Just Above a Whisper

by Lori Wick

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Greenlowe said, taking the produce and shutting the door before Conner could say a word. Reese had watched from down by the fence and laughed, knowing her landlady had kept the door open a crack, hoping to catch a few words.

  “It’s almost too much for her that we whisper,” Reese said when Conner got back to her side.

  “You don’t have to,” Conner informed her.

  Reese shrugged. “It just sort of happens, I guess.”

  For a moment they didn’t speak, but Reese had something on her mind, and she was ready to ask it.

  “Can you tell me now? Can you tell me what happened to your voice?”

  “It’s not a very fun story,” Conner began, but Reese didn’t interrupt. Instead she went to sit on the porch steps, and Conner joined her.

  “My sister Maggie and I had just finished a visit here at my grandmother’s. We were a little late leaving for home in the coach, so darkness came fast. We hadn’t been on the road all that long when some men stopped us. They demanded money, but we didn’t have any.

  “I remember the rain starting and my sister screaming. The next thing I knew I was in a farmer’s cottage. My throat had been cut and I couldn’t say a word, but at least I was alive. The drivers and my sister were killed.”

  “I’m sorry, Conner,” Reese whispered even more softly than usual.

  “It was a rough time. I had to learn to talk all over again. And since Maggie and I were closest in age, I felt like I’d lost my best friend.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve. Maggie was four years older. We’d never had a bit of trouble traveling in the past. It seemed completely safe in our large coach. My mother grew fearful after that, and none of us came to Tucker Mills again. This is the first time I’ve visited in 14 years.”

  “The memories must be overwhelming.”

  “They’re awful and wonderful all at the same time. When I first arrived I kept seeing Maggie. This was the last place she was alive. I didn’t expect to feel the way I did after so much time.”

  “But you had your faith, even as a child, didn’t you?” Reese asked. “I mean, it wasn’t completely hopeless, was it, Conner?”

  “No, Reese, it wasn’t,” Conner answered, thankful for the reminder. “My sister had the sweetest spirit. Her love for Scripture was genuine, and her desire to serve was evident to all. I hadn’t read my Bible much until that time, but when I was well enough, reading it made me feel closer to her. In time, I grew closer to the Lord, and I’m still thankful for the way God used Maggie’s death to teach me so much.”

  “How old were you when your voice worked again?”

  “Almost 14,” Conner smiled. “I was bursting with words by then, and they were all about what I’d been reading in my Bible. When my mother died earlier this year, she had a rough go of things, but if she was having a good day, she often talked about my wanting to read my Bible all evening long.”

  “I didn’t grow up knowing the Bible,” Reese confessed. “I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

  “In some ways you have, but you’re in the place God wants you right now.”

  “That’s what Douglas has told me.”

  “We’re running out of light,” Conner said.

  “For what?”

  “I was going to ask you about your belief in Christ.”

  Reese looked away from him.

  “It might be better in the dark,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “I don’t think so,” Conner disagreed, and then let the silence fall. It was growing dark fast, and Reese knew she should get inside.

  “I’ll be back,” Conner said as he stood. “Maybe tomorrow night or Wednesday. Will that work out for you?”

  “Yes. I’m free both nights.”

  “Maybe I’ll be back both nights,” Conner suggested with a smile, put his hat on his head, and walked into the dusk.

  Reese stood and watched him until he was out of sight. It had been wonderful to sit and talk, and Reese wondered if that might be another area of her life where she’d missed out.

  As she walked inside, she remembered that Tucker Mills was not Conner’s home. He was not here to stay. Reese didn’t let herself think about what life would be like when he and Troy left town.

  “How is Reese Thackery this evening?” Troy asked when Conner returned to the big house.

  “Did I say I was going to see Reese?”

  “Well, you didn’t go to the tavern,” Troy began, “and if you’d been at the Muldoons’, you would have said so. So that leaves one other place in town.”

  Conner smiled but didn’t answer. Troy didn’t press him. Had Dalton been in the room, he might have, but the older man knew when to let things be.

  “Mrs. Greenlowe wants you to come to tea this evening,” Reese told Conner on Tuesday morning. “But don’t feel like you have to.”

  “Why would I feel that way?”

  “For the obvious reasons,” Reese stated.

  “Which are?” Conner was still not getting it.

  “When a person is asked over, he feels a certain obligation to the person asking. You don’t know Mrs. Greenlowe, so you might be even more afraid of offending her by saying no.”

  Conner was taken with her logic and nodded thoughtfully. He forgot there was a question to be answered.

  “I’ll just tell her it didn’t work out for you,” Reese put in next.

  “Don’t do that,” Conner was swift to say, realizing what he’d missed. “I’d be pleased to come. What time?”

  “Five-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “All right, but only if you want to.”

  Conner nodded, seeing she was not convinced.

  “Five-thirty it is.”

  Reese watched him for just a moment and then went back to work. It wasn’t like her to worry about such things, but her conversation with Mrs. Greenlowe was still fresh in her mind.

  Is he sweet on you?

  No, it’s not like that.

  How do you know?

  I just do.

  He needs to come to tea, and I’ll see for myself.

  We don’t need to do that.

  You ask him in the morning. I’ll expect him tomorrow night.

  Reese had tried to argue, but it had done no good. Her landlady had made up her mind and was going to have her way on this. And Reese didn’t mind his coming—she enjoyed his company. She just didn’t want him arriving out of obligation.

  Reese pushed the whole event out of her mind. Conner Kingsley was not the type of person who let people manipulate him. He was coming because he wanted to. Arranging the tin kitchen that held today’s roast closer to the fireplace, Reese asked herself how often she would have to say it before she believed.

  “How many more files do you have to research?” Dalton asked Conner and Troy.

  “We’re nearly done,” Conner explained. “If it weren’t for this issue with Mr. Jenness, we would be back in Linden Heights in just a few weeks.”

  “And what of Mr. Leffler? Can he take over for Mr. Jenness, who by all accounts has deserted his post and in effect terminated himself?”

  “He’s perfectly happy as a teller,” Troy informed Dalton. “He doesn’t want the job of bank manager. If we don’t stay, someone will need to be hired.”

  “Are you interested in staying?” Dalton asked of Troy.

  “I like Tucker Mills,” Troy said. “It’s a bit far from my girls, but from a business standpoint, it works very well.”

  “And you, Conner?” Dalton asked next.

  “I could live out my days in Tucker Mills, but that begs the question about who will be in charge at our bank in Linden Heights,” Conner responded, referring to the bank that he and Troy managed. “We’ve got an excellent staff there, but the distance could be a factor.”

  “But someone from the main bank could always step in,” Troy inserted, not ready to leave town. “You checked before you came, Dalton, a
nd said it was going very well.”

  “It is. You’ve got a treasure in Morris Rane. He’s dedicated and completely honest.”

  “And he would manage things indefinitely,” Conner added. “When Mother was dying, he was invaluable to Troy.”

  “That he was.” Troy remembered it well. Conner had been forced to leave the bank for more than two months.

  “I leave Friday,” Dalton said next. “I don’t have to know what we’re going to do—you can always put it in a letter—but if we could have some idea in the next 24 hours, I would be glad of that.”

  “I’m not sure exactly how to go about it,” Conner admitted. “Deserting his post or not, Mr. Jenness needs to make another appearance. If I could make that happen, I would be ready with several suggestions for this bank.”

  “All right,” Dalton agreed, his mind busy. “If Mr. Jenness should appear before I leave, fine. If not, I’d still like to hear those suggestions no later than Thursday at tea.”

  Conner and Troy agreed. It wasn’t fair to all involved to leave the situation in limbo. Whether there was an appearance from Mr. Jenness or not, bank business had to go on.

  Doyle closed up the shop on Tuesday evening, his movements slow. He wasn’t feeling poorly; indeed, he’d never felt better, but he had prayed with Jace two days before and still didn’t know how to tell Cathy about the change in him.

  And there was a change. Cathy had already noticed and commented on his good humor and color. Doyle knew that his demeanor before praying with Jace was that of a man getting old or ill, so her comments were no surprise. However, he still had not had the courage to tell her the real reason. She had become so agitated whenever he’d mentioned his fear of dying.

  I need help, Lord God, Doyle prayed, closing the door behind him and heading toward the house. I want my relationship with Cathy to be as good as it’s always been, but I’m doing what Jace warned me about: I’m coming to You with my own terms. Help me, Lord God. Please help me.

  Doyle was at the door of his house before he knew what he was going to say, but he determined to find a way to tell her of the decision he’d made before bedtime.

  For Conner, Tuesday evening took much longer than a day to arrive. From the moment Reese had asked him, even knowing the invitation was from Mrs. Greenlowe, Conner thought about it.

  He couldn’t tell what Reese thought of him, but each time they spoke, she was a little more open, a little more relaxed around him. Conner knew he might be headed for heartache but took Reese’s demeanor around him as a good sign.

  All of this and more was on his mind as the day ended and he walked home with Troy and Dalton. He planned to clean up a bit and head right back out. What he hadn’t banked on was his housemates’ reaction.

  “I’ll see you later,” Conner stuck his head in the dining room long enough to say.

  “Where are you going?” Dalton asked.

  “I’ve been invited to tea at Mrs. Greenlowe’s.”

  “The Mrs. Greenlowe who is Reese Thackery’s landlady?” Dalton clarified.

  “The very one.”

  “Why were Troy and I not informed of this?” Dalton asked.

  “Did you need to be informed?” Conner came back, his face calm and a little amused.

  “Come now, Conner,” Troy spoke up. “You know that Dalton is even more curious than you are.”

  “True,” Conner agreed and began to turn away. “Have a good evening.”

  “Wait a minute.” Dalton was on his feet, Troy not far behind. They caught up with Conner in the hallway. “Who invited you? Reese?”

  “As a matter of fact, the invitation came from Mrs. Greenlowe.”

  “But Reese will be there, right?” Dalton had to know the details.

  “I imagine so.”

  “Is this the best coat you have?” Dalton asked suddenly circling his brother, his eyes critical. “Maybe you should change.”

  “That would make me late. And besides, she didn’t mind last night.”

  “Last night?” Dalton frowned at Conner, then Troy, then Conner again. “You were there last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was I?”

  “Writing letters in the study,” Troy informed him, having lived through these episodes with the brothers for years. It was always amusing.

  “I’ve got to go,” Conner said, his voice indicating he meant it.

  “Wait a minute.” Dalton stopped him, putting his hands on his shoulders. Conner waited, knowing he had something to say, but Dalton was silent.

  “I have to go,” Conner repeated.

  “I wanted to give you advice, but it’s been too long since I courted my Susie.”

  “I’m not sure this is courtship, Dalton, but thank you for caring.”

  Sorry that he had no words, Dalton nodded, not about to let Conner leave before giving him a hug. Conner accepted the embrace gratefully, as he always did, and this time he made it out the door.

  “I need to tell you something,” Hillary whispered to her father in the corner of the parlor; the rest of the family was scattered around the house.

  “What is it?”

  “When I was outside just now, I watched Conner Kingsley walking down the green. He looked very nice.”

  “Was he going home?”

  Hillary shook her head. “Away from the big house.”

  “Was he walking in such a way that he would eventually pass Mrs. Greenlowe’s?”

  Hillary nodded this time, looking more than a little pleased. Douglas had to smile at her. She was so certain that this could work, and Douglas hoped it would, but unlike his starry-eyed daughter, he was slightly more practical.

  “How can we find out?” Hillary suddenly asked, causing her father to laugh.

  “We can’t. It’s none of our business.”

  “If Reese is involved, it’s our business.”

  Douglas thought she had a point but still had no suggestions.

  “What are you two up to in the corner?” Alison asked, spotting them.

  The innocent looks they gave her only made her more suspicious and ready to ask more questions, but neither one would offer an iota of information.

  “Thank you,” Conner said to Mrs. Greenlowe when she made sure that all food was within his reach. “You’ve prepared a feast, Mrs. Greenlowe.”

  “Well, we can’t have you going away hungry. That won’t do!”

  Conner was learning in a hurry that the changes in her voice had nothing to do with the conversation or anything happening during tea. It was simply how she was feeling at the moment and the way she expressed herself.

  “Here, Reese, try some of this custard. It’s the one you like.”

  “My favorite? Thank you.”

  “How is bank business?” Mrs. Greenlowe suddenly asked, her opinion about banks having changed some.

  “It’s going well,” Conner answered.

  “What was that?”

  “It’s going well,” Conner repeated, careful to keep his face to her so she could hear him.

  “Is Jenness around these days?”

  “No. He’s still away,” Conner said tactfully, and at the same time, began to wonder why Reese wasn’t saying anything. Conner passed a plate of bread to Reese and got a thank you from her but noticed that she went back to being quiet. Mrs. Greenlowe noticed about the same time.

  “You’re not saying anything, Reese,” that lady proclaimed a bit loudly.

  “I’ve nothing to say right now.”

  “Well, tell us about your day,” Mrs. Greenlowe pressed.

  “I told you when I got home, and Mr. Kingsley sees what I’ve done every time he walks into his house.”

  This got Reese frowned at, but she only smiled, having decided not to pretend during this meal. Conner knew who she was, as did Mrs. Greenlowe. Reese was confident enough not to have to be entertaining.

  “Well, you certainly had a lot to say to each other last night.” Mrs. Greenlowe’s voice was grumpy as she
got to the crux of the matter.

  “We were talking about things we’ve each learned about God,” Reese told her, not holding back. “I wasn’t sure if you would be interested in that.”

  “Some days I am,” she admitted, “but not today.”

  Reese nodded, careful to be respectful.

  “My brother is here for a visit,” Conner offered, trying to think of something the landlady might not know.

  “Older brother is he?”

  “Yes. The oldest in the family.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Six are living.”

  “And your parents?”

  “Both dead.”

  “And what town do you live in?”

  “Linden Heights. It’s not too far from Boston.”

  “I’ve been to Boston, and I’ve heard of Linden Heights but haven’t been there.”

  “It’s quite a bit larger than Tucker Mills.”

  “Which do you like best?”

  “I like both,” Conner said honestly, even knowing he was leaning toward his present location.

  “And do you bank in Linden Heights?”

  “Yes. We own four banks, three of which are in Linden Heights, and I manage one of those with my business partner.”

  “Why don’t you just stay here?”

  “Well,” Conner worked to be tactful, “until we talk to Mr. Jenness, it’s hard to say exactly what the plans will be.”

  “How tall are you?” The subject changed quickly.

  “Six feet, six inches.”

  “Reese is tall.”

  “Yes,” Conner couldn’t hold his smile. He glanced at Reese, who was looking fondly at Mrs. Greenlowe, and appreciated her all the more. The temptation would have been to hush the older woman or make excuses for her, but Reese sat still, respectfully attentive to the conversation going on around her, not opting to interrupt in any way.

  And the meal progressed in just that manner. Conner conversed until his throat threatened to give out and stayed until he felt it was the proper time to leave. If Mrs. Greenlowe had hoped to hear the two of them talk, she was to be disappointed. When Reese walked Conner to the road, she confirmed his thoughts on that matter.