All For Jessie

By Jacqueline Jordan

City apartment sublet, there was no turning back. Mary's anxiety mounted as the bus penetrated deeper into the Interior's forests. Ahead a stranger waited, and a position she had no experience for. As new life stirred against her, courage rose in Mary's heart. But would it be enough when she learned of the danger they were in? And would Mary be able to keep her promise?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacqueline Jordan
• Release date: Mar 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463719404

Jacqueline Jordan

Jacqueline Jordan Lives in B. C. in the heart of the Shuswap with her husband Jim. They have one son. From farming to fostering to construction, life has been busy. Writing has been her dream and ambition since childhood. Now she shares her personal faith through inspirational stories.

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ALL FOR JESSIE

Published by Jacqueline Jordan at Smashwords

Copyright 2019 Jacqueline Jordan

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-The Stray

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

Where was he? As the bus pulled to the curb, Mary scanned the group waiting on the sidewalk. None of them looked like the rancher who was supposed to meet her.

Mary’s sister hadn’t exaggerated when she suggested Woodhaven might be a small town. Was it even on the map? Apparently, there wasn’t even a depot. They’d stopped in front of a hardware store!

Anxiously, Mary checked again. One man drew her attention. Dark eyes, shaded by a Stetson hat, systematically surveyed the surrounding area before scanning the windows down the length of the bus. As she watched, he returned to checking the street. How odd. Nevertheless, it was none of her business. He was too young to be the man picking her up. There were more important issues to deal with.

Among those waiting to board, were an elderly couple and a woman with a teenage girl who was possibly her daughter. They looked alike. The only others were a young couple standing by a suitcase holding hands.

Mary was gathering her things up when she noticed two little girls and a young woman not far up the street. They’d stopped and were half-turned toward the new arrivals exiting the bus. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but surely she couldn’t be the mother; she was as slender as a willow. Pale blond hair fell across one eye, and draped like silk around narrow shoulders.

Carefully, Mary lumbered down the bus steps, unaccustomed to the weight pressing on her abdomen, as well as the weight of the carry-on bag crammed with baby essentials. The man wearing the Stetson hat, assisted her as she stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. He had brown eyes, she noticed as she glanced up, with crinkle lines at the corners as if he smiled a lot. But, he wasn’t smiling now.

Thank you. Mindful of her sister’s warning to be careful of strangers, her manner was deliberately cool.

Ma’am. He tipped his hat, just like a cowboy from an old western movie, before he moved aside to watch the rest of the passengers disembark.

By the time the bus pulled away a few minutes later, Mary was the only passenger left; a creamy wool coat barely fastening around her protruding front. Standing in the afternoon sun beside the suitcases and carry bag, she looked up and down the empty street wondering how the stores could stay in business. And wondering where her new employer was. What on earth would she do if he didn’t show up?

Her sister, Patsy, had found her a job as live-in companion and helper for a rancher’s grandmother. It was mid-April and Mary had been wooed by the prospect of spending summer on a ranch. After years of grueling university study, it sounded like the perfect getaway.

A bell jangled and Mary glanced nervously over her shoulder. The man leaving the Mertz Hardware store was the same one who’d helped her exit the bus. Western leather boots, slim denims and a plaid flannel shirt under an open sherpa-lined jacket did suggest ranching, but that was probably the main occupation of the area.

He tipped his hat again, in greeting. Was it the custom in this town? How strange! Some might find it charming but Mary was dubious. Charm was deceptive. Tipping his hat didn’t make a man trustworthy.

This time his brown eyes assessed the city gal with guarded curiosity. Her softly curled long brown hair stirred with the breeze. Even turning her head seemed to set any number of curls bouncing. While he might find it enticing, it was irrelevant to the purpose of his trip to town.

She was definitely not a local in the outfit she was wearing. He thought of the folks he knew and tried to place her as a relative. However this woman was in a class all her own. She didn’t look like anyone he’d seen before and he was well acquainted with almost everyone in the community.

Are you waiting for someone? he inquired.

Yes, thank you. Pointedly, Mary turned away to check the street again. She hoped he would take the hint and move on. He looked fairly decent, in a non-threatening sort of way, but he was a stranger. When she glanced back the man was still there so she sat down carefully, on the larger case, with her back to him.

From his vantage point the young woman appeared very chic and very pregnant. Must be awfully close to term, he surmised. Sparkling diamonds in delicate earlobes spelled money just like her fancy coat and spike heeled boots. What was she doing here? His hometown hardly qualified as a whistle stop and he was sure a lady of this caliber would be much more at home in a luxury hotel. In comparison, Woodhaven had nothing that even came close. Actually, the town didn’t even have a hotel.

The student he’d come to pick up had obviously changed her mind. None of the passengers that disembarked fit the description. The Agency should’ve let him know. A sigh escaped as he imagined the disappointment when he arrived home empty handed.

The man intended to walk by, cross the street and go home but his conscience wouldn’t let him. What if her ride didn’t show up? The town had few amenities and no taxi service. And, he hadn’t been raised to turn his back on anyone in need.

Can I give you a lift? he offered. Or call someone for you?

No, thank you. Her tone was as cool as the snow still visible on the mountaintops.

The city lady regarded him warily as she stood, bringing the top of her head to his eye level. The creamy coat fell in soft folds around slender legs. The pretty little boots she wore were totally impractical if she was staying in the area for any length of time, but they suited her. A manicured hand patted the bulge in her coat. Everything about her said high class, expensive, used to being waited on and probably useless in a kitchen.

Ma’am. He tipped his hat to walk away. She didn’t want his help and he didn’t need any more problems. He had enough of his own.

He settled the Stetson back on thick brown hair and was turning aside when a flap of paper caught his eye. Time slowed as he stared at the fluttering tag, glanced up at the woman and then stared at the tag. Again.

Suddenly, it was all too clear why the Agency hadn’t sent a detailed description of the student. All they had said was that she had a package for him. Well, if this was the one he was supposed to pick up, she had a package all right!

Are you Mary? Mary Rogers? Earnestly, he hoped the icy lady would say no.

Startled, Mary glanced down at her luggage. Her name was clearly visible. Who was he? Surely, he was too young to be Mr. Hayward?

Why? Her eyes were wary as she eyed the stranger.

Name’s Hayward.

Sure you are, and I’m the Duchess of Kent, she silently panicked! Her sister had cautioned her to make sure the man meeting her was the right one.

You’re far too naive, Patsy had said. But you’ll be fine once you get there. Just be careful, Mary. Promise you’ll be careful. Okay?

He looked nice enough, but regardless of what he claimed, he wasn’t old enough to be the man she’d expected. Nor could she afford to take chances with the life her sister had entrusted to her. Rubbing her rounded front, she took a breath.

Is there another Mr. Hayward in the area? An older man? Perhaps your father? Or, maybe an uncle? Mary fished, anxiously patting the bulge. Was he really who he said he was? Could she dare to trust that he would be truthful with her?

Sorry, no uncle. He stood at ease, hoping he appeared mature enough to handle the situation. Her elegance made him aware of his faded jeans and a tear he’d ignored when he put them on. Polishing his scuffed boots hadn’t been a priority, either. Plus, a haircut was definitely overdue. In short, compared to her, he felt like a hick.

I’m afraid my parents are snowbirds, he continued. I doubt we’ll see them before summer. So in answer to your question, no. I’m the only Joe Hayward in these parts. He reached for his wallet. His photo driver’s license might alleviate her doubts.

Little late to pay the gal off, Hayseed, a familiar voice snickered.

Margie! he bit off in annoyance. Where’d she spring from? More trouble. Without taking his eyes off the city gal, he rammed the wallet back in his pocket.

Aren’t you going to introduce us, Hayseed? With unveiled amusement, Margie looked from the rotund woman to the cowboy. With a provocative swagger, she sauntered closer.

No. He forced a smile. It came off strained. Mary? If you’re ready, we should be going.

His tone was a little firmer than Mary appreciated but she was used to that with years of lectures from college professors. She noticed the man never even glanced at the attractive blonde as he picked up Mary’s suitcases and bag. Without so much as a ‘by your leave’ he headed across the street. About midway, he seemed to remember he had a passenger and stopped to wait. Mary had a choice: follow or be left behind, minus her luggage.

Sorry, he apologized, slowing his steps to hers. I wasn’t expecting this. Sorely perplexed, he eyed her bulging coat. He hadn’t expected anyone like Mary either!

He stowed her bags in the back of a crimson SUV and held the door while Mary maneuvered herself carefully into the passenger seat. To his relief there was no sign of Margie when he walked around to the driver’s side. He slid behind the wheel and leaned back.

Now what? Mary peeked at him nervously and discreetly checked the street again. It was empty. Even the flirtatious Margie, whoever she was, had disappeared. The few people waiting for the bus when it arrived seemed to have vanished into the wooded landscape. There was no one. She was on her own with a strange man, in a strange town. But what was he waiting for?

Although the man had claimed her, like a piece of forgotten baggage on Woodhaven’s broken sidewalk, he didn’t look too happy about it. Mary wasn’t happy, either. She must’ve been insane to let Patsy talk her into this. The whole thing would be laughable if she wasn’t so far out of her element she didn’t know what to do. But she had to stay calm. Getting upset would likely upset the baby.

It’s Gran’s car, he finally commented after a brief glance in Mary’s direction. She thought a young lady would be more comfortable in this rather than a farm truck.

It was a lame effort at conversation, but it was the best he could manage for a man still in shock. Up until a few minutes ago, life had been fairly simple and routine. He liked it that way. And preferred to keep it that way. Suddenly, it was complicated. He wasn’t sure how to deal with it, or if he even wanted to. Nor could he afford to waste a single moment of the time he had left. This full-term pregnant young woman was not in his short-term plan. No sir. This was a mistake that needed rectifying because babies took time and for Hayward, long-term plans were not an option.

A sideways glance reigned in his racing thoughts.

Just so you know I am Hayward. He dug his wallet out and shoved his driver’s license toward her, before starting the motor.

Mary studied the picture and name. Patsy had been assured by someone she trusted that Mr. Hayward was a good man. Age hadn’t been mentioned. Mary had just assumed he’d be older, more of a father figure, and older had seemed safe enough at the time. Did this man really have a grandmother waiting?

I’m sorry, Mr. Hayward, I’ve never been in this position before. She handed the license back with a hand that trembled, while embarrassment crept up her cheeks.

Neither have I. This was not the plan he’d agreed to. He had half a mind to call the Agency, abort the whole thing and let them deal with it, and with her. That’s what he should do. He should call them. If he had half a brain, that’s what he’d do.

Hayseed? Mary blurted in the awkward silence that hung between them.

A kid called me that in grade school. It stuck. But my friends call me, Joe.

Do we have far to go, Mr. Hayward? Mary shifted slightly, easing the burden. Her soft brown eyes were still vulnerable, cautious.

About twenty minutes. Need anything in town? He paused before pulling out, waiting for her. I could stop at the mall.

You have a mall? A flicker of interest lit her face. Where?

There, he pointed.

Her head swiveled, scanning the area for the mega structure she was used to. Then she saw it. The sign read Woodhaven Mall. It had four stores on one minuscule level! You could hardly count the fifth shop that was only as wide as a closet. Mary wondered how anyone could equate that short business strip with a mall. However, if she had any hope of fitting in, she’d have to adjust to thinking outside the box. Or, was it inside the box? The mall wasn’t big enough to be outside the box.

No. I don’t need anything, thank you, Mary answered politely. Did she need her head examined, she wondered for the umpteenth time? She didn't know anyone in this part of the province. She’d be living with strangers. Why would anyone in her right mind, do something like that, especially in a place like Woodhaven? And what did people occupy themselves with in a town this small?

Mary had lived her entire life in a city with limitless shopping centers, cinemas, live theatres, computer cafes, coffee houses, restaurants, fitness centers and, that was just for starters. What did Woodhaven have? The name sounded like a funeral home or care facility for the aged. She hoped, for sanity’s sake, they at least had a library.

The bus ride had been long and the last hour traversed through miles and miles of forests with only the occasional hay field, fence or driveway to indicate people actually lived in this remote area.

It was unnerving to realize she may have traded modern living and all it entailed, for some kind of backwoods existence, because that’s what it was beginning to look like. At least, there had been power lines along the road, up to this point. Living here could prove difficult if the wires disappeared.

When she’d read the Pioneer book series, as a child, life on the frontier had seemed exciting and romantic. However, the reality before her looked uncomfortable and uncertain.

There was still time to go back, even if she had to walk to town. But where could she go? Where would she wait? And, who would come? It was doubtful her sister would and there wasn’t anyone else. Even if there were, there was no home to go back to because Patsy had sublet the apartment. For better or worse, she was stuck in some place called Woodhaven with a Mr. Joe Hayward.

Hayward tried to keep his mind on the road. Years in government service had trained him to notice details. Her delicate hands with their perfect nails and lack