Just Above a Whisper

by Lori Wick

  “No.”

  Conner should have seen that coming.

  “I want you to,” he tried.

  “I’m all right.”

  “I think that might be open for debate.”

  At the moment Reese was defensive enough to raise her chin, her eyes defiant not just with her employer but with the pain.

  “Can you stand?” Conner tried.

  “I’m sure I can.”

  “Have you tried?”

  “You opened the door before I could reach the handle.” She made it sound as though it was all his fault.

  “Is your ankle hurt?”

  “My knee.”

  “We need the small coach,” Conner suddenly said, and Reese realized that Troy was in the house behind her.

  “No,” Reese began, but she was roundly ignored.

  “Okay,” the older man agreed. “It’s been sitting a while and might take a little doing.”

  “No, really,” Reese started again. “I think I can stand.”

  “Do you want me to help you to your feet?” Conner offered; Troy had gone to the stables.

  “No!” Reese nearly shouted the word, panic filling her.

  “All right,” Conner agreed, thinking it was too bad that he scared her. “I’ll go help with the coach, and maybe you’ll be on your feet by the time I get back. Shall I shut this door?”

  “Thank you,” Reese said, humbled by his willingness to let her try. She sat very still until the door shut and then began to work her way to the landing again. Fear drove her, and she managed to reach the door handle swiftly. That was the last thing that went well. Try as she might, she could not pull herself up while only using one leg. Each time she tried, her other leg bent of its own volition, and she ended up gasping with the hurt. A few tries and she was more frustrated and crushed than she’d been in many long months, and so winded she didn’t think she could go again. Conner found her like this.

  “It didn’t work,” Reese volunteered, hands to her face in distress. “I’m going to lose my job.”

  “Why would you lose your job?”

  Alarmed to see that Conner was coming her way, Reese could not force out an answer. Without apology or word, he lifted her into his arms. Reese’s hands were still on her cheeks and she trembled with more than pain.

  Conner didn’t delay but walked swiftly toward the waiting carriage around the house in the stable yard, and placed Reese inside. He climbed into the seat, took the reins from Troy, and put the horse into motion.

  “Where to, Reese?” he asked, managing to be heard when he shifted to glance at her.

  Reese gave instructions, trying to keep her knee straight, and in what felt like an eternity later, they were pulling up outside of Mrs. Greenlowe’s white house.

  That lady had come outside as soon as she spotted the carriage. “Why, Reese, what happened?”

  “I wrenched my knee,” Reese told her, feeling as though she could actually cry.

  “Well, let me help you,” Mrs. Greenlowe offered, but Conner was already there, lifting her and taking her up the steps into the open house door. He didn’t wait for instructions but found the parlor and set Reese on the sofa. Still bent over her, he spoke.

  “Come back to work when you’re ready.”

  Conner then nodded to Mrs. Greenlowe, said goodbye, and exited, leaving those women to stare after him and then at each other.

  “All set?” Troy asked Conner when he joined him at the bank.

  “Yes. She was most upset about losing her job.”

  “I can see how she would be. What did you tell her?”

  “To return when she’s ready.”

  “And in the meantime, you’ll have to eat my cooking,” Troy offered.

  “There’s always the tavern,” Conner teased before they got down to serious work.

  “Have more tea,” Mrs. Greenlowe ordered as she refilled Reese’s cup with the drink she believed would cure all.

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Greenlowe had done everything Reese would allow in order to make her comfortable. The knee was wrapped in cool cloths, but not wanting it to bend, Reese refused a pillow at first. Mrs. Greenlowe finally put it under Reese’s foot. Reese also denied the poultice Mrs. Greenlowe wanted to try, not believing in such things when the skin wasn’t broken.

  “Did you have dinner?” Mrs. Greenlowe finally asked, always eager to feed someone.

  “I don’t think I did. I didn’t get dinner cleaned up at the big house either.”

  “Well, if Mr. Kingsley can haul you around like you were a feather, he can lift a dish and take it to the kitchen.”

  For the first time in two hours Reese felt like laughing. She chuckled while Mrs. Greenlowe went to the kitchen to prepare a plate. All the time she worked, she shouted out to Reese.

  “You didn’t tell me he’s the size of a small mountain. I don’t know why you don’t mention these things. And with that soft voice. I could barely hear him. And polite. I like a man who doesn’t talk your ear off.

  “That was a nice coach too. How many do they have? I thought they came by train. Has that been here all these years, or did it just come? I’ll bet that was the horse he rides. It was a big one.”

  Reese only half listened. When she thought about being carried around so far off the ground, she lost her breath again. And Mr. Kingsley had been nice, even Reese had to admit that. He’d talked to her and not just given orders, and everything had gone very swiftly.

  But most of all, he’d been right. She couldn’t stand on her feet right now, and working had not been an option. She planned to be back on the job in the morning, but right now her knee was too swollen.

  “I won’t be able to climb stairs,” Reese told Mrs. Greenlowe when she brought her a plate of food. “I’ll need to camp out down here.”

  “You don’t fit on that sofa, but we’ll make you comfortable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I picked these up just in time,” Mrs. Greenlowe said, pulling a table close and setting out the fabric swatches. “Since you can’t jump up and clean anything, you can look at the swatches I picked out.”

  “Is that red?” Reese asked with a frown, and Mrs. Greenlowe whipped that piece of fabric away.

  “For an apron,” the woman defended herself. “I look right snappy in red.”

  It was happening again. Even with the pain of her knee, Reese wanted to laugh.

  Eleven

  Troy was the one to hear the knock. He wasn’t expecting anyone at this time of the morning, and curiosity more than anything else drove him swiftly to the front door. He found Reese.

  “Reese!” Troy said with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry to come to the front,” she said, thinking that’s what he meant.

  “But what about your knee?”

  “I can work today if I don’t have to climb stairs, so I can still get your meals and work on the rooms on this level.”

  “Have you been using the side door all this time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought it was best.”

  Troy stood aside, realizing he had left her on the stoop. He could certainly see why she felt that way after the way she’d been treated, but it was still very hard on his heart.

  “Are you certain you’re up to this?”

  Before Reese could answer, Conner had spotted them by the front door and was coming their way.

  “Reese?” he questioned, echoing Troy. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to make breakfast,” she said, even managing to get her chin up a little; lately she felt safer if she allowed herself to become a bit defiant. While this was certainly not her normal personality, right now it felt like survival.

  “I don’t think you should do that,” Conner said.

  “You have to eat,” Reese countered quietly, never dreaming they would object. Mr. Zantow hadn’t cared how she felt.

  The men only
stared at her, and Reese, not knowing what to do with their expressions, backed toward the door, all defiance deserting her.

  “I’ll go,” she said, trying to push away the thought of not being paid for a whole day, added to yesterday’s half-day.

  “We’ll take you back,” Troy offered.

  “I can walk, thank you,” Reese said and slipped out the door again.

  Troy rarely saw Conner frustrated, but this was one of those times.

  “What should we have done?” the younger man asked, his hands up in defeat.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know why she felt so desperate to come.”

  Conner walked to a parlor window that let him see down the street. Reese was making her way methodically along, but not walking with her normal stride.

  “How will she know when to come back?” Troy asked, but then he spotted something. “She’s not going home.”

  “I see that.” Conner followed her progress.

  “She’s headed into Shephard Store,” Troy said, looking at Conner. The two men began to smile.

  “I think she meant it. We should have let her stay.”

  “Will she come back tomorrow?’

  “I hope so.” Troy’s look made Conner laugh. “Otherwise you’re stuck with my cooking for more than one day.”

  “Well, Reese,” Doyle greeted her with a smile. “What brings you out in the middle of the week?”

  “I’m shopping for dress fabric, and then I want to look at shoes. Just look,” she emphasized, not willing to touch her money in the bank unless she was desperate.

  “Right over here,” Doyle indicated with pleasure, not noticing that Reese was not having a very good time. Her knee did hurt, but more than that, she worried about the money she was losing. She had to have a new dress—there was no getting around it—but shoes would have to wait. Today she would just price them and plan.

  If she’d only kept her head at the big house and not backed away, she might have been able to work. But she couldn’t tell what Conner was thinking, and she had to be feeling very brave to cross that man. Trying not to dwell on it anymore, Reese brought out the swatches she’d stuffed into her pocket at the last minute and put Doyle to work.

  “How are you feeling?” Alison asked of Maddie, who had stopped in soon after dinner with a recipe that Alison wanted to try. Maddie felt comfortable enough to stay while the pastor’s wife started her baking.

  “A little donsie now and then, but most days I’m good until evening. Then I fall asleep in the parlor each night.”

  “It’s nice that you don’t feel sick all the time.”

  “I’m not crazy about the taste of chicken right now, but nothing else has changed.”

  A baby’s cry came from the stairway just then, and both women looked to see Peter coming from the back stairs, Jeffrey in his arms.

  “He tipped over and bumped his head,” Peter explained.

  Tears of self-pity rolled down the baby’s round cheeks, intensifying when he spotted his mother. Alison took Jeffrey in her arms, cuddled him close, and told him all would be well. She smiled at a delighted-looking Maddie as the cries turned to sniffles and shudders.

  “May I hold him?” Maddie offered, almost pleased that he was upset and she could comfort him.

  “Certainly. He needs to eat, so you might not have a great time.”

  As soon as Alison said this, they all heard a knock on the front door.

  “Pete, will you please get that?”

  “Okay.”

  Peter skipped off in that direction and found Reese on the step.

  “Hi, Reese.”

  “Hi, Pete. How are you?” she asked as he opened the door to allow her in.

  “I’m fine. Are you limping?” he asked, having followed her through the parlor toward the kitchen.

  “Yes. I fell on my knee at work yesterday.”

  “Hello,” both Alison and Maddie greeted when Reese arrived in the kitchen. Reese kissed the top of Jeffrey’s little head and took a seat nearby.

  “Not working today?” Maddie asked.

  Reese made a face. “I hurt my leg yesterday, and they didn’t want me to work at the big house.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Troy and Mr. Kingsley.”

  “I met them on Sunday,” Maddie said. Jace had approached the new men, and Maddie had trailed after him. “They seem kind enough.”

  “They are,” Reese said rather noncommittally.

  “Why exactly didn’t they want you to work?” Alison asked as Reese came to the worktable and started forming one of the piecrusts Alison had ready.

  “I think they’re concerned that I’m more hurt than I realize.”

  “Are you very hurt?” Alison made a point of asking.

  “A little, but as long as I stay off stairs, I do all right.”

  “You limped, Reese,” Peter mentioned.

  “That’s true,” she agreed. “Bending it is a little tough.”

  “How did you fall?” This came from Maddie, who had gone to gently bouncing Jeffrey because he was showing the symptoms of hunger as Alison had predicted.

  “Who fell?” Hillary asked, having just come in the side door, Joshua and Martin coming after her.

  “I did,” Reese explained. “I missed the back step at the big house and fell to the ground.”

  “You poor thing,” Alison was in the midst of saying when someone else knocked on the front door.

  “I’ll go,” Peter offered.

  Peter had seen this man at church, or he might have shut the door in his face. The very large Conner Kingsley stood on the step, looming over Peter like a tree.

  “Is your father home?” he asked in his quiet way.

  “No,” Peter whispered back.

  “Your mother?”

  “In the kitchen,” Peter said, still whispering and backing up so Conner could enter. Not able to stop glancing at him, Peter led the way. The women were talking in complete comfort, Jeffrey still in Maddie’s arms and Reese now filling one of the piecrusts, when Conner’s frame filled the door.

  For some reason, the first pair of eyes he met belonged to Reese Thackery. With no hesitation, her chin came up and her eyes grew slightly defiant.

  “Please excuse me,” Conner apologized when quiet descended on the group, and he finally found Alison’s face in the mob. “My brother sent me a letter that I thought Dooner might enjoy reading. May I leave it for him?”

  “Certainly,” Alison said, wiping her hands and heading that way. “I’ll tell him you stopped.”

  “Thank you.” Conner managed to nod to all of them before his eyes found Reese again. He found her look still guarded.

  Moments later, Conner was back out the door of the Muldoon house and headed to the bank. He went directly to Troy, who was doing something behind the counter.

  “You’ll never guess who’s standing in the kitchen making pies at the Muldoon house this very moment.”

  “Do not tell me it’s Reese,” Troy warned. “Not after we ate cold leftovers.”

  Conner’s only answer was an ironic raising of his dark brows.

  “I’m heading over to make sure she knows she can come in the morning,” Troy continued.

  Conner laughed, certain he was joking, but Troy was shrugging into his coat and heading out the door.

  “He’s so tall,” Hillary mentioned. The boys had all wandered off, and Alison was nursing the baby.

  “He is tall,” Maddie agreed.

  “How tall are you, Reese? I can’t remember.”

  “I’m six feet.”

  “Even?”

  “Maybe a quarter inch over, but I always just say six feet.”

  “How tall is Mr. Kingsley?”

  “He must be five or six inches taller than I am,” Reese guessed.

  When the third knock sounded in a very short time, Alison laughed a little. She also shifted her chair in the corner of the kitchen, making her all but invisible to the door as Hillary went to
answer. The young lady of the family returned with an apologetic Troy Thaden.

  “Forgive me, Reese,” he began, “for intruding on your time, but I just wanted to make sure we didn’t say anything that made you feel that you couldn’t return to work in the morning.”

  Reese smiled. “I’ll be there.”

  Troy’s sigh made her laugh. It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to come that evening, but she remembered her dress fabric and decided against it.

  “Thank you, and again, I’m sorry to invade your privacy.”

  The women held their laughter only until they’d heard the door close.

  Douglas and Jace were shirtless, backs glistening with sweat, as they worked alongside the wagon, forking hay into the bed. As they worked, they talked.

  “I can’t believe what I didn’t know. Do you know how arrogant I was? I thought I had it all figured out, but I’d never even read the book of Genesis! I’d only heard the occasional story that I assumed to be part myth.

  “When did you know, Douglas?” Jace suddenly straightened up and asked. “When did you understand that God is behind it all? That He’s the creator?”

  “I grew up in a Christian home, Jace. I was taught the book of Genesis, as well as the rest of the Bible, from the moment I could hear, but the defining point came for me when I was a teen. Two people in my life died, my grandfather and the sister of a friend. It was at that time that I had to face whether or not this belief was mine or my parents’.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I read my Bible nonstop for about a week. All I did was sit and read, and everything I read, I knew that God had had a hand in it. I compared verses, the Old Testament with the New Testament. Books that had been written hundreds of years apart still proclaimed the same message. I realized that could only be God directing the pens of each author until His message was clear.

  “I also learned during that time that it was all right to grieve. Jesus mourned over Israel, and He forgave those who put Him to death. I knew that it was good and right that I hurt for a time but also that I put the past behind me and move on to the future.”