Unshaken

Chapter 23

23

Time was going far too slow for Stephanie. The problem was that she didn’t know how to do nothing .

After the excitement—and yes, the confusion—about lighting a fire, the cabin was toasty warm. That was a good thing too, since the wind had picked up and rain was starting to fall. Yet again.

Hours passed. After she and Bev talked for a while, Bev pulled out a book and started reading, while periodically looking out the window. She hadn’t said a word about Carter, but Stephanie suspected the man was on her new friend’s mind.

Or perhaps Bev was also looking for Hardy. After visiting with them a few more minutes, he’d left the cabin too. Stephanie imagined he was probably driving around the perimeter of the property, meeting with the other hands and guards, checking the horses, and whatever other things he seemed to have on his plate.

What didn’t escape Stephanie’s notice, however, was that Bev hadn’t seemed too worried about him. When Stephanie had shared that she would feel terrible if Hardy got hurt because of her, Bev had merely said that he was fine.

But to Stephanie’s mind, Hardy was neither bulletproof nor inexhaustible. Sure, he was big and strong and possessed a self-assuredness about him that few people could carry so well.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t also need a gentle touch or a look of concern.

Which she had no business thinking about.

Bothered by the direction of her thoughts, Stephanie walked into the kitchen, pulled out a soup pot, and filled it with water.

Beverly looked up from her book. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to make soup.”

“You’ve got enough ingredients for that?”

“There’s always ingredients for soup, Bev. At least, that’s what mei mommi used to say.”

Walking closer, she leaned on one of the counters. “You call your mother Mommy?”

“No. Mommi.” She repeated the word, this time with more of an accent. A slight addition of a guttural sound. “That means grandmother. It’s an endearing way of saying it. Like Grandma.”

“Ah. Well, that makes sense what she said about soup, then. Grandmothers have that way about them, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” Pulling open the refrigerator, she got out the carrots and celery and started chopping them on the counter. There were no cutting boards, but she didn’t need that. She’d chopped plenty of vegetables on top of plates and countertops.

“Would you like some help?”

Stephanie glanced up in surprise. She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t imagined that Bev was the type to enjoy working in the kitchen. “Would you like to help?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

She pointed to a cupboard. “There’s an onion inside. Chop it up. If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not.” Picking up another knife, she was soon dicing the onion into uniform cuts on a plate.

“You’ve done this before.”

“I have.” Bev flashed her a smile before returning her attention to the project. “My mother wasn’t around much growing up. She worked a lot—one of the places was a grocery store. She was always bringing home old produce.”

“Then she would cook it for you?”

“No. Our mom did her best for us, but she was always trying to fall in love.” Looking a little pained, Bev said, “Being alone was hard for her.” After dicing more of the onion, she added, “In any case, sometimes I’d check out a cookbook from the library and try a couple of things. Or Hardy and I would simply experiment. Then Mom would eat whatever we made when she got home.”

“You and your brother raised yourselves.”

“We had a lot of responsibility, that is true. But I wouldn’t say we never got any help. Mom taught us a lot. When she actually was around, she was with us, you know?”

“Kind of.” Their situation sounded confusing.

“See, when Mom was home, she wasn’t trying to clean or watch TV or whatever. She wanted to be with us. Every once in a while, we’d go to the park or something else that was free.” Her voice drifted off. “Once a year we’d go on a vacation. Sometimes it was just a motel with a pool with our meals at fast-food places, but that was special.”

Stephanie was mesmerized by Bev’s sweet tone. She’d accepted her mother’s imperfections, and somehow she’d done the same with others in her life. Like her foster kids. Like her. “You made the best of your situation.”

“Yes, we did. There was no other choice.” Looking a little melancholy, she added, “In that house was where I learned to make the best of my reality instead of spending all my time wishing things were different.”

Remembering Bev’s tough talk when they first met, Stephanie nodded. “I didn’t like hearing your advice, but I can’t say that it wasn’t helpful.”

“You may not believe this, but it was the only thing I could think of to get you to accept my help.” Bev shrugged. “Anyway, I guess I’m trying to say that there was a silver lining to the way Hardy and I grew up. All our chores and activities and time alone taught us to work hard and take care of ourselves. We did our homework because we had no choice. There was no way I was going to goof off or make up an excuse not to do something that needed to be done. I couldn’t count on my mom to help. She was too tired or too in love.” She smiled wryly. “Hardy and I have often said that our childhood served us well.”

While she’d been talking, Stephanie had been sautéing the vegetables in a little bit of oil. After adding a can of broth and some water, she inspected the pantry more closely. “You went to college, yes?”

“Yes, the University of Cincinnati.”

“And Hardy went into the Army and met Carter.”

“Yes. And now Hardy lives here full time.”

“He seems to like it.”

“I think so. Where we grew up, it was crowded and noisy. I think Hardy likes the openness here. You can see for miles. Plus, it’s quiet. After the Army and two deployments, he’s told me that he needs the quiet.”

“I like the quiet too. But it’s what I’m used to,” she said as she put in some dried peas.

Bev looked into the soup pot. “Looks like we’re having pea soup?”

She chuckled. “Jah. Maybe I’ll add some rice or noodles next. I haven’t decided.”

“I’m impressed.”

“I’d believe that if you couldn’t boil an egg, but now I know you’re just being kind. You could probably have made a better meal, Bev.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hey, Bev. Open up!” Hardy called out.

Stephanie stayed where she was while Bev unlocked the door and let Hardy inside.

“Man, it’s miserable outside,” he said as he toed off his boots and slicker.

“Let me go get you a towel,” Bev said.

While she disappeared into the bathroom, Hardy joined Stephanie in the kitchen. “Please tell me that’s soup.”

“It’s soup,” she said with a smile.

Looking pleased and very boyish with damp hair, he leaned over and peered in. “It smells good.”

“Thank you. Your sister helped.”

“I reckon she did. She’s a good cook.”

“I heard you both are.”

“I can make a few things, but I wouldn’t say that. Not like you.”

She glanced at him in surprise. There was something in his voice that was new. Turning away from the soup pot, she searched his face. Realized Hardy was staring at her with something that looked ... well, she wasn’t exactly sure what expression was on his face.

Or, maybe the truth was that she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Feeling self-conscious, she picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the ingredients again. Glanced down the hall. Bev had closed the bathroom door. They were still alone.

“Stephanie, do you have a boyfriend?”

She almost dropped the spoon. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious. Is that too personal?”

“I don’t know if it is or isn’t.” She shrugged. “But, nee. I do not.”

“Why not? Are all the boys in your hometown blind?”

“As far as I know, they can see quite well.” She fought off a smile.

“Then what’s the problem? Do none of them interest you?”

Not wanting to admit how little she’d been allowed to leave the house, she asked, “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?” She hadn’t thought to ask, but she knew she was a job to him.

“No.”

“I guess it’s my turn to ask why not.”

“The easy answer is that I don’t have time. I live on this ranch, handle security, and supervise the hands. If someone’s in a bind, I give them a hand, whether it’s in the fields or repairing something in the barn. It’s more than a full-time job.”

“You said ‘easy.’ Is that not the only answer?”

“Nope.” Averting his eyes, Hardy continued. “The better answer is that I’ve been a little gun-shy. I had a girl in high school for a while. I thought we were close, but she didn’t like me enlisting and moving away. I asked her to wait for me.”

“But she didn’t want to.”

“She didn’t want to.” Picking up a rag, he wiped down the counters. “Later, I dated a bit when I was in the military, but I couldn’t give the women what they wanted.”

“What did they want?”

“My time and attention.”

“Because you were working so much.”

“Yeah, but also because it didn’t feel right.” He stopped, looked out the window over the sink. “I never asked Bev about it, but sometimes I think growing up with a single parent gave Bev and me a different view than most grow up with. We didn’t see a relationship in action so in some ways sharing one’s life with a sweetheart seems foreign.” As if he was embarrassed about his words, he grimaced. “Of course, I was in the military too. It’s hard to form a serious attachment with someone when you’re out of the country for months at a time.”

“I wouldn’t have thought about those things, but I can see your point.” After making sure that they were still alone, she confided, “I once liked a boy very much, but I didn’t have much time to devote to him. My aunt and uncle are kind enough, but I am needed. I have to help take care of my young cousins. That didn’t leave me much extra time.”

He frowned. “And that boy didn’t like that?”

“He didn’t. And I didn’t realize it at the time, but my aunt and uncle didn’t encourage me being courted.”

“Maybe because they’d lose your help?”

“I think that might have been one of the reasons.”

“We’re a pair, aren’t we? Two people who are so different but are now forced to spend time together and get to know them, without the usual distractions in life.”

“We’re also discovering that maybe we’re not as different as we thought.”

“What do you think that means? That God has a sense of humor?”

She didn’t think that. She thought that perhaps the Lord had a plan and that was for the two of them to spend time together. But she didn’t want to admit that to Hardy. He was faithful but would probably not agree that her witnessing a murder had anything to do with God’s plan.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sorry, Hardy. I decided to brush my hair and put on a little bit of makeup. I was looking kind of rough,” Bev said as she joined them. “Here’s the towel.”

He grabbed it and moved into the living room.

Unable to help herself, Stephanie watched him rub the towel across his face. Dry his hair.

Realized Bev had noticed her staring at Hardy.

And so she redirected the conversation yet again. “What do you two think about adding a can of green beans?”

“Hmm. Let’s see,” Bev said as she gave the soup a stir before taking an experimental sip from the spoon.

“Well?” Hardy asked.

She grimaced. “Instead of beans, I think we need some seasonings and maybe some bacon or something.”

“So, no green beans?”

“No green beans. Not yet, Stephanie.”

“Understood.” She smiled at Bev. “I guess it’s time to fry some bacon.”

“I’ll do that,” Hardy volunteered as he opened up the refrigerator.

Then there they were. Three of them working together.

Even though the danger was still out there, Stephanie felt at peace.

Until she started to wonder what she was going to do when her adventure was all over and she was back with her aunt and uncle.

She’d be alone again—and it would be so hard. In so many ways.