The Wrangler’s Christmas Gift (The Malones of Grand, Montana #4)

Chapter Eighteen

S ince leaving Weldon Scott, Heather had barely set foot in a church and certainly not a Catholic one. But the emotional meeting with Brade and Kendall had reminded her that she couldn’t let her own feelings get in the way of everything she’d come to Grand for. She had to talk with JP and find a way to move forward so that neither Christmas nor the wedding was ruined by tension.

But as she headed for St. Joseph’s Mission, she began to second-guess herself. Perhaps it was a mistake, meeting JP on his own turf, so to speak. Then again, perhaps the sacred surroundings would force him to be honest with her. She needed to know the truth, no matter how difficult.

She pulled on the heavy door and it opened easily. In the vestibule, a softly lit statue of the Virgin Mary stood in an arched alcove, holding the infant Jesus in her arms.

“Hi again, Mary,” she whispered.

A footfall made her jump. An older woman stood at the entrance to the sanctuary. “Welcome,” she said. “My name is Martha. Mass is at six, but Father Patrick is hearing confession now, if you like.”

“Oh, no.” Heather lifted her hand, feeling like a fraud. “I’m not here for confession. Though I would like to speak with him.”

The woman smiled gently and gestured for her to enter the sanctuary. “God works in mysterious ways. You don’t need to be a parish member to come in and meditate. And you know what they say about confession being good for the soul? If you need to unburden yourself, Father Patrick is an excellent listener. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

There was something soothing about the cool quiet interior, the scent of wood polish, the stillness. She slipped into a pew and knelt down but her heart was pounding. After all these years spent recrafting herself as Heather Malone and Mel Brezo, she felt like pregnant nineteen-year-old Heather Hudson again, awaiting her father’s judgment, alone, scared, ashamed—and furious. She’d put too much work into becoming a person she could live with and be proud of.

Martha beckoned her to a small booth on the left side of the church, her brows raised. Heather was about to demur, but then got to her feet. Maybe she did need to confess. Maybe it would be easier for her and JP to talk with a barrier between them. Maybe if she didn’t have to look at him, she’d be able to say everything that was on her heart.

Whether there was a god to hear her words mattered less than getting them out.

She sat down and waited. After a few minutes, she heard someone enter on the other side.

“I’m very glad to see you, Heather.” The voice was low and gentle. Kind. Comforting in a way that tugged at her memory.

But she shook her head. She didn’t know him. If she ever had.

“Think of this not as my confession,” she began, “but as yours.”

“That’s fair,” he replied.

“I can’t believe you knew our children…without knowing they were our children. In fact, you knew them before I did.”

“I am acquainted with Leila more so than the others,” he said. “A daughter like that is a blessing.”

“Missing her entire life is a curse.”

The words came out quickly, without intent, which spoke, Heather suspected, to their veracity.

“Losing a child is, I’ve been told, one of the worst pains a person can experience. I’m so sorry for what you went through, Honey—Heather.”

“You lost them, too, even if you didn’t know it. Your life just went on, oblivious to the mess you left behind. And now you’re a man of God? After what you did to me? To us? You said our love had been real. How can I believe that? If it was, you wouldn’t have just left, without a word. I thought you were dead or hurt but when no one could find you, I had to accept that you’d lied to me. You weren’t who you said you were.” She unclenched her fists. Her palms were indented with deep crescent-shaped marks. “And I was a dumb, naive girl who fell for a sweet-talking cowboy who lit out as soon as he lost interest.”

“Oh, no, Honey—I mean, Heather—it wasn’t like that.” He pulled open the screen between them and looked in at her. His eyes were full of pain. “Please, let’s talk about this in my office. I’ve been thinking about this since last night. I’ll tell you everything and I need to look at you when I do it.”

“Fine.”

She followed him out of the sanctuary to a small room lined with bookcases and took a seat on the worn couch. He sat in the matching armchair beside it and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Heather,” he began. His eyes filled with tears.

“No,” she said, her own filling in response. “You don’t get to cry. You lived a whole life without knowing any of this.”

He nodded. “I understand. But Heather, I didn’t leave you, not intentionally.”

This is why she’d wanted the screen between them; she wasn’t ready to feel sympathy for him. She didn’t want to know that his life had also been difficult, that he’d lost things, that he’d struggled. But as he explained about the injury that had almost ended his life, the long road back to recovery, and the monumental task of learning to walk again, she couldn’t help but feel compassion for him.

“How,” he said, “could I burden you, a young woman at the start of your life, with a broken-down man like me? Even after I got back on my feet, I was still a guy with a rap sheet and no job. I also told myself that I’d imagined what we had together. It was too…perfect…to be real. I wanted to look for you. I thought about it. During those long months in the hospital, memories of you sustained me. I dreamed of you, Honey, and it kept me alive.”

Should she believe him? He sounded so sincere.

“But there were complications after the last surgery,” he went on. “An infection. For a while, they weren’t sure I would live.” He swallowed and looked down at his hands. “That’s when I realized that I had to let go. I had no control of anything. I was utterly helpless. So, I looked to God. And that’s where I found the strength to go on. Once I finally got out, I felt the call as clearly as if God had spoken directly into my ear. I entered the seminary that year.”

“And,” Heather said, “you forgot about me.”

“Never.” His eyes blazed. “I never forgot you, Honey.”

Her phone buzzed but she ignored it. She ought to correct him but it was so sweet on his lips. Only two people had ever used the nickname. By using it, JP brought her back to when her mother was alive, when she felt safe and loved.

She shouldn’t let him use it now but she couldn’t resist it. Instead, she pushed on. “You chose God instead of me.”

He shook his head. “God chose me.”

He let her go and yes, there were circumstances, but if their love had truly meant something to him, the way it had for her, wouldn’t he have moved heaven and earth to find her? She’d have loved him, broken or whole, she wouldn’t have cared. But he never gave her that chance.

“Everyone tried to make me believe I was wrong to fall in love.” Her voice was remarkably steady, given the turmoil inside her. “My pregnancy brought shame to my father, and his solution was to make it all go away, because that was better for him. He promised, everyone promised that I’d get over losing my babies, that I’d move on and it would be as if it never happened. So, I did what they told me to do. I got married. I had another…another daughter.” She swallowed. “But I didn’t get over it. It didn’t go away. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt and then I hurt other people and then—”

She stopped abruptly and touched the pendant around her neck.

Remember who you are.

Her phone buzzed again and she looked at it. Lucas. She’d call him back when she was done here.

Helping someone else overcome an intolerable life, helping them find safety, even joy, had brought meaning into Heather’s life. Even—or especially—little Emmet, who’d wormed her way under all Heather’s barricades. No love can ever replace another love. But the vacuum of loss can be filled anew, differently. Meaning had turned the agony of grief to the soft ache of love, rich and full but always tinged with the knowledge of loss. Love hadn’t erased her past, but it had allowed her to layer something else over it.

But now, she was questioning everything again. What had she expected, coming to him in his role as priest? All he’d done was make her doubt the colors she’d painted into her past. She was too old to start with a fresh canvas.

“I lost you, and then I lost our babies,” she said quietly. “Then I abandoned Diana. I’ve reunited with my children, but I’m not sure they’ll ever trust me again. I’m not sure they should. You at least can claim ignorance.”

Her phone buzzed a third time. She swept it open, ready to tell Lucas to give her one red-hot second but the text message sucked the air out of her lungs.

Bayleigh’s in labor. Could you meet us at the hospital?

She stared at the message for a moment. Bayleigh wasn’t due for at least a month. She couldn’t be in labor yet. Then fear flooded in.

The baby. No, God. No.