“You have a slight Texas accent.”
He took a sip of his coffee and put the mug down on the side table next to him, trying hard not to show his frustration. “Texas road construction. The twang, though, was from being born in Arkansas.” He leaned forward, elbows to his knees. “Katie—”
Surprise registered all over her reddening face. “That’s what Danny used to call me.”
“Sorry, I thought your boyfriend said it was Katie.”
“It’s Kate. Kate Jackson.”
“Kate, you seem like a really nice lady. I wish I was your husband, but I’m not. I’m just a guy with few prospects who only wants to be left alone.”
She nodded, her cheeks reddening even more.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he continued. “But you don’t belong here in this town or around me. I’ve nothing to offer you other than a mug of coffee—instant, at that.”
She put down her cup on the edge of the small kitchen table and ran her hand down the arm of the rocker. “You make beautiful furniture.”
“Thanks, but that rocker is one of my rejects. That’s why it’s in my cabin instead of sold last summer at the bakery Bessie owns. That’s how I make my living, such as it is. I never stay anywhere long. Though, I’ve been in Buckhorn too long. If you come back through on your trip, I won’t be here. That’s the way I like it.”
She seemed to study the arm of the rocker. “Even your rejects are beautiful. I suspect you’re too demanding of yourself.”
He chuckled at that. “That’s me, too demanding of myself.”
Kate raised her gaze to his. “I don’t believe you.” He started to explain that what he’d said had been sarcasm, but she cut him off. “That’s how Danny was. He wanted so much for our little family. I worried that he would kill himself to make sure that we had everything we needed. He would have sacrificed himself for us. He was that kind of man. I suspect he did sacrifice himself. If he walked away that day, it was because he foolishly believed that he was worth more dead than alive.”
Jon shook his head. “I hate what you’ve been going through for all these years. But isn’t it time to put the past behind you, to move on, to find happiness with someone who has something to offer you? Let Danny go. He’s gone. You can’t bring him back.”
Her smile shredded his heart. “I recognized you the moment I saw you. Maybe it was the way you were standing. Or your profile. Once I saw your hands, the long fingers, I thought of what your mother used to say. She always thought you should have been a pianist instead of a laborer.” He tried to stop her, but she kept talking over him. “I didn’t know heart-deep, though, until I looked into your eyes. Your eyes are sable brown and there has always been such kindness in them. Your eyes can’t lie. They never could. I knew you weren’t dead. I gave up hope when Collin came into my life. But in my heart, I knew that when I found you, I wouldn’t be able to let you go no matter what.”
“Kate—”
“Do you know who you really are? If so, why didn’t you come back?”
He pushed away his coffee before turning his gaze on her. It hurt to look at her. He saw so much of the injured woman inside her, so much of her shattered heart, so much of the man who’d left her to fend for herself. “I told you, I’m not him. I wish I was so I could give you the closure you need. But I don’t know this Danny you talk about. I don’t know you.”
“But I know you. I’m staying in town.”
He groaned inwardly. This was exactly what he didn’t want. “Please don’t do that. I know how badly you want me to be this man you once loved. Even if I was him, how many years has it been?”
“Almost twenty.”
“Right. Twenty years. A love like the one you’ve told me about can’t endure. People change.”
“Not your heart. I can see it in your eyes. I don’t know what happened to you or why you never came back. But somewhere inside you, you know me.” She pulled her coat around her as she rose from the rocker. Her smile was filled with sorrow and pain and, worst of all, hope.
He cursed as he watched her go out his front door into the storm. “Katie,” he whispered and felt such a pain in his chest that it doubled him over.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
COLLIN STORMED AROUND the small motel room feeling like a caged animal. He couldn’t believe this was happening. It was as if he’d never known Kate at all. The moment he’d returned to the room, he’d known where she had gone. Back to that man.
It was as if she’d lost her mind, and all over some two-bit woodworker in an old carriage house in the middle of Nowhere, Montana. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d seemed so smart, so together. Was she really ready to stay in this town with some stranger rather than go with him? What could she be thinking?
That was just it. He had no idea and that scared him. He felt as if he was losing her. He scoffed. Impossible. He had more to offer her than Jon Harper—even if the man was her long-dead husband.
But he wasn’t. Jon Harper had made that perfectly clear when Collin had stormed into his workshop. He’d sworn that he wasn’t Daniel Jackson. Why would he lie? It made no sense. The man had been adamant. But had Kate believed it? Hell no.
He told himself not to panic. He’d made a call to his associates in Canada. He had at least another day, maybe a little longer. Kate had no idea why it was so important that she went to Canada with him. So as long as he played it cool... But how was he going to convince her to come with him? If he could just find some solid proof that Jon Harper wasn’t her dead husband.
He stopped pacing. It shouldn’t be that hard to prove. He pulled out his cell phone. He had a friend in the Houston Police Department who owed him a favor.
“Nels,” he said when the man answered. “I’m in a little bind. I need to know about a man named Jon Harper. Spelled J-O-N, apparently.” When he’d been in the man’s workshop, he’d seen a small plaque with the name carved in it. Must be so people knew who to write the check to for one of his masterpieces.
“Do you have any idea how many Jon Harpers there are in the world?” Nels demanded. “I’m going to need more than that.”
“Like what?”
“DNA, fingerprints.”
“Okay,” Collin said, even though he didn’t have a clue how he could get either. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m going to need an ID on him ASAP. Like in the next day or two.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” the cop said. “Listen, I know I owe you, but you have no idea what you’re asking. DNA would take days, if not weeks, and fingerprints won’t do any good unless he has a record.”