by Caryl McAdoo
Finally, he looked up. “How long would this take to build?”
“A month, maybe longer. Depends on how quick I can forge the parts.” Elijah smiled, glanced at Cecelia, then turned back to her father.
May covered her smile with her napkin. Could the young man be any more obvious? How cute, great fodder for one of her stories. Him coming up with a new machine to help with planting—just to stay longer for Cece’s sake.
Seemed Bonnie caught their exchange, too, though. Poor baby’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“What about other crops? With bigger seeds? Can you make it adjustable?”
“Haven’t thought of that, but I don’t see why not.”
Clay pointed his fork at Elijah. “From what I’ve seen, Mister Henry, this man here can make about anything.”
Chester and the little boys started gathering plates, and Jewel disappeared to the kitchen. She returned with one of her iron skillet apple pies. Oh, mercy, how could May resist? Well, at least she hadn’t gorged on the roast.
Over peach cobbler, the men talked only of Elijah’s planter, while the girls did everything short of waving their hankies to be noticed.
Braxton offered the least to the male conversation and took every opportunity to make eyes at both Gwendolyn and Cecelia, but only the debutante seemed interested in the timber buyer.
Obviously, CeCe only hankered after Mister Eversole, who had lost himself in his mechanical intricacies. Even after dishes, the discussion continued in the parlor over coffee.
Seemed almost forever, but May finally had him all to herself in the library. She slipped into his chair and looked to the wingback.
He did as she wanted. “Did I see Gwen taking Crockett upstairs?”
“Yes, sir. She’s going to be such a good mother, but then they all will. I don’t know how you did it Henry—all by yourself.”
“Oh, I had Rebecca and Jewel, and you’ve made a huge difference. So, I thought….” A bit of mirth mixed with a bemused expression ended in a big grin. “You ready for bed then?”
Figuring it best to tell him now instead of later, she inhaled. The deep breath offered cleansing, fresh encouragement. “Yes, sir, but first, we need to talk.”
His lips turned down. “Can’t it wait?”
“How I wish it could.” She grinned. “Bonnie wants me to talk you into lowering the courting age to fifteen. Cited that little couple at church.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly back and forth. “What did you tell her?”
“Had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, but in the end, I told her I’d be surprised if you allowed even six months—for Cecelia’s sake—much less three years.”
“What did she say to that?”
“Oh, that’s when she tried to use the Goldthwaite girl as an example of how being a child-bride can work out just fine.”
“Did she mention the shotgun part?”
“No, I’m certain she has no idea of that. Was pregnancy the reason she got married so young?”
He nodded, then filled his lungs. “Should I talk with her?”
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary. We can just let it run its course.”
“What course?”
His eyes always bade her to drink him in. Oh, how she loved him, but the man was so dense about matters of the heart. “It won’t be easy until they’re all grown and married. You know that, Henry. Don’t you, dear?”
“Rebecca wasn’t this hard.”
“That’s only because no other man met the mark you set in her eyes. Anyway, our dear Bonnie Claire thinks she’s in love with Elijah.”
“What? How could she? He hasn’t done or said anything, has he?”
“Not that I know of. Now before I tell you what I do know, I want you to promise me that you’ll sleep on any decision.”
“So there’s more?” He scooted to the edge of the seat as if at the ready to spring into action. “If I need to shoot someone, I best be about it tonight.”
She chuckled. “Just sit back, and please, promise me you’ll sleep on what I’m about to tell you.”
For the longest, he didn’t move then finally eased deep into the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can only promise I’ll try.”
Though wanting more, she figured that might be all he could give before knowing. Hopefully, she’d made it into a mountain, and he would be relieved and consider it only a molehill once he heard the whole story.
She cleared her throat. “Last night, Cecelia snuck into the attic and visited Elijah’s room.”
He jumped to his feet and stuck out his hand. “Get my pistol. It’s in the middle drawer.”
“I know perfectly well where it is. Sit back down. Nothing happened. Mister Eversole was the perfect gentleman and sent her packing, right back to her room.”
He glared and remained standing, his hand still extended. “How do you know that?”
“Well, Chester heard someone in the attic, then the thud when she dropped down. She didn’t stay more than two minutes before tiptoeing back through the attic then into her room again.”
He pulled his hand back, but still glared, and still stood. “Did you talk to her?”
“Please, won’t you sit?” She offered the seat with an open palm.
He took the wingback again, but stayed on the edge. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“Because she’s a young woman. Certain that she’s in love. And yes, I have spoken with her. She admitted it. Claimed she had to, went because he was vying with Clay, making eyes at Gwen through supper. Cecelia wanted to make him understand she was worth waiting for.”
He exhaled. “Two minutes. Chester sure about that?”
“Positive.” She waited a few seconds as the hot blood drained from his cheeks. “Please, Henry, I have something else to tell you…the best part.”
For a bit, he just stared like how could there be any good part in the whole episode. Still on the ready, he looked as if he would act, if only he could figure out who to shoot. “Go ahead. Enlighten me.”
“CeCe said she kissed him, but he didn’t kiss her back or even lay a hand on her.”
His arms uncrossed and fell to his lap. His chin lowered to his chest. She’d never seen him so dejected, even when he first heard Mary Rachel’s news. What was he contemplating? She eased out of the chair, but he didn’t look up.
“It’s all my fault.”
“What? No! Nothing is your fault. Nothing’s happened.”
He raised his head and looked at a spot over her. “There’s something about Sue I never told you.”
She slipped back into his chair. A flutter danced from one side of her tummy to the other, then rolled, but she kept her peace. More about Sue? What could it be? May wanted to hear what he had to say, and let him talk.
“Right after we married, she wrote me a song.” He glanced at the place on the wall where her picture once hung, seemingly focused on May’s bullet hole, for more of her heartbeats than she was comfortable with. Finally, he looked back. “If you want to read it, I hid it in the frame after she died.”
“I never knew Sue wrote songs.”
“Called it Susannah’s Ballad.”
“Why would you hide that, dear? It doesn’t bother me that she wrote you a song.”
He swallowed. “It ended with her promising…to give me a…son.” His voice cracked and tears glistened in the lamplight. “I killed her, May. And now that sin is being visited on me through my girls. First Mary Rachel, and now Cecelia.”
She jumped to her feet and hurried around the desk then knelt beside him.
“Cecelia is not Mary Rachel, and they’re both good girls, Henry. You’ve raised wonderful young ladies. We all make mistakes, but God watches over us. He watched over Mary Rachel, bringing Jethro Risen into her life, and now He’s sent Elijah for Cecelia.”
The chuckle that escaped could only be described as sad. “I’d tell Sue, no. Then she’d sing that song, ‘Hallelu, hall
elu! Oh, how I love you!’ With each baby girl, she’d tell me it was getting easier.” He rested his elbow on the armrest and dropped his head into his palm. “Her love…the promise…I killed her, May.”
Oh, God.
Suddenly she understood why he was so adamant about her having only one baby.
She rose and extended her hand. “Come on. It’s time we went to bed.”
He took her hand but resisted her tug.
She raised both eyebrows, and he let her pull him out of the chair.
Please. Don’t let him ask any questions, Lord.
Henry beat the rooster up, but only by half a cup’s worth of coffee. Midway around the home section, it hit him. His calculations were not off.
Dear Lord, have I gone and done it again?
It couldn’t be. Maybe something else….
Instead of asking Father God for wisdom and understanding, as he had been, he glared at the brightening eastern sky. “Take me instead. Not May. I couldn’t bear it again.”
Once back to the barn, with no signs spotted, as he brushed out the Black, the Lord pierced his heart, and he repented.
“Forgive me, Father. I can do all thing through Christ who strengthens me. Your will, not mine.” A peace settled over his heart as he worked on the stallion. Things would turn out fine. He was wrong, had to be.
Like May said, the Lord watches over His, even when mistakes are made. She was right. Then could it be He sent Eversole?
The man not responding to CeCe’s kiss brought to mind Lisbeth Akins ambushing him when she was fourteen. Except, thankfully, he never had any feelings for the girl, while Elijah appeared to be coming up with new equipment to forge.
A planter would buy him another month. Henry smiled. The young man could probably stretch it into six weeks or more.
“Mister Henry, sir?”
He turned around. His son-in-law’s junior partner stood just inside the door. Hat in hand. “Morning, Son. Should I shake your hand or blow you head off?”
Chapter Nine
Elijah stepped closer. At least Cecelia’s father wasn’t holding a gun on him. The scent of fresh-cut hay filling the barn couldn’t overpower the taste of fear though. He swallowed and extended his hand.
“I’d understand if you did, sir, but then you wouldn’t.…”
The older man shook his head. “Forget the engine and planter. My daughter is not for sale.”
“No, oh, that’s not what I was saying.” He dropped his hat and held his hands up. “Not at all. I was going to say you’d lose a son-in-law.”
The older man eyed him hard, but Elijah didn’t look away. He finally went back to brushing The Black, although it seemed with a bit too much gusto. “So, tell me your version of night before last.”
He scooped up his hat and eased closer, filled his lungs, then tried again to swallow away the acidic dryness.
“I was working on the drawing in my room and heard something in the attic. At first I thought squirrels. Then, oh, Lord, was I surprised when Cecelia opened the water closet door.”
“You never said a word to her about coming to your room?”
“No, sir. I’d never…but…in the end, I’m glad that she did, sir.”
“How so?”
“After Caleb Wheeler died, I proposed to Mary Rachel.”
The older man’s face turned to flint, but he said nothing.
“She refused me, of course. Too soon, I guess. But it broke my heart when she took up with Clinton.”
“Who?”
“Edward Clinton, her second baby’s father, sir. Turned out he was married.”
“So what’s that got to do with Cecelia coming to your room?”
“I’m going to admit straight up. I thought building you a steam engine would be a good excuse to meet Mary’s sisters. See if any of them were cut from the same cloth, as pretty and smart, and God-fearing.” For a heartbeat, he tried to picture his first love in his mind’s eye, but Cecelia’s image alone filled his soul.
“Son, you keep stopping. Get to it.”
“Not until the other night—when she showed up—did I know for sure. I’m in love with Cecelia, sir. Those feelings I had for Mary don’t even compare to those in my heart right now toward her sister.”
“She’s too young.”
“Well, I respectfully disagree, sir, but certainly understand your absolute right to say so. I’ll wait though. However long it takes. I’m asking for your blessing to court Cecelia, sir, and when—only when—we earn your blessing, to make her my wife.”
Of their own, the muscles in Henry’s shoulders relaxed. His fists unclenched. “That’s good to hear. Why didn’t you kiss my daughter back when she visited?”
“Oh, I wanted to. So much it hurt. But the Lord strengthened me, just as He has every time I hear the siren’s song.”
Henry resisted smiling. Praise God for a kindred spirit. “How long did she stay in your room?”
“Seemed like only seconds, could have been two or three minutes. No more.”
“You’re sure.”
“Couldn’t have been longer. She only told me she was worth waiting for and…well…there was the kiss, but it was short and sweet. That’s all. I wanted her to stay for certain. I wanted to smother her in kisses. But the one, along with her declaration…it told me all I needed to know, sir. I’m in love, I want to spend the rest of my life making your daughter happy.”
For sure, the young man was saying all the right things. “We only work till noon today, so we can get ready for church tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. The cousins were telling me that yesterday.”
“Have any problem with the Methodist?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Dinner at one sharp.” He extended his hand. Elijah jumped to take it and shook vigorously. Henry pulled him in close. “Son, no matter how much I like you or my daughter thinks she loves you, I’ll kill you dead and feed you to the hogs if you hurt my baby.”
“Understood, sir, but no worries. I’d never harm her in any way, and swear to you now, I’d give my life to save hers, sir.”
Henry released his grip and smiled. “Good to hear. You get anything to eat? We don’t have a big breakfast on Saturdays.”
“Oh, yes, sir. Miss Jewel took care of me.”
“Excellent, now go on and git. We both have a lot to do.”
Once back inside, he found his wife sipping coffee, eating sugar cookies, and visiting with Chester and Miss Jewel. He liked Mammy’s new name, though still had to remind himself at times. He stopped in the door, leaned against the jam, and drank in May’s beauty.
Mercy, Lord, could You have made a more gorgeous woman?
Susannah had been famous for her looks, but Millicent May Merriweather Buckmeyer was an even more handsome female. The love in his heart spread to his mouth.
She looked up. “What are you grinning about?”
“You, sweetheart. I love you so much.”
She stood, and he walked into her extended arms. “I love you, too, Husband.” She kissed him lightly then hugged him tight. Before he was ready, she leaned back. “We’re having coffee and sweets for breakfast.”
He winked at Miss Jewel. “Any cornbread left from last night?”
She jumped to her feet. “Yes, sir. Wants a hunk with honey?”
“Any ham we could slide inside?”
The older woman grinned as she poured him a cup of coffee. “How’s about I fry you up a set of eggs to go with that?”
He took her offering then sat next to his wife. “No, thank you. Cornbread slathered in honey and a nice slab of ham will do me up right.” He took a sip then faced his wife. “Had a nice talk with Elijah just now.”
“What did he allow?”
“Told pretty much the same story as Cecelia. You ever hear of an Edward Clinton?”
“Doesn’t ring any bells.” She looked to her brother. “What about you, Chester?”
He nodded. “Maybe. I believe Governor Cli
nton might’ve had a son named Edward.”
“Erie Canal, Governor Clinton?”
“Yes, sir, but before it got finished, we all called it Clinton’s ditch.”
May wanted to hear more about his and Elijah’s conversation, but knew the man well enough not to press him with anyone else within earshot. And the change in him when he mentioned Clinton was slight, but perceptible.
Lots to talk about. And one more day of proof that another wee Buckmeyer should be expected.
If her monthlies didn’t come soon, she’d have no choice but to tell him.
Miss Jewel set his breakfast in front of him, and May amused herself watching the man scarf down his meal. How was it he never gained any weight eating the way he did?
Once finished, he drank another cup of coffee then stood and extended his hand. “How’s your story coming?”
She let him pull her to her feet then grinned. “Fine, now that The Red Rooster lost his tail feather.”
“So, I’m your pirate after all?”
“Maybe.” She snugged in and walked lockstep with him to the library’s door where he stepped aside and let her go first. She loved him so, such a gentleman. An errant chuckle jumped past her lips.
“What’s funny?”
She twirled, grabbed both of his hands, then tugged. “You! I was just thinking how much I appreciate you being such a gentleman. As I did, that wolf you harbor hit me, and it tickled.” She kissed him. “You are such a contrast. Genteel one second, the next charging a drunk with a loaded gun aimed at your nose.”
He kissed her back. “Am I ever going to live that down?”
“No, sir. Your bravery warms my heart. You’re like a heated blanket on a cold night, my knight in shining armor, my –”
He kissed her silent. She loved it, him not wanting to bask in her praise. He leaned back and stared deep into her eyes. “So, when are you planning on telling me?”
How could he know? Couldn’t, he had to be talking about something different. She searched his eyes, hoping her own weren’t giving her away. “Tell you what?”
