by Leah Atwood
“All the more reason he could use friends.” Liza clasped her hands atop the desk. “Once upon a time, you shared a friendship with him. After everything he’s gone through, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having familiar faces around him.”
Cicely rose a skeptical brow. “Or he might just want to be left alone.”
“Nonetheless, you should stop by the Double J and say hello. He has a daughter—you could invite her to school.”
Her ears perked. “That’s an idea of which I approve. I’d love to see more students.”
“There you go.” Liza smirked as though she’d won an argument. “I should go now. Sam and Maeve will soon be done at Doc Foster’s.”
“Are they okay? Little Jack’s not sick, is he?”
“Can you keep a secret?” Rising from her seat, Liza grinned.
“Of course.”
“Maeve is with child again, and Sam insisted Doc check her out.”
“Congratulations.” A deep longing for her own child swept over her, but she shoved it off, lest she allow envy to enter her heart. After rising to her feet, she went to her own desk and retrieved Lucas’s slate. “Your brother left this here today. Would you mind seeing that it’s returned to him?”
“Not at all.” Liza took the board and glanced down at the picture. “His mind is never far from the ranch and horses.”
“No, it isn’t, but I still need him to complete his work. Perhaps you could remind him to complete his assignments over the weekend.”
Rolling her eyes, Liza laughed. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the reminder.”
Cicely chuckled. “Have a good afternoon. I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”
After Liza left, Cicely sat behind her desk, absorbing the news that Joseph Scott had returned to Weatherton. She’d prepared herself for it when his brother returned two Christmases ago, thinking that Joseph would join Jeremiah. Then she’d been told that Joseph’s wife loved the city, so there was no possibility of him returning.
In a way, she’d been glad. Though she was glad that he was happy, it would have been extremely difficult to see him with his wife. In that case, his absence was a small blessing.
She didn’t even know exactly she felt about Joseph Scott. At fifteen, she’d loved him with every fiber of her being. As time passed, she adjusted to life without him, and in time, her thoughts were no longer consumed by a non-existent future between them. Yet, the mere mention of his name sent flutters through her body, rendering her knees weak.
What was a girl to do? Should she attempt to renew the friendship they’d once shared? Enough time should have passed that there was no reason it should be awkward to pay him a short visit. As Liza suggested, she could invite his daughter to school.
Yes, that’s what she would do. It was a plausible and unassuming method to discover what her next step should be. If there even would be a next step. She would merely act like an old acquaintance welcoming him back to town. It wasn’t as though she was in the market for a husband. Her students were her children and gave her a fulfilling life.
Do they?
“Yes, they do,” she answered emphatically.
Then why does your heart yearn for more?
She rubbed her temples. “I’m so confused.”
Fifteen minutes ago, she was content with her life until Liza broke the news that Joseph came home. Being honest with herself, she knew she had to see him, offer friendship. If he was as desolate as Tallie and others had described, then he needed people to surround him who cared. Whether he accepted that friendship or not was up to him.
Plagued with doubts and a basket looped over her arm with several books inside for planning next week’s lessons, she left the schoolhouse and walked to the mercantile. She wanted to purchase a couple tins of canned peaches to make Pa his favorite cobbler. Ever since Ma left for Nebraska last month to help care for her ailing sister, he’d been working longer hours than normal and Cicely wanted to do something nice for him.
No other customers were inside Simpson’s Mercantile when Cicely arrived. She set her basket to the front counter while she shopped and made her way to the shelves of food then grabbed two cans of peaches. On second thought, she grabbed two extra cans as an ingenious thought crossed her mind.
She’d found the perfect excuse to visit the Double J without the pretext of seeing Joseph. Since Tallie hadn’t been in church this past Sunday, Cicely would bake a peach pie and check on her friend. For all anyone except Liza knew, she didn’t even know Joseph had returned.
Yes, that’s what she would do. If Pa didn’t need her tomorrow, she’d take a trip to the Double J and visit Tallie. After all, it was her Christian duty to ensure her friend was okay and not suffering from any ailments.
Tsk, tsk.
Cicely sighed. It was never a good sign when her own conscience chided her. The fact she was so conflicted and conniving over a mere visit proved she still had unresolved feelings toward Joseph. The question remained, what would she do about them?
Glen Simpson appeared in the aisle. “Good afternoon, Sissy.”
She gave him a smile while inwardly cringing at the moniker. When she’d had her eighteenth birthday, she’d requested that people call her by her given name, but most still called her Sissy, the name by which she’d always been known. “Good afternoon. Where’s Mrs. Simpson today?”
“Rosie went to Pine Prairie with Myrtle Foster to visit Myrtle’s daughter.” Glen took the four cans from her arms. “She’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Would you let her know I finished my square for the quilt?”
“I sure will.” He adjusted the cans in his hand for better balance. “Can I help you with anything else today?”
“The peaches are all. I’m walking home today, so can’t carry too much.” She followed Mr. Simpson to the counter and handed over several coins as payment. “Pa has a running list and will be in sometime this coming week.”
“Any word on your aunt?” After taking her money, Mr. Simpson set the cans neatly in her basket.
“A telegram came on Tuesday. Ma said Aunt Tabby isn’t doing so well.” Although she’d only met her aunt three times, Cicely had written her often over the years and prayed for her healing.
“I’m sorry to hear.” Mr. Simpson handed her the basket. “If you and your Pa need anything while your Ma’s gone, be sure to let us know.”
“I will. Thank you, Mr. Simpson.”
She left the store and took a left, walking to the edge of town. A worn path paved the way of those who traveled into town from the outskirts. Cicely followed the trail, alternating the basket on her arms. Between the books and tins, she was certain she had red indents on her arms under her sleeves.
As soon as she arrived home, she dropped the basket to the table and let loose a sigh of relief. She unpacked the basket and realized Mr. Simpson covertly had snuck in a can of peas and another of carrots. No wonder it was so heavy, but she was grateful for his consideration.
Last year’s garden hadn’t done so well, and with Ma gone and her teaching, the chances were slim for a productive garden to can this year, if there was even one at all. She’d have to ask Pa to till the plot soon and then she’d have to plant in the next few weeks or it would be too late for the early crops. Maybe they’d go without one this year. Pa didn’t need a heavier workload, and she was so busy with teaching, not to mention her side activities.
Two nights a week she met separately with two adults in town who didn’t know how to read. She’d been working with them individually to teach them while salvaging their pride. There were also evenings she met with various students when they struggled with certain topics.
Then there was the ladies auxiliary that met most weeks, and the monthly quilting meetings. She understood now why the school board requested their teachers remain single. With all her responsibilities, she’d never be able to devote the necessary time to a husband and children plus her students without one of them suffering. She’d heard of some teach
ers who maintained such a balance and she admired them greatly, though she couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be,
“Sissy, are you in here?” Pa’s footstep echoed through the house and he entered the kitchen. “Good, I thought I saw you come down the road.”
“I just got in.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “How come you’re at the house so early?”
Pa’s lips curved to a smile twisted. “I thought maybe you’d want an early supper, then challenge your old man to a game of checkers.”
“You’re in for the night? You’re not going back out?” Glee filled her. She loved spending time with Pa, but he’d kept so busy lately.
“Not tonight. The remaining chores can wait until tomorrow.” He gave her another smile.
“I’ll get dinner started now and make a special dessert.” In her happiness to have an evening with Pa, she almost forgot her plans for the next day. “Do you need my help tomorrow?”
“No, I can handle it with the other men.” He went to the basin and washed his hands. “What do you have planned?”
“I want to ride out and visit with Tallie. It’s been a while since I’ve been out there and she wasn’t in church on Sunday. I want to make sure she’s feeling okay.” Her words came out too forced and fast, even to her ears.
Pa’s scowl told her he saw right through her excuse. “I’m assuming you’ve heard Joseph is back.”
Cicely positioned herself behind a chair as though the furniture could hide the truth. She cast her eyes down to the table. “Yes.”
“And I presume your visit to the Double J reflects that knowledge and not purely a desire to see your friend?” A hint of wariness laced his voice.
She rubbed a hand over her neck. Unable to lie, she told her father the truth. “From what I’ve been told, he could use a friend.”
A loud sigh preceded Pa’s response. He walked to her and pulled out the chair she held. “Sit, please.” She obeyed, and he sat across from her. “You need to tread carefully. I don’t want to see your heart broken again.”
“What do you mean?” Her fists clenched, and her pulse drummed like she’d been caught in a crime.
“After Joseph left seven years ago, you spent months moping around. Ma and I were worried about you.”
“I missed my friend.”
“Your ma believes you fancied yourself in love with the boy.” Pa caught her gaze, and she worried her eyes reflected the truth.
“That was ages ago, when I didn’t know the difference between love and infatuation.” There, she hadn’t told a lie. Neither had she told the entire truth, that in hindsight, she still knew with confidence she had loved him.
“I had a long talk with Jeremiah not too long ago, and discussion of his brother came up. Joseph is a hurting man, with deep scars that can’t be seen.” He drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly. “You’re a grown woman, Cicely, but I’m still your father and don’t want to see you hurt.”
Pa rarely used her given name, except for emphasis. His strong opinion regarding her attempt to renew an old friendship gave her pause. She’d had her mind set to see Joseph, but now what?
Chapter Three
Joseph hammered a nail into a shelf to secure it against the wall. Two months after his return to Weatherton, he’d finally have his own house in which he could have some privacy. While sharing the cabin with his brother, wife and niece gave him the opportunity to become better acquainted with them, the walls closed in further every day.
By next week, he and Gloria would be able to move into their new cabin. Its layout was similar to that of the original home, but with more windows, to give Gloria all the light possible. Since Clara’s death, darkness scared her, to the extreme she’d cry most nights until he brought her into bed with him. Even during the day, she constantly asked for another lamp to be lit. The extreme fear concerned him, but he didn’t know what else to do about it except keep the darkness away when he could.
Beyond her fear of darkness, Gloria had adjusted well to the move. She adored her cousin and aunt and spent many happy hours with a smile on her face. For that reason alone, he knew the move to Weatherton was the right decision for them.
Every day remained a struggle for him. Clara’s absence kept a constant longing lodged in his throat, but the physical labor required of him on the ranch helped him release the pent up grief. Each day the pain faded, so little at a time, he hadn’t noticed it until last week when he realized a day later that their anniversary had passed. It had been a small victory, despite the guilt he’d experienced in the aftermath.
Perhaps most importantly, he’d learned to smile and laugh again. Not all the time, but the occasions came more often and last longer. Gloria would tell him a story, or Hope would babble her nonsensical words, and he’d laugh, then laugh some more when they started to giggle.
Jeremiah would remind him of an antic of their childhood, and before Joseph knew it, he was engrossed in the story, eagerly offering his own account of the incident. By the end, they’d both be doubled over in laughter, tears rolling down their face as they tried to catch their breath.
Ever so slowly, he was rejoining life.
Still holding the shelf in place with one hand, he picked up a nail with the other. Jeremiah and Tallie had taken the girls on a picnic, and although he’d been invited along, he wanted to stay behind and complete several tasks in the new house before they came home. Plus, he needed time to himself.
With people always in the house, he rarely had a moment alone. Even riding the range, he was always accompanied by Jeremiah or one of the men they’d hired. A man required a certain amount of breathing space, and he hadn’t received any since arriving in Weatherton.
He chuckled at his own thought. Chicago offered very little room to breathe, but he’d become so accustomed to the crowds and tight spaces, that he’d forgotten what wide open areas were like. Compared to his life in the city, and contradicting his previous thought, he had plenty of space and quiet in Wyoming Nonetheless, he appreciated the silence this morning with no one to interrupt his thoughts or work.
He pulled his arm back, then swung it forward. Before he made contact with the nail, someone knocked on the door. The unexpected noise intruded upon his concentration. He misaimed, and the hammer met his thumb. Swallowing a curse he tried not to use, he dropped the hammer and shook his hand.
Another knock. “Hello, anyone home?”
His finger throbbed and already began to swell. Gritting his teeth, he strode to the door. Who would have come all this way? The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place to whom it belonged. He opened the door with his uninjured hand.
On the other side, a blonde woman, similar in age to him, stood with a basket in hand. A nervous smile tightened her lips. “Hello.”
“Good morning.” He squinted, not believing his eyes, not ready to acknowledge her.
“I stopped at the main house, but no one was there.” She shifted her stance.
“If you’re looking for Tallie, she’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I didn’t come to see her, well, not just her.” She fumbled over her words. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
He peered at her, all while pulling memories from the recesses of his mind. He couldn’t stop staring. “Sissy Evans,” he murmured.
“So you didn’t forget me.” He was certain she meant the words with levity, but her tone didn’t translate them that way.
His gaze swept over her. She’d always been beautiful, but now she had the added grace of a woman. Her eyes held a wisdom and maturity he hadn’t seen seven years ago, but there was also something else in them he could decipher. “You’ve changed, grown up.”
Apparently, he’d said the wrong thing. She scowled for a moment before covering her displeasure. “Time has a way of doing that.”
“I didn’t mean offense.”
“None taken.” She reached into the basket and withdrew a pie. “This is for you.”
“Thank you.” He took it with hesitation, forgetting about this thumb. The instant pressure against it startled him and he dropped the pie.
A loud groan escaped him and Sissy jumped back. Could his peaceful morning have taken a more uncomfortable turn? Forget I said that. I don’t want to know.
He scrambled to retrieve the pie, none of which was salvageable. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just a pie.” Sissy crammed the tin and the remainder of crumbled pie into her basket and stared at his hand with wide eyes. “What happened to your thumb?”
“A minor accident before you arrived.” He didn’t mention her knock had caused the incident. His gut told him her presence would cause a lot more than a swollen thumb.
Silence fell between them. Of all people from his past, she’d been the one he was glad not to have seen yet. A two month timeframe was pushing the inevitable encounter. He knew from casual questioning that her family hadn’t left Weatherton and it was only a matter of time before they ran into each other. Never had he imagined she’d show up at the ranch.
Sissy chewed on her bottom lip. “I should go. I just wanted to stop by and welcome you back to Weatherton.”
“I’ve been here two months.” Why had he gone and said that, invited questions and responses he didn’t want to broach?
“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed.” Her chest rose heavily as if the admission had cost her the last breath in her lungs.
“That was a long time ago.” Confusion reeled all around him. He wanted to push her way and tell her yes, she should leave, but he felt he owed her something. A drink, a refreshment, anything but the brushoff he wanted to give. “You’ve come all this way, and I could use a break. We can go to the main house, sit on the porch and catch up.”
Her eyes darted around—searching for what, he didn’t know. “Maybe for a few minutes.”
