Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

J ess stared into the darkness as her other senses took in her surroundings. Her body said it must be morning, though the cave made it impossible to tell for certain. The steady sound of Gil’s breathing drifted from the floor beside her. Not snoring, just deep and even.

And so close.

In this tiny, curtained chamber, there was only enough room for her bed, a chair, her dresser, and Gil’s long body. If she reached down to the floor beside her bed, she could tap him on the shoulder.

Father's snores from beyond the curtain echoed through the cave, nearly drowning out Gil’s breathing. But that was a noise she knew well. All her life, she’d slept and awakened to his snores.

The steady rhythm meant all was as usual.

Except now it lied.

Nothing was as it had been yesterday morning, though she’d awakened to the very same sound.

She slid a hand over her belly. When she stood or sat upright, she could feel the beginning of a swell. But lying on her back like this, she could almost imagine her life hadn’t forever changed.

How could she possibly raise a child on her own? Would she be a good mother? She’d have to work, but what would she find that would provide enough income and allow her to be with her babe? Would she be forced to leave her child with someone else while she went to her job? Someone she didn’t know? Someone she would be forced to trust?

She couldn’t imagine, didn’t even want to consider it.

She cradled her hands over her middle. I’ll do my very best for you. I promise. I won’t let you grow up in a cave. You’ll have sunshine and freedom and love. So much love.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she closed them to ward away the liquid. A few drops squeezed out anyway, sliding down her cheeks to dampen her hair.

She needed to get up and start her day. Whenever these emotions started to overwhelm her, action was the only way to regain control. And heaven knew she needed as much control over as many aspects of life as she could manage.

As she pushed the covers aside and sat up, she focused on the sounds of Gil’s breathing and Father’s snoring. Both stayed steady. She’d become a master at rising soundlessly to prepare the morning meal.

Father didn’t like unnecessary noises, and she’d learned long ago that the best way to wake him was with the aroma of bacon and hot cakes.

He’d returned late last night, even later than she’d expected. In fact, she and Gil were already preparing to bed down.

Father hadn’t been in the mood to talk, just ate quickly and said goodnight. No civilities, but also no anger. How would he be today?

She slipped out of bed, careful not to let the wood or ropes creak. Walking on the stone floor made it much easier to keep quiet.

As always, her first task was to light the wood in the cookstove’s firebox. Since she’d prepared it last night before bed and left the metal door open, now all she had to do was strike a match and light the kindling. Over time, she’d learned how to keep from making noise—no clanging metal or scraping stone. No dropping anything.

She blew out the match and set it on the stove to cool. She’d already filled the carafe with water and coffee grounds, so it could be heating while she stepped outside for her morning ministrations.

Her shawl didn’t provide nearly enough protection from the icy dawn air, pushing her to hurry through her ablutions and slip back inside. Steam already rose from the kettle in the faint light drifting through the door curtain. She used a twig from the fire to light a lantern, then focused on preparing batter for the hot cakes.

Father’s snores hadn’t stopped, so all was well.

After adding milk and oil to the flour, she stirred the batter, careful not to scrape the spoon against the bowl.

A rustling met her ears, and she froze, straining for the source.

Another noise, this time feet shuffling on stone. Since her father still snored, that must be Gil rising. Had she awakened him? She’d been so quiet. Would he be angry like Father any time she accidentally interrupted his sleep?

When he pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the main room, she raised a silencing finger to her lips.

The sight of him, rumpled and sleep-dazed, swept away all coherent thoughts. He’d looked strong and confident yesterday. Now, with his hair sticking up at odd angles and his shirt untucked, he looked so…tender. So familiar. Like she could go to him, wrap her arms around his waist, and rest her head against his chest. Offer a good morning greeting.

Maybe even cup that scruffy jaw in her hands and pull him down for a kiss.

She turned away before those thoughts could take root. Gil wasn’t her real husband. He was a stranger. She’d best not let quiet moments like this confuse her.

As she scooped spoonfuls of batter and plopped them in circles in the warm frying pan, Gil ambled toward her. She slid a glance to see if he needed something, but he only looked curious as he watched her work. He stopped at the side of the stove, then simply stood there watching the food.

Once three hot cakes were cooking, she set the bowl back on the counter and laid strips of bacon in her other pan.

Still Gil said nothing.

She looked at him again, brows raised. Did he have questions or need something? She should probably explain their morning routine. But if she whispered even a word, Father might wake. Should she take Gil outside to speak? Or maybe just hand him a cup of coffee and gesture for him to sit at the table.

Coffee. Of course, that was what he wanted.

She poured the dark brew into a mug and handed it to Gil with a small smile.

He took it, then stepped closer to her, coming up right beside her. Before she could move or even think what he might be doing, his hand landed on her back—warm and steady—and he leaned in over her shoulder.

She froze. He was so close. That strong palm warm through her dress, the pressure of his chest against her shoulder. Her hair caught in the scruff on his face. The warmth of his breath brushed across her ear.

"Where can I help?" The words, in the barest whisper, sent a shiver through her. He must have felt it. Her entire body had trembled.

She inhaled to steady herself.

But how could she speak or even think with him this close? His breath caressed her cheek, and that hand still anchored her to him.

She shook her head, trying not to let the movement pull her away. Not because she wanted to stay here against him—of course not—but just so he wouldn't think she was reacting. Or maybe so he wouldn’t notice at all.

He didn’t ask more questions though, only held her in place as they watched the hot cakes bubble. His presence felt…overwhelming. Strong yet gentle. The strength of his body seemed to seep into hers, making it impossible for her to move, even if she’d wanted to. And if she turned toward him, those lips would be right there. A breath away

Would he kiss her?

The thought stole everything else. Every unanswered question. Every niggling worry. Even Father’s snores faded until all she knew was Gil, beside her, holding her against him. A man who might kiss her if she gave any indication she wanted him to.

A flash of memory slipped in.

Her first kiss with Alex. She couldn’t even say why she’d allowed it. Other than the fact that she’d wanted something different from this monotony. Something she could control. Allowing the kiss. Then allowing more. She’d been in control…until she’d allowed herself to believe the fantasy that Alex might be her way of escape. And then her own self-control had slipped.

Her throat ached and her eyes stung. One little mistake now…and it could cost her the freedom she wanted more than anything.

“What is it?” Gil’s whisper came just as softly as before, but the weight of his chest against her back eased. He shifted sideways, angling so he could see her face. How had he even known something was wrong?

She blinked to quell the emotion. She shouldn’t have let the memory slip in. She certainly wouldn’t ever again make the mistakes she’d made with Alex. Not with Gil or anyone else. She simply had to make sure she kept herself under control.

She shook her head to show nothing was wrong, then reached for the mug of coffee he’d put down at some point—though she couldn’t have said when—and placed it once more in his hands. With a smile, she pointed to the table, careful not to meet his gaze. He had a way of looking inside that saw too much. And his warm brown eyes drew her in, making her do things she wouldn’t normally do.

He didn’t move.

She turned back to the stove to flip the hotcakes over, the intensity of his gaze warming her neck. But then, he turned to the table.

As he retreated from the edge of her vision, Father’s snore shifted to a grunt. She cringed, in no hurry for him to wake up, then forced herself to relax as the sounds from her father’s chamber faded completely. He would come out soon, and she needed to be ready.

A moment later, the curtain rasped open and Father stepped into the main room, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet cave.

Jess sent him a smile and called out a soft, "Good morning." He always came out fully dressed, and this time he looked as if he’d brushed his hair too.

Gil’s voice also offered a steady, “Good morning.”

Father nodded toward her, the only response she’d get, then his gaze swept across the table toward where Gil sat. He slowed to a halt.

The silence stretched, heavy with tension. With Gil directly behind her, she couldn’t see him, but she could well imagine the sight that made her father pause. Gil at the table, coffee in hand, while she cooked breakfast. The picture of domesticity. But not the one Father was used to.

He started forward again, and his chair scraped across the floor when he pulled it back to sit. “Smells good in here.”

She was already scooping food onto his plate. After adding a fork, she poured his coffee and carried the meal to the table with a smile.

Father sat in his usual place, beside what she’d begun to think of as Gil’s chair. As she placed the dishes in front of her father, she met Gil’s gaze and tried to signal that she’d bring his next. Father would want the first serving, and there was no use angering him without necessity.

Gil’s eyes held a slight twinkle. Whether he understood her expression or not, he didn’t seem miffed about being neglected.

Father started in before she brought Gil’s plate to the table, and after seeing they both had all they needed, she turned back to keep herself busy at the work counter. She should go refill her bucket of clean water, but she couldn’t leave the cabin while Father ate. He’d want her nearby in case he needed something.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Gil’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She hesitated, still facing the counter. It was the same question he’d asked last night.

Did he plan to feed her this morning too? Memory of taking the dumpling from his spoon surged through her, flooding her neck with heat. They certainly couldn’t recreate that scene in front of her father.

But maybe she could fill a plate and sit with them. Father had never told her not to eat with him. She’d just always found it easier to stay on her feet so she could bring what he needed—coffee refills, more bacon, and the like. After he left for his day’s work, she could relax and eat alone, without her stomach knotting as she tried to anticipate his needs.

She turned to answer Gil, checking her father’s expression first to see what he thought of the question. Father was focused on his food, forking a bite of hotcake. Maybe he wouldn’t mind.

She reached for a clean plate and added a hotcake and two strips of bacon. The food didn’t look appetizing, but it was what she had always eaten in the morning. Shouldn’t she be hungrier since she was eating for two? The babe was so tiny, though, he or she must not need much extra yet.

As she settled into her chair across from Gil, Father took a swig of coffee, then set the mug down with a clunk. “I suppose we need to talk about plans.”

Her middle tightened. Would he try to make their plans for them? She slid a glance at Gil before she started to speak.

But he beat her to it, nodding to her father. “We were thinking to stay here another day or two, then head on to my family’s ranch.”

She held her breath, though she did her best not to let her apprehension show. Would Father allow them to leave freely, or would they have to negotiate?

He finished chewing his bite of hotcake. “That’ll give me enough time to finish up a few things. Thought I’d go along with you, meet your folks. See where you plan to settle my daughter.” He slid a look at Gil that was clearly meant to make Gil defensive.

Gil didn’t step into the snare though. Instead, a tinge of sadness touched his eyes. Was it feigned? “My folks passed a few years back. My brothers are on the ranch still. Four of them.”

Father eyed him as he bit into a thick slab of bacon. “I’ll meet them then. What say we leave Sunday? That’s four days from now.”

Gil seemed to consider that before he turned to her. “Does that work for you?”

Her throat went dry. What did he expect her to say? Was he looking for information in her face? Like whether he would get to see his brother by then? Or was he asking whether he should commit to Father’s plan? Of course they couldn’t let her father accompany them, but they’d have to figure a way out of that later.

She gave a bright smile that she hoped hid her worries. “Perfect.”

Father didn’t force much conversation after that, just cleaned his plate. After gulping a final swig of coffee, he pushed to his feet. “I’ll be in and out today.” He strode to the wall beside the door and pulled his hat from the peg as he turned back to them. “What are the two of you doing?”

Jess's heart stuttered. This sudden question felt like a test. What would he want her to do with Gil? Keep him away from the mines, most likely.

She spoke quickly, before Gil could come up with something. “I thought I’d show Gil some of the views from Triangle Mountain. Maybe take him to the little waterfall.” Both were places Father let her roam on her own. In fact, Triangle Mountain was where she’d met Gil yesterday.

He nodded. Did his eyes narrow on her? Maybe not. He settled his hat on his head. “I’ll be back at noon to eat.”

She managed a smile. “I’ll have the meal ready.”

His expression softened. “Thanks, Junebug.”

That old familiar nickname tightened her throat. It’d been a while since he called her that, but it brought back a flood of memories from sweet moments. The times he’d read her a storybook as a child. Took her on walks to the waterfall. Taught her to ride a horse. Mama had been part of some of the memories, but some had been just her and Father. Back then, she’d not questioned whether he loved her.

The reminder of so much happiness together made her almost feel guilty for questioning his love now.