by Lori Wick
Conner stopped reading. He did think of his mother—he thought of her at some point every day—but a sense of unreality had come over him since coming to Tucker Mills. At times it felt as though she was still waiting for him in Linden Heights. His heart would think of her welcoming him home and know instantly that it wasn’t true, but each time the image caught him short.
For just a moment he went back. Back to a time when her mind was still lucid. Her body had become weak and frail, but the fear had not set in yet, and she still looked at him with tenderness, remembering that she was the mother and he the child.
I never saw you marry, she said on one occasion. I always thought I would.
You sound like you’re going somewhere, Conner had teased her gently.
Thankfully, I am, she teased back. So tell me, why have you never married, Conner? Please don’t say it’s because of me.
It’s not. I just never found someone who would have me.
I still say you should have married Ruth or Eliza Thaden.
They’re like sisters and you know it.
She had taken his hand then. It would be wonderful for me to see you give your heart away.
Conner folded Dalton’s letter, knowing that finishing it right now was not a good idea. The memory of his mother’s death was too fresh. Mabelle Kingsley had dealt with fear off and on for most of Conner’s life. At times it had been very hard, but until the very end of her life she’d been more than a mother; she’d been his friend, the person who had been with him during the hardest days of his life.
Conner put the letter on the dresser, grabbed his coat, and headed for the stairs. He wanted to hear all that Dalton had to say and planned to write back, but for now it would have to wait.
Reese was headed back to Doyle’s to finish yesterday’s list when Alison called to her.
“Can you stop in?” the pastor’s wife asked when Reese met her in the yard.
“Not this morning. I’ve got to fill this list that didn’t get taken care of yesterday.”
“Douglas and I stopped by the house last night. Mr. Somer was sleeping, but we had a nice visit with Mrs. Somer.”
“I’m sure she appreciated it. It’s been pretty upsetting.”
“Before I forget, can you join us for dinner after services on Sunday? Would Mrs. Greenlowe mind?”
“I don’t think so. Can I bring something?”
“One of your pies if you have time to bake.”
“All right. I’ll plan on it.”
Reese didn’t linger but moved on to Doyle’s, her mind on the list.
“Back to finish your list, Reese?” Doyle asked when he saw her come in.
“Yes. It seemed more important yesterday than today, but I still need things.”
Doyle nodded, and Reese watched his face.
“Are you all right, Doyle?”
“Just thinking,” he responded as though he were in a world of his own. Shaking his head a little, he asked, “What’s first?”
Reese began reading her list, assuming he didn’t want to speak of his thoughts, but she was wrong. When her basket was full and all seemed to be in order, Doyle said a bit more.
“You just never know, do you?”
“That’s true,” Reese agreed, understanding what he meant; you couldn’t be in the store and not think of it. “It certainly compels us to know our eternity is in order.”
“If we can know,” Doyle said, his voice low.
“I guess that’s determined by whether we believe the Bible or not.”
“I believe the Bible.”
“The Bible says we can know, Doyle,” Reese told him, shifting items in her basket to make it easier to carry.
“Where does it say that?”
“Lots of places, but I don’t have those verses memorized. Do you want me to ask Douglas about it?”
Doyle hesitated. “Would Jace know?”
“Probably, or he could find out.”
“I’ll check with Jace,” Doyle confirmed, not growing embarrassed with Reese’s matter-of-fact way.
“Thanks for everything, Doyle.”
“Thank you, Reese.”
Reese went on her way. The basket was heavy, but that was a good reminder of how heavy sin was. She asked God to keep Doyle’s hunger alive and to give Jace the answers.
“Vera?”
Reese turned to the large man who had come into her kitchen after dinner and tried not to smile.
“No,” she told him softly.
“All right.” He wasn’t put off in the least; indeed, he looked like a man with a mission. “Next question: Why is he Troy, and I’m Mr. Kingsley?”
Reese didn’t even remember using the men’s names when they came home to eat, but her employer clearly wanted to know.
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious how you decide. You call Dooner Douglas, but use Mr. Leffler and Mr. Jenness for those men. How do you decide which name to use?”
“Troy asked me to call him Troy, and I didn’t meet Douglas as a pastor. They were just Douglas and Alison, so I’ve never used their formal names.”
“So if I told you to call me Conner, would you do it?”
Reese had to think about this. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“You don’t seem to have an issue with Troy.”
“He’s a grandpa,” Reese said, mentioning the first thing that came to mind.
The lift of Conner’s brows was hysterical. Reese put her hand to her mouth, but the laugh still escaped.
“On second thought,” Conner spoke when she was quiet, “your logic might scare me, so don’t tell me.”
“I won’t,” Reese agreed, but she was still smiling.
Conner shook his head as he exited, not sure what had compelled him to ask but glad that he had. Her answer had given him another glimpse of her personality, a personality that was beginning to captivate him.
Reese did not expect to see Conner and Troy at the Muldoon house, but she still had a smile for both men before going to the kitchen to see what she could do. As usual, Alison was very organized, but Reese’s hands still joined Alison’s and Hillary’s, and soon they were sitting down to eat.
Reese was between Martin and Peter. Douglas prayed to thank God for the food, and the dishes were passed. Reese waited only until she’d served herself to stand and go to Alison. She took Jeffrey from his mother’s arms and went back to her seat. Happy to eat with one hand and hold the baby with the other, Reese managed both tasks, gaining an adoring smile from Jeffrey every time she looked his way. At the same time, both Peter and Martin talked to her.
Troy was sitting across from Reese, quietly taking all of this in. Not certain when he’d last met someone of Reese’s skills, he shot subtle glances her way unless a question was put to him. In the course of the meal, Reese worked on her food, put her nose in the baby’s cheek whenever she could, and rubbed until he smiled. And when Martin needed something, Reese managed that as well.
Amazed just watching her, Troy knew in his heart that she was the woman for Conner Kingsley. He knew that saying something would never work, but in the time he’d known Reese, he was very impressed.
A question came his way from Douglas, and Troy was glad for the diversion. The thoughts running through his mind were very emotionally draining. It was far easier to answer a question concerning banking.
When everyone had eaten their fill, Reese and Hillary offered to do the dishes. The parlor door was closed, and the women went to work. There was quite a bit to wash, but the youngest women in the house were making quick work of it when Hillary had a question for Reese.
“Do you ever think about getting married?”
“Sometimes,” Reese answered. “How about you, Hillary?”
“Sometimes,” Hillary echoed, a smile in her voice.
“What made you think of that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Hillary hedged. “I just got to daydreaming about seeing you married.”
&nb
sp; “Why me?”
“I just think I could find a great husband for you.”
“Is that right?” Reese teased, not taking her seriously.
“Um hm.”
Hearing her very satisfied tone, Reese turned completely away from the dishpan in order to face the younger woman.
“You have someone in mind,” she accused.
“Did I say that?” Hillary asked with all the innocence she could muster, but her act didn’t work.
“Hillary Muldoon, you do have someone in mind!”
Hillary didn’t answer, but neither could she stop smiling.
Douglas chose that moment to come into the kitchen, and Reese turned to him.
“Douglas, since I’m the older woman, does Hillary have to do what I say?”
Douglas laughed and said, “I’m not going to get into this.”
“She has a husband picked out for me and won’t tell me who it is,” Reese complained, and Douglas was all at once interested.
“As a matter of fact, Hillary, I think it only right that you respect Reese’s age and tell her what she wants to know.”
His mock serious tone and face sent his daughter into gales of laughter, and she couldn’t say a word. Her laughter only caused Reese and Douglas to start, and this was the way Conner found them.
“This sounds fun,” he said, eyes taking in all of them.
“Ignore us, Conner,” Douglas contained himself long enough to say. “What can I get you?”
“A glass of water, please.”
Conner’s needs were taken care of, and he and Douglas returned to the parlor.
“Are you ever going to tell me?” Reese asked when they were finally alone.
“I don’t know,” Hillary smiled, never intending to tease or make fun. “Maybe in time.”
Reese asked a few more times, even trying to gain a hint while they finished in the kitchen, but not at any point would Hillary reveal who she had in mind.
“What did you do this afternoon?” Reese asked her landlady after she had taken a seat in the parlor. She had once again invited her to the meetinghouse, but the older woman had again declined.
“Just some sewing,” Mrs. Greenlowe answered, looking a little tired. “Who was at Muldoons’?”
“Just Mr. Thaden and Mr. Kingsley.”
“Was that a little strange for you?”
“No,” Reese said sincerely. “I see them off and on all day, and they’re at the meetinghouse on Sundays, so it’s not that unusual.”
As soon as the words were out of Reese’s mouth, she realized how true they were. Life around the two men had become very routine. And in a very short time. It wasn’t too many days ago that she feared displeasing Troy Thaden. At the same time, terror was the only way she could have described her feelings for Conner Kingsley, but she’d been all wrong about that.
“I’m going to head over and see Mr. Somer,” Reese announced when the room stayed quiet. “I’ll come home in time to put tea on.”
“You’re a good girl, Reese,” Mrs. Greenlowe said, once again giving her the long-standing compliment. Reese thought about it as she walked to the Somer home. One day she’d be thinking fast enough to ask Mrs. Greenlowe what she meant by that.
“Come and see me this week,” Doyle said softly to Jace as he and Maddie were leaving the Shephard home.
“Okay,” Jace agreed, but his eyes were full of questions. He was about to voice his thoughts when Cathy came back from seeing Maddie into the wagon. The very small shake of Doyle’s head arrested all ideas of that. Jace simply thanked Doyle and gave Cathy a hug.
Once in the wagon, Maddie didn’t seem to notice that Jace was quiet and thoughtful. It was just as well. He didn’t know what was going on and really had nothing to report.
“Are you asleep?” Douglas asked his daughter when he checked on her that night.
“No, I just put the light out.”
Douglas sat on the side of Hillary’s bed and found her hand.
“Do you really have someone in mind for Reese?”
Hillary’s laughter sounded in the darkness, and Douglas, having to soften his own laughter, hushed her.
“You’re going to wake the boys.”
“I can’t help it. You were the one to come in and start that subject again.”
“That’s true, but I’m also the one who wants an answer.”
“In the morning,” Hillary said.
“Why then?”
“I can’t see your face right now.”
Hillary’s whole bed shook with silent laughter as she heard her father finding the flint to light her bedside candle. When he had it lit, he held it close to his face and grinned at her. Hillary, who was not normally a silly girl, found herself giggling.
“Come on now,” Douglas coaxed. “Let’s have it.”
“Mr. Kingsley.”
Hillary would not have missed her father’s expression for a fortune. He looked surprised, doubtful, and then thoughtful, all in the space of a few moments.
“You know,” he said slowly. “You might be right.”
“I think they already care for each other and don’t know it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just the way he watches her, and the looks she sometimes gives him.”
Douglas had put the candle back on the table, but Hillary could see that he was still thinking.
“She’s certainly not afraid of him anymore,” Douglas said thoughtfully.
“Why was she afraid?” Hillary asked.
“Oh, just remembering Mr. Zantow. She worried that Conner would be the same way.”
“I think about Mr. Zantow sometimes,” Hillary admitted. “I wonder if at any time he humbled himself before God.”
“I’ve wondered that too. I’ve also been thankful that God is in charge, and I can trust Him for Mr. Zantow’s eternity.”
The two fell silent then—a comfortable silence, one of love and security.
“I’d better let you sleep.” Douglas bent to kiss her cheek.
“Goodnight,” Hillary said.
Douglas gave her hand a squeeze before blowing out the candle and making his way from the room.
September was half over, and signs of the harvest began to emerge. Jace was beginning to be very busy on the farm, but Doyle’s words to him on Sunday would not escape his mind. As soon as he could spare a few hours, he went to town. It was Wednesday.
Jace walked into the store, not sure what he would find but surprised to see that Doyle didn’t seem all that pleased with his appearance. Jace didn’t push in—Doyle was waiting on someone—but took a seat by the stove. Having come all the way to town, he was willing to wait.
It took some time, but Doyle eventually joined him.
“You came,” Doyle said.
“Yes, I did. You don’t seem too pleased.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” Doyle replied, his face clearly registering his unhappiness.
“What’s going on?” Jace asked, not willing to beat about the bush any longer.
Doyle’s look grew even fiercer, and Jace starting asking himself what he’d done. He kept silent this time, however, and before they could be interrupted, Doyle spoke.
“I don’t want to die.”
“Are you feeling poorly again?” Jace asked.
“No, but I could be. I keep telling Cathy that, but she won’t listen.”
“Is this about Mr. Somer?” Jace asked, having heard the whole story and knowing it must have been unsettling.
“It could have been me!” Doyle snapped in frustration, but before he could continue a woman came in, a little girl at her side.
Jace came to his feet and walked around a bit, asking God to give him words, but it never came to that. Cathy arrived after the woman was done, and Jace remembered Doyle’s reticence to talk in her presence on Sunday. The two men exchanged a look, but only one had a plan. Jace would get Doyle alone this coming Sunday, so the older man felt free to talk. H
e wasn’t sure how, but he wouldn’t go home until he’d accomplished at least that.
“I want Reese to get some new shoes,” Troy told Conner as they walked to work on Thursday morning. “I was going to work something out when I went to Linden Heights, but it completely slipped my mind.”
“Have you told her you want her to have new shoes?”
“No. I’m trying to think of a subtle way to go about it.”
“Maybe you could give her a little more money when you pay her.”
“I haven’t paid her,” Troy said. “I was going to suggest you give her a little more.”
Conner came to a stop, Troy with him.
“We’ve not paid Reese,” Conner confirmed, his eyes telling of his surprise. “I haven’t even been keeping track of what we owe her, thinking you were taking care of it.”
“I assumed you were.”
Without another word, Conner turned for home, doing sums in his head. His long legs eating the distance, he was stepping back through the front door of the big house in just a matter of minutes. He couldn’t call for Reese but stood still trying to hear her. When the downstairs seemed quiet, he walked halfway up the stairs and heard humming. Going up, he found her dusting in Troy’s bedroom. She had heard steps and was facing the door when he came in, so he didn’t startle her.
“We haven’t paid you.” Conner wasted no time in stating the reason for his surprise return.
Reese had no idea what she was supposed to say to this, so she stood still, the dust rag in hand.
“Were you going to say anything?” Conner asked and immediately wished he could take the words back.
“I just assumed,” Reese began, but Conner’s hand in the air stopped her.
“I apologize. I should not have asked you that. This is not your fault, and Troy and I are sorry to have overlooked this. There is no excuse.”
“It’s all right. Mrs. Greenlowe is very understanding.”
“You can’t even pay your rent,” Conner said, still amazed that this had been missed. Was he a banker or not?
