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Her parents both sat in the drawing room and glanced up as Kathleen hurried in, rubbing her hands together to ease the chill.
“You’re very late,” Mother said. “I was beginning to worry.”
Father lowered the papers he’d been reading and studied Kathleen. “I’m still not comfortable with you going to that woman’s shack. It’s in a rough area of town. You aren’t safe.”
Kathleen held back annoyance at their continued resistance to her being friends with Rosie. “There is no danger.” For some reason, Buck’s image flitted through her mind. There was something about him his sister considered threatening, but she couldn’t imagine it was the kind of danger her father meant. “Rosie and her children are very nice people. You would like them if you ever got to know them.”
Mother fluttered her hand. “That’s not likely to ever happen, is it? We simply don’t belong in the same circles.”
Kathleen had invited Rosie to attend church with her. Assured her she would be welcome. “I would think rich and poor are both welcome in the church.”
“Why, of course they are.” But Rosie heard her unspoken qualifier—just don’t expect us to sit in the same pew.
Having no desire to argue with them or upset them, Kathleen let the topic end. She sank to an ottoman at her mother’s knees and took her hands. “How have you been this afternoon?”
“I’ve managed to sit up and read a bit.” Mother’s voice quavered. “I’m sure I’m getting stronger.”
Father set aside his papers. “Kathleen, I should think you could see your mother needs your care. I don’t like you neglecting her when she’s not well.”
Stung by his criticism, Kathleen remained on the stool beside her mother. “Mother sleeps much of the afternoon. I only intend to be gone during that time.”
He glanced at the big grandfather clock ticking out the seconds in demanding rhythm.
“Today was different. Rosie’s brother and his little boy showed up, and the time simply slipped away on me.”
Father leaned forward in his chair. “A brother? Good. He can take care of his sister and you can find a more suitable pastime.” He sat back, satisfied life would fit into his sense of right and order.
“Father, I promised her I would help her sew a quilt. I told her I would return tomorrow. I hope you won’t say I can’t go.” She couldn’t imagine returning to the boredom of sitting quietly in an armchair reading as her mother slept.
Father tapped his knee and considered her. “You used to be such an obedient child. I should never have sent you East to that college. They’ve filled your head with all sorts of radical ideas. I’m glad you’ve had cause to return home. Given time, I expect you will come to your senses.” He flipped the paper in front of his face, signaling he’d spoken his last word on the subject.
Kathleen eased a sigh of relief over her teeth. At least he hadn’t forbidden her to return, which left her free to do so. In the future, she would simply return before the afternoon was spent.
She schooled herself not to smile with anticipation of a visit the next day. Nor would she admit, even to herself, that it was the thought of seeing Buck again that brought the smile to her lips.
She only wanted to assess if the affection she’d witnessed was as evident as she remembered. And check if Joey was feeling better.
Buck sponged Joey several more times and fed him more broth throughout the evening. For now he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
Rosie glanced in on them. “Likely all he needs is a warm bed and decent food.”
“I hope you’re right.” If anything happened to the boy—”I’ve grown to love him more than I imagined possible.”
“It’s pretty obvious.” She remained in the doorway. “Care to join me for tea?”
He draped an arm across her shoulders. “Just like old times?”
She patted his hand. “Buck, I’d just as soon forget about old times, if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” They sat across from each other, nursing warm cups of steaming tea. “So who is this Kathleen Sanderson and why is she visiting you?”
Rosie bristled. “What? I’m not fit for the likes of her to cross my threshold?”
He chuckled. “Is that what you think?”
“Sometimes.”
“Guess we’ve both got reason to consider others think that very thing. So who is she and why is she here?”
“Kathleen’s father is the richest man in town.”
A punch of alarm raced up Buck’s spine. Rich men with beautiful daughters were the worst sort. They didn’t want the likes of Buck to even be in the same town. “If her father learns who I am …”
“And who I am.” Her gaze bored into his—angry at his visit to her home. “You should never have come here. You promised you wouldn’t.”
“It’s only for Joey and then I’ll be gone.” He glanced about the house. There were days he wished he didn’t have to keep on the move. But wishing didn’t change the facts. “I’ll do my best to keep our secret from Kathleen. I can think of no reason she’d suspect who I am. Why should anyone be suspicious of your brother visiting? Your married name gives no clue as to who we are.” He didn’t want to think about his past. “Tell me how you met her.”
“The Sandersons live in a big house. Even have a cook and housekeeper. Can you imagine paying someone to clean your house? ‘Course, it’s a mighty big house and dust probably isn’t allowed to settle for even a minute. Someday I’m going to ask Kathleen how many rooms there are.”
Buck sighed. Seemed he was going to get a detailed description of the house before she explained about Kathleen.
She must have guessed at his impatience. “Won’t likely ever see inside the place, now will I?” She shrugged. “Not that it matters. I’m happy enough here, and Kathleen doesn’t seem to mind how small and mean my house is.” She told about Kathleen helping her home one afternoon as she struggled to corral young Mattie. “Since then she visits me, plays with the kids. Even helps with the dishes if they aren’t done when she gets here. Now she says she wants to help me make a quilt for the children.” She rocked her head back and forth. “I just don’t understand why.”
“Have you asked her?”
“I did. All she said was she couldn’t bear the thought of me living on the edge of town with no friends. Though from what she says, I think she’s as lonely as I am. She’d like me to go to church with her but I can’t. If I let myself care about people and what they think, it only hurts the more when they discover the truth.” Her eyes hardened. “Someone is likely to, now that you’re here. Once they realize our father was—” She clamped her lips together as tears swelled in her eyes.
He filled in the blank she’d left. “A murderer.” Saying the word forced him back to reality. “Don’t worry. I won’t be around long enough for anyone to take notice.” Though he wished things could be different. Wished he could offer Joey a real home. Wished he could belong somewhere. With someone. A forbidden dream flashed through his thoughts of home and a woman. He’d had the thought before, and always the woman was faceless. Just a presence. But this time she had a face and voice … those of Kathleen Sanderson. “I will leave as soon as Joey is rested. Before people find out and drive us out of town.” He knew his voice had grown hard. Rosie would understand why. They shared a secret with the power to destroy their lives. He understood why Rosie would be cautious about making friends. A person needed to be able to leave when the time came with no regrets, no glancing back over one’s shoulder.
Yet he rose the next morning wondering if Kathleen would return as she had promised Rosie.
Rosie noticed how many times he glanced out the window and laughed. “She won’t be along for a bit. She never comes until after lunch when her mother is napping.”
“I wasn’t looking for her.”
“Sure you were.”
“Only because I wondered if she would come as she promised.”
Rosie grew serious. “I always wonder the same thing, but every time she’s said she’d come, she has.”
Joey sat at the table spooning in thin porridge. “Buck, who you waiting for?”
He turned away from the window. “Nobody. Just checking the weather.”
Rosie snorted. “She’s not your sort.”
“No one is.” They both knew what he meant, and he sat at the table to consider his two nephews. Sturdy-looking boys. Made Joey look as thin as he was. “Your boys appear well fed.”
“Bill left us with adequate supplies. He’ll send money from time to time. We won’t go hungry.”
“Didn’t think we were, either.”
“I not hungry.” Joey put his spoon down as if to prove he only ate because the food was before him.
Buck smiled. He appreciated Joey’s devotion, but not to the extent of him choosing to go hungry. “Finish it up.”
Joey hesitated only a moment before returning his attention to the food.
Rosie stood beside Buck. “He seems a little better today.”
“I hope so.”
But an hour later, after playing with Mattie and Junior, Joey curled up on the floor, exhausted. Buck carried him to bed and sat at his side, watching him. Surely he would regain his strength in a day or two and they could move on. But to where? And what did it matter? One place was the same as the next.
Joey slept through a lunch of soup and freshly baked bread. He was still asleep when a gentle knock sounded.
Buck sat at the table pretending a great interest in the pencil Junior had given him to sharpen, but every sense tingled with awareness as Kathleen stepped into the house, laughing about the wind tugging at her fine woolen coat. She shrugged out of it and hung it on a nail. “Hello, everyone.” She smiled at Rosie who held Lilly, leaned over and kissed the baby’s cheek, squatted to kiss Mattie’s forehead, hugged Junior and then finally lifted her attention to Buck. “Hello to you, too.”
“You’re a breath of sunshine.” He hadn’t meant to sound so adoring. He only meant she made everyone smile with her greeting.
Her cheeks flushed a very becoming pink, reminding him of summer sunrises. “I’m just passing on my own feelings of happiness.”
Rosie waggled her hand toward Buck. “He meant it as a compliment.” She gave Buck a scolding look. “We’re all glad to have you visit.” Silently she warned Buck not to ruin things for her. As if his very presence wasn’t enough to do that.
“I’m relieved to hear it.” Kathleen glanced about. “Where’s Joey?”
“Still sleeping.” Worry grabbed his gut. “He’s been sleeping a long time.” He rushed into the bedroom, pressed his hand to the boy’s forehead, but even without feeling his hot skin he knew the boy was again fevered. “I hoped he was getting better.”
Rosie brought in a basin of water, and both women hovered at the bedside while Buck stripped the boy to the waist and sponged him.
“I don’t think this is a good sign,” Rosie murmured. “Fevers that return every day generally mean something like lung fever.”
“No.” Buck wouldn’t allow it. “He’s just run down. He’ll be fine.”
“Let’s pray for God to strengthen his little body.” Kathleen reached for Rosie’s hand.
Buck understood Rosie’s hesitation. Hadn’t their ma prayed for God to intervene? It hadn’t happened. Instead she’d died, and he and Rosie had been on their own. But for Joey, his son, he’d storm the gates of heaven if he must. He reached for Kathleen’s hand, saw her start with surprise and likely shock, and he pulled back. But she reached out and clasped his hand on one side and Rosie’s on the other. From her flowed confidence and faith that poured into his heart. God could heal his boy. He knew it. He believed it. He bowed his head.
“Dear Heavenly Father.” Kathleen’s voice rang with love and joy. “You love us so much. You are the great healer. Touch Joey. Stop the fever. Show us what part we need to play, that Your name might be glorified. Amen.”
He pulled his hand to his knee, kept his head tilted down. He’d never heard such a simple prayer, and yet he felt he had stepped into the throne room of God.
He picked up the wet cloth and continued to sponge Joey. But no longer did his spirit fret.
The fever slowly abated as it had done before. He almost dared believe this might be the last time.
Joey opened his eyes and smiled. “Hi, Buck.”
“Hi, buddy. How you feeling?”
“Maybe a little hungry.”
Buck’s laugher was joined by Rosie’s and Kathleen’s. “Surely he’s on the mend.” He turned and gripped Kathleen’s shoulder. “Thanks to you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Thanks to God.” Her look of assurance filled him with a sense of wonder. God actually might care about him. Amazing. Or was it only Joey God cared about?
It was a question he didn’t care to answer at the moment.
Chapter Three
Kathleen couldn’t believe her boldness at taking Buck’s hand to pray. Praying came naturally enough to her. But what made her think it required holding a hand as solid and firm as the ground beneath her feet? Her palm still felt warmer than normal.
But she had no doubt God intervened for Joey’s improvement and would continue to do so. She silently prayed it would accomplish much more … that Rosie and Buck would find healing for whatever made them so fearful and kept them away from each other.
Joey ate a bowl of soup, played with the toys for a few minutes, then crawled into Buck’s lap and closed his eyes.
Kathleen watched the play of emotions on Buck’s face—worry, love, hope. He lifted his eyes to hers and allowed her to see the depth of his feelings. They caught at her heart. Then he ducked his head, pressing his cheek to Joey’s black hair.
Emotion clogged Kathleen’s throat. This kind of love awed her. Filled her heart with yearning.
She drew in a shaking breath, wondering at the lightness of the air she sucked in, which did little to relieve her need for oxygen.
Lilly slept in Rosie’s arms. Young Mattie whined.
“I need to put the little ones down for their nap.” Rosie pushed to her feet. “Come along, Junior. Time for you to have a sleep.”
“Mama, I want to play with Joey.”
Buck looked at his son. “I don’t think Joey feels much like playing at the moment. When you wake up he’ll likely be ready.”
Rosie took the children to the bedroom to settle them.
Kathleen expected Buck to do the same with Joey, but he stayed seated. She forced herself to remain still, though she longed to jump to her feet and pace the room. A crack in the wooden table caught her attention and she ran a fingernail along it.
“Is he asleep?” Buck whispered.
She looked. “I would say so.”
“Then I’ll put him down now.” He shifted the boy and carried him to the bed, covered him carefully, smoothed his hair from his forehead … all ordinary things, yet watching him made her heart ache.
He stepped back, watched his son a moment, then tiptoed from the room and pulled the door part way shut. “I didn’t want to put him down until he fell asleep. Seems like the least I can give him is lots of assurance of safety.” He returned to the chair he occupied previously and rubbed his hand across his face. “I fear I am an inadequate parent, but I’m all the poor little guy has.”
Such hope and desperation filled his voice, she couldn’t bear it. “From what I’ve seen, you are an excellent father. The way he adores you is proof enough.”
Brown eyes met hers, brimming with hunger and longing. “Do you think so?”
He loved the boy deeply and wasn’t afraid to show it. The knowledge of such love—human love—gave her the feeling she missed something vital in her life. She feared it would show in her eyes but lacked the strength to tear her gaze away. “I know so.”
