Jessie set her drawing aside, remembering why she’d come in here in the first place. “Come here, Will.” She waited for him to take her hand and walked him over to a large cabinet. She opened the door and laughed as Will said, “Wow.” She took the horse from the top shelf and handed it to him. “For you. This one you can keep in the house.”
Several animals and chests lined the shelves, but the cabinet held even more, all so very detailed and lifelike. The horse she handed Will looked like the real deal, only miniaturized. About a foot tall, it looked as if it were standing in a pasture smelling the breeze. The tail and mane softly ruffled in the wind. So perfect, you could almost feel it too. She’d sanded the wood so smooth it shined. Will pet his hand down the horse’s back.
Dylan’s mouth dropped open. “You amaze me. You did all of these.”
“Like I said, I have a lot of time on my hands.”
Will made horse noises with his new toy. Her chest grew tight thinking about all the things she’d made for her daughter, and Hope would never get to play with them. One in particular came to mind. She couldn’t keep it hidden away in the barn forever. Someone should enjoy it. Dylan’s son was a good choice. If Hope had survived, Will would be her brother.
Silently, she walked him over to an area separate from the other furniture ready to go to her shop. She stopped in front of one of the many covered pieces and bent down next to Will. Her throat clogged, but she managed to get the words out. “I made this a long time ago for a very special little girl named Hope. I think she would like you to have it.”
She uncovered the rocking horse she’d made for their daughter.
Will squealed his delight, handed his horse to Dylan, and tried to get on the horse to make it go. A little bit big for him, he couldn’t quite make it up. Jessie helped him on, and he rocked back and forth. He didn’t see her crying, but Dylan did and stepped to her, his hands outstretched, to pull her close.
She walked past him, tears running down her cheeks and her hand up to ward him off.
Too much to bear, having them here, sharing Hope’s things with them and remembering all she’d lost— she fled back to the house.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
* * *
JESSIE MANAGED TO leave the barn and get upstairs before Dylan and Will came back to the house. They moved around downstairs, but she needed time alone to collect herself. She hadn’t been home in over a week and longed to get into her sunken tub and turn on the jets to work out the kinks in her back. Still sore from the accident, her scrapes not completely healed, taking a bath was out of the question. Instead, she turned on the shower and let the steam heat the room. Suddenly, she felt cold to the bone and weary.
She peeled off her T-shirt and bra before she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair, tied up in a ponytail, came out in wisps at her neck and around her face. She tore the bandage off her arm carefully and took in the damage. Yellow, green, and purple bruises bloomed along her shoulder and down her arm in addition to the deep scrapes.
Kicking off her shoes, she carefully slid her sweat pants down her legs. Her hip hurt, making navigating the stairs a problem. She’d had to step up with her right leg and pull her left leg up behind her. Slow going, but effective.
Her leg had suffered the worst of the damage. She pulled the bandages off and turned to regard her backside’s reflection. Red, raw, and scabbing over, the long deep scrapes ran down her thigh from the bottom of her butt on the outside to almost her knee. The same gory colorful watercolor display as her shoulder.
She frowned and turned away from her reflection. Nothing good to look at anyway. Too thin, too muscular from swinging a hammer and hauling wood, the same plain girl she’d always been. She was a construction worker, not a model. Disgusted with herself for even thinking she could, or should, try to compete with other women who worked in jobs that most people would consider the norm for a woman. That wasn’t her. She was different. Not like the women Dylan probably dated over the years. She hated thinking about Dylan taking another woman to dinner, holding her hand, or kissing her. The thought brought on a dismayed groan.
Why would he want to be with someone like her?
The spray hit her back and she tilted her head, allowing the water to wash out the grime from her hair. The hospital shower wasn’t more than a trickle, making it near impossible to get her thick hair clean. Her stitches had been removed, leaving a patch of stubble where they’d shaved her head. Hardly noticeable with her long hair.
She took her time in the shower, even though she shouldn’t have because of her healing wounds. She loved the feel of the water, and after a time she actually relaxed.