Hearts Unfold

by Karen Welch

  As they sat together, she could sense how intently Stani focused on every word of scripture and on the message of the sermon. He had reached for her hand with a little smile at the words from Colossians describing “love which binds all things in harmony.” She had never shared so intimately in worship with another person. As their voices joined in the closing prayer she was filled with a new kind of joyful assurance. It was one thing to know the comfort of her own faith, but to see the man she loved finding his way to this longed-for knowledge was an even greater gift.

  After the service, they were surrounded by those who had heard the news of the Christmas Eve delivery. Emily wondered if it were not also in some cases an excuse to get closer to Stani, to shake his hand and let him know that she was one of them, not as a warning, but a claim of kinship. He would be the subject of a number of Sunday dinner conversations, she felt sure. Stani was gracious and polite to these strangers, but Emily thought he seemed anxious to leave. To her surprise, when they reached the narthex, Pastor Mike greeted him warmly and they exchanged a few quiet words. She was sure she heard Mike say “. . .two, just as we planned.”

  “Two?” she asked, taking his arm as they slowly descended the steps to the sidewalk.

  “Two? Oh, just a little something I have to take care of tomorrow. Where did Jack get off to? Aren't you starving?”

  “Don't change the subject. What, at two tomorrow?”

  “If you must know, I'm meeting with Pastor McConnell. Now, Curiosity, let's find Jack and have lunch. I have plans for you this afternoon, but I know you have to be fed first.” He pulled her along, clearly a man on a mission.

  When they left Jack at the door of the cafe, Emily tucked her arm through Stani's and turned toward the church. “Now tell me about these plans.”

  “I want the grand tour. The deluxe version, I think, with audio guide and in-depth details.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “What?”

  Stani smiled indulgently. “I want a tour of your world. I'm willing to pay handsomely. In New York, a good guided tour can cost a bundle, especially with an expert guide.”

  She laughed, looking around the square for inspiration. “I see. Well, I can't promise 'expert' but I'll do my best. Where would you like to begin? And you do realize this is it, these few blocks? It won't take very long.”

  They began with the courthouse itself. “The new courthouse, actually, built after a fire in 1882 destroyed the old one. Note the painted brick, which is still a topic for heated argument with some of the town fathers. Jack's office is in the basement, by the way, along with the three-cell jail, which is rarely occupied.”

  Moving on, she took him past the various offices—insurance, lawyers, real estate agents and surveyors. When they came to the hardware store, with its window display of snow shovels and coal buckets, he stopped her. “I've always wondered just what is sold in a hardware store. I've never even seen one in Manhattan, or anywhere else, for that matter.”

  “Poor Stani! Hardware stores are fascinating places. Each one reflects to some degree the tastes of the community it serves. Here we have everything from basic tools, to garden supplies and lumber, to all the necessary items to stock a well-run country kitchen. One stop will get you a good spade or grubbing hoe, a finely balanced hammer and the best in seasoned two-by-fours, and the latest model pressure cooker. Not to mention in the spring when the sidewalk is lined with bedding plants and fertilizer, you can load up your truck and make a real haul.”

  “Whoa there! I think you've lost me entirely. I only recognized one or two of those items you listed. But I take it from your enthusiasm this is one of your favorite shopping destinations.”

  “Absolutely. I can spend hours just browsing in there. If they don't have what you want in stock, they have stacks of catalogs filled with the most amazing things. Jack teases me that the hardware store is my research library.”

  Stani gently brushed a windblown strand of hair from her cheek. “You really love it here, don't you? You positively light up when you talk about it.”

  Emily blushed, turning to lead him further along the street. “I know it's all very ordinary, but yes, I love it. When I was a little girl, I would come into town with Pop. Everywhere we went everybody knew us and seemed to genuinely care about us. It made me feel important when someone asked how my mother was doing, or how the garden was coming along. Now that I'm back, everybody makes me feel included, like a part of the community.” She swept her hand through the air, taking in the four blocks of the square and all of the shop fronts. “These people are my family, although I'm not related to any one of them. From Mr. Harris at the bank, to Katie Malone at the flower shop, to Mr. Brown at the market, to Martha Jean at the boutique, I know I can count on every one of them to be there if I need anything.”

  “Is there no family left at all? You never mentioned any.”

  When she looked away, as if caught off guard, Stani was immediately curious. Staring off into the distance, her eyes tearing slightly from the cold wind in her face, she answered, “A few distant cousins on Mother’s side. She was an only child, raised by her grandmother after her parents died. And an aunt, my father's sister, who lives in Florida. They were never close.” It was clear that was all she had to say on the subject. “Now we'll go by Martha Jean's. Marjorie may be in the window, taking her nap.”

  “Marjorie?”

  “The shop cat. She came to stay with me once, when I discovered I had field mice in the house. We've been friends ever since.” Pulling him along, she crossed the street, waving at an elderly couple in a huge car stopped at the corner. “That's Mr. and Mrs. MacIntyre. You met them in church this morning.”

  “Oh, yes, the dapper old gent who asked if I realized what a gem of a lass I had here.”

  “Mr. Mac likes me. And he's something of a flirt.”

  “Why do I feel there may be quite a few men in this town who 'like' you?”

  “They raised me, Stani. They feel they have to watch out for me. I don't know why, but everybody seems to think I need protecting.”

  They paused next to the display window at the boutique, where sure enough, Marjorie was in her usual spot. When Emily pecked on the glass, the cat raised her flat face and stared at Stani a moment. Then with a flick of her tail, she proceeded to lazily lick her paws. “Fascinating. I've always thought cats were creatures I might like to have around.”

  “I'll have to introduce you to Heathcliff and Catherine.”

  “Who?” Stani tapped on the glass and when he had Marjorie's attention, waved goodbye.

  “My barn cats, Cliff and Cat for short. We've only spent time in the house. I'll have to show you around the rest of the farm. But now I think we should head back to the church. It's getting really cold out.” She arranged the tartan scarf higher around his neck. “Did you get your money's worth?”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you. Sometime, you'll have to introduce me to all your friends here.”

  Emily laughed. “That would set the tongues wagging. Not that they wouldn't approve, every one of them has been asking me when I was going to find a man. For some reason, they want to see every girl take that walk to the altar. Try as I might, I can't convince them I'm not anxious for that.”

  “Aren't you? Doesn't every girl dream of taking that walk?”

  When she turned to him, the look in her eyes surprised him. “Not me. I have my life arranged just the way I want it, and now that I have you, it's perfect. My feet are freezing. Race you to the car!”

  There was a battered green pickup truck parked in the drive when they reached the farm. “Oh, James is here. Wonder what he's up to?” Emily seemed not in the least upset by the appearance of yet another visitor, this one apparently self-invited.

  “James?” Stani had not anticipated company. It hardly fit into his plans, but then thus far, his plans had been thwarted at every turn. He would have to adjust his vision to include an entire community of people who made themselves present at all hours of her d
ays and nights, rarely announcing their intentions.

  “James McConnell, Pastor Mike's oldest son. He helps me out, sort of a caretaker, while I'm away.”

  Stani followed her to the rear of the house, where some sort of rhythmic percussion echoed in the cold air. A tall, lean man, his long hair blowing wildly in the wind, was chopping firewood. With every fall of the ax, he let out a groan, as if to release some inner anguish. When he saw them approaching he stopped, resting the head of the ax on the worn toe of his boot.

  “James, what are you doing out here on a Sunday afternoon? This could have waited. I've got plenty of wood for now.”

  He smiled, or at least his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Hi, Em. I just thought you could use a little more. And I needed some air.”

  She introduced him to Stani, adding, “We missed you in church this morning.”

  “I was thawing Miss Hagen's pipes. She refuses to keep the heat turned up high enough at night. Her bathroom plumbing gets it every time we have a hard freeze. Did you meet Pete's girl?”

  Emily smiled. “Yes. She's very pretty. And very 'Georgia'.”

  “That voice! She never stops talking. I really thought my brother was smarter than that, but there's no accounting for taste I guess. Every time she says 'Peeta' with that little giggle, I want to run for the hills.” Now he smiled in earnest, and for the first time Stani saw past James’s weathered face and wild hair to the intelligent blue eyes that were wise beyond his years.

  From the barn, two gray cats emerged, apparently willing to venture out now that the wood splitting had ceased. “There you are, you two scaredy-cats. Come and say hello.” Emily knelt and held out her hands to the cats, who came running toward her. Scooping one into her arms, she held it close. “This is Heathcliff, and the lady rubbing her fur off on your trousers is Catherine.”

  “Cliff's lost his bell again, I guess you noticed.” James scratched the cat behind the ears, chuckling as it wriggled in Emily's arms. “You just keep hoping you'll catch some poor, geriatric bird, don't you, Cliff?”

  “I got them to control the field mice,” she explained to Stani, “but they also wanted to control the songbird population. Thus the bells. But Cliff here seems to have some way of getting rid of his. So far, he's gone through at least a dozen. Lucky for the birds, he's not the quickest of cats.”

  Stani moved closer, aware that James McConnell was thoroughly at ease with Emily. They made a striking pair, the tall rugged man and the equally tall, slender girl. Feeling every inch of his own five foot seven, he wondered if every man in her life was going to be looking down on him. “You wanted to get in where it's warm, love. Remember?” He slipped an arm around her waist, giving the cat a tentative stroke with his free hand.

  “We took a little walk around town. My feet are frozen. Come in for some hot chocolate when you're done, James?” She dropped the cat gently to the ground, brushing fur from the front of her coat.

  With a glance at Stani, James smiled. “Not this time, Em. I still have to run up and check on Mrs. O'Neil. You know her son didn't make it for Christmas this year? Too busy, I guess. She's getting pretty frail, so Jack asked me to sort of keep an eye on the place.” He extended a gloved hand to Stani. “Good to meet you. I heard one of your recordings on the radio just the other day. A Beethoven sonata.”

  Stani blinked up at him. “You listen to classical music?” He immediately regretted the incredulous tone in his voice.

  “That old thing” James jerked his head toward the pickup, “has a pretty good radio. Picks up the station from the University real good, especially up on the ridges.” With a twinkle in his eyes, he added, “Before I decided to become a bumpkin, I got a pretty good education.”

  The three of them laughed and Emily took Stani's arm. “He's learning, James. This is a whole new world for him. Now come on, you. I'm ready to sit by the fire for a while.” As they walked toward the house, she said sweetly, “Another one of your lovely tea trays might be nice.”

  The setting was perfect. The crackling fire, the golden sunlight slanting across the floor, Emily curled beneath a quilt, her head on his chest, her hand resting over his heart. James’s truck had gone through the gate some time ago, and they had been here alone, just staring into the flames. With one finger, he tilted her face up and kissed her, a long, tender kiss that he hoped foretold of things to come.

  “I've been looking forward to being alone with you like this. We haven't had much quiet time, have we?”

  “I'm sorry. But around here people sort of assume they're welcome. It's not like that in Manhattan I guess?”

  “No, it's a bit different there. Not quite so informal.” Before he could say more, she ran her hand up into his hair, raising her mouth to cover his. When the kiss ended, he'd completely lost his train of thought.

  “We have now. We can make up for lost time, can't we?” She turned in his arms, until she was stretched across his lap, her head nestled against his shoulder. “What a wonderful day this has been. And now we have the whole evening, all to ourselves.” Another of those long, sweet kisses, and he felt the way opening to move forward. Now he would tell her, now that he knew so much more and believed she would understand.

  The telephone rang, jarring every nerve in his body.

  Emily jumped up, dropping a little kiss on his lips. “Be right back.”

  While trying to still the pounding of his heart, he listened to her talking softly to the party at the other end of the line. When the conversation ended with her saying, “Sure, I understand. It's really not a problem,” he had the sinking feeling he was on hold again.

  Emily sat down beside him, taking his hand. “I'm sorry. I have to go to work.”

  “What? Where?” That possibility had never occurred to him.

  “At the local hospital. I put myself on call to cover during the holidays since I didn't think I’d be doing anything special. That was the charge nurse. One of the nurses has a sick child, and they need me to work the ER. I hate to leave you, but I can't very well turn them down. Besides, it's the eleven-to-seven shift. I'll be back in the morning, and we still have most of this evening. I will need to take a little nap, but you won't mind so much, will you?” Turning to him, she slipped back into his arms, tucking her hand inside his shirtfront.

  With a long sigh, he kissed her forehead. “No, of course not. Should I just go back to Jack's now so you can rest? He can bring me back tomorrow.”

  Her head lifted just slightly from his shoulder. “Why do you have to go at all? You can stay tonight and be here when I come home in the morning. Besides, Jack's on his big date, remember? He said he'd call before he came out to get you, but I have it on good authority that they went to dinner and a movie over in Baxter, so it'll be late when he gets in.”

  Stani started to protest, but the best he could do was point out that his things were at Jack's.

  He could feel her grin against his shoulder. “You need clothes to sleep?” Her fingertips were again playing gently on his chest, and he groaned inwardly.

  “I suppose not. As long as I'm here alone. You're sure it wouldn't be inappropriate?”

  “I'm sure. So you'll stay? We can have breakfast again.” She yawned delicately, snuggling closer. Curling her legs up on the couch, she pulled the quilt over herself and settled deeper into his arms.

  “Very well, but if you get us into trouble, I'll plead insanity.” Her eyes opened questioningly. “You are rapidly driving me mad, my love. What is so fascinating inside my shirt?”

  She giggled softly, but her hand remained in place. “Do you really object?”

  He threw back his head with a laugh. “Would it matter if I did?”

  Emily slept in his arms for a time, until finally he eased out from beneath her, gently resting her head on a cushion and tucking the quilt around her. In response, she smiled in her sleep and made a sweet little humming sound that he found incredibly musical. Gazing down at her profile, he gave himself an inward shake. He ha
d once again lost an opportunity. Time was growing shorter; the five days had narrowed to two now. Would there ever be a moment when he could tell her, or would he be forced to leave her and pour his heart out later in a letter? No. He would press the issue tomorrow, after she had rested, after he had met with Pastor Mike, once they were finally alone together again. He toyed with the idea of asking Jack to post a guard at the bottom of the hill, to keep any uninvited visitors from interrupting. Somehow, he had to get the job done.

  By the time Emily woke, the sun had set. Together they made dinner, soup and sandwiches, and she went upstairs to shower and dress for work. When she came down the stairs, pinning the little circle of white cap to her hair, Stani was caught completely off guard by the transformation. In her crisp white uniform, a tailored tunic and trousers, with her hair twisted into a smooth roll at the back of her head, Emily was the picture of every man's fantasy nurse. He grinned, holding out his hands to frame her image.

  “You're gorgeous. How do you fend off all the dying men who want the memory of your kiss to take to their graves?”

  She giggled, a sound he was coming to love, and took the last hairpin from between her teeth. “Loaded syringes usually do the trick. I forgot you'd never seen me in uniform.”

  When she came into his arms, he was again caught by surprise. She had grown suddenly taller. As she bent her head slightly for his kiss, she apologized. “It's the shoes. I'm sorry. I'm just too tall.”

  “No, love, I'm just not tall enough. Does it bother you?”

  “Of course not. What about you? Do you mind?” Her arms had wound around his neck and her fingers were twining in his hair. Every nerve was singing in response to her touch.

  “Mind? Kiss me again. I want to be absolutely sure of my answer.” She pulled back, her brows arching skeptically. “All right, I'm sure. I love you just the way you are, too tall and all. How's that?”