Page 56 of A Convenient Heart
The pageant backdrops. “H-how bad? Maybe we can repair them?—”
Now Danna was the one shaking her head. “It’s bad. Beyond repair. As if someone was…taking revenge.”
Merritt thought of what Jack had said about Mr. Polk working with Billy Burns. Surely Mr. Polk wouldn’t have done something like this. But who?—
She buried her face in her hands. None of it made sense, and she felt raw all over, like she’d been scrubbed with harsh lye soap over every inch of her body.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened before either she or Danna could move.
Her heart leaped as she registered Jack standing there. He’d come!
But her eyes took in all the details. He had a bruise on one cheek, and there was a rip in his shirt beneath his coat.
It was his expression that arrested her, had her sticking to her seat when her heart told her to go to him.
He looked beaten. Resigned, somehow.
This wasn’t a groom anticipating his wedding ceremony.
His gaze skittered away from Merritt, as if it was easier to look at Danna. “I don’t know how much you’ve figured out, but I’m not John Crosby.”
* * *
Jack couldn’t bear to look at Merritt. She was wearingthatdress, but her face was tearstained, her eyes wide with hurt.
He could barely hold the marshal’s gaze. It’d felt almost impossible for him to make his feet carry him here this morning.
There was a part of him that had hoped he’d find Merritt already gone. Given up on him.
But lady luck wasn’t in his corner on this one.
He edged into the room, holding his hat at his side. Closed the door, though he wanted to run out of it.
“I am Jack Easton,” he said. “Not John Crosby.”
He’d said the same to two members of the school board just this morning after he’d convinced them to meet with him. He’d spent over an hour with them, explaining what he’d heard and how Merritt’s job had been threatened. What part he’d played and why.
The preacher had spent all week trying to convince Jack that there was a God up there listening. Jack still didn’t know whether he believed it, but he’d sent up a prayer, such as it was, that what he’d said would make a difference. For her.
Merritt loved those kids. Loved her job. He couldn’t be a part of taking that away from her.
Danna stood from her chair, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I’ll go?—”
“You should stay,” he interrupted. “Part of what I’ve got to say involves the marshal’s office.” And he knew she and Merritt were close. Merritt would want a friend, surely.
“Did you—did you write me those letters, pretending to be John?” Merritt stood up too, and he saw the tremble in her hands before she clenched them at her sides.
“No.” He was ashamed to admit what he’d done, now that he knew her, knew what she’d think about his omissions. “When I got off the train, I was—someone was following me. You assumed I was John, and I thought I could pretend for a couple of hours and leave town.”
His gaze had been drawn to her, and he saw the realization dawning in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to believe he wasn’t John, and it was hitting her hard.
She sat back down, turning her face to look at the wall.
He felt like he’d been slugged by Morris all over again.
“What happened to the real John?” Danna demanded. There was the marshal in her voice, wondering if Jack had caused trouble. An echo of Mrs. Farr’s voice played in his mind.What’d you do now?But he shoved down the roiling in his stomach to answer.
“I was riding in the same train car with him. Overheard him conversing with another passenger. He had cold feet.” There was no easy way to say it, but he saw Merritt flinch, even though her face was turned.
