“Hey, that is what my mom does,” Michael laughed, swinging their arms together in rhythm with their steps. “Joseph,” he said quietly and with a hesitation that made the man slow his steps and look at the young boy.
“What is it, kid?”
Michael took a deep breath, “I love you,” he exhaled.
Joseph’s lips parted as he stared at the eager blue eyes hungry for attention and love from a father. Joseph’s own heart seemed to melt like a pool of butter. It was obvious in Michael’s face that he wanted those words said in return, but should Esther refuse him, how could he lead Michael to believe he loved him and then return to Texas? How could Michael love him after such a short time? But wasn’t that hypocritical when Joseph himself knew that he was in love with Esther from the moment he saw her?
At Joseph’s silence Michael’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I said I love you,” he repeated with a catch in his voice.
All walls and inhibitions dropped. Joseph blinked back his emotion and grinned at Michael. “Love you too, kid,” he said, his heart flip-flopping at Michael’s jubilant smile. The two fell back into an easy pace. Joseph held tightly to Michael’s hand. He didn’t care what he had to do—there was no way in heaven or hell he would be leaving Tall Pine without Esther or Michael.
/
Esther had to be the most frustrating and alluring woman who ever walked the earth. She returned looking tired, stressed, and so dang good. A goddess in cotton who would not even acknowledge Joseph; in fact, she seemed keen on ignoring him. When she returned she inquired how Michael was, and then abruptly began to take him home. Joseph had looked pleadingly at Abby who skillfully insisted that they stay for dinner.
“Oh, thank you, but you have helped me enough for today.”
“Please Esther, it’s nothing special—just rice and beans and the fish Michael and Joseph caught—but it would be awfully nice to cook with another woman, and I am making an apple pie from that recipe you gave me,” Abby pleaded. Michael, who had discovered Abby’s orange kitten Killer, was now gleefully paying with him as the ball of fluff pounced all over the giggling boy. Esther finally consented, not sparing Joseph a moment’s glance as she brushed past him. Brooding over her obvious aloofness, Joseph sat outside the kitchen pretending to read a book, although he found himself reading the same sentence over and over as his ears strained to hear the conversation of the two women.
“You put butter in your rice?” Abby asked, tilting her head in awe. Everything about cooking now amazed her: the way bread rose, the crackling noise of meat fried in oil.
“Only a little. Just remember everything tastes better with a little butter,” smiled Esther.
“How is Mary Higgins doing?” Abby asked. She was a specimen of worried gossip among the church-going women of Tall Pine, all worried about her while also being disgusted and fed up with her stubborn adoration towards a no-good husband.
“There is a lot of swelling,” Esther said, her voice grave. “Too much swelling often means complications for the mother.”
“Meaning death?” Abby asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.
Esther nodded, “Possibly. It is as if the body poisons itself, which can kill the mother unless she has the baby early, and at that point, it is a question of either getting the mother to move in order to speed up labor or have her rest because the body is doing an okay job fighting the poison. The body is left with no energy to fight, and there can be bleeding, long labors, and so forth.”
Esther didn’t speak like other doctors or nurses that Abby had met; good people who seemed to look upon their patients with a more scientific and detached perspective. Esther’s whole face looked worn from the weight she seemed to carry as if it was completely her responsibility to assure the safety of whomever she helped.
“I’m sure you’re doing all you can,” Abby said, touching her arm. Esther paused and gave Abby a thoughtful look that turned into an embrace of gratitude.
“Thank you, Abby,” Esther said as she pulled away. “I do all I can, but sometimes I fear it is not enough. I begin to understand my uncle’s frenzy for new research, his obsession for medical advances. There is so much we don’t know, and, God willing, I hope the knowledge to save more lives comes soon.”
Abby nodded as a strange feeling of helplessness settled over her. Back in Texas she had known there was sufferings, sickness, and hardship in the world, but the desire to fix it never overcame her as it did now. She suddenly felt so small, so inadequate to help, and yet she had a great desire to do something.
“My mother always says that a good woman feels constantly guilty for not being able to do more,” Abby muttered, feeling a buried gratitude for her mother. Now she understood—her mother had saved her from being one of those silly women who speak of their youthful glory days for years to come. “I suppose though I would rather feel guilt and pain and have substance to my soul than to live a life of superficial ease and have nothing to me… no soul as it were.”
Again Esther gave Abby a pensive look. The little schoolteacher had come to Tall Pine as a child, a young girl stuffed with giggles and lace. Frivolity now seemed to have been replaced by wisdom. “I wholeheartedly agree,” Esther said, feeling the heaviness lift.
“How was Toby with you? I can’t stand the man.” Abby shivered and began seasoning the beans.
“Well, I had to bribe him in order to have Mary come to my house when she goes into labor,” she began before telling the story, although she left out Eliza. There was no need to share her friend’s battles. When she retold Toby’s suggestive comments, which she modified, she heard a thud from the living room as Joseph threw down his book and rushed into the kitchen.
“That low-life bastard said what to you?” he roared.
Both Esther and Abby blinked in surprise. “Joseph Silver, watch your language. And, more to the point—were you eavesdropping?” Abby asked. Her mouth twisted in a mixture of surprise and amusement.
“I was sitting in the living room, Abby! That could hardly be classified as eavesdropping,” he bellowed before pinning Esther with his gaze. The magnitude of his concern was vivid in his piercing eyes and clenched jaw. So vivid that Esther found herself getting… warm? Not afraid, nor anxious, nor smothered? She tried to look away but found she couldn’t. Had she not already belittled herself when she discovered that the thought of Joseph had comforted her in Toby’s presence? She did not want a man. She did not trust them. She would not allow a handsome face or even kindness to her child to seduce her away from her resolve. Yet, if this were true, then why couldn’t she look away? Why did her cheeks feel flushed?
“You are not to go to that man’s house again,” Joseph demanded, his chest heaving.
In an instant Esther’s emotions fired into resentment. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Silver,” she said with a pronounced arch of her brow.
“It’s Joseph—and I said you are not to go to that man’s house again. Not when he is speaking to you in such intimate terms,” Joseph growled.
Esther tilted her head with a half-smile. “Intimate is hardly the word I would use… inappropriate, yes. Intimacy implies two parties whereas with Mr. Higgins, the suggestive nature was from him and not me.”
“Still, you should not, will not—”
“I will go and do as I please,” Esther said kindly with her tone rising only slightly. “I appreciate your concern, but maybe you did not hear that there is a pregnant woman who is completely incapable of caring for herself, let alone her unborn child. I would not deserve to call myself a midwife if I did nothing.”
Joseph glowered; he didn’t know how to answer. “And helping means you going there every morning?”
Esther lifted her chin and folded her arms, “Yes. It does,” she said firmly.
Joseph looked away. He had not met this Toby Higgins, but anger and aggression swelled within him. He had seen many terrible things in his time as a Ranger, and he’d learned to develop a sort of numbness to them. Meeting Esther a
nd Michael had stirred emotions long buried. Abby whispered something to him about calming down, but he did not hear it. He needed to go do something before he spoke out in anger. Outside. He needed to go out and cool off. Firewood! Surely more firewood needs to be chopped. Storming off without a word, Joseph walked fiercely into the cool evening air.
He took several deep breaths before walking to the back of the house where the firewood was kept. How he wished he could meet this Toby Higgins and punch him in the face. Had not Abby said that the young pastor did something similar? Perhaps Will was a better man than what Joseph had given him credit for. Grabbing a large log Joseph set it in front of him, picked up the ax, and swung it clean through the log. He did another and another; he didn’t know how many logs he’d chopped, but he swung until his muscles burned and sweat dripped from his brow.
How much of his life had been spent as a Ranger when he could have been preparing a home, a place for him and Esther? Would that have even mattered? Would Esther ever give him a chance, or would she refuse him and send him off with shattered hopes and a broken heart? How he longed to grab her, press his body against hers, and call her his. Yet, just when his hopes started to rise, Esther would shut them down. Joseph had always believed that if he was relentless in his pursuit, he could obtain whatever he wanted. Esther was filling him with doubt.
He placed another log in front of him and swung. He thought of Michael’s hopeful face when he had told Joseph that he loved him. He thought of Esther’s beautiful and methodical ways, making the most mundane chore seem more like an elegant dance. He could not abandon his quest to win her over, but he now doubted he would ever be successful.
Pray. His mother’s words echoed in his mind. Joseph blew a lock of hair out of his eyes. He never prayed—did not need to. He was perfectly fine on his own.
Pray. The word repeated itself again. A smile hinted on Joseph’s lips. He could never escape his mother’s words: pray, be strong but gentle, save yourself for the one woman who will matter; be kind but not weak; when in doubt, when in need, always pray.
Joseph swung the ax again, and again.
“Dear Lord,” he said with a gruff voice. He swung again, “I don’t know exactly what to say,” another swing. What should he say—that he had no idea what to do with Esther? Why would God even care about that?
“Joseph?” A gentle voice surprised him. Lowering the ax he turned to see Esther.
Well I’ll be. Lord, that was quick. “Yes, Miss Esther?” he asked. He felt both confused and elated that she had come to see him.
She nodded toward the house, “Supper is just about ready,” she said, taking a step forward. Joseph stared at Esther quizzically. He liked how she carried herself with ease, no need to chatter or move abruptly. Her natural serenity in expression, voice, and movement showed a strong assurance in herself. Yet, right now she looked different. After the long day, her hair was falling from its done-up form, allowing soft tendrils to fall along her neck and making her look more youthful. Her cheeks seemed flushed, her gaze, usually steady, glanced away every few seconds. As she approached he noticed that a small constellation of freckles danced over the bridge of her nose. Esther was always stunning, but there was a barrier that surrounded her, making her seem untouchable. Only in his mind could he embrace her, kiss her. In this moment, as she continued walking towards him, she seemed more girlish, more approachable. What was different now?
/
Esther felt bad as soon as Joseph left. His sudden explosion and impudence in telling her what she could and could not do had flared her anger. No man would control her, even if he meant well. Yet when Joseph had stormed off, she could not help but feel a bit flattered that he cared so much. Still, she did not need a protector; for so long she had looked after herself. Her uncle had come to her aid, but even then it was she who had cleaned up the old house, chased off wolves, looked after the property, stayed up with Michael during feverish nights, taught herself how to shoot and shoot well. Not only could she take care of herself, but she was capable of taking care of others.
Joseph seemed bent on helping her, and the thought made her feel, well, soft and almost elated. She had a sudden urge to giggle. Shaking her shoulders to clear her mind, Esther had tried to focus on the rice and beans. Men were naturally beasts, save a few, such as her uncle. She would not allow herself to let go of her distrust and anger. It was those feelings that would protect her, and more importantly they were feelings that would protect Michael from getting stuck with an unloving stepfather. Esther would not bereft herself of the lessons she had learned seven years ago.
Try as she might, she could not focus on the meal at hand or on the comforting chatter of Abby. The thought gnawed at her that she had possibly offended Joseph when he was merely showing concern for her. The feeling that she should make amends pecked at her brain until finally she put down her wooden spoon and dismissed herself to go check on Joseph.
Esther expected to find Joseph brooding. When she heard the wood cracking she hurried to the back and then froze when she saw him. His thin shirt was damp with perspiration and clung to his swelled and taunt muscles. The dark brown hair hung loosely over blazing eyes. He looked powerful, manly, and so very handsome. Esther almost turned to go back inside. What was wrong with her? Was she really admiring the raw form of a particularly fine man? She was stronger than this, had more will power than this. She should go, continue to ignore him, ignore this mixture of emotions between fear and admiration. Esther tried to turn, but she could not; she stood transfixed watching him work. It was no secret that there was little about men she admired, but as she watched the tall broad figure work with such strength, it was like watching a wild mustang run in the fields or a wild cat stalk its prey; it was natural, wild, and in some primeval way, beautiful.
Recognizing that it would be awkward should he look up and see her staring at him, Esther called out his name. When he looked at her, she felt her cheeks flush. Reminding herself of her indifference towards him, she walked forward. She told him that dinner was about ready knowing that it appeared as a weak excuse to come see him.
“Actually, Joseph,” she said with a slight quiver in her voice, “I came to—to apologize. I recognize that you were simply being an honorable man who would defend and watch out for any woman. I thank you for your concern and hope that I didn’t come across as ungrateful.” Her lips twitched and her hand brushed back a loose strand of hair falling across her face.
“Any woman, huh?” Joseph dropped the ax and walked forward until he was only inches away from her. The woman was so darn composed, an attribute that he both admired and one that also drove him mad. How he wanted to touch her, although from experience he wondered if she would pull away. The impulse to touch was overwhelming. To gently touch her fingers, entwine them with his. His glance moved to her hand, long-fingered, elegant despite the hard work she obviously did. He could hold her hand, stroke it, kiss it, hold it to his chest, and then pull her in for a dizzying kiss.
What would she do?
Smack him?
Fight him? Or melt into his body with an equal fervor to the passion he was feeling.
Esther withdrew her hand from her side, crossing her arms. She was used to men leering at her body or simply admiring her face. The way Joseph was staring at her hand made her skin prickle with a feeling that she couldn’t name. It was if her skin were hungering for something, but she did not know what. He was close—too close. She felt uncomfortable, but not fearful. It was more like an anticipation. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. It was a mistake. His eyes captured her in an instant, holding her like a vice, demanding silently that she stay put.
“You think,” Joseph said, his voice husky, “that I would get so riled up over any woman?”
Esther shifted her weight. An icy autumn breeze raked down her arms, so why did she feel so hot? “Yes, any woman, or any woman at least whom you considered a friend.”
Joseph laughed more ou
t of frustration than humor. “A friend?” he asked. “You think I would want to beat a man senseless for being suggestive to a friend?”
Esther raised her eyebrows, as her lips parted, “Yes, Joseph, after all that is what you said we are—friends.”
Joseph felt the angry twitch in his jaw. He knew very well Esther was not reminding him of his words so much as she was telling him what they were—friends. He looked away for a moment wishing to kiss her, yell at her, drop to his knees and ask, no, demand her to be his bride. But he knew he would just frighten her away, which continually begged the question as to why she was frightened. Why would a woman of intelligence and faith be so afraid of a man? She was not intimidated or spooked like some wide-eyed horse. No, she was more like a female wolf guarding her young, her territory. Joseph looked back at Esther realizing his mistake. He had seen Esther, wanted her, known she was for him, and gone after her without proper investigation. Most women were keen on telling their life story, naming off a list of lovers, offenders, hopes and dreams. Esther was different—she was sealed tight and full of mystery. Esther’s eyes were too wise, and she had too much confidence to have had a life of ease and clarity. It was evident to him now that she had a story, a story that was prohibiting her from letting down the wall around her heart.
“Of course, Miss Esther,” he finally exhaled. “We are just friends.”
Esther didn’t trust the look on Joseph’s face. His eyes were filled with an unsettling understanding, as if he had realized a secret. She also knew by his tone of voice that he thought the title of friendship was ridiculous when it came to them. Esther eyed him warily for a second before taking a step back.
Beneath the Heavens Page 19
