Page 9 of The Promise Of Rain

Deacon sat back in his chair.Wide shoulders relaxing, he studied my face until I looked away.

“I’m retiring.”

My eyes snapped back to meet his.“You’re too young to retire.”

“Resigning, then.I’ve done my ten years of service.”He watched me from beneath hooded lids.“I’m moving home in a few months.”

“Home?”I gripped the edges of the table as I leaned toward him.“Why?”

He couldn’t come back here, not now.

Not when I couldn’t yet leave.

His dark, watchful gaze wandered over my face.“My father’s sick.”

I searched his eyes, but shuttered down tight, they gave away nothing.“I’m sorry to hear that,” I answered though I could not have cared less.

My next question burst out of me before I had a chance to reel it in.“Are you going to work on the farm?”

That was the last thing I needed.

Finding out he got married half killed me, and his divorce brought me no relief.

Watching him settle down here and choose one of the women his family approved of might finish the job.

Children?

I winced at the sharp stab of pain induced by the thought alone.

“Perhaps for the short term,” he answered evenly.“But you know that was never in my plan.”

“I remember,” I whispered.“Is your dad still pressuring you to get involved?”

How often had we lain side by side in our bed, voicing dreams of the future?

Back when we had one.

Back when I believed in love.

And Deacon believed in me.

“I think it’s more a habit than a need,” he continued, “My brothers have everything well in hand.”

“So, it’s temporary,” I blurted, hoping for a spark of light in the nightmare that was my life.

“That depends on whether there’s any reason to stay.”His gaze remained steady on my face as he continued softly, “Do I have any reason to stay?”

I stared back at him, my breath sawing in and out, the past serrating the edge of my lungs with every pass.

Me?

“I won’t do anything to hurt you, Jenny,” he murmured, reaching for my hand across the table.

I snatched my hands back like the table had caught fire and leaned back.

Did he mean me?

Schooling my features, I offered him a minuscule smile.“You can’t.”