Chapter Nineteen #2
He closed his eyes and the argument replayed itself with painful clarity. Just then, he heard the screen door open again and he turned, hoping to see Nora, but it was James. He stepped into the kitchen, removing his hat as he entered. His usual easy smile was nowhere to be found.
“I just passed Nora,” he said. “She nearly ran straight into me.” James studied him carefully. “She was crying.”
Henry said nothing.
“What did you say to her?”
Henry let out a weary breath. “I asked her some questions.”
James folded his arms. “Judging by the state she was in, I’d say you did rather more than that.”
Henry reached for the Bible and laid a hand across its worn cover. “I found this.”
James frowned. “The family Bible?”
“It has another name written inside.”
“So?”
“It isn’t Nora Smith.”
James looked unconcerned. “It could have belonged to a relative.”
“I thought that.” Henry’s voice grew quieter. “I wanted to believe that.” He looked toward the back door again. “But today I overheard her telling Lola that her mother died when she was born.”
James waited.
“The letters say otherwise.”
Henry rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“They speak of preserving peaches with her mother. Reading together in the evenings. Her mother’s name was Lillian.” He paused. “Nothing fits.”
James was silent for a long moment. “So, you confronted her.”
“I gave her every opportunity to explain.”
“And?”
“She wouldn’t.” Henry met his cousin’s eyes. “She simply kept saying she couldn’t.”
James nodded thoughtfully, as though weighing every word before speaking. “Did it occur to you that ‘couldn’t’ isn’t always the same as ‘wouldn’t’?”
Henry frowned. “What difference does it make?”
“It makes all the difference.” James pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down, resting his hat upon his knee.
“I’ve known you nearly all my life, Henry.
” A faint, wistful smile touched his face.
“Our mothers couldn’t keep us apart. Every summer I was here before the school term ended, and every autumn my own mother practically had to drag me home again. ”
Henry managed the ghost of a smile. “You were forever getting us into trouble.”
“I seem to remember you sharing the blame often enough.”
The brief warmth faded as James leaned forward. “Let me ask you something,” he said, as he gestured around the room. “Has that woman given you any reason to doubt her character?”
Henry hesitated. “No.”
“Has she mistreated Lola? Shirked a single chore? Or asked you for money?”
Henry shook his head.
“Then tell me this.” James’s expression grew earnest. “What has she actually done?”
Henry opened his mouth and then closed it again.
His cousin answered for him. “She’s scrubbed floors that hadn’t seen proper attention in months and coaxed smiles out of a little girl who scarcely spoke above a whisper.
She’s cooked your meals, tended your gardens, and looked after your family.
” He paused. “And she has asked for almost nothing in return.”
Henry’s gaze drifted toward the fresh biscuits on the counter. James followed his eyes.
“You’ve been looking for evidence that she’s deceiving you. But have you noticed the evidence of who she is?”
Henry swallowed.
“I’ve watched you these past few weeks,” James continued. “You’ve laughed.”
“Not often.”
“But more than you did before she arrived.”
Henry said nothing, because it was true. James knew it and he knew it, too. Whoever Nora was, it didn’t matter. She had proved her character to him time and time again. And she had changed things, she’d made everything better.
Henry exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “I told her to leave.”
James closed his eyes briefly. “Oh, Henry.”
“I didn’t mean...” He stopped, the words sounded hollow now. “I only meant that I couldn’t live with the lies.”
James stood and crossed the room until he was beside his cousin. “You know what I think?”
Henry looked at him.
“I think you’ve spent so long preparing yourself for disappointment that you’ve forgotten what grace looks like.” James rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder.
“Whatever she’s hiding may be serious,” Henry said.
“Maybe,” his cousin agreed. “But until today, everything she’s shown you has been kindness.”
Henry looked toward the back door.
“If there is a story she cannot yet tell, perhaps she’s been waiting for someone she could trust enough to tell it to.”
Henry’s stomach sank. James was not wrong. Twice during their conversation, she had almost spoken and twice, she had stopped herself. At the time, he had taken it as further proof of deception.
Now, he wondered, had she been trying? Should he have been more patient, more willing to listen?
The thought settled heavily in his chest. His anger, so fierce only minutes earlier, seemed almost unrecognizable now, and in its place came a deep and humbling shame.
He had demanded trust from a woman whose own fear he had scarcely tried to understand.
“I’ve made a terrible mess of this.”
James gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You have.”
Henry let out a slow breath. “I owe her an apology.”
“You do.” James’s expression softened. “Just don’t wait too long.”
Henry looked through the kitchen window toward the fading light beyond the barn.
Somewhere out there, Nora was alone. And for the first time since she had come to the ranch, Henry feared not that she might be lying to him but that, by letting his hurt speak louder than his compassion, he might have driven her away before she ever found the courage to tell him the truth.