“Working hard was never Ty’s weakness,” Mama replied. “As I recall, the boy worked too hard.”
“He’s not a boy anymore.” Josie tried to sound disinterested, but she’d noticed Ty’s new maturity, both physical and otherwise. She couldn’t help but mourn the marriage and children she’d been denied. Biting her lip, she recalled going with Ty on a picnic and how they talked about the future. She told him that she wanted to give him a son, and he’d kissed her.
I’d like that, Josie girl. But I want a daughter, too.
She’d been surprised. Really?
She’ll grow up to be like you, and I’ll be scaring off boys like me… Someday she’ll wear your wedding dress.
The dress…Josie wished she’d sold it. Instead she’d wrapped it in muslin and shoved it to the back of the top shelf of her wardrobe. She couldn’t think about the gown without feeling bitter, but neither had she been able to part with it. The ruined wedding had been a fulcrum in her life, the tipping point where hope turned to loss and her faith dissolved along with it. If she got rid of the dress, would she heal or would she stay bitter forever? She didn’t know.
Mama put her rocking chair in motion. “Prison changes a person. I imagine Ty’s done some maturing.”
“I suppose.”
The bowed wood creaked against the floor. “Even so, it has to hurt to see him.”
How did her mother do that? Even without clear vision, she saw past Josie’s nonchalance to the pulp of her heart. Josie had been angry with Ty for chasing after the Scudders, but mostly she felt unloved. Just one day for a wedding…that was all she had asked. But it had been too much. Ty set aside her needs for his own, and they’d both lost everything.
Josie stood and went to the window. A line of trees marked the creek where she and Ty had stolen kisses. Her fingers knotted on the wide sill. “I wish he’d never come back.”
Mama kept rocking. “You have to forgive him.”
“I can’t.”
“Forgiveness is a choice, Josie. No matter what you’re feeling, you can say the words and ask God to make them true.”
“It would be a lie.”
“Or a start,” Mama countered. “Sometimes the feeling comes after the talking.”
“Why should I even try?” She sounded childish, but she didn’t care. “He left me waiting at the church. It was humiliating!”
“None of us is perfect. We’ve all made mistakes, but God loves us anyway. Ty paid dearly for what he did.”
“So have I.”
Mama let out a sigh. “Where is he now?”
“With Smoke.”
“I hope you invited him to supper.”
“I’ll bring a plate to the barn. I don’t want him in the house.”
The older woman raised her brows. “Perhaps I do. He was Nate’s friend, Josie. He was like a son to me. I’ve missed him.”
If the three of them ate supper together, Josie would remember the day he went after the Scudders. She’d watch him put too much salt on his food, and she’d know that he cut his meat into tiny bites, a habit from growing up poor and wanting to make the food last. She couldn’t bear the thought of being with him, so she shook her head. “I can’t do it, Mama. I’ll bring him a plate, but that’s it.”
“I won’t argue, Josie. But I hope you’ll think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about.” But there was…she could think about the dress, the embarrassment and the life she should have had. If she thought about anything else—Ty fighting for her honor, his determination to win the Maze—she’d be on the verge of caring for him again. She had too many worries to let old feelings rise to the surface. She couldn’t let anything interfere with saving the Bar JB.
She took a final glance at the trees, then stepped away from the window. “I’ll start supper.” She went to the kitchen, but she didn’t go alone. She felt her mother’s prayers following her, whispering the words she couldn’t abide… Forgive him.
* * *
Ty couldn’t stay in the bunkhouse without speaking to Mrs. Bright. She’d been like a mother to him, and he’d hurt her when he’d let down Josie. He needed to apologize to her, and he wanted to offer his condolences for Nate’s passing. Josie didn’t want to see him, but he had to return the basket she’d used to deliver his meal. When he finished eating, he cleaned the plates and utensils, put them in the basket and walked to the house. Instead of going through the back door as he would have done five years ago, he went to the front door and knocked.
“Who is it, please?” Mrs. Bright called.
Ty cracked open the door. “Mrs. Bright? It’s me, Ty Donner.”
“Ty! Come in!”
He set the basket by the door and walked into the parlor. Mrs. Bright was on her feet and holding her arms wide. “Get over here, young man! I want to hug you.”
For one stupid moment, he was twelve years old again, even younger, and he was following Nate into the house like he belonged. With four kids in the Bright family—Nate and the three girls—Ty had been a welcome ally to the Bright males. He’d also been Josie’s particular nemesis in games of tag and other family fun. That had changed at a church dance. He’d seen her in a rose-colored dress with her hair half up and half down, and he’d forgotten all about tag. He’d asked her to dance, and a year later he’d proposed on the porch he’d just crossed. A year after that, he’d broken her heart.
Ty had expected Mrs. Bright to be polite but distant. Instead she had tears in her eyes. A bit choked up himself, he hugged her hard, then stepped back. “I’m sorry about Mr. Bright and Nate.”
“Of course, you are.”
“And I’m sorry about what happened with Josie. I’d do anything to change that day.”
“I know you would.”
As she sat in the rocker, Ty dropped down on the divan. Judging by a nearby sewing basket, Josie still favored the spot by the window. It was here that she sewed the buttons on her wedding dress. He’d never seen it, but she’d described the pearls to him. Back then he’d felt both proud and desperate to provide for her. He felt the same way now, though the pride felt lonely and provision depended on Smoke and winning the Maze.
Mrs. Bright started to rock. “Josie’s taking a walk. She does that after supper, but she’ll be back soon.”
Ty remembered her walks. He used to go with her. “I brought back the supper dishes, but mostly I wanted to see you. Josie told me about your money woes. I’m sorry you’re struggling.”
“We had a hard winter.”
“The worst.” Ty had experienced it in prison, hemmed in by both walls and snow. “I want to help you by winning the Maze. Whatever Smoke and I win, it all goes to you and Josie.”
“Did she agree to that?”
“Not exactly.” He thought of sparring with her and smiled. “She thinks we’re splitting it, but I intend to give her everything.”
Her brow furrowed. “You don’t need to do that, Ty.”
“Yes, I do.”
She reached across the space between them. He saw her intention and gripped her hand. “I forgive you,” she said. “So does God.”
“Josie hasn’t. I ruined her life.”