Redemption

by Carolyn Davidson

  “I’ll be back right after twelve,” she said, and he nodded morosely.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, hesitating just a bit.

  “I’d thought once we got married you’d quit the coming and going and be here on Saturday and Sunday.”

  “You can solve that problem by going to church with me,” she said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t mind figuring out a way to accomplish that.”

  “I know how to get to church,” he told her harshly. Then he waved his hand, dismissing her from his presence.

  She turned toward the front door and headed down the walk, aware of him watching her from the parlor window.

  “DID YOU CATCH any fish?” It seemed like a good opening, she thought, as she watched Jason wash his hands at the sink. Dinner was on the table, the savory aroma of pot roast filling the room. The potatoes were whipped into a steamy white cloud, and green beans flavored with onions and bacon swam in the broth she’d cooked them in. A pie, offered by one of the ladies of the congregation as a small token to celebrate the wedding, would serve as dessert.

  Brought to the front door right after the morning service, the pie had been accepted by Jake, as Alicia was busy in the kitchen. He’d carried it on his lap and offered it to her just inside the kitchen doorway. “Mr. Robbins said his wife baked this for us,” he told her gruffly.

  “I hope you were gracious to the gentleman,” she said, doubt lacing her words.

  “About as nice as I could possibly be,” he retorted, and she thought she caught a glimpse of humor in his eyes. He leaned back and watched her as she went about the work of putting a meal together.

  When Jason came in to wash, his father greeted him. With a quick look at Alicia, the boy had turned to the sink, and at her query, he grinned. “Got three nice ones!” he said quickly as he dried his hands on a handy towel. Apparently pleased that she held no grudge, he opened the back door. “They’re in the bucket out here. You wanta take a look?”

  She shuddered just enough to make him grin and then shook her head. “No, I’m sure they’re lovely fish. I just hope you know how to clean them. Personally, I think there’s nothing quite so off-putting as fish scales.”

  “If I clean them real good, can we have them for supper?” he asked, closing the door and hurrying to slide into his seat.

  “I suspect so,” she told him, and felt Jake’s look of appreciation touch her from across the table.

  They ate in silence, Jason obviously hungry, Jake relishing each bite as if the meal was well worth waiting for. When he was done he pushed his plate back and brought his coffee cup to sit before him, offering her a nod of approval. “You’re a top-notch cook,” he said. “I haven’t eaten so well in a long time.”

  “I’m hoping your dinner put you in a good mood,” she told him, knowing that the subject she would mention now was not to his liking. “I was approached by two of the ladies in church, making inquiries about you, Jake.”

  “Me?” His brows rose, his surprise authentic. “Why on earth would anyone ask about me?”

  “They weren’t asking about your health, but about your activities,” she said, wary of continuing, knowing she’d opened Pandora’s box and now must face his frown.

  “What activities? Surely the things I do can’t possibly interest the ladies of this town.”

  “Catherine’s mother wanted to know if there was a possibility of you teaching piano to her daughter. And then Toby Bennett’s mama chimed in. I think they’d decided to approach me together, hoping I would be more likely to concede to their joined forces.”

  “I hope you set them straight,” he said emphatically.

  “Actually, I told them I’d ask you about it.” Her jaw set firmly as she spoke. “It would be a way for you to become a part of the town again, Jake. And those children are in need of your talent.”

  “I have no interest in becoming ‘a part of the town,’” he said mockingly. “You can just go and tell your lady friends that I’m not interested.”

  She lowered her gaze to her plate and found herself straightening her silverware with trembling fingers.

  “Alicia?” He spoke her name in low, terse syllables. “Look at me,” he said.

  Jason rose quickly. “I’m gonna go and clean my fish,” he told them, and hurried to leave. He opened the door, then turned back. “Please, may I be excused?”

  She nodded and he cast her a relieved look as he hastened out the door.

  “You had no right,” Jake said. “No right at all to offer my time to those women.”

  “Not to the mothers, actually,” she said. “To their children.” She bit at her lip. “I said that Catherine and Toby could come by tomorrow after school and see your piano.” She met his gaze and realized that she was pleading for his cooperation. “They were thrilled, Jake. Neither of them has ever seen a grand piano like the one you have hidden in the parlor. They’ve only heard about your work, and they’re both—”

  “No. A thousand times no Alicia,” he said sharply. “I can’t make it any more clear to you without raising the roof and having a battle royal. I’d like to avoid that.”

  She shrugged, as if it was of little matter to her. The dishes kept her occupied, and she used the diversion to its fullest extent, her thoughts filled with guilt. She’d tried to manipulate him, and it was too soon. Yet, she couldn’t begin any other way. It just wasn’t in her to dissemble.

  IF HE’D BEEN ABLE TO LAY his hands on her, he’d have shaken the stuffing out of her. Jake sat in the parlor and glared at the piano in the far corner. It loomed there like a great black beast, a presence he could not escape. He’d managed to ignore it for almost three years, once he’d been able to toss the sheets over it and hide it from sight.

  It wasn’t bad enough the woman had uncovered it before the wedding and left it in plain sight afterward. Now she’d offered it as a bribe to the children of the town to invade his privacy and tramp their way into his parlor. There was no way in heaven he was about to allow such a thing to take place.

  There wasn’t a smidgen of guilt to be found in his contemplation of the whole situation. Except perhaps for the way he’d allowed her to walk away last evening. He’d watched her retreat to her room, noted each step she took on the wide staircase, and felt uneasy at his own rude behavior.

  Don’t be dense. He couldn’t believe he’d said such a thing to her. Once more, he’d spoken words he’d give a whole lot to eat.

  As it was, he merely wished he could retract the statement with polite words and genteel phrasing. How did one go about telling an intelligent woman that she was far from dense, that, in fact, she probably was equipped with the sharpest mind he’d ever made acquaintance with?

  The fact remained that he had no desire to cope with children who were wanting to put their grubby hands on his piano. Where had that come from? His piano. The instrument he’d relegated to an imaginary trash heap. He had no interest in ever touching those keys again. Music was gone from his soul, as was the woman who’d made his life a living melody.

  You were born to make music.

  He looked up uneasily, certain for just a moment that he’d heard a woman’s voice whisper in his ear. His eyes were drawn to the piano and he blinked in surprise. The lid was pushed back, the keys uncovered, the ivory gleaming richly in the sunlight from the open window.

  When had Alicia opened the lid? Surely not since church was over. She’d gone right to the kitchen upon returning, leaving her hat and gloves on the staircase to be taken up to her room later on. Jake shook his head; his memory must be dulled. And yet, he would have sworn that the keys had not been exposed earlier today.

  It was past time for him to make amends, he decided. He rolled from the room and out onto the porch. Alicia knelt beside the steps on a fold towel pulling weeds. “You’ll get your dress dirty that way,” he said quietly.

  She looked up and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. Her hand left a smudge of dirt behind and he smiled at the effect, wh
ich made her seem more vulnerable, he decided. “It needs washing, anyway,” she told him, then bent to her chore.

  “You’ll get in trouble with the ladies, working on Sunday,” he said.

  “And you think I care?” she asked. “That’s the least of my worries.”

  “What’s the greatest of them?”

  She gave him a sharp look. “Trying to learn how to be a wife to you, Jake McPherson. I fear I’m not doing a very good job of it.”

  “You’ll do,” he said. His mouth twitched, the words he felt compelled to speak burning his tongue. “I owe you an apology, Alicia. You’re probably one of the most intelligent persons I’ve ever known. You’re far from dense, and I had no right to speak to you the way I did.”

  She settled back on her heels and wiped her face again, this time leaving dirt on her right cheek. “Well, well,” she intoned. “How do I rate such kind words?”

  He felt like squirming. The schoolteacher in her was obvious in the arch look she shot in his direction, its effect spoiled just a bit by the smudges on her face. “Take it or leave it,” he said. “It’s the best apology you’ll get from me.”

  She smiled, her face coming alive as her lips curved. “I’ll take it,” she said. “I fear I may never get another. Apologies are pretty scarce around here.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a smart mouth, Mrs. McPherson?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it.” She bent to her weeding. “I find it a good method by which to protect myself from hurt.”

  “Have you been hurt often?” He really wanted to know, he discovered. That Alicia was so vulnerable was a surprise to him. She’d seemed capable, sure of herself, and certainly efficient in all she did.

  She looked up at him and her eyes were dark with pain. “More than you can imagine.” Her mouth tightened. “And that’s all I have to say on the subject.”

  MONDAY MORNING DAWNED early, with Alicia in the kitchen at daybreak. Jake heard the skillet scrape across the range top and then smelled bacon frying, the scent filtering through to his bedroom. By the time he’d managed to get himself decently clean and into his clothing, he heard her call Jason from the foot of the stairs. By the time the sun was crowning the eastern horizon, he smelled the bracing aroma of coffee.

  This having a wife was going to come in handy, he thought, rolling across his room to open the door. Alicia was in the hallway, and looked up at him in surprise from her spot on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought you’d hired a housekeeper to keep the floors clean.”

  “I did,” she answered, “but it looks like Jason tracked dirt all the way across the hall yesterday. I’m just wiping it up.”

  “If he made the mess, let him take care of it,” Jake said. “It’ll make him think twice before he does it again.”

  She grinned at him. “Now, that’s the sort of thing I like to hear.”

  “What is?” Jason came down the stairs, his boots clattering on each step.

  “Do you see what Alicia is doing?” Jake asked him.

  Jason peered over the banister. “Looks like she’s washin’ up stuff.”

  “Your stuff,” Jake said sternly. “This is the last time she’ll be cleaning up behind you, young man. If you can’t remember to wipe your feet at the door, you can just plan on taking care of your own messes.”

  Jason lifted one boot and peered at the bottom, then the other. “They’re clean now,” he said.

  “And well they should be,” Jake told him. “The dirt is scattered from the back door to the stairway. We won’t talk about this again, son. You’ll not make extra work for Alicia. She has enough to do just cooking and making things nice for us. Not to mention going out to teach school all day.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jason said sheepishly. “I won’t forget again.”

  “I suppose you think that’s going to mend all your fences,” Alicia said quietly as she smiled up at Jake. She tilted her head to one side as if she considered the idea. “You know, it might very well go a long way toward doing just that very thing.” And then her smile broadened and she laughed aloud.

  It was strange, he thought, how laughter could change a woman’s appearance. It made her eyes sparkle and put color in her cheeks, and Alicia’s smiling face was no exception.

  THE DAY SEEMED LONG with both Alicia and Jason gone. He’d not noticed the slow passage of time before, but on this Monday, he thought the clock would never move its hands at more than a snail’s crawl. School was out at three-thirty, and by three-thirty-five, he was watching the front walk, waiting for Alicia’s now-familiar figure to come through the gate. He’d be glad to see the last day of the school year arrive on Friday.

  Jason appeared first, two children accompanying him, and he burst through the front door with a clatter of boots against the wooden floor. Then he skidded to a stop and returned to the rug Alicia had placed on the threshold for his convenience. “I’m wiping my feet, Pa,” he called out.

  Jake was torn. A smile was twitching at his lips at Jason’s words, but his spine was stiff with irritation as he heard the voices of all three children just outside the parlor door. And then a small girl poked her head into the room.

  Her eyes were wide with apprehension, and she hesitated as if unsure of her welcome. “Mr. McPherson?”

  “That’s my name,” he returned gruffly.

  She stood straighter in the doorway. “My teacher said if we came by you’d let us see your piano.”

  “Did she, now?” Damn Alicia, anyway! She had no right.

  The little girl—had Alicia said her name was Catherine?—backed away tentatively. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” she whispered, and Jake was struck by shame.

  “It’s all right,” he said quickly. “Come on in.” Even an old grouch such as he had no excuse to frighten off a little girl.

  Catherine stepped closer. “You don’t look like a hermit to me,” she said candidly. “I think you look like a nice man.”

  “Do you?” Probably his recent haircut and the shave he’d indulged in this morning might have something to do with that, he thought. “So, you want to see my piano, do you?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said politely, peering beyond him to where the black monster sat.

  “Can Toby come in, too?” she asked.

  “I suppose he’ll have to,” Jake conceded, and then watched as the boy appeared from around the corner, where he’d obviously been hiding. “I guess you want to see the piano, too,” Jake said to him.

  “Yes, sir.” Toby was of an age with Jason, Jake thought. The boy approached the piano, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor, as if he approached a sacred shrine. His eyes shone with anticipation and he tucked his hands in his pockets, as though he feared they might betray him by reaching to touch the ivory keys.

  “Have you ever played on a piano?” Jake asked, recognizing the boy’s yearning.

  “Yes, sir. The one at church. Mrs. Howard gave me some lessons, but I didn’t do very good at it. She only knows the stuff in the hymnal. She said we couldn’t play anything else in the church.”

  “What do you want to play?” Jake asked reluctantly.

  “Real music. Not just songs that people sing words to.” Jake only nodded.

  “Can I touch the keys?” Toby asked softly.

  Could he allow it? Could he bear the sound of hammer striking string? Would he be able to contain his anger if those keys should once more resound with the clear, pure tones he’d once cherished?

  He’d put Rena and all she represented into storage when she’d been carried from this house for the last time. She’d been the inspiration for the music he wrote, the melodies he’d played. Once that dear, beloved spirit had left him bereft, he’d shut out all the joy she’d brought to his life.

  Now this child stood before him and asked him to allow those keys to respond to the touch of his fingers. Jake found that he had no defense against the boy’s beseeching look.

  “Go ahe
ad, Toby,” he said, gritting his teeth against the pain to come.

  The boy walked slowly toward the piano, lifting the bench to pull it from beneath the keyboard, and then settled himself on the shiny surface. He looked quickly at Jake, as if asking final permission, and Jake found himself nodding acquiescence.

  The boy’s right hand lifted and his fingers touched the keys, one at a time. He tried out a simple melody, and his head tilted to one side as if he heard a whole orchestra providing accompaniment to the simple tune he played. His left hand lifted to touch the lower octaves and he added harmony to the mix, his right hand moving now more rapidly, his fingers agile as they skimmed over the keyboard.

  Then he stopped, placing his hands in his lap and turning his head in Jake’s direction, as though offering an apology for taking liberties with the instrument.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said, and walked past Jake to the doorway, his eyes wide, his expression stunned as though he had experienced some wondrous thing.

  “Toby.” Jake spoke the name softly, unaware of the other two children who stood silently by. “Tell your mother I’ll give you lessons.”

  “Me, too?” Catherine asked eagerly, stepping closer to Jake’s chair, her gaze moving uneasily to the empty spaces where his legs should be.

  Could he do this thing? And then he looked again at the boy who lingered in the doorway, hope alive on his narrow face, joy flooding his countenance. How could he not?

  “Yes, you, too,” he told Catherine. “Now, off with both of you. I’ll have Mrs. McPherson tell you when you may come again.”

  Alicia appeared behind the children, her eyes meeting his anxiously. She touched Catherine’s head briefly, brushed her hand across Toby’s shoulder and smiled at Jason. For Jake, she reserved a look of restraint. He could not bear that she allowed him to intimidate her in this way.

  “Come in, Alicia,” he said, offering her his hand. She approached and he tugged at her, nudging her toward the couch. “Sit down. We need to talk about this.”

  CHAPTER NINE