A Measure Of Love. Lindsay McKenna

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      Chapter Three

      I’m afraid I’m a very boring subject, Mr. Kincaid.”

      “Call me Rafe. And I don’t think there’s anything boring about you.”

      Jessie shifted uncomfortably beneath his stare. “I can assure you,” she began, concentrating on petting the foal because she couldn’t stand how his cobalt-blue eyes melted her, “that I’ve lead a very quiet, limited and uneventful life.”

      “Where were you born?”

      Jessie groaned silently. He obviously couldn’t be dissuaded from the topic. With a small sigh, she answered, “In Washington, D.C.”

      “You lived there all your life?”

      “Yes. I’m a survivor of the street system of D.C. That in itself is a feat,” she said, managing a smile.

      “That explains why you’re not good on muddy roads,” he drawled.

      Recalling the fiasco on the ranch road, she grimaced. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

      He picked up a straw and chewed on it thoughtfully. “Most people don’t take their faults as gracefully as you do.”

      “I’ve had a lifetime of learning that I’m far from perfect.”

      “Sounds serious.”

      “I think it’s a virus I picked up.” Jessie smiled fully into his relaxed face. “Every once in a while, it flares back up, and I make a total fool out of myself.”

      One corner of his mouth twitched. “Think there’s an antidote?”

      Her laughter pealed through the stall. “How I wish there was! I’d be first in line for it.”

      “I like your style, Jessie Scott. Instead of pointing out your strengths, you point out your weaknesses. Why, I wonder?”

      “Let’s just say I had five years in a marriage that pointed out my defects and deficits instead of my strengths,” she murmured, resting her head against the foal’s fuzzy neck.

      “It takes two to make or break a marriage,” Rafe said, leaning his broad back against the stall and studying her.

      “To hear Tom’s version, it was more my fault than his.”

      “Tell me about it.”

      Jessie gave him a wary look. “Why all this sudden interest, Mr. Kin–”

      “Rafe,” he corrected. “I’d like to hear your side of the story if you’re willing to share it with me.”

      Jessica weighed the sincerity in his voice. She had never talked about her reasons to anyone. Neither Tom nor his family after the divorce had expressed any kind of sympathy, or extended a friendly hand. Now Rafe, with his soft words, was willing to listen. To care.

      She took a deep breath and allowed the foal to wander back to his mother. Clenching her hands into fists she rested them on the long curve of her thighs. “I was married just after I turned nineteen, while I was in college,” she began hesitantly. “I was young, idealistic and naive at the time. Tom was a senior, had lived and partied hard, and was ready to settle down. He was the son of a blue-collar family and believed that men should be the breadwinners and women should be barefoot and pregnant.

      “I grew up wanting only one thing in life: a family of my own. I wanted to marry and have babies. Maybe that’s old-fashioned for today’s modern women, but I didn’t care. Looking back on it, I fell in love with the idea more than with Tom. But I had thought that it was real, a binding love that could last us a lifetime. So I married Tom and quit college to become a happily married housewife.”

      Jessie leaned over, picked up a straw and moved it nervously through her fingers. “The first year I didn’t conceive. Tom’s family said not to worry, that it was normal for a newly married couple who really wanted children badly not to have them. The second year, no difference. They started saying I was trying too hard, to relax and everything would be all right and I’d get pregnant. The third year, Tom’s family was pressuring us to the point where I went to five different doctors trying to find out why I couldn’t get pregnant. They didn’t have any answers, either. Technically, I was given the seal of approval to be able to have children.” She glanced up at Rafe, noticing his face was grim. “I couldn’t stand Tom’s mother calling me every week, or his sisters dropping over to give their advice. Of course, they each had one or two children themselves. I took a clerk’s job with a small company just to escape the pressures, the phone calls and visits.”

      Tossing the straw away, she took another deep breath and looked up at the ceiling of the barn. “By the fifth year, Tom’s family was against me. I couldn’t produce an heir for their family. Tom was the only boy. He listened to his folks, who said I was taking contraceptives, when I wasn’t. He accused me of so many terrible things. His sisters all had little girls. There was no one to carry on the long family tradition.

      “God,” she whispered, “looking back on it, I was too young and green СКАЧАТЬ