by Lyn Cote
She clung to him. “Asa.”
He felt her breathing fast and hard. He knew he should say something, but all words had fled. He leaned down and kissed her again, unable to resist the urge to meld himself to this woman who understood, and in some way to draw healing from her.
*
Judith reveled in her husband’s embrace. She was afraid to speak, afraid to disrupt this wonderful event. She returned his kisses, standing on tiptoe to give him more of her to kiss. He rained kisses over her face as if imprinting his mark upon her. Asa is kissing me.
A man cleared his throat loudly.
Judith froze, a bit dazed by Asa’s kisses. As his hold on her loosened, she turned to see the Langs with all four of the children.
“We’re so sorry to interrupt,” Mrs. Lang said, her face pink with embarrassment. “But when Colton returned, we had to be sure you wanted the children. Is everything all right?” Mrs. Lang’s voice warbled on the final words.
Judith drew herself together, though she still clung to Asa’s arm, a bit unsteady on her feet. She glanced up at her husband. “We’re fine.” Her face flamed and must be bright red.
“Well, then, we’ll be on our way,” Mrs. Lang said. The woman studied them for a few more moments. Then she turned and left with her children and husband at her side.
Lily ran forward, her dolly’s head bobbing up and down over her arm. “You were kissing.”
Judith’s face burned brighter.
“Married folk kiss,” Asa said gruffly.
“Yes, Ma and Pa kissed, too,” Colton agreed with scorn. “Are you all right, Mr. Brant?”
“I’m good. Let’s you and me see if we can catch a few fish for the supper pot.”
Judith sank onto the bench. Asa was acting as if nothing had happened. Her whole world had been turned upside down and backward. Yet he was going fishing?
Then he surprised her with a kiss on her cheek. “We won’t be gone long.” He gazed into her eyes.
She saw something had changed in him, too—even if he was going fishing right after their unbelievable kiss—or many kisses, to be truthful. “Very well,” she managed to say. “I wish you good fishing.”
The two males set off, leaving her and Lily by the cabin door.
“What are we going to do?” Lily asked.
A very good question, Judith thought. What would happen now? Her lips tingled with the memory of Asa’s kisses, and she pressed her fingertips to them. She hoped this would prove to be the start of breaking through to a normal married life between husband and wife, but Asa had let his lips speak without words. There were words she needed to hear and he needed to say. Lord, please help Asa and help me understand him. Let him love me a little.
*
The evening came, and Judith sat in her rocker in front of the low fire. All the rest of the day, Judith had prayed. What should she say to her husband about the newspaperman? The reporter most likely had let out his secret already. More important, what had Asa’s kisses meant? Will he kiss me again?
Finally the children settled down in their pallets for the night. Yet Asa did not go to his loft, as usual, and leave her alone to go into the bedroom. He lingered in his chair, rocking and staring into the scant fire. Would he tell her what he was thinking?
Judith sat, waiting and rocking. Before long, both children fell soundly asleep. Still Asa did not leave her. Outside, tree frogs peeped along with the other soothing night sounds, which failed to soothe Judith tonight.
Words jumbled in her throat, but she kept her lips pressed together. Asa must speak, must explain.
“You talked to that reporter?” he asked finally.
Instantly cold apprehension flooded her. What if this angered her husband? “He was young and said his job depended on…”
He rested his hand on hers on the arm of her chair. “I’m not scolding.”
She eased in air. “I answered his questions…briefly but truthfully.” She let her voice become firm on the word truthfully.
He squeezed her forearm. “You are an understanding woman, Judith. A wise woman.”
She didn’t know what to say to these unexpected compliments. Reeling from this, she knew that what she really wanted was to be a pretty, lovable, desirable wife. But she wasn’t. A mourning dove hoo-ed softly outside, followed by a whip-poor-will singing its name.
“Judith, I’m sorry I ran away today. I can’t believe I did that. I’ve never run away from anything in my life.” His sad tone contrasted with the insistent bellowing of a bullfrog at the nearby creek.
“I know you’re a brave man, Asa.” Suddenly her concern overrode her unease. “I think I can understand why you don’t use your first name. I hadn’t thought about it, but I remember the big welcome-home event for you and the militia. People couldn’t discuss anything but your action in Gettysburg. You are also a modest man, a private man. I can understand that you were tired of people always wanting to talk about what you did in the war.”
He cleared his throat. “That’s it exactly. But I should have just faced it. And now everyone here knows anyway.” He rubbed his face with one hand.
The lonely whip-poor-will sang out again in the last of dusk. In the dim light, Judith needed to know what he expected of her now. “What do you want to do? How do you want me…us to handle this?”
“They’ve been after us veterans to speak. Maybe I have something I want to say. I can’t decide what’s best.”
Judith wanted to ask what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Again she wanted to say much, but an inner urging told her to be silent.
*
The next morning after breakfast, Asa had decided to visit Noah Whitmore. Because he was a veteran, too, Asa felt he would understand why Asa had overreacted to the newspaperman. Perhaps Noah could help him go forward. But knowing people would want to question him about the reporter and his escape, Asa pulled his hat low and skirted Main Street staying in its shadows. And he’d started out early to avoid discussion.
He’d left Colton at the cabin in spite of the boy’s insistence he wanted to come along. Asa must speak to Noah alone. As he hurried toward Noah’s, the sun blazed on the crown of his hat. The day would be a warm one, and Asa only wished his decimated corn and hayfields could have been benefiting from it fully. He couldn’t dwell on that now. He heard the whistle of an arriving steamboat and was glad. That would distract everyone in town, and he’d slip past to the road toward the Whitmores’ place.
Last night, after telling Judith that he was thinking about the town’s Independence Day celebration, he’d risen and drawn Judith and into his arms. He could no longer staunch the need to hold her softness close and breathe in her sweet scent. He knew other women would insist he explain everything. And he couldn’t. He didn’t know yet what he should do, how to leave the past behind once and for all.
Still, he’d allowed himself to hold her. She hadn’t pushed him away or spoken. She just let him hold her, a boon. He pressed kisses to her forehead and then released her and headed to the loft, wondering if he would ever be worthy of his lovely, sweet wife.
When he reached the end of Main Street, his father-in-law, Dan, hailed him. “Look who’s come for a visit!”
Disgruntled over Dan’s calling attention to him, Asa turned. Then he gawked at the man standing next to Dan. Gil Jones? For several moments he couldn’t speak. What would bring Gil here? And what had happened to the man? He looked awful. And the expression on his face… He had blood in his eye, aimed right for Asa.
Gil didn’t approach him, just stayed at his father’s side, glaring at Asa.
“We’re going to get Emma, and then we were coming to your place,” Dan said, beaming.
Asa came out of his surprise, walked to Gil and offered his hand. “Gil, it’s good to see you.”
Gil’s chin jutted forward, but he shook Asa’s outstretched hand. “I didn’t know you’d married my sister. You left off using your first name.” The words were an indictment.
What was eating Gil? Asa shrugged, not letting on that he noticed Gil’s umbrage. “Decided to make a fresh start.”
Gil stared at Asa. “And are you?” he growled.
Not reacting to the snide question, Asa wanted to ask about Gil’s wife and farm, but the man’s belligerent expression stopped him.
“Well, come on!” Dan urged, shooing the men forward. “You two will have plenty of time to bring each other up to date. Let’s go get Emma! She’s the new schoolteacher here, son.”
This brought Gil back. He dropped Asa’s hand. “Emma’s a schoolteacher? I thought she got married, too.” Again the man sounded put-out.
“No, her man was called away. He’s coming back, though.” Dan shook his finger in Gil’s face. “And don’t sound so surprised about her being a teacher,” Dan scolded. “Your sister started in the spring, and everybody’s delighted that she stayed on.”
Gil kind of shook himself. “I’d like to see Emma,” he said in an odd tone.
“Come on, then.” Dan turned to Asa. “Where were you headed?”
“Nowhere special.” Something prompted him that he should stay with Gil and Dan. Gil was not only his wife’s brother but also a man he’d gone through war with. And who appeared ready for a fight. If Gil decided that he wanted to argue with Judith, Asa would put a stop to that. “Let’s go get your schoolteacher sister.”
When they’d reached the teacher’s quarters, though welcoming, Emma had been visibly shocked to see her brother and a bit cautious. Now the four of them were walking up the final rise to Asa and Judith’s clearing, and Asa wondered what Judith would say to the brother who’d deprived his sisters of a home—even if that hadn’t been his intention.
*
In the midst of kneading bread dough, Judith heard voices and walked to the door of her cabin. Who was coming now? Her heart sank with the possibilities, not all good. And right in the middle of her bread making? The most inconvenient time.
“Judith!” her father called her. “Come out! See who’s here! You’ll never guess!”
The ridiculous thought that Gil and Mabel Joy had come for a visit during the growing season flitted through her mind. She decided not to wipe off her doughy hands so whoever it was would realize she couldn’t leave her half-kneaded bread and would excuse her.
So with gooey hands raised, she walked to the open door and stepped outside. One glance at the track to their clearing rooted her to the spot. Gil? He looked like a rumpled tramp. If his shirt and pants had ever been washed and pressed, it hadn’t been this week. His hair needed cutting, and he’d grown a scraggly beard.
Then memories of Gil and Mabel Joy arguing late at night after Gil had come home from the saloon and the particularly unpleasant one of Mabel Joy throwing a bowl of bread dough at him flashed through her mind. “What are you doing here?” She heard the sharp edge to her voice and regretted it. “Is your wife with you?” She hoped not.
Gil halted about fifteen feet in front of her. “No,” he snapped. “Mabel Joy didn’t come.”
Bemused by his coming, she stayed where she was, her doughy hands still held high. “Gil, sorry. I didn’t expect to see you here. Welcome, brother.” Her final words fell flat.
Gil appeared to get himself under control. “I wanted to see how you all were doing.” He glanced darkly at their father.
“We’re doing very well,” Emma spoke up. “But I can see that we must let Judith get back to her bread dough. Asa, why don’t you show Gil around your place while I help my sister with the bread?” Emma came forward, turned Judith toward her cabin and walked with her.
Lily had come out and was standing by the door, a small lump of dough in her hand.
“Hello, Lily. That’s our brother, Mr. Gil Jones.” Emma waved toward the men who were moving toward the barn door, where Colton stood.
“Oh, is he going to live with Mr. Jones?” the little girl asked.
“I think he’s just come for a visit,” Emma replied. She reached down and took the girl’s dough. “Why don’t you go and join the tour?”
Lily looked up at Judith uncertainly. “Mrs. Brant?”
“Yes, Lily, you can go and see what the men are up to and remind Mr. Brant that he promised to make you a swing today.”
The little girl brightened. “I will!” She skipped out the door.
“So, what’s this mean?” Emma asked when they were alone inside. “And why does Gil look like he chewed nails for breakfast?”
Judith turned to the large quantity of dough on her wooden board. She attacked the dough with both hands.
“Hey!” Emma cautioned, humor in her tone. “Don’t take it out on the innocent dough.”
Judith glanced over her shoulder. “Emma, why do you think Gil is here?”
“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” Emma replied, since neither of them could further the discussion.
While Emma sat and talked about town news, Judith returned to kneading her dough. If only people were as malleable as bread dough. Would Mabel Joy turn up next?
Judith finished kneading her dough and set it to rise, while outside the three men and Colton managed to build and hang Lily’s wood-and-rope swing from an old spreading oak bough. With Emma’s help, she managed to rustle up a decent lunch for seven of salt pork, beans, biscuits and a wild dandelion salad with a warm, sweet, pungent vinegar dressing. Everyone finished the meal with canned peaches and whipped cream. Why was Gil here? she again wondered.
“Good eats,” Gil said.
Judith had noticed he’d eaten like a starved man. She itched to ask him if Mabel Joy had given up cooking but held the words within. Not my place.
A more worrying thought pinched her. Had Gil just up and left his wife, the family farm? She saw the same questions in Emma’s and Asa’s eyes, or thought she did. Her father, as usual, appeared to accept Gil’s appearance with joy and without question. So maybe she and Emma were the only ones wanting to know what was so wrong at home. And why Gil appeared so angry.
And in the end, what could she do? She was just a daughter. She had done the expected. She had married and left home. The farm would go to Gil, and because of her father’s failing heart, it had been in Gil’s charge. But that was what was expected. No one had expected a Southern wife and fighting and Gil’s drinking. No, indeed.
Chapter Fourteen
Asa wondered again why Gil had come. He recollected all he knew of the man from serving with him for four long years and all he’d heard about Gil after the war from Dan and Judith and Emma. Well, it probably wasn’t any of his business, but he needed to be ready for whatever came of this visit. From the neighbor’s letter and Dan’s account, Gil had been trying to wash away the war with liquor.
Asa had briefly tried drowning his nightmares and flashes of memory with alcohol. But had soon stopped. It deadened his mind only for a while. When he sobered, he felt worse than before, not better. Had Gil finally realized this?
Outside a blue jay sounded his raucous call.
This appeared to prompt Dan. “Well, I’ve got to get into town,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Ashford is counting on me, and I’m sure some more boats will be docking this afternoon.”
“Is that why you met my boat?” Gil asked. “You can’t be peddling.” His voice spoke of embarrassment and aggravation.
Dan smiled, evidently missing Gil’s disapproving tone. “I work for the store, meeting the boats to sell tobacco and notions.”
Gil looked horrified. “Why would you do that?”
“I love it!” Dan walked to the door and retrieved his hat from the peg. “I meet interesting people every day.”
The children begged to walk with him to town and Judith allowed them, telling them to come right home when her father told them it was time to go. Then Judith kissed her father’s cheek and began to clear the table.
“I’ll walk with you, too, Father,” Emma said, rising. “I’m working on lesson plans for the coming school year. And Mr
s. Ashford might need me this afternoon.”
Asa waved the four off and then turned to Gil. “Come on. I’ll take you for a walk around. Introduce you to our neighbors.”
Gil ignored this invitation. He leaped to his feet and moved to confront Judith, her arms full of tableware. “What is our father doing living in a shack and peddling?”
Asa saw red. Stepping between Gil and Judith, he shoved Gil back, nearly off his feet. “No one talks to my wife like that. No one.”
Gil swung a fist.
Judith cried out.
Asa easily dodged the blow, grabbed Gil by both shoulders and slammed him down on the bench behind him. “That’s enough, Private!”
Gil glared, breathing hard. “Still the captain?” he sneered.
“Still the private?” Asa replied in like tone, tamping down his anger.
At this, Gil turned his face away as if suddenly shamed.
Judith set the dishes in the tin dishpan. Without comment, she carried the pan of dishes outside to wash, leaving them alone.
“Gil,” Asa began more gently, “Dan was welcome to come live with us or with Emma. He chose to make his own living arrangements and found his own job. We weren’t happy about it, but he enjoys being in town, talking to people and living on his own.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Gil, you are welcome here, but why have you come?” Asa asked.
Gil did not respond but rose and faced Asa. “I’m going for a walk.” He turned, and Asa let him go. After waiting for Gil to put some distance between them, he walked outside and went straight to Judith.
She looked up, worry in her expression, her hands in the soapy water.
Asa tried to think of words to allay her worry. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled for lack of anything else to say.
Then Judith leaned her head into his shoulder.
Her seeking comfort from him robbed him of speech. Her silken hair brushed the sensitive underside of his chin.
“Thank you for defending me,” she murmured.
“No one talks to my wife that way,” he repeated, letting himself rest a hand on her slender back.
