Chapter 11

11

"Tanner and me…" Ryder started but then stopped. Was he really ready to share this ugly part of his life with Genevieve?

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of rosewater that permeated her nightgown. He hadn't meant to reach for her, hadn't meant to draw her closer. But her tenderness in doctoring his face had loosened something inside him. He wasn't sure what. All he knew was that he needed to talk to her.

She squeezed his shoulders, as though to reassure him that he could share more.

"We've been orphans most of our lives, and I've accepted it. But Tanner hasn't. He wants to find out who our parents were."

"I gathered he expects you to provide names for him."

"I don't remember the names, and I've told him that."

She was silent a moment. "The orphanage you were at would likely have records. At least, Open Door kept meticulous records of each child that came in."

"The first orphanage named us after the cowboys that dropped us off."

"Then that does pose a problem."

How much more should he share with her? How much could he even verbalize? He forced out the little bit she deserved to hear. "I should remember more, since I was five when our parents were killed, but nothing's there, not even names. Only nightmares with images I don't understand."

"Oh, Ryder. I'm so sorry." Her whisper was filled with compassion.

"The two cowboys told the orphanage that they'd picked us up from a tribe of Kickapoo in Kansas. Apparently, the Kickapoo took care of us for a while after finding us among the wreckage of a wagon train that had been attacked, but the cowboys didn't know much more than that."

She didn't say anything, just shifted one of her hands to his head. Somehow, that move eased the tension in his neck.

He rested against her for several heartbeats, then continued. "The past isn't important to me anymore. But for some reason, Tanner won't let it go."

Her fingers lightly teased his hair. "If he was younger than you when everything happened, then he probably doesn't have the same nightmares haunting him."

"True."

"That means he doesn't have as much of a reason to let go of it." She combed her fingers into his hair deeper, still just as gentle.

He liked it a whole lot more than he should. In fact, he liked the way her hips curved beneath his hands. He liked the soft pressure of her stomach against his forehead. He liked the solidness of her body between his legs.

As her fingers threaded through his hair, he breathed out the last of the frustration that had built inside him since the moment he'd seen Tanner tonight. "I know it's important to him to find out, but I just can't help him."

"I understand." She paused in her combing.

He almost protested aloud. Instead, he tightened his grip on her hips.

"There are other ways for him to seek out family," she said. "I've seen orphans put advertisements in newspapers. Or he could investigate wagon train records from the year your family traveled west."

Ryder shrugged. "We have a life here and now. He needs to learn to be content with that."

She resumed her caressing of his hair. "I don't have anyone left, Ryder," she said hesitantly, a note of sorrow tingeing her voice. "You're blessed you have your brother."

Had he been focusing so much on the problems with Tanner that he'd started to take for granted the blessing that they were still together, especially when other people—like Genevieve—were completely alone?

He sat up, the move forcing her hands to drop to her sides. He didn't want her to stop combing his hair, but he wanted to see her face.

Her beautiful eyes were filled with the loneliness of someone who'd lost everyone she loved.

"I'm sorry." He knew he needed to let go of her too, but he couldn't force himself to do it. "I was insensitive and selfish."

"No, don't think on it—"

"I still have a brother. And I should be thankful for that." He needed to do better in all his interactions with Tanner. After all these years of battling hardships to stay together, he had to keep fighting for them, couldn't give up so easily—not after they'd come so far.

"I can see that you're a good man, Ryder Oakley." Her tone was as soft as her caress from moments ago had been. "And I believe you'll figure out a way to restore your relationship with Tanner."

She took a step back.

This time he had no choice but to break his hold of her hips. But he couldn't break his gaze, however. In her white nightgown, with the low lantern light casting a sheen on her long dark hair, she looked angelic.

Somehow, in this moment she seemed more real to him than anyone had felt in a long time, if ever. She'd listened, she'd cared, and she'd spoken truth into his hurt, not just telling him everything she thought he might want to hear but telling him what he needed to hear.

"And you, you're a good woman, Genevieve."

She visibly winced. Then she glanced away from him, as if she wanted to hide something—something from her past, something she was ashamed about. But what person—especially what orphan—was perfect and hadn't made messes of things at times?

He wasn't perfect. And he didn't expect her to be either. Before he could formulate the words to reassure her, she was already turning away and making her way toward the bed.

He wasn't ready for their time together to come to an end, but with the heat that was still churning inside him from having her hands in his hair, he guessed it was for the best to put an end to the intimate moment. He didn't want to get carried away and end up driving her out of his life. Because that's what he seemed to be good at doing—driving people he cared about away.

By the time he put out the light and climbed onto his side of the bed, she was already asleep. In just a few nights, he'd learned to tell when she was sleeping, because her breathing turned slow and deep and peaceful.

He liked listening to it. And he liked watching her sleep, although he'd never admit as much to her. He rolled to his side, the moonlight sneaking past the slit in the curtains and illuminating her features, letting him admire each line and curve of her face.

After the angst that had been stirred up by the fight with Tanner, Ryder guessed the nightmares would be back in full force tonight, since most of them seemed to happen whenever he and Tanner fought.

Ryder situated his head on his arm more comfortably. At least if he woke up with one of his nightmares, he wouldn't entirely surprise Genevieve. She'd know now that he was haunted by a past he couldn't remember except for the vivid images that came all too readily to life in his dreams.

As his breathing evened out, he finally let his eyes close. Maybe he'd made a mistake in relegating his relationship with his new wife to a mere partnership rather than a real marriage. He could admit he'd partially done so to protect himself from more hurt after all that had happened with Sadie.

But what if he'd been too hasty in assuming that after one failed marriage, he'd never be able to find someone who would care about him or accept him with his faults? What if he'd been too hasty in dismissing the possibility that he could have a loving relationship like Pa and Ma Oakley?

Because he was starting to wonder whether, if he put forth the effort, he might have something special with Genevieve after all.

The only way to tell was to give their relationship a chance to grow. What did he have to lose by doing that?