of a mother.
But they weren’t her children. They weren’t even her distant kin. And, she realized, with a road-to-Damascus kind of revelation, her time with the twins was drawing to a close. If Ned stayed away, CJ would have to marry.
Soon, perhaps within the next few months, some other woman would become the children’s mother. That, Molly thought, would be a blessed day for the girls and one of the worst of her own life.
“...If you find yourself in a difficult season, I urge you to remember the Israelites. Perhaps God is protecting you from a threat you can’t see.”
Molly leaned forward at the preacher’s words. Anna chose that moment to climb onto her lap. The child sighed heavily, swallowed a few times, then rested her head against Molly’s shoulder.
“If you take away nothing else from my sermon today, think on this. You aren’t alone in your troubles. God is with you, guiding your steps. You simply have to follow His lead.”
Follow His lead.
So easy to say. So very hard to do.
Molly glanced at CJ’s profile. How bleak he looked. How alone. He turned his head and something sad moved in his eyes. Yet something volatile was there, as well. He was clearly struggling with grief over his brother’s actions. He must also be angry with Ned.
How well Molly knew the feeling.
“Is service almost over?” Sarah asked, loudly enough to be heard three rows over.
Chuckling softly, CJ pulled the child onto his lap. “Almost.”
The low, deep timbre of his voice, and the way he wrapped his arms gently around the child, made Molly’s heart behave strangely, pounding in her wrists, in her ears, in her throat.
Something shifted inside her, a strange, severe sensation that took over her entire body. An awakening, of sorts, as if she were coming out of a long, unpleasant dream.
Anna wiggled against Molly, her little chest rising and falling. The sound that came out of her tiny lips was part muffled sob, part whimper. From her position on CJ’s lap, Sarah reached over and patted her sister’s back. The gesture was so sweet, so grown-up and mature, Molly’s breath clogged in her throat.
Ned, why did you abandon your children?
“As we prepare for our Founder’s Day celebration,” the preacher continued, “let us remember where we came from, but let us not dwell on the past. We must forge into the future with confidence, knowing that God is always with us. I urge you to draw close to Him, and He will draw close to you. Let us pray.”
Molly bowed her head and pulled Anna closer. A sense of purpose filled her. No more dwelling on the past. She would concentrate solely on the future. She would do so one day at a time, as she’d advised CJ to do.
The preacher dismissed the congregation with a reminder about the ice-cream social. Molly and CJ set the twins on the ground as they each gained their feet.
Anna and Sarah remained unmoving, eyes wide, panic forming in their green depths. They seemed to realize that the end of service signified the end of hope for their father’s return.
Five excruciating seconds of humming silence passed.
Molly reached out and closed her hand over Anna’s. CJ took Sarah’s. Still, no one spoke. None of them moved. They simply stood by their wooden bench, connected and silent, suspended in a wretched moment of sorrow.
People filed past them. Some smiled, a few nodded, but most didn’t even look in their direction. Molly shifted slightly, turned her head. Her gaze immediately caught a pair of soulful, dark brown eyes. CJ was staring at her, unsmiling and grim-faced and seemingly caught in a moment of indecision.
That changed once the tent cleared out. Still holding Sarah’s hand, he took charge and led their sad little group into the empty aisle. The four of them trooped wordlessly toward the cottonwood tree.
As they stood in the shade of the leafy branches, holding hands, waiting, waiting, waiting... Molly felt a bittersweet bond with each member of the Thorn family.
They can never be mine.
She could mother the girls, but she couldn’t be with CJ. He deserved more than she could give him. Molly risked a glance in his direction, muffling a sigh. He had the most remarkable face, strong and handsome. The subtle weathering from long hours outdoors in the elements made him seem more approachable. Molly wanted...
She wanted...
What did it matter what she wanted?
No point in going to a place that could never be, even in the privacy of her own mind. God had provided her a temporary position with a family in need. She would focus on the time she had in their home. One day at a time.
People moved toward the open field south of the revival tent and joined small clusters made up of friends or family or both. Gathering around large tubs of ice cream, they laughed, shared whispered confidences and slapped each other’s backs.
How could they just go about their business? Did they not realize that the lives of two little girls and their stalwart uncle were changed forever?
Molly glanced to the heavens. She wanted to pray, but no words formed in her mind. She lowered her head. Beams of light caught floating, cottony-white particles swirling from the branches of the tree overhead.
The twins remained unnaturally silent, and so very solemn. Again CJ and Molly shared a glance. But then he was no longer looking at her. His face settled into a scowl.
Following the direction of his gaze, Molly nearly groaned out loud. Mrs. Hickey, with her pinched face, tight bun and small, narrow eyes, marched straight toward them. Each step was measured and full of purpose.
Though she feared the worst, Molly forced a smile. She must be strong for the Thorn family. Family. The word stuck in her mind, nagging at her, reminding her they weren’t really hers.
Well, she would stand with them, anyway, because today...today they were hers.
* * *
CJ shifted to stand directly in front of Molly and the twins. The protective move wasn’t discreet and hardly subtle. He didn’t much care. Constance Hickey was the town’s most fearsome gossip, best known for spreading rumors based on half-truths and third hand accounts.
He knew this unpleasant fact about the woman from personal experience. Lillian had barely rejected his marriage proposal when half their community was in possession of the particulars behind her refusal. The talk had been unkind and had added an ugly blemish to the Thorn name.
CJ could weather another round of rumors and backbiting. What he couldn’t—wouldn’t—tolerate was talk about the twins or Molly.
He widened his stance, balanced on the balls of his feet and braced himself for the battle to come.
Mrs. Hickey drew to a stop.
“Ah, Mr. Thorn, good day to you and yours.” The empty pleasantry did nothing to soften her voice. The sound and pitch were as shrill as the whistling of a stiff wind through the crack in a window.
“Good day, Mrs. Hickey.” In an attempt to end the conversation before it began, he said nothing else.
A mistake. The woman filled the conversational void by making a grand show of craning her neck to the left, then the right. “I haven’t seen your brother this morning.” The diamond point of her chin settled back to center. “I do hope he isn’t ill.”
“He isn’t ill.” Not in the strictest sense of the word.
“Well, if that’s true, I must say I’m surprised he isn’t here.” She sniffed indelicately. “I’ve never known him to miss Sunday service.”
The critical comment drew a tortured sob from one of the twins. The miserable sound ripped through the air like broken glass shattering in a million pieces.
CJ moved fast, but not fast enough. By the time he’d spun around and dropped to his knees, Anna had sucked in a big gulp of air and screwed up her face. “Anna, please. Please don’t—”
She let out a piercing wail. “I want my pa.”
“Me, too.” Sarah’s composure disintegrated slower than her sister’s. It started with a wobble of her lower lip, but then her chest heaved and tears exploded from her eyes.
CJ fought for words to ease the children’s misery. He’d never seen the twins this distraught. Their wretched little faces were scrunched up tight and tears tracked down their reddened cheeks.
At a complete loss, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Who wants ice cream?”
The question managed to stun them for a fraction of a second, but then the crying commenced once again.
“I don’t want ice cream,” Anna sputtered between hiccupping sobs. “I want my pa.”
Sarah’s chin began to wobble and then firmed. Never a good sign. “Pa. He’s got to be here. He’s got to. I’ll go find him.”
She made a break for it.
CJ caught her by the sleeve. “No one’s going anywhere.”
“Oh, my. Oh, dear, I’ve upset the children.” Mrs. Hickey’s voice held a surprising amount of remorse. “You must understand that wasn’t my intention.”
Ignoring the woman, CJ hauled Sarah back to stand next to her sister. Bottom lip trembling, she stared hard at him from her tear-ravaged face.
He had no idea what to say. What to do.
What if he made matters worse?
This wasn’t his area. He was out of his element. Panic tried to take hold.
Molly’s soft, calming voice cut through his rising alarm. “Mrs. Hickey, your husband is motioning for you to join him at the ice-cream tubs.”
A rush of air whooshed out of the odious woman’s mouth. “Why, yes. Yes, I believe you are correct.”
With the welcome sound of her retreating footsteps in his ears, CJ leaned slightly forward. The gesture brought his face closer to Sarah’s.
“You can’t run off, not for any reason.” His tone brooked no argument. “I need you to stay close, understand?”
“But I have to find Pa.”
