Page 48 of A Convenient Heart
He nodded, trying to rein in emotions he hadn’t let loose in ages. What was he doing?
Merritt swept both hands across her cheeks, clearing away the evidence of her tears.
He followed her into the front room. He felt raw and exposed. And the last thing he wanted was for the town marshal to find out his identity.
When Danna stepped inside wearing her trousers and vest, a baby in the crook of one arm, he was confounded for the briefest moment. The marshal was a mother? He reached up to tip his hat. Her sharp eyes took it in.
“I’ll take my leave,” he told the both of them. “See you tomorrow.” Those words were for Merritt, and when he looked at her, he felt a beat of the invisible connection they shared. Somehow, talking about his past had bonded them. He’d expected the opposite—for the knowledge to drive her away.
“I’ll step outside with you.” The marshal’s easy words put his hackles up.
The door closed behind them. She rocked slightly where she stood on the step.
Jack didn’t want to talk to her, but he couldn’t walk away when she’d so obviously followed him outside.
In the dark, he couldn’t read her expression.
“Word around town is there’s someone looking for you. Or rather, for Jack Easton. That’s not you…is it?”
Morris.
He didn’t say anything. Merritt was the one who’d asked for no more secrets.
But somehow it didn’t sit right to lie to the marshal. Maybe because she was Merritt’s friend. Or maybe he was having some strange attack of conscience.
She sighed, almost silent in the darkness.
“I can help you,” she said quietly. “But you’ve got to let me know how.”
“Is that all?” he drawled. “Merritt’s been waiting on you.”
He didn’t say goodbye as she slipped back inside the house.
It wasn’t Danna’s job to look out for Morris. Jack hadn’t been able to tell Merritt the rest of it—that he wasn’t John at all. That this had been a farce from the beginning.
If he truly wanted to stay, he had to make things right himself.
Chapter10
“Come in, come in.”
Mrs. Ewing held open the door to her small apartment above the milliner’s store and ushered Merritt and Jack inside. The seamstress had lived here for as long as Merritt had known her, while the milliner lived in one of the houses on Merritt’s street.
It was almost dark and the wind had changed directions late in the afternoon, coming straight out of the north with an icy bite.
“Thank you for having us,” Merritt said as she was enveloped by the warmth from the stove in one corner of the room. She loosened her scarf, aware of Jack unbuttoning his coat behind her.
“Would you like some coffee?” Mrs. Ewing asked. “Clarissa made some cinnamon cookies yesterday.”
Jack hung back near the door.
I’m not fit for company.
He’d said the words with a self-deprecating smile when she’d met him at the school site and asked him to accompany her. She knew he’d been out at the site most of the day, cleaning away the rubble. He’d stomped ash off his boots to prove his point.
But she’d cajoled until he’d given in.
And when he would’ve stayed near the door, she slipped her hand into his and tugged him over to the sofa to sit beside her.
