Page 67 of Merging Wright

Jane stills. I have no doubt we think the same thing—Willow’s parents died in that river. Tracy died in that water as well. I shudder to think what could have happened to Jane.

“I did fall in the river.” Jane lifts her voice, sitting up straighter. “But I’m okay now.” She bops Willow on her nose.

“My Mommy fell into the river, but she didn’t come back out.”

Sweet Jesus.

Jane doesn’t falter. “Well, in my case, Big Mach saved me.” Jane glances at me, offering a grateful smile while questioning me with those blue eyes. Did she really think I’d let her go? She is my wife. I love— I stop the words I can’t possibly feel for Jane. Feelings I won’t ever risk again. That river took my heart.

My acushla, Ma calls Jane. She cannot be my heartbeat when I don’t have one to beat.

“Does it hurt?” Willow’s tiny voice pulls my attention back to her and Jane.

Jane reaches for the bandage. “Oh, it smarts a little bit but nothing a few stitches can’t heal.” She sucks in a breath sitting up taller and placing a hand on her midsection. Still offering a reassuring smile, she adds, “My ribs hurt more.”

I knew I shouldn’t be touching her, holding her at night, wrapping around her as we sleep.

“But your heart is healing you.” Willow’s statement forces Jane to glance at me before focusing back on her. “Miss Camilla says our hearts know how to heal everything.”

Jane gives a quick glance to Ma behind me before a crease forms between her brows and she answers Willow. “Yes. My heart is healing me.”

Jane then asks Willow if she can draw her a picture of the new park as a means to change the topic.

I watch them interact another minute, wondering what Jane would have been like as a mother. Inside my chest, the hollowness thumps three times, the rhythm rapid and slightly refreshing.

What would I have been like as a father? Some questions will never have answers.

Still, I can’t pull my gaze from Jane smiling at Willow, murmuring encouragement to her, complimenting her coloring skills. The girl leans against Jane’s knees while she draws. The image of a mother and child is almost too much, and when I glance at Ma, she has grandchildren-hope in her eyes.

Stepping over to her, I bump her shoulder with my arm. “I’m too old.”

Ma levels me with a stare that’s compassionate while meaningful. “You’re never too old to love a child, my son.”

Peering back at Jane, I wonder if it isn’t too late to love her.

+ + +

“You never told me what you wanted to talk about the other night?” Jane looks at me across my mother’s kitchen table a few nights later. It’s late. We’d been working after dinner. Again.

The realization hits me. We work too much.

“What night?” I lift a small canning jar of Ma’s scotch, taking a short sip. Ma really needs crystal glasses.

Jane twirls the stem of her wineglass, watching the liquid softly swirl within it. She hasn’t been taking her pain medication. My woman is tough. “The night before I fell into the river.”

The night I planned to propose Jane and I have sex again. And again. And again.

“And you never explained to me why you were kicking a tree? What was Myles thinking letting you work on that tree with him?” Why was my brother even down that slope? With his body’s imbalance, why didn’t he have his senior tradesman doing the cutting?

Jane shrugs. “The night before, I’d told you about Ripley and the baby. I was . . . angry. The memories.” She pauses and cups the bowl of her wineglass. “Kicking that tree felt good.”

She mischievously smiles at me, but the lightness is missing from her eyes.

“I hadn’t pegged you for aggressive behavior.” I lean against the table, crossing my arms on the surface. Does Jane like things a little rough? Could she handle me if I drove deeper, moved faster, took her harder? The thought makes me shiver with the magnetic pull to find out.

“Not aggressive. Just”—she waves a hand before herself—“pent up.” Her eyes meet mine before she quickly lifts her wineglass and disappears behind it.

Pent up? God, I hope she’s wound as tight as I am, needing the relief I want to give her. Relief only she can give me. I’ve kept my word to be loyal to Jane. Of course, I’d be faithful to our vows. But what I feel is more than just a commitment to a pledge.