The Thorn Healer

by Pepper D. Basham

  August’s eyebrow twitched up with the hint of his smile. Jess’ stomach produced a responsive twinge to the sheer attractiveness of the man.

  She could drown in such affection. Paired with his gentleness and strength, she wondered how on earth her stubbornness kept her vision so skewed.

  Pride. She frowned. And a healthy dose of bitterness.

  Jess drew her attention from those pale, mesmerizing eyes and knelt down to Jude’s level. “That’s exactly right. And like you’ve done with me.” She squeezed one of his shoulders and then stood, tousling his hair as she did so.

  He stood a little taller. “Then I reckon we all got enough lovin’ to go around. Ain’t that right, August?”

  August’s attention moved from Jude back to Jessica, and her knees wobbled from the intensity. “Most certainly, Jude. Plenty to go around.”

  Jess pinched her eyes closed to still the lightning bursts of heat flashing through her and then drew in a deep breath, focusing her full attention on the adorable face before her. “Is everyone back at the farmhouse all right?”

  “I reckon so. They was just worried somethin’ awful for you out here in the storm. And then that dark-haired man with the mean smile come for a visit. Showed up in the middle of the storm like a loon.”

  Man with the mean smile? Jess looked back to August for clarification and the grin hardened on his face. Jasper Little?

  “Mr. Little showed up during the storm?”

  “Yep, asked if he could help Grandpa with his doctorin’ visit at the camp today. Crazy man. Was soaked clean through. More like a rat than a man.”

  “Jude, that’s not kind to say about Mr. Little.” She rested her hand back on Jude’s shoulder and tossed August another glance. “I’ll talk to you later?”

  He threw the tool bag over his shoulder and walked out with her, drawing the church door to a close. “Take care, Mause.”

  “Mause?”

  His frown softened around the edges of his eyes. “It is an endearment.”

  “I’m not a big fan of mice.” She focused ahead on the trail and Jude leading the way. Her smile fought for release. “Troublesome little creatures.”

  “Ah.” He came into step with her, lowering his voice until the hair on her neck rose to attention. “Then it is perfect, Mause.”

  Her glare hit his grin without one effect, except to add a broader hint of mischief. What could she call him? Rascal?

  “You think you’re quite clever, don’t you?”

  “I have to be clever to keep up with you, and fast. You are good at running away.”

  She tilted her head up to the sky and sighed. “Well, Mr. Reinhold, I’ve just decided I’ve grown rather weary of running.” She glanced in her periphery at his windswept profile. “In fact, I’ve realized there’s no place like home.”

  He took her arm and drew her to a stop, his gaze sweeping over her face. “Be mindful then, dear Mause, you do not run into the claws of the cat with Mr. Little.”

  “Jealousy does not become you, August.” Although she didn’t mind it as much as she thought.

  “Jealousy only fuels a small portion of my concern. I am afraid he is not what he appears. Be careful. Be smart.”

  “I will.”

  ***

  The Ross family caused quite a stir at the little Presbyterian Church downtown on Sunday morning. Jessica grinned. Well, mostly it was Catherine who caused the stir. She didn’t intentionally evoke such responses with her slim, fashionable styles, but a woman of her exquisite beauty, clothed in dark blue and wearing a hat of her own design, swept into town like a moving picture star. Even unflappable Amy gawked, unashamed.

  Despite the somewhat humorous distractions, Jess found the sermon confirmed all the small conversations her family had shared with her over the past few weeks. God’s fingerprints marked every turn of her life. Her heart might grieve forever over what she’d lost, but His love carved a steady path through every moment, covering and comforting her in the most barren places. Even as her heart ached for her mother, trembled from fears still scratching at her peace, and cringed from a stolen innocence... even in her hateful pride and raw bitterness at the turn of his will, He’d loved her.

  As the pastor called everyone to pray, Jude slid his little hand into hers, and God’s truth burned a clear line through her hungry heart. She stared down at his little fingers wrapped around hers and then looked at Faith’s angelic face as she slept in Jess’ embrace. Her grandpa’s words rushed back to her. You’re so busy staring at the empty hand, you can’t see how full the other hand is.

  Tears crowded into her vision as gratitude swarmed over her. Here she sat, surrounded by family... and both of her hands, as well as her heart, were full. Pain had stripped her world, but God’s mercy still brought sweet comfort and the promise of healing she’d refused to see for a long time.

  Could this God whom she’d blamed truly forgive her with such a generous hand after all of her suspicions and scars? She quieted a sob as a new revelation shed light on the inner workings of her heart. August.

  God couldn’t bless her with someone like him too? His tenderness and patience. His teasing spark and quiet strength. She’d battled so long against releasing her fears and trusting this possibility... or even more, trusting God for her future, but in one quiet whisper, she breathed out her fight and the need to know why. And breathed in the fragrance of peace she’d missed for far too long.

  ***

  “It’s such a quaint town, isn’t it?” Catherine said, as they walked from Branson’s to the car. David walked ahead of them next to their father, carrying sweet Addie in her perfectly matched green frock and hat, with Jude and her grandparents in between.

  “Much smaller than Ednesbury.”

  “And that’s saying something.” Catherine grinned. “For Ednesbury is only slightly larger than a hamlet.” She glanced around Main Street. “But pleasant, isn’t it? All it wants is a dress shop.”

  Jessica laughed, a new lightness in her step and heart. “I don’t think Hot Springs is prepared for the style you’d impose, my dear sister-in-law.”

  “Oh, rubbish. Anyone can do with extra style.” Her dark brow teased high.

  “Miss Ross?”

  Jess turned to meet the dashing grin of Mr. Jasper Little. He wore an impressive brown suit and hat, but she’d failed to notice him in their little sanctuary. Perhaps he attended one of the other four churches within walking distance of town. At any rate, he looked quite dapper, but after her experience with August in the chapel, Mr. Little’s charm had lost its glimmer.

  “Mr. Little. Good morning.”

  His attention turned to Catherine and the interest in his expression took a heated turn. “And who do you have with you this morning?”

  “This is my—”

  “Catherine,” Catherine interjected, offering her hand and shooting Jess a playful grin. “Catherine Ross.”

  “Miss Ross.” He took her hand and kept his gaze fixed on her. Any attentiveness Jess might have held for Mr. Little left with the obvious fluidity of his interest. But what was Catherine up to?

  “I’ve heard of you, Mr. Little. Research here in town, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” His dark gaze shimmied down Catherine’s entire body and settled back on her face.

  Jess grimaced. Had he always been this obvious and she’d been too blind to see? She almost groaned. Oh, she’d been blind about so much. Arrogance paired with bitterness created a fog of self-importance that left a sour taste in her mouth. Much like the lurid glances Mr. Little overtly imposed on her sister-in-law. “I suppose you’ve heard of balladry in this part of world?”

  “A little, but I’m originally from a town closer to Asheville. Balladry seems to be more transfixed in the deeper recesses of Appalachia.” Her smile remained welcoming, but her eyes sparkled with caution. “And where do you call home, Mr. Little? I can’t help but note your accent.”

  “Yes, I’m originally from a small tow
n in Derbyshire.”

  “Truly? And what did you do in that part of the world, Mr. Little?”

  For anyone who knew Catherine, the warning signs shone clear. She was baiting the poor man, but why? First, August’s warning, and now, Catherine’s behavior? What had Jessica missed?

  “Well, before the war, I was a professor, which I’ve returned to now.”

  “Delightful. I’m a great proponent of educating those in desperate need of awareness.” She turned to the men who’d stopped their walk a little distance away. “Father, dear, I have someone for you to meet.”

  Jess looked from her father to Catherine and back to Mr. Little whose grin widened at Alexander Ross’ approach.

  “Mr. Little, this is my father-in-law, Lord Alexander Ross of Ednesbury Court in Derbyshire.”

  Catherine rarely introduced father with his title, and why in this little town of Hot Springs to Jasper? Jasper’s face paled. “Your... your father-in-law? Lord?”

  “Mr. Jasper Little, Father, whom I believe both Mr. Reinhold and grandfather mentioned to you earlier.”

  “Yes. A pleasure, Mr. Little.” Father offered his hand which Mr. Little took once he’d shaken off the look of shock on his face.

  “Mr. Reinhold?” Jasper whispered, his frown taking a sinister turn.

  “Yes, a pleasant chap. Quite the woodworker.”

  “Mr. Little hails from Derbyshire, Father.” Catherine stepped back, linking her arm through David’s. “I wondered if you might have any common acquaintances.”

  “I doubt it,” Jasper rushed to answer. “I would not have been in your circles at all.”

  “Your accent is interesting for the locale. What part of Derbyshire do you call home?”

  The whole scene was like watching a moving picture show where the little nuances and expressions took on a whole new meaning.

  Mr. Little’s tone changed to reserved and distant, and even his accent wavered. He backed away and offered a paper-thin smile. “We moved quite often in my younger days, so I am uncertain where my accent truly fits.”

  “Of course.” Father kept his approach kind, but Jess had known Catherine long enough to see the devious click of her thoughts.

  First August, and now Catherine? Their suspicions sharpened Jess’ senses.

  “I must bid you good day.” Jasper tipped his hat and backed away, barely grazing Jess with a glance before walking down the street and away from them.

  Catherine stepped to Jessica’s side. “I know his sort, and he’s rotten—from the top of his smart hat to the heel of his second-hand shoes.”

  “How can you know that? You only met him five minutes ago.” Jessica took a battle stance, even as doubt crept into her confidence. Hadn’t she begun to sense something darker behind Jasper’s conversations? A deep anger burning beneath his smile?

  “He isn’t English,” her father said, resuming their walk to the car. “He attempts an accent, and somewhat admirably, I must say, but August voiced his concerns to me earlier and he was right. Something is amiss about Mr. Little.”

  “And the way he ogled me?”

  “You do make quite an impression, Kat.” David’s eyes sparkled. “I’m certain the poor man could hardly help it. I know I’m at a loss.”

  Her red lips slit in response, sharing that intimate smile she’d seen between them for the year she worked in their hospital in Ednesbury. “Yes, but you’re the only man I wish to ensnare, my dear Dr. Ross. I find no gratification in being ogled.”

  “As your grandfather spent time with him yesterday, he grew concerned when Mr. Little continued to ask in-depth questions about the camp and the men inside it.” A chill of warning accompanied her father’s stare. “Whatever he’s up to, I’d give him a wide berth, Jess. And I wouldn’t trust him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  He heard Jude’s sweet voice on the path before Jessica’s shoes met the chapel steps. He’d only arrived a few minutes earlier, half hoping she’d seen him make his usual stop in the barn to collect tools. The fact that she watched out for him kindled his grin. God saw fit to put him out of his misery of heart sooner rather than later.

  What sweet mercy.

  She’d stepped off the train over two months ago. After eight months of learning about her through letters, of slowly being endeared to the dry humor, the loyal love for her family, and the deep-set compassion in her words, he’d prayed her heart might warm to his pursuit.

  Dared he hope it was so?

  “Mornin’, August.” Jude’s words echoed off the wooden walls, glossy from August’s recent staining. “Granny sent you a biscuit with jelly.”

  Jude placed a small parcel of cloth in August’s palm and grinned up at him with a rather toothless smile.

  “Thank you, sir.” He tapped Jude’s nose. “And I see you have been careless today?”

  Jude’s little head tilted. “Careless? I carried that biscuit all the way here with both hands so I wouldn’t drop nary a crumb.”

  August lowered himself to one knee. “Losing one tooth is understandable, but losing two?” He whistled low and shook his head. “That is rather careless.”

  Jude’s grin returned, recognizing the joke. “Can’t help it none when the apple’s tougher than my teeth. Took a bite at dinner and out one popped. Got stuck right in that apple. The second one wasn’t far behind.”

  August laughed, sending a look over the boy’s shoulder to his mother. She’d worn her hair long in the back and pinned at the sides, a rare style for her. Did she do this for him? He stared so long a hint of rose bloomed in her cheeks. She still kept long strands of hair pulled over her shoulders to cover the scar he’d caught glimpses of, but the sight of all that glorious hair, haloed by the afternoon sunlight, nearly had him wondering if an angel visited.

  “What work you got for me today, August?”

  He patted the boy’s shoulder and stood. “Would you walk around the outside of the chapel and find any nails left in the grass? We would not wish for someone to step on a stray nail.”

  “We want ‘em to have holy hearts, not holey feet.” Jude snickered at his own joke and Jessica joined in.

  Her light laugh drew August’s attention back to her and as their gazes met, her laughter stilled from her lips but danced in her eyes. She captivated him. “I think his humor is starting to grow.”

  “Must be the company he keeps.”

  Her brow shot high, leveling him with a pointed look. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  “I reckon it happens often enough around the Carters. They’re always carryin’ on about somethin’ or other.” Jude shrugged his little shoulder and started out the chapel door. “Might as well join in.”

  The closing door echoed into the silent chapel and August set down the tool bag he’d been holding during the entire conversation. It clattered to the dark wooden floorboards.

  Jess averted her gaze and stared past him. “You didn’t have those support beams up earlier. Did something happen to the lovely rafters you set that you’d need to support them?”

  August turned to see a thin plank, long enough to reach from the floor to one of the large, wooden rafters, almost as if it propped up the beam. Odd. He’d finished both of those beams the day before and removed any props.

  “Has your grandfather been here?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” she said, her voice closer. “He was busy giving Mr. Little a tour of the camp yesterday.”

  August half-turned but didn’t comment.

  “It seems the whole family is up in arms about Mr. Little and his fake accent.”

  August turned completely around and faced her. “Your grandfather said as much?”

  “Catherine and my father. It seems your misgivings perked their interest enough to put Mr. Little to the test.” She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “But certainly you don’t think he’s up to something sinister. He’s angry, but so was I, and I had no designs to harm anyone.”

  He covered her hand with hi
s. “Underneath all your anger beats a generous heart and an intelligence. Not everyone can emerge from fury with a clear mind, Mause.”

  Her lips quirked at the endearment, a softening which tempted him to break his promise and give her a kiss to wipe the barbarian who’d hurt her from her thoughts forever.

  “You know, Mr. Reinhold, I’m beginning to think you’re either fiercely optimistic or a little mad to pursue me when I’ve been rather unkind and stubborn to you.”

  “What if I told you that I saw beneath all your anger to something beautiful? Would you believe me?”

  She studied him, those jade eyes taking him in with new vision—gentler. Her smile shimmered with something tender, strengthening the bond growing between them. “I don’t understand it, but I believe you.” She looked away, back to the rafters. “But what I don’t understand is all of your kindness. Your service to my grandparents goes far beyond this chapel. You’ve made repairs for them, served them.”

  “I did not restore this chapel for them, Mause.” He took her fingers into his hand and raised them to his lips, watching her sudden intake of breath at his touch. Her breathing hollowed and her jeweled gaze pooled with wonder. “I did it for you.”

  “Me?”

  “This building may be only boards and nails. Pretty and serene, but as you know, not lasting.” He squeezed her hand and rubbed a thumb over her knuckles, taking in the softness of her skin. She rested her fingers in his, trusting. His smile took on a whole new brightness. “It’s what lives on the inside of this building, on the inside of our hearts, which is everlasting. Strong enough to withstand the ravages of time, grief, or floods. We can try to cling to the mortar and bricks, but they will not provide security, but this chapel is an example of the One who will not be overcome by time or trouble or sorrow, but who holds us fast in hands strong enough to create the world and tender enough to whisper life into a baby’s breath. The One who can restore the broken and bruised.”

  He turned back to the last remaining beams waiting to be fitted into place. Two. After tomorrow, when he returned to finish up some small pieces of trim work, his work would be done.