Kitabı oku: «Once Upon A Thanksgiving», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Kathleen couldn’t believe her boldness at taking Buck’s hand to pray. Praying came naturally enough to her. But what made her think it required holding a hand as solid and firm as the ground beneath her feet? Her palm still felt warmer than normal.

But she had no doubt God intervened for Joey’s improvement and would continue to do so. She silently prayed it would accomplish much more … that Rosie and Buck would find healing for whatever made them so fearful and kept them away from each other.

Joey ate a bowl of soup, played with the toys for a few minutes, then crawled into Buck’s lap and closed his eyes.

Kathleen watched the play of emotions on Buck’s face—worry, love, hope. He lifted his eyes to hers and allowed her to see the depth of his feelings. They caught at her heart. Then he ducked his head, pressing his cheek to Joey’s black hair.

Emotion clogged Kathleen’s throat. This kind of love awed her. Filled her heart with yearning.

She drew in a shaking breath, wondering at the lightness of the air she sucked in, which did little to relieve her need for oxygen.

Lilly slept in Rosie’s arms. Young Mattie whined.

“I need to put the little ones down for their nap.” Rosie pushed to her feet. “Come along, Junior. Time for you to have a sleep.”

“Mama, I want to play with Joey.”

Buck looked at his son. “I don’t think Joey feels much like playing at the moment. When you wake up he’ll likely be ready.”

Rosie took the children to the bedroom to settle them.

Kathleen expected Buck to do the same with Joey, but he stayed seated. She forced herself to remain still, though she longed to jump to her feet and pace the room. A crack in the wooden table caught her attention and she ran a fingernail along it.

“Is he asleep?” Buck whispered.

She looked. “I would say so.”

“Then I’ll put him down now.” He shifted the boy and carried him to the bed, covered him carefully, smoothed his hair from his forehead … all ordinary things, yet watching him made her heart ache.

He stepped back, watched his son a moment, then tiptoed from the room and pulled the door part way shut. “I didn’t want to put him down until he fell asleep. Seems like the least I can give him is lots of assurance of safety.” He returned to the chair he occupied previously and rubbed his hand across his face. “I fear I am an inadequate parent, but I’m all the poor little guy has.”

Such hope and desperation filled his voice, she couldn’t bear it. “From what I’ve seen, you are an excellent father. The way he adores you is proof enough.”

Brown eyes met hers, brimming with hunger and longing. “Do you think so?”

He loved the boy deeply and wasn’t afraid to show it. The knowledge of such love—human love—gave her the feeling she missed something vital in her life. She feared it would show in her eyes but lacked the strength to tear her gaze away. “I know so.”

A slow, intense smile filled his face. “I perceive you are a most generous person in every way.”

It was her turn to be surprised. “How nice of you to say so.” But how could he know? He’d only just met her.

His chuckle tingled along her nerves like music rushing up her veins. “You’re thinking I couldn’t possibly know, seeing as we’ve only met. But yet, I think I am correct.” He leaned closer drawing her into an intimate invisible circle including only the two of them, excluding everyone and everything else. “I know you’ve gone out of your way to make friends with Rosie, and I’m certain it’s more than what most women in your group of friends consider ordinary.”

She tried to pull her thoughts into order, but all she could think was he admired her for doing something that had indeed brought criticism from others, even beyond her parents.

“You know, I haven’t given God much consideration or due in a long time. Since … well, never mind that. But from the moment I stepped through that door—” He tipped his head in the general direction. “I’ve thought of Him several times. I think it is due to you.”

“How can that be?”

“You bring God’s presence into the house.”

“I—” She didn’t know how to answer. “If so, then I am happy to hear it.”

His soft smile thanked her. “If only more people were like you.” He sat back. “Maybe you can help me.”

“I will if I can.” Perhaps he would ask her to assist him and Rosie in sorting out their differences.

“I’d like to know if Rosie needs anything. Is she managing okay on her own?”

Not the direction she’d hoped he’d go, but to know he cared so about others filled her with sweet admiration. “She has her hands full, especially when she goes shopping.” She told about her first meeting with Rosie and how his poor sister couldn’t keep a hand on everything. “Mattie saw the bucketful of shiny shovels, and I suppose he thought they would make good toys. What a clatter when the bucket tipped and they all fell to the ground. The storekeeper came rushing out to see what the racket was. I think everyone stopped what they were doing to look.” She laughed. “Poor Rosie didn’t think it very amusing, I’m afraid.”

She thought of what Rosie really needed—to become more a part of the community instead of keeping so much to herself. But before she could voice her thought, Rosie tiptoed from the bedroom.

“Were you two talking about me?” she asked.

Buck sighed. “You were the furthest thing from my mind.”

Rosie considered them suspiciously. “I heard you talking while I got the children to sleep, yet the minute I step into the room you are quiet as mice.”

Buck grinned. “If you insist on knowing, I was telling her all the family secrets.”

Rosie drew up hard and stared at her brother. Then she laughed, a nervous twitter of a sound. “I know you’re joshing. Serves me right for being so suspicious.” She turned to Kathleen. “Were you serious about helping me stitch a quilt top?”

At last, something to do with her hands so her thoughts wouldn’t continually run off in silly directions. “Of course. Are you ready to get started?”

Rosie fetched a basket of fabric pieces. “I thought to make one for Junior’s bed, but I don’t intend to take advantage of your generosity or anything.”

Kathleen rubbed her hands together. “We can do this. Do you have a pattern in mind?”

The women pulled out fabric and discussed different arrangements. Once they’d chosen a pattern, they cut out a number of squares, then Kathleen started stitching them together while Rosie continued cutting.

“Where did you spend Thanksgiving last year?” Kathleen asked him.

Guess it was too much for Buck to think their project would keep them occupied and allow him the privilege of watching the subtle changes in Kathleen’s expression as she chose colors and patterns and aligned the pieces. But he realized he didn’t mind talking about the past year. In most ways it was one of the best in his life, with Joey to look after and love. “The two of us spent it in a settler’s shack. The pioneer family had moved to town for the winter, and they were glad enough to have someone occupy their place.” No doubt such simple accommodations were something she would not rejoice over, but he’d been grateful.

Kathleen and Rosie continued to work, but he felt their keen interest. “I really never gave Thanksgiving a thought until the owner of the place rode out with a bundle. Said his wife insisted he bring it to the two of us. I let Joey open it. You should have seen his eyes. I don’t think he could remember receiving gifts before. Inside was enough turkey for the both of us and plenty of mashed potatoes and gravy. There were two oranges and a toy whistle. We had us a real good day. Just the two of us.” He wasn’t sure why he kept saying it was only he and Joey, except he wanted to believe it was how he wanted things to be. Even to his own ears it sounded lonely. But he really did have something to be thankful for—a little son and a warm house, even though the latter was temporary.

Thanksgiving was three weeks away. He should be gone again by then, but only if he remained would Joey know a true family celebration. The temptation to stay was strong.

“It sounds sweet,” Kathleen said, although her voice seemed tight, as if the words didn’t want release.

“It sounds lonely.” Rosie, as always, was bluntly honest. They studied each other. He wished he could stay awhile. Perhaps she did, too, but they both knew the risks. People were less than welcoming when they discovered whom their father was. He and Rosie had been driven from more than one place by a violent crowd.

He and Joey must move on.

Kathleen’s gaze had not left him all the while he and Rosie shared their silent communication, and now he shifted and met her blue, intense look.

She smiled. “The church is having a special Thanksgiving service. There will be a community dinner to share the bounty of the year. It would be nice if you would attend. I think you’d enjoy it.”

Her words fell into a silence, sending ripples through his thoughts. He hadn’t been to church since Ma died. He wondered if Rosie had. He’d attended her wedding, held in the parsonage. It was the last time he’d seen her before yesterday, though he sent her an occasional letter. She wrote to him regularly so he knew she and Bill had moved to this town. Bill knew enough to keep one step ahead of the cruel truth of his wife’s past. “I doubt I’ll be here.” Regret deepened his voice but he hoped no one would notice. “Rosie, you should go. It would be good for you and the kids.”

Rosie allowed him the briefest glance, but enough for him to see her longing ran every bit as deep as his. “I’ll think on it.”

“I’ll keep asking,” Kathleen said.

Buck wondered how she managed to sound so serene, so confident. Not for the first time, and likely not for the last, he wished things could be different so he could get to know her better and discover who she really was.

It wasn’t possible. He shifted his thoughts to other things. Like the children. Rosie’s were happy and full of spirit. Was Joey on par with them? Was he suffering because of the way Buck lived? Not that he could do a thing to change it.

The children woke and the women put away the sewing. Rosie brought Lilly from the bedroom with her two boys following her. At the same time, Joey came from the other room. The boy’s color had improved.

Rosie put Lilly in her chair and the other children sat around the table to eat bread and jam.

“Good food and rest are giving Joey back his strength,” he said.

Kathleen’s gentle gaze brushed him. “God has given us so many reasons to be thankful.”

He nodded. She made it easy for him to believe in God’s bountiful blessings.

“I must return home. I promised Mother and Father I wouldn’t be as late as I was yesterday.”

Buck scrambled to his feet. “I’ll walk you home.”

“It’s not necessary.”

Did he detect a hint of something in her voice he was loath to admit? Was she embarrassed to have him walk her home? “My mother, God rest her soul, would expect no less of me.”

She considered him briefly then nodded. “Very well, though it really isn’t necessary.”

He bent to face his son. “Joey, you stay with Aunt Rosie. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Okay?”

“You be back for sure?”

“For sure.”

“Okay, then.” He returned his attention to the slice of bread.

He slipped into his coat and buttoned it, then held the door for Kathleen, who had already said goodbye to everyone in the room. They tramped along the hardened path.

“Do you realize that’s the first time I’ve heard mention of your mother?”

“Even the likes of Rosie and me have a mother and father, though they are both dead now.” He regretted his words as soon as they were out and hoped she wouldn’t ask about his father.

“I’m sorry for your loss, but you know I didn’t mean you wouldn’t have parents.” She scowled at him, making him feel like a small boy.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I am too defensive.”

“Both you and Rosie. It’s like you expect someone to kick you in the teeth for no reason.”

Oh, they thought they had reason enough, but he wasn’t about to tell her so.

Kathleen turned to him, her expression a mixture of amusement and something more—perhaps regret? “Rosie’s very fond of you.”

“Like you said, she hides it pretty well.”

Her sweet laugh filled his senses. “Tell me what it was like to have a sister growing up.”

Her questions almost stopped him in his tracks. It took every bit of his well-developed self-control to move forward, to keep his voice steady, as if the memories weren’t filled with a bittersweet taste. “Life was very different then. My parents were alive.”

She didn’t speak, and he wondered how aware she was of the tension gripping his heart.

“There was a time …” He slowed his words to cover his regret. “When my father laughed with joy and said we had much to be grateful for.” How quickly his attitude had changed.

“It sounds nice.”

“It was.” How long since he’d remembered those better days? Far too long. And he vowed right there in the middle of the trail he would give Joey some memories of good times, and he’d find a way to remind Rosie of those happier days when being thankful didn’t require an effort.

“Having a sibling is special.”

Did he detect a lonesome note in her voice? He couldn’t think it was true. She came from a secure, stable, safe family.

They passed the business section of town and climbed a slight hill to a cluster of large houses.

Kathleen stopped walking. “This is where I live.” She indicated a house dominating those around it.

The place was huge. Buck could see why they might need someone to dust and clean. “Just you and your parents live here?” He failed to keep awe from his voice.

“Our cook has quarters here, too.”

“Oh, then that explains why you need such a large house.”

She grinned. “You know it doesn’t. We don’t need a big house, but my father thinks it’s in keeping with his station in life.” Her smile seemed slightly lopsided. “My father has very well-formed ideas of right and wrong.”

“And always does what is right?”

“Always.”

“That’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?” He knew his voice revealed far more than he wanted to. If his own father had always done what was right, not let his anger and frustration drive him to taking things into his own hands in such a gruesome manner … well, his life and Rosie’s—and now their children’s—would be much different.

Aware that she watched him closely, likely wondering why he seemed so vehement about the idea of right and wrong when they’d been talking about her big house, he again studied the mansion before him. Lots of red brick and white trim around the seemingly endless windows on both the ground floor and second story. “It certainly makes a person stand up and take notice.”

“It’s just a house. Isn’t a house the place where family gathers? Seems to me that what’s important. Not the size of the dwelling.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the house in front of them. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now stop staring at it. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

He jerked his attention away and toward her. “Why would it make you uncomfortable?”

“Because I don’t want to be judged by who my father is or how large the house I live in is. I want to be judged for my own actions.” Her words rang with fierceness.

“I wish I could think such was possible.” But people would always judge him by who his father was. He couldn’t imagine it would be any different for Kathleen, though for vastly different reasons.

She studied him, her gaze searching out hidden meanings in his words, secrets buried deep in his heart. “Can it not be so between us, at least?”

Her question begged so many things from him. Acceptance of her friendship, but more. Openness, sharing of secrets. He couldn’t offer what she silently asked for, though he ached to do so. “I wish things could be different.”

“Can’t you make them so?”

“I can’t control what others say or think or do.”

“But you can choose who and what you are.”

He searched her frank open gaze. He wanted to point out it was easy for her to choose her own path with the protection of her father’s name. But he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

She continued to study him. “Haven’t you done that already to some extent?”

He didn’t understand. His choice was to leave before people learned the truth or immediately after they did.

She must have seen his confusion. “Adopting Joey.”

“That has never been a hardship.” Though partly because Joey fit into Buck’s way of life … moving on before people got too critical. But was he doing the child a disservice by constantly moving?

“I must go inside.” Kathleen shifted her attention to the house.

“Good afternoon. Thanks for everything.”

She turned back to him. Made him happy he’d said something to accomplish that. “For what?”

“For visiting Rosie and being her friend. For praying for Joey. Reminding me of God.” For being Kathleen and sharing your joy.

She lowered her eyes. “You’re welcome.” Brought her gaze back to his, smiling widely. “I hope you think about God more often now.”

“I surely shall.” Every time he thought of Kathleen and he knew that would be often.

“Goodbye now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She headed up the brick sidewalk, paused at the door to give a little wave.

He lifted a hand in response, waited until the door closed behind her then headed back to Rosie’s, Kathleen’s promise ringing in his ears. See you tomorrow.

How many tomorrows dare he plan? He clamped his jaw down hard, making his teeth ache. Not nearly enough.

Chapter Four

Kathleen leaned against the door and waited for her heart to calm. He admired her. Approved of her friendship with Rosie. Of course he would, Rosie being his sister. But his approval meant more to her than she could explain.

She hung her coat on the hall tree and slipped out of her boots into a pair of fur-lined slippers. Central heating filled the whole house with welcoming warmth. Yes, she was grateful for the comforts of her life. Yes, she admired her parents for their moral strength. But some days it all felt hollow, and today was one of those times.

“I’m in here,” Mother called from the sitting room.

Kathleen took a deep, calming breath and scolded herself for feeling so restless when she was so blessed. She stepped into the room. “Mother, you’re up already. How are you?”

“I do believe I am feeling better every day.” She sighed in such a way that Kathleen wondered at the truth of her words. “I get tired of being tired.”

Kathleen sat on the stool at her knees. “You did something different with your hair.”

“Jeannie offered to brush and style it.” Jeannie was more than housekeeper. She often did little things to brighten Mother’s day. Kathleen would be sure to thank her later.

“It’s very becoming.”

Mother brushed her hand over her hair. “Who was that young man?”

Kathleen stalled. She didn’t want her parents to know too much about Buck, aware they would heartily disapprove of Joey. “That’s Rosie’s brother I told you about. He insisted on seeing me safely home.”

“I see.” Mother studied her a long moment. “And yet you’ve gone back and forth safely the past few weeks.”

“I assured him I didn’t need an escort, but he insisted his mother would expect him to do so.”

“Where is his mother?”

“She’s passed away.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

Kathleen wished she could talk to her mother about the thousand thoughts racing through her head. Why were Rosie and Buck so secretive? Both parents were dead. How long ago? Was Joey truly on the mend? If he was, would Buck be on his way? Why did the idea tangle her thoughts? What did it all mean? But aware her mother would tell her to forget such people, she didn’t voice any of her questions. “I’ll go see if Cook needs help.” She hurried to the kitchen before her mother could say anything.

But Cook had everything competently under control and allowed her only to finish setting the table. Kathleen did so and stood back to study the formal dining room with its perfectly matched chairs and perfectly matched china and silver. It was all very nice but lacked something that seemed to abound around Rosie’s table. Funny—she hadn’t been so acutely aware of it until a day or two ago.

When Buck and Joey showed up. When she discovered in her heart an emotion she couldn’t name.

Kathleen’s father came in, greeted her mother and asked, “Is Kathleen home?”

She hurried from the dining room. “I’m here, Father.”

“Good. Good.” He settled down with the paper. “I don’t want you spending all afternoon at that woman’s place.”

“Her name is Rosie Zacharias and she is a very nice woman, as you would surely know if you ever visited her.”

Father looked over the top of his paper at Kathleen’s tone. She instantly repented of her peevishness. “I only meant she’s a good mother and a decent person.”

Neither parent said a thing, but Kathleen knew she had shocked and disappointed them with her attitude. She had no wish to be disrespectful. In the future she must guard her thoughts and her tongue.

The hours dragged the next morning as Kathleen helped her mother sort through letters from family members. For some reason Mother enjoyed reading them over and over and putting them in chronological order. “I’m sure some day these will constitute a valuable family history.”

Kathleen restrained herself from saying she wondered who would be interested in the chitchat, gossipy things most of the aunts and cousins related. “Today I wore a new chiffon dress. You would love it. Palest blue. One of your favorite colors, as I recall.” “I think I neglected to tell you Mamie and Fred have been seen together more often than not. Why, I myself saw them rowing on the lake Sunday.” Kathleen had no idea who Mamie and Fred were, or why anyone should care if they went out together in a rowboat.

She sighed at her frustration. Perhaps she was only being petty because she didn’t have anyone who would take her out in a boat, which wasn’t exactly true. Young Merv, who worked with Father, would surely take her out if she offered him any encouragement. Perhaps not in a boat, though, as there wasn’t a decent lake nearby and she didn’t fancy a long ride with him to get to one. She secretly thought the man a little too impressed with himself to be interesting.

He never showed the kindness to others that Buck did. Nor the approval Buck had expressed to her yesterday afternoon.

Finally Kathleen’s father arrived home for lunch, again taken in the dining room. As soon as they finished and he returned to work, Mother went to lie down. At last Kathleen could don her winter outerwear and hurry to visit Rosie.

The house rang with laughter as she stepped inside. Buck was on all fours on the floor, playing horsey to three boisterous boys.

Mattie tumbled off and pulled the others with him. They landed in a giggling heap. Buck corralled the trio and tickled them. They escaped to tackle him.

Rosie held young Lilly as she watched. Kathleen stood beside her and grinned at the roughhousing.

“They’ve missed Bill. He played with them,” Rosie said.

Kathleen tried to remember if she’d ever played with her father. She recalled only sedate walks during which she held his hand and flashed shiny new shoes. If not for the children of a large family—the Rempels—who lived a few blocks away, she wondered if she would even know what play was. Mary Rempel had been her best friend. Kathleen remembered afternoons of giggling and boisterous games and a pretend house in the bushes of the backyard. When the family moved away, Kathleen knew unabated loneliness until she went to a private girls’ school. But even then, her friendships proved transitory. Again, she wondered if it was her fault. Was she lacking some necessary social skill?

Buck rolled to his back, saw Kathleen watching him and grew still, his eyes flashing such warmth and welcome she forgot to breathe. “Hi,” he said. The word seemed to come from deep inside his chest.

Was it her imagination that made her think he silently invited her into a special world shared with him?

Of course it was. She gave herself a mental shake. “Everyone seems to be having a fine time.”

“It won’t last,” Rosie predicted. “Not this close to nap time.”

Mattie rolled into Junior, and right on cue they started to cry.

“Come on, you two.” Rosie led the way to the bedroom. “Bedtime.”

Buck sat up on the floor and pulled Joey into his arms. “What do you say, little buddy? Time for a rest?”

Joey pressed his head to Buck’s shoulder. “I sleep here?”

Buck nodded. “For a little while, though I think I’ll sit in a chair if you don’t mind.”

“I not mind.”

Cradling the boy, he plunked himself on a kitchen chair.

Kathleen realized she still wore her coat and slipped it off. She sat across the table from Buck as Joey’s eyes slowly closed. Watching the two of them brought a sting of tears to the back of her nose. “I think he’s asleep,” she whispered.

Buck nodded. “He’s still not up to his normal self.” He held the boy a moment longer, then laid him on the bed and covered him before he returned to the kitchen.

She sewed together more quilt pieces and tried not to be aware of his presence. Yet she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing at him.

He leaned his elbows on the table, rested his chin in his palms and studied her so intently she ducked her head and concentrated on taking a small, even stitch.

“Tell me how you celebrate Thanksgiving in your house.”

She drew in a steadying breath, grateful for the offer of normal conversation. “I love Thanksgiving. I didn’t always. We have a formal meal, sometimes with guests.” Mostly they were business associates and not exactly fun company for a young girl. “The mealtimes were often a bit dreary, but since the church started holding a special service with guest speakers and a shared meal, I’ve loved the day. More and more I appreciate how much God has blessed all of us.” Her hands grew still as she sought for words to explain what she meant. “I am in awe of how much God loves us that He sent his son to earth as a baby. Can you imagine sending Joey into a place where you knew he would be shunned and tortured?”

Bleakness filled Buck’s face, and she wished she hadn’t used his son as an example. She tended to forget he was mixed-race and likely faced prejudice.

“Good reason to spend winters in isolated shacks, wouldn’t you say?”

She didn’t think so, but how could she explain in such a way she wouldn’t be misunderstood? “What I see between you and Joey,” she began slowly, forming her thoughts as she spoke, “is a wonderful example of fatherly love and care. I’m convinced you would do anything for his well-being. I think by hiding your relationship, by seeking isolation, you deprive others of witnessing such a fine example. Our society is the poorer for the loss.” She could think of nothing more to add, though the words were inadequate for the emotion she tried to convey.

Buck stared at her, swallowed hard. “You make me want to walk boldly into the town’s businesses with Joey at my side.”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t.” But was it for his sake and Joey’s she wanted him to believe so? Or for her own sake? She let a picture form in her mind of Buck openly being her friend.

“Life isn’t so simple for everyone.” His expression grew hard, guarded. Again, the evidence of a secret. She wanted to ask him about it, but Rosie returned and took up needle and thread.

For the next few days, the afternoons passed in the same fashion with the exception that Buck didn’t give her an opportunity to say anything more about walking openly and proudly down the street. Kathleen prayed he would believe he could do so or that she would get a chance to discuss it again, because every day she discovered something more she liked and admired about this man—his easy laughter when he played with the children, the way he sprang to his feet to help Rosie. And herself. She ducked her head over her sewing to hide the heat in her cheeks as she thought of how he lifted her coat from her shoulders and hung it on the rack. A common courtesy, yet when his fingers brushed her neck her reaction was far from common. The way her heart lurched against her rib cage made it impossible to think.

Each afternoon, he escorted her home.

“Won’t you come in and meet Mother?” she asked on this particular day—a request she’d considered several times before, but because of her uncertainty as to how Mother would react, she’d never yet voiced it. Now she wanted nothing more than for Buck and Mother to meet.

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Buck said, his expression giving away nothing.

“I think you’d enjoy meeting my mother. And she you.”

He shook his head. “There are things you don’t know about me. No one here does. Best to keep it that way.”

“I wish you’d tell me what they are so I could understand.” She didn’t care that her request made it sound like she had a right to know, which she didn’t—except for the fact that she admired him and cared how he seemed to feel, he must remain an outsider.

A gentle smile lifted his lips and softened his gaze. “Maybe I will some time.” Hardness returned so fast, she almost gasped. “You do realize I promised Rosie I wouldn’t hang about until people noticed me. I think I am perilously close to reaching that place.”

She reached for his arm, stopped herself before she touched him. “You won’t suddenly disappear without a word, will you? I’ve had friends that dropped out of my life like that. I—” Why did she think it would matter how it had shattered her life? But she steadied her voice and continued. “I found it hard to accept. I asked myself all sorts of questions. Was it my fault? Was there something wrong with me? Wasn’t I worthy of their friendship?”