The Prodigal Groom. Karen Leabo

now, what’s going on?” A tall, wiry black man came barreling around the side of the house with a shotgun pointed at Jake’s heart.

      Jake jumped away from Laurie. “Whoa, there. Easy with that gun. She just fainted, that’s all.”

      Maurice lowered the gun and stared with shootermarble eyes. “Jake? Jake Mercer? But you can’t be him, ‘cause he’s dead.”

      “It’s me, all right, Maurice,” Jake said, recalling the ranch hand’s name.

      Laurie stirred and moaned. Jake immediately hunkered down and touched her face, smoothing a strand of sun-bright hair off her cheek.

      “Laurie? You okay?”

      Her bleary eyes tried their best to focus on him. She blinked several times. “Oh, God, it is you, Jake. Are you a ghost? Or am I dead, too?”

      He smiled gently. “No, you’re very much alive.” And her nearness affected him in ways he’d forgotten. His heart pounded and his gut tightened, and he wanted nothing more than to draw her into his arms and cling to her vitality. Her memory had kept him alive during those long, hard months of captivity. Now he was finding out that his memory hadn’t done her justice.

      “You cut your hair,” he said.

      Laurie pushed herself into a sitting position. “I hardly think that’s relevant! What are you doing here? How did you…? What on earth…? I don’t know whether to be happy to see you or furious!”

      He offered his hand. “Let’s go inside where it’s cool and get you something to drink, and I promise I’ll answer every one of your questions.”

      She allowed him to help her to her feet, though she released his hand the moment she was steady. “All right,” she said uncertainly, glancing nervously toward the front porch. “But I’ve got to get lunch on the table, so we’ll have to talk in the kitchen.”

      Jake’s gaze followed hers, and he immediately saw what was troubling her. A blond-haired toddler in a gingham dress stood on the porch, clinging to a rocking chair, her angelic little face filled with suspicion as she stared at Jake.

      “Oh, Lord, Laurie, she’s beautiful.” He barely breathed the words. “Looks just like you did at that age.”

      Laurie’s gaze darted back and forth between Jake and the child. “She’s—that’s Wendy, my daughter.”

      “Mommy? Are you sick?”

      Laurie went to her. “No, sweetheart, I’m just fine. Are you ready for some lunch?”

      The little girl nodded distractedly, still staring at Jake.

      Laurie took Wendy’s hand and entered the house. Maurice followed, and neither of them made a point of inviting Jake in. He went in, anyway. This wasn’t exactly the joyful reunion he’d expected.

      “Laurie,” Maurice said, “you want I should take Wendy into town for a hamburger? Then you and Jake can talk.”

      “Oh, that’d be terrific,” she answered, silently thanking heaven that Maurice was so perceptive. She grabbed her purse, which was hanging on a hook by the door, and pulled out her wallet. “Drat, I haven’t got more than a couple of dollars in here.”

      “I’ll get it,” Jake said, quickly pulling a twenty from his own wallet. Maurice took it with a nod.

      “Thank you,” Laurie said grudgingly. “Wendy, Maurice will take you to Dairy Queen, okay?”

      The child nodded, but she was still studying Jake. Abruptly she ran toward him and grabbed on to his leg. “Daddy!” she shrieked.

      Obviously horrified, Laurie pulled her daughter away. “No, Wendy,” she said sharply. “Remember what we talked about? Your daddy’s in heaven.”

      Wendy folded her arms and firmed her mouth up in a mutinous expression, clearly not buying her mother’s explanation. Jake would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so poignant.

      “C’mon, Sunshine,” Maurice interjected. “Let’s go get some hamburgers. And I bet Mommy’ll let us get some ice cream afterward. What do you say?”

      Wendy grabbed on to the hand Maurice offered and allowed herself to be led away, but even the promise of ice cream hadn’t completely distracted her from her fixation on Jake. She looked over her shoulder, continuing to stare at him with solemn blue eyes until the front door closed, blocking him from view.

      “I bet she’s a handful,” Jake said, feeling suddenly achy around his heart. He and Laurie had intended to have children, lots of them.

      “She is,” Laurie said, her voice still a bit weak. “Sweet and cuddly one minute and stubborn as a mule the next. I’m sorry…I don’t know what to say. She never knew her…Charlie. Lately she’s become obsessed with finding her daddy.” Laurie waited, holding her breath, expecting some acknowledgment from Jake that he would soon rectify the situation.

      “It’s okay,” he said with a shrug, dismissing the incident far more casually than she would have believed possible. “Hey, you look like you’re about to keel over again. Let’s get you some water.” With a hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the kitchen. He remembered where it was from visits to Birkett’s Folly as a child. His father and old Will Birkett had been good friends.

      The absurdity of this situation made Laurie want to laugh. Jake Mercer was alive? How often had she dreamed that it was all a big misunderstanding, that the Marshals Service had made a mistake? Apparently those farfetched dreams were coming true.

      Again she stifled an almost hysterical laugh. On the heels of her elation, however, came anger. How dare Jake come back from the dead? How dare he abandon her, abandon their child, then blithely waltz back into her life unannounced?

      Oh, Lord, she was confused, still woozy and weak, and if she didn’t get herself something to eat or drink she was going to faint again. So she said nothing as Jake took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with cold water from the refrigerator.

      He handed it to her. She took it, carefully avoiding touching him, and took several long swallows.

      “Sit down,” Jake said.

      She would have remained standing just to prove he couldn’t tell her what to do, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She sank into the chair he held out for her.

      He sat down across from her, with the old enamel kitchen table between them. Her dizziness abated and her wits began to return. Now maybe she was in some kind of shape to listen to Jake’s explanations.

      Surely he didn’t expect to take up with her where he’d left off.

      “So, talk,” she said. “Where have you been for the past four years? Now, let’s see, maybe I can guess. Juan LaBarba swore a vendetta against you, so the blessed U.S. Marshals Service decided to hide you for a while, and they told us you died so we wouldn’t come looking for you. Am I close?”

      “Nowhere near.” He rested his hands on the edge of the table and rocked back and forth a couple of times. “Laurie, do you actually believe I’d leave you standing at the altar because of some stupid vendetta?”

      Properly chastised for jumping to conclusions, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. Tell me what really happened.”

      “I was shot and left for dead,” he said quietly. “I got caught in the same flurry of gunfire that killed Ernesto LaBarba, Juan’s brother. The LaBarbas dragged me inside the building where they were holed up, thinking to trade me for Ernesto. But when they found out Ernesto had died, they decided to keep me as a bargaining chip. They fled to Costa Rica and took me with them.”

      “Did you try to escape?” Laurie asked, trying to fathom the horror he must have experienced. It sounded so unreal, like a bad movie.

      “I wasn’t in any shape to escape. Juan’s wife, Carmen, patched me up pretty