The Redemption of Micah

by Beth Williamson

  The rain had stopped and the sun in the window looked as if it were late afternoon. She sat up and realized she wasn’t alone. Micah sat in the chair at the foot of the bed. After that morning when he’d finally given her time alone, she thought he was through coming in the room uninvited. Yet there he was and he’d been witness to her dream, maybe even watched as she writhed on the bed in arousal. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, and she opened her mouth to tell him to leave when she heard a snore. He was sound asleep, thank God.

  What she wanted to do was yell at him for not listening, again, but instead, she crept out of bed and slowly opened the door. It was bad enough her body still had the last vestiges of the erotic dream coating her like a haze. She didn’t want to go through it with Micah watching.

  Although it made a few tiny squeaks, the door opened easily and she left the room. It was time she explored the rest of the house and gave herself some time away from her mini-prison and her strange guard.

  From what she could see, it was an opulent mansion with numerous rooms, and everything appeared to be expensive and ornate. It didn’t fit with what she knew of Micah, but he did say Madeline had given him the house. Perhaps she was the one who liked fancy things.

  Eppie walked down the stairs slowly as she drank in the glass chandelier and the paneling on the walls. The main hallway was wide enough to fit a wagon and there were more doors than she could even count.

  She was at a loss where to go, and a sense of hopelessness washed over her. What was she doing here? This place didn’t feel like a home at all. There was no warmth here, only things that someone took the time to buy to make sure people knew a lot of money had been spent.

  Just as she was about to turn around and head upstairs, she heard a giggle from the end of the hallway. Then another. Plain as day, they were the girl’s giggles. She hadn’t given the child a chance, so she decided to take another leap of faith and go find little Miracle.

  The mirror surprised her, or rather her reflection did. Set in the hallway above a marble-topped table, the mirror was unobtrusive until Eppie walked past it. The woman stopped and turned, staring openmouthed.

  There were many things she didn’t know about herself; one of them was apparently how she looked. There was no looking glass in her room upstairs and she could obviously see her body and hands, but still, seeing herself for the first time was a shock beyond measure.

  She raised her hands and touched her gaunt cheeks, sunken into her face as if someone had pushed them in. Her skin was a light cocoa color at best, but appeared more gray than anything. Her nose was slender and pointy, while her cheekbones were quite prominent.

  Her hair was cut quite short. It couldn’t be more than an inch or two long and it stood up as if someone had frightened her. The worst, however, was her eyes. They were like chocolate buttons in her face, topped by thick, curly eyelashes staring at her.

  Fear shook her bones when she remembered where she’d seen those eyes before—in Miracle’s face. A small moan bubbled up in her throat and she put her hand over her mouth to contain it. Sweet heavens, she had no idea how hard it would be to look at herself in the mirror and realize she was a stranger.

  A complete stranger.

  As she watched, the stranger’s eyes filled with tears and spilled down her cheeks. She felt so lost, so completely alone, and didn’t know what to do. Who would help her? Micah seemed to want to, but he pushed too hard, harder than Eppie was willing to let him. Miracle was barely out of diapers, which left no one as far as she could tell.

  Except, of course, herself.

  However, she had no idea if she was strong enough to reacquaint herself with everyone and everything. She had to be willing to accept some things on faith, and be willing to try to trust others, and herself. There was no other option.

  Eppie leaned her elbows on the table and stared deeply into her own eyes, trying to find the woman somewhere in there she’d lost. Her heart ached with the knowledge that she was no one and nothing. Nothing.

  God must have decided she was a strong person, strong enough to be born for a second time, only this time without a mother or father to nurture her, to help her grow up. Eppie swiped at the tears and took a shaky breath, desperately trying to get control of herself and swallow the enormous lump in her throat.

  No matter who she was when she was injured and fell into the coma, she was a different person now. She would have to understand and accept that. She expected it to be a very long, rocky road ahead with no easy answers. Life was a gift and she was grateful to have been given it twice.

  It was time to have a little faith.

  Giggles sounded again from the kitchen. The pure sound of the girl’s laughter was evidence that life went on around her, ready or not to face it. Eppie wiped her face with her trembling hands and did her best to chase away the haunted look in her eyes.

  Her legs still felt as weak as a newborn calf, but she made her way to the kitchen just the same. By the time she got there, the strain from everything forced her to fall into a chair as soon as she arrived. The red-haired woman and Miracle stared at her with shock on their faces.

  “Eppie! Land sakes, you look as if you’re about to expire.” The woman dropped the potatoes she’d been peeling and worked the pump to get some clean water. She grabbed a glass from the shelf above the sink and filled it with water.

  “Mama, okay?” Miracle’s little chin wobbled as she watched her carefully.

  Eppie didn’t want to be rude and not answer, but still didn’t feel comfortable with responding to “Mama,” either. Thankfully the red-haired woman saved her from answering.

  “Give her a minute to catch her breath, child.” The woman brought the glass to Eppie’s lips and put her hand on the back of her neck while she drank. The woman’s skin was nearly as cool as the water and strangely comforting.

  “I know you don’t remember me. Micah told me everything.” She smiled and her bright blue eyes shone. “I’m Candice Merriweather and I own the store in town. I’ve been helping out here since your accident.”

  “She makes cookies.” Miracle piped up.

  “Yes, I cook and help with the chores so Micah can take care of you.” She brushed the hair from Eppie’s forehead. “You’ve lost so much of yourself, child. I’m sorry for that.”

  In the depths of her round face, Eppie saw true sympathy. For the first time since she’d woken up, she felt as if someone understood what was happening to her. She decided she liked Candice a great deal and the round woman with the kind eyes would be her first friend. Lord knows she sure needed one.

  “Thank you, Candice. I appreciate your help.” She sucked in a much-needed breath and took the glass, surprised by how heavy it felt. “I didn’t realize how parched I was. It’s still hard to believe I lay in that bed for three years.”

  Eppie waited for confirmation of what Micah had told her, but it didn’t happen. The room was quiet as death again with Candice staring at her openmouthed. She cocked her head and then shook it, the red curls bouncing.

  “He said you didn’t sound like yourself anymore, and he was right.” She smiled a wide, toothy grin. “I think you sound like a right sophisticated lady.”

  Miracle giggled and popped a piece of cookie in her mouth. Eppie had the choice to be upset again or laugh, too.

  She chose the latter and it felt wonderful.

  “Yes, I remember the day it happened. Hard to believe how much time has passed. That awful Jackson Webster and his cheating partner. I knew those two were up to no good, always poking their nose into everyone else’s business. Jackson’s wife is still walking around town as if she owned it.” Candice went back to the potatoes, all the while chatting away, which made Eppie more comfortable, oddly enough.

  “Who’s Jackson Webster?” If she had to relearn everything, she might as well start with the past before she could move forward into the present.

  Candice glanced at Miracle, who sat there with a wide-eyed expression as she ab
sorbed everything like a little sponge.

  “Miracle, sweetie, I think Daisy probably needs some fresh water.”

  Like a magic wand, mention of Daisy catapulted the girl off the chair. She headed for the door, her little shoes clacking on the shiny wooden floor. Just before she reached the back door, she skidded to a halt and turned around.

  “I forgot.” She ran back into the kitchen and threw herself at Candice’s legs, giving her an effusive hug, much to the older woman’s delight. Her giggle sounded as young as the girl’s.

  To Eppie’s astonishment, Miracle turned around and eyeballed her. She chewed on a fingernail for a moment before she walked over and gently wrapped her arms around Eppie’s neck and gave her a squeeze.

  “Mama’s hurt, gotta be careful.” After a soft, dry peck on the cheek, Miracle skipped to the door and out into the evening light.

  Eppie shook with the force of that hug and kiss. She knew what Micah had told her about the parentage of the child, had seen the resemblance in the mirror, but to have the girl show affection with no encouragement or acknowledgment was astounding. It was completely unexpected and turned the world a bit sideways.

  “She’s a loving child.” Candice smiled as her gaze followed the girl out the door. “That’s Micah’s doing. He’s an amazing father.”

  Eppie had already been witness to Micah’s parenting skills, and from what she’d seen, she agreed with Candice’s observations. However, knowing Miracle considered her Mama without reservation, judgment, or expectations humbled her. Things were very simple for a child her age and much more complicated for Eppie. More than she could think about at the moment. If she thought any harder, she might lose control again. Right now she had all she could do to think about the next ten minutes, much less the next day or even week.

  “You were going to tell me about Jackson Webster.” She tasted the name on her tongue, but it wasn’t familiar at all.

  “He was the sheriff of this town, grew up with Madeline he did. I’m sure Micah’s told you about her?” Candice cut up the potatoes with a small paring knife into a pot of water.

  Eppie nodded. “Yes, he’s told me a bit. I have to be honest, knowing there’s someone out there who considers me her best friend, and I don’t know her, is rather frightening.”

  Candice’s eyebrows went up. “I’m sorry if I seem surprised. It’s not what you said, but rather how you said it.” She smiled. “It’s going to take us all time to get to know each other again.”

  Eppie was glad Candice felt that way, because things were confusing enough without being expected to know exactly who she had been or how she should act or speak.

  “It’s okay, I understand. Things all sound different to me.”

  The older woman laughed. “I’ll bet they do. Now, let me get back to Jackson. He was always a blowhard and never failed to brag about everything to anyone who would listen. He finagled his way into becoming sheriff. He and the local judge, Earl Martin, did their best to steal Madeline’s money, make it appear as if she’d done it, and put her in jail.”

  Eppie was astounded. “This was the sheriff and a judge? That’s, well, that’s just awful.”

  Candice shook her head. “It was just that. The town wanted to believe the worst of Madeline, but you stuck by her and so did Micah.”

  It was comforting to know she had been a loyal friend, but there was still so much she didn’t know. “You know he hasn’t told me about the accident where I was injured and how I came to be in Micah’s care.” Eppie sipped the water, her curiosity screaming at her to find out more about herself, like a story unfolding, and she was the young girl waiting for the next page.

  “I’m not sure that’s my place, Eppie.” Candice put the pot of potatoes on the stove and stoked the fire within. “Micah was there when it happened, and he’s the one who should tell you.”

  Eppie told herself not to be annoyed with the other woman, but it was hard not to. She had been so close to an important piece of the puzzle of her life.

  “I understand, but I hope you change your mind. This is, well, important to me.”

  “Then you should tell him. What he had with you was much more than I know about. It wouldn’t be fair or right to talk to you about it.” Candice sat down and patted Eppie’s hand. “That man loves you so much, and I know that’s hard to accept right now. I’ve never seen someone so devoted.”

  Eppie wanted to squirm in her chair at the subject of Micah’s love and devotion. That topic she didn’t yet want to hear about. “What about the house? It’s enormous and so fancy. Did Madeline really give it to Micah?”

  “Oh, now that is a story.” Candice peered at Eppie’s face. “First let me get some milk and a snack for you. I think you need something more than water.”

  While the red-haired woman puttered around slicing off bread and slathering it with honey, Eppie felt a hominess to the tasks. She was familiar with the place and the feeling. It helped her relax a bit more.

  When Candice set the plate in front of her, the smell of honey and yeasty bread filled Eppie’s nose. A wave of longing raced through her and she wished for so many things at once her throat closed up. She struggled to keep her emotions hidden, not yet ready to share them with a woman she’d known for fifteen minutes.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, take your time. I won’t expect anything else.” Candice sat down with a steaming cup and looked at Eppie with sympathy in her gaze. “I drink chamomile tea every day in the afternoon just to keep away what could ail me. Now eat up, or I’ll think you don’t like my vittles.”

  Eppie nodded and took a hesitant sip of milk. The cool creaminess of flavor exploded in her mouth. Her stomach howled with pleasure as the milk slid down her throat. It tasted so good, she drained the glass before she realized it. As she stared at the empty glass in astonishment, Candice chuckled and handed her a cloth napkin.

  “Well, it’s good to know you have an appetite. Milk’s good for you.”

  Eppie glanced at the bread as the milk landed in her empty stomach. It almost filled her up, attesting to the fact it had been a while since she’d eaten. “No, I’ll just nibble on the bread, but thank you.”

  “Of course, I’m your friend, whether or not you remember me.”

  It appeared Candice was exactly as she appeared, an honest, kind woman. Eppie was more than thankful to have her around, although she wondered if there was anything more than friendship between the older woman and Micah. If she had been taking care of the little family, as a wife and mother would, it wouldn’t be unusual for something to develop.

  The thought made her stomach cramp and the milk felt like a rock. It was a strange reaction, and she didn’t understand it, but there was a great deal of things she didn’t. What made the prospect of Micah and Candice together so unquestionably wrong to her? Maybe he was right and she and Micah were in love, but since she didn’t remember him, that meant the love had died.

  Her body, however, told her a different story.

  Chapter Four

  Micah woke with a start, jumping out of the chair as the vestiges of the nightmare fell around him like ashes. He’d been in the woods at night searching for Eppie. Although he could hear her crying, he couldn’t find her, no matter how hard he searched. Branches and brambles tore at him, yet he continued looking for her as panic latched its claws into him.

  He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to dispel the utter despair he’d felt when he couldn’t find her. The rasp of his whiskers sounded loud in the room and when he peeped through his hands, he realized he was alone. Eppie had woken and left him alone.

  First of all, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep, that wasn’t his intention. Secondly, he was embarrassed be in her room without permission again, and the fact she caught him made it worse. And last, she’d obviously left him sleeping on purpose, to escape him or to allow him rest, he wasn’t sure which.

  It didn’t matter, of course, because he’d made a mistake again. He blew out a frustrated breath a
nd left her room, leaving the door open behind him so she’d know he was gone.

  The house was quiet enough he heard the tick of the clock downstairs in the parlor. Miracle was probably outside playing with Daisy with Candice watching over her. He’d been blessed with such a good friend and didn’t know how he would ever repay her for everything she’d done.

  Without his friends, Micah would still be a drunken Confederate soldier with nothing for company but pine trees and squirrels. Sometimes he wished for that simplicity again, for all the pain and confusion to go away. But then he wouldn’t have Miracle or Eppie, and life would be as gray as his uniform had been.

  He walked down the steps, trailing his hand on the mahogany banister and feeling sorry for himself. It wasn’t as if life had been cruel to him, but it hadn’t been kind. When he’d retreated to his mountain cabin ten years earlier, he fully expected to live his life alone. Madeline changed that when she saved him from drowning in the river and showed him what a friend was. He blocked out the memory of the river and its deadly current because then he’d have to remember why and how he ended up in the river.

  It was lost in a haze of whiskey and tears, and if he tried too hard, he might discover he intentionally ended up in that current, never expecting to feel pain again. For a man with so many ghosts riding around on his back, death was a blessing he had yearned for. The weight of his past sins was a load no man would want to bear. He’d done it for so long at that point, years since the war ended and he’d returned to find—

  He cut off the thought before it could form as he stopped at the bottom of the steps. Leaning forward with his hands on his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced the memories back with a sharp stick. He was unwilling to relive his nightmares during the day when he could control them.

  After a few minutes, the urge to vomit had passed as had the horrific memories he refused to acknowledge. He did, however, feel very thirsty. It was a thirst he’d been able to keep at bay for quite a while. Working himself from morning until night until he’d literally passed out, too exhausted to drink.