Page 55 of Montana Groom of Convenience
By the time they reached home, he could speak without his words catching in his throat. “It scares me to think of her hurt.”
“It didn’t look serious to me, and Kate didn’t think it was.” She shuddered a little. “I suppose I had cuts every bit as bad. Likely you did, too.”
He understood she tried to reassure him with those words. “I was a boy. Boys get banged up lots. But Jill’s just a little girl.”
“I know.” She put her hand over his.
He turned his palm to hers. His insides settled.
Back at the ranch, he carried Jill inside and Carly arranged her in the armchair across from her father’s chair. Father Morrison followed them and sat down facing Jill. “Aye, now ye’ll be keeping me company, I think.”
Jill nodded. “I can’t walk.”
Carly placed a pillow behind her and unearthed some children’s books.
Then she and Sawyer stood side by side, watching the girl.
“Look, it’s stopped bleeding.” Jill held up her arm. Her foot had stopped bleeding after being placed in the cold water of the creek.
“I’ll get a cloth and clean up the blood on your arm.” Carly went to the cupboard.
Sawyer felt her departure like the blast of winter wind.
She returned and cleaned up Jill’s arm.
Sawyer watched them, a feeling foreign, yet familiar, tugging at him. How could he feel like he had seen this before? And then it hit him. A memory so full of emotion it left him breathless and confused. Made him want to reach out and pull Jill and Carly into his arms and never let them go. He allowed himself to place his hand on Carly’s shoulder, needing the contact, hoping she wouldn’t think it untoward.
The memory ballooned within him, threatening to choke off his breath.
He dropped his hand and rushed from the house. He didn’t slow until he leaned against the fence beyond the barn and stared toward the horses, though he couldn’t have said which animals were grazing before him.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, his thoughts a whirlwind of hopelessness as he tried to push away the memory. He didn’t move when Carly came to his side, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
For several minutes, she didn’t speak but her presence settled him like nothing else could have.
“Seeing Jill’s injury reminded me of something.” A beat of waiting. If she didn’t want to hear this, she could change the subject or move away. She didn’t, and he continued.
“Johnny fell and cut his arm in almost the same place as Jill. It was my fault. We’d been out playing, andI climbed a tree.” His breath shuddered out and steadied again when Carly took his hand and squeezed.
“Johnny followed, always trying to keep up with his big brother. He slipped and fell against a stub of a branch. Tore his arm badly.” He stopped as the memory of his little brother filled every pore of his body, and then he forced himself to continue. “I carried my crying little brother home. Told Mama what happened. She cleaned up the cut and tied a bandage around it. When she was done, she sat in the big armchair where she often held us to read stories to us. She lifted Johnny to her lap and pulled me to her side.” His throat thickened, and for a moment, he couldn’t go on.
Carly waited, calm and accepting.
“She said, ‘Sawyer, I’m proud of you for taking care of your little brother. Accidents happen, and no one is to blame for them.’ She took my chin and made me look at her. ‘Promise me you will never forget that.’ Of course, I promised.”
“Of course you did.” He heard the doubt in her voice. “Are you blaming yourself for Jill’s accident?”
“I should have been watching her.” He tried, and failed, to keep the harsh note of self-accusation from his voice.
“It was an accident. No one is to blame. Children get scrapes and bruises unless they are wrapped in cotton wool and never allowed to play.”
“I suppose so.”
“Do you blame yourself that Jill was alone after your parents died?”
“I stayed away longer than I should have.” There, he’d admitted it. Confessed to a sense of blame. How would she answer that?
“But you didn’t stay away forever.”
