Chapter 7 #2
“What about those out there?” He jerked his head toward the other room.
“Them?” She blinked and drew her lips into—
Squinting and leaning close, he let out an exasperated huff. “You’re joshing me, aren’t you?”
Her laugh rebounded to the corners of the room.
“You are a tease.”
“And you like it.”
Their gazes crashed at her assessment and his silent admission. Yes, he liked it. Very much. More than he had a right to. Except—
What stopped him from showing his interest in her?
He had his own place. He had a house suitable for a family. In fact, why had he built it as if he had, in the back of his mind, behind the debris of his past, always planned for a family of his own?
Only one thing stood in his way. The secret of his past he wanted no one to know. Ever.
“Shall we?” He stepped aside and gestured for her to leave before him.
They set the books on the table, and everyone except Mrs. Stone, who continued to sleep, chose a title. Nash picked the travel diary of David Thompson and looked around, uncertain where he wanted to sit. The benches were a bit crowded.
Addie claimed one of the novels and sat on the floor with her back to the wall close to her mother. In the same spot as they’d been last night. Where she’d fallen asleep on Nash’s shoulder.
“Mind if I join you?” He waited for her go-ahead nod before he lowered himself to her side. He had so much he wanted to know about her. But not now, with the others so close. Surely there’d come a time and a place before they reached Golden Valley and parted ways. He’d make sure of it.
For now, he’d bide his time, and he opened the book and began to read.
Quiet descended, carrying only the rain on the roof, the turning of pages, the ticking of the clock on the wall by the cupboard, and the hitch of Mr. Zacharius’s breathing.
The recounting of exploration and discoveries proved interesting enough, but Nash kept losing his place.
Addie didn’t seem to have the same problem. She turned the pages at a steady pace. Twice, she groaned as if the characters in her book had made a foolish choice. Once, she laughed softly.
Nash held the book open on his lap. His reading forgotten; he rested his head against the wall and studied Addie.
She’d brushed her hair at some point, and it hung in a neat braid down her back, various shades of blonde running in and out of the curves.
Her neck was slender, the skin white, unmarred except for a row of freckles along her hairline.
They were so pale no one would have noticed them without close scrutiny, which explained why he’d observed them.
Her ears were smallish, and he smiled at that realization, though he couldn’t say why.
Her shoulders twitched.
Had she grown aware of his study?
Before he got his attention back to the pages, she caught him staring.
What did he see in her eyes? Surprise? Or was it—?
She met him look for look. Examining him as much as he examined her. Her gaze scanned his face, dropped to his right shoulder, crossed his chest in a measured pace, reached his left shoulder, and returned to his face, stopping when their eyes connected.
The air between them shimmered with possibility.
Mr. Zacharius coughed long and hard, jarring their attention toward him.
They looked at each other again, but the boundaries were again in place. The moment had passed. He shifted his gaze to the window. Rain still streaked it. According to the clock, the afternoon drew to an end.
Addie eased to her feet. “I’ll see what I can find for supper.”
He followed on her heels. “I’ll help.”
Side by side, they examined the cupboard’s contents. Despite Mr. Bertrand’s complaints about beans, those would have to do for supper.
“I’ll make biscuits again,” he offered. “Unless you’d like to.”
She held her palms toward him. “I couldn’t compete with your expertise.”
He scoffed. “I have no doubt you can make them as well as I.”
“Oh, I don’t think you can be certain of that.” One of those palms lowered with a dismissive wave. “You go ahead while I slave over the beans. First, I have to find a can opener.”
They grinned at each other.
Hawk left, saying he had to do chores. By the time he returned, the biscuits were ready to eat. Addie had found a can opener, opened half a dozen cans, and dumped them into the big pot.
Before she went to the table, she took water to her mother, waking her to drink.
Mrs. Stone again refused food.
At the way Addie’s eyes dimmed, Nash squeezed her shoulder. “She’s resting.” As if that wasn’t obvious. But what other assurances could he offer?
Addie nodded. “And she isn’t burning up. But I wish she would rally.”
They joined the others at the table, crowded together. Nash resisted the urge to put his arm around Addie’s shoulders, draw her even closer, and offer his comfort.
Again, he said grace and included a request for Mrs. Stone to get better. Addie rewarded him with a whispered thanks.
Only one person complained about the menu. Everyone else thanked Addie and Nash for preparing the food.
After the meal, Mr. Zacharius offered to help with the washing up, but Addie waved him away. “It’s not necessary, but thanks.”
Nash hoped he didn’t smile wide enough to make the others wonder at the reason, but it pleased him that Addie didn’t want to share their time together with anyone else. But how long could they linger over the few dishes, pretending to be busy so they could stand side by side, talking softly?
“Did you ever reach a crossroads in your faith such as I did?” It seemed like a good place to begin learning more about her.
She squeezed the water from the washrag and twisted it to within a fraction of destruction. Although she hadn’t answered his question, he knew she had.
“I did.”
“Care to tell me about it?”
Her shoulders rose and fell as she drew in several deep breaths. Just when he thought she’d refuse, the words ground from her throat.
“It happened after my parents died.” She turned to face him full-on, troubled emotions racing through her eyes. “They died needlessly and cruelly.”
He placed both hands on her shoulders to still their quivering. As she leaned into his grasp, the shaking quietened. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, wanting to crush her to his chest and erase every ugly memory.
Her gaze searched his, and he held steady, letting her look long and deep.
“So many things ran through my mind when it happened, but mostly, I asked why. Why hadn’t God protected them? Weren’t we supposed to trust Him to take care of us?”
He squeezed her shoulders tighter. Oh, for the freedom to hold her.
“The preacher and his wife took me home.” She glanced at Mrs. Stone to indicate they were the same people.
“I was silent for days. Then I cried endlessly for days. Poor Mother. She didn’t know what to do.
” A smile drove away the shadows of her memories.
“She did the right thing. She hugged me when I let her. She prayed over me, and I know she prayed lots when I wasn’t with her.
When I stopped crying and started asking questions, hard, accusing questions, both she and Father listened, and when they thought I would hear what they had to say, they read Scripture to me and helped me see that bitterness and unforgiveness were a poison to the one who harbored them and did nothing to the other person. ”
He nodded. “Did anything specific make you accept that? Perhaps a time and a place when you chose God’s way over yours?”
“Like you did?”
“Yes.”
“I did not have a hillside experience. But—” She grew thoughtful as if recalling something.
“One Sunday, I sat in church as Father preached. The sun filtered through the frosted windows. Someone had brought a bouquet of lilacs, and the scent filled the room. A little girl I’d helped take care of when her mother lay ill sat across the aisle.
She turned and waved. The whole family sat together, their illness in the past. I remember thinking how pleasant life was.
And a Bible verse came to mind. ‘This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.’ That’s when I decided to enjoy every day God gave me.
Yes, sometimes the days are loaded with trouble and sorrow, but even then, I can rejoice because God is my strength and my salvation.
” She laughed a little. “I think I said more than I needed to.”
“Not at all. I can see you live that lesson.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened.
Sensing she wanted to hear more, he continued. “You take care of your mother. You are patient with others. I’ve never seen any crossness in you.”
“Thank you for saying that.” She planted her hands over his, where they still gripped her shoulders.
They stood that way as she drank from his eyes.
The door opened and closed as Mr. Bertrand grumbled his way to the outhouse.
Addie and Nash dropped their hands to their sides and stepped back, leaving Nash with a yearning he’d never before experienced.
He allowed himself to think this would become the beginning of something special between them, unmarred by his past. His insides quaked as if the past shook itself in warning.
If only he could be someone other than who he was.