Just Above a Whisper

by Lori Wick

  “Reese Thackery is afraid of me,” Conner wasted no time saying once the study door was closed. “Why is that, Dooner?”

  “I can’t tell you that right now,” Douglas said with regret.

  Conner stared at him a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. This was not what he expected Douglas to say.

  “Is it me specifically?” he tried next.

  “Yes and no.”

  Conner’s look was almost comical. “That was little help,” he said slowly.

  “I’m sorry, Conner. I wish I didn’t have to be so cryptic, but I can’t betray Reese’s trust.”

  Conner thought about that for a moment. Clearly this was tied into something from the past, but what from the present: his size, his soft voice, his overall looks, or some combination of things? Or something he’d not even thought of.

  Conner sighed a little before saying, “Maybe she was just tired.”

  “Reese is never tired,” Douglas said in a dry voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. I’ve never known anyone with such energy.”

  Conner did think about the fact that she’d cleaned the entire house by herself. And in about a week’s time, if he was remembering correctly.

  “I will give you this advice, Conner,” Douglas added when Conner sat quietly. “Be yourself with her. Talk to her, be kind to her, whatever you think the moment demands. And when you think it’s right, tease her the way you would me or Troy.”

  Conner thanked Douglas for his time and the wise words. He met Alison on his way out but didn’t take any more of their time.

  As he headed back to the bank, his mind was far from finance. It was still on Reese. Douglas couldn’t tell him what was going on, and he thought Reese might die of fright if he tried to ask her. Nevertheless, he would find out. Conner had made several goals for himself before coming to Tucker Mills. Learning what went on inside that redheaded mind of Reese Thackery just made the list.

  “How is Reese doing?” Hillary asked at tea that evening, not missing the way her parents looked at each other the moment she voiced the question.

  “Well, she’s still adjusting,” Douglas replied tactfully. “It’s all a bit new.”

  Hillary was not a little girl and heard more than her father said. That Reese would need to adjust when she was so good at this made no sense to her.

  “But she’s been cleaning and taking care of Mr. Zantow for years,” Hillary pointed out.

  “True,” Douglas agreed slowly, “but every household is different, and there are new things to be learned.”

  “And that house is pretty large,” Alison put in quietly.

  “Have you ever been inside?” Joshua asked, unknowingly diverting the conversation. Hillary, however, was not put off. Once the evening moved on, her brothers in bed and only Jeffrey needing to be fed and put down, she landed herself on the foot of her parents’ bed.

  “What’s going on with Reese?” she wasted no time in asking. Although Reese was a few years older, she still considered her a friend.

  “Mr. Zantow wasn’t always kind to Reese,” her father said, coming directly to the point. “And she’s had some fears that Mr. Kingsley would be the same way.”

  “Has he been unkind to her?”

  “No, but sometimes old fears affect the present.”

  Hillary understood this. She hadn’t seen Reese as much since the bank took her papers, and now she probably wouldn’t see much of her because the Kingsley house was so large.

  “Thank you for telling me,” Hillary said, wishing her parents a good night.

  “Are you sad, Hillary?”

  “A little. For Reese.”

  “She’ll appreciate your prayers.”

  The oldest of the Muldoon children nodded and took herself off to bed.

  “Could I bother you for some coffee?” Conner asked of Reese not 20 minutes after she arrived.

  “It’s not quite ready,” she whispered back at him, her eyes never leaving his face.

  “When should I come back?”

  “In about five minutes.”

  “Thank you.”

  Reese stood watching the door out of which her employer had exited, not sure what to think. For the first time he’d been without a coat. At some point in the night she convinced herself that he wasn’t all that large. She assumed his coat gave him a certain presence. She was wrong. Even in shirtsleeves, he was a large man. He had broad shoulders, a long torso, and long legs. Reese guessed him to be at least five inches taller than she was.

  And all he wanted was coffee. You need to calm down.

  Reese returned to breakfast preparations, her ear listening for Conner’s return in hopes that she wouldn’t look at him with such terror. Beyond the first day, he hadn’t looked at her so intently, so maybe he wasn’t noticing any longer. Reese hoped that her face was not giving anything away, but she knew the way her heart pounded could not be covered.

  “Now?” Conner was suddenly beside her, asking quietly.

  Reese started but went to get a mug, her hand shaking so badly that she put it on the table to pour.

  “I don’t expect you to wait on me,” Conner said, taking the pot before she could get there. “Thank you anyway.”

  Reese nodded, feeling unnerved but remembering to offer cream.

  “Thank you,” Conner said, and Reese watched as he turned the color quite light and then added two heaping spoonfuls of sugar. She watched all of this in silence before looking up into his eyes. To her utter astonishment, he was smiling at her.

  “I don’t want to taste the coffee if I don’t have to,” he told her, taking a sip and moving on his way.

  Reese actually moved so she could look into the dining room. He’d taken his place at the table, the coffee nearby and a Bible in front of him. She stared at the sight of him until she realized he was waiting to eat.

  Wondering if any situation in her life had ever had her so baffled, she forced herself back to the task at hand.

  Ten

  “How have things been going?” Alison asked of Reese first thing Sunday morning, having prayed for her the entire week.

  “Better, I think. I don’t have to see too much of Mr. Kingsley, and that makes things a little easier.” Reese looked down at the floor. “I feel guilty even having said that. I know he’s not like Mr. Zantow.”

  Alison suddenly leaned toward her.

  “I don’t want you to be alarmed, but he just walked in with another man.”

  “He’s here? In the meetinghouse?” Reese’s breath quickened without warning. She told herself she was being foolish, but it didn’t work.

  “Yes. Don’t you remember Douglas telling you he was a believer?”

  “I must have missed that,” Reese got out before Martin came looking for his mother.

  “I’ll talk to you afterward,” Alison said, giving Reese’s arm a squeeze and moving on her way.

  Reese told herself to calm down. He was a fellow believer here to learn just as she was. It was time to be seated anyway. She took her normal place in one of the back pews and kept her eyes to the front. She was certain she could concentrate on everything that was said if she just didn’t think about having to interact with Conner Kingsley.

  “Did I happen to notice you putting something in the offering plate?” Doc MacKay gently teased Reese after the service.

  “Yes, you did,” Reese answered, unable to stop the huge smile that stretched across her face.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” he continued, his voice still light, “but I happened to be looking your way and thought I saw your hand move.”

  Reese bit her lip, trying not to laugh, but it wouldn’t stay inside. She laughed in delight, and the doctor hugged her.

  “It feels wonderful,” she told him. “I had no idea.”

  “God doesn’t have to look far to find a cheerful giver today,” Doc complimented her.

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  With a hand to her shoulder,
he moved on his way. Reese was still smiling after him when Alison headed over to finish their conversation.

  “What would you say if I asked you to go with me to the meetinghouse some Sunday?” Reese asked of Mrs. Greenlowe over dinner.

  The older woman looked at her but didn’t immediately answer. Reese waited. She was tempted to apologize or start babbling but held her tongue.

  “I might come,” Mrs. Greenlowe said quietly, and then, “I think you need a new dress.”

  Reese didn’t know if that was her way of changing the subject or not, but she allowed it.

  “I probably need two,” Reese agreed, “but I’m not sure when I’ll shop for fabric.”

  “I’ll get swatches from Doyle. You know he won’t mind.”

  “All right. Look for something in blue or green.”

  “Not red?”

  “No.” Reese was firm.

  “What about yellow?”

  “It soils too easily.”

  “Well, you could just wear it on Sunday.”

  “I can’t afford a dress I wear only one day.”

  “Not one day,” Mrs. Greenlowe reasoned. “Fifty-two!”

  Reese had not been expecting this comeback, and it made her laugh.

  “I’ll come with you sometime,” Mrs. Greenlowe suddenly said, and just as suddenly stood, leaving the table and the kitchen. Reese stared after her, wishing she knew what had just happened. Was she supposed to ask her again or wait for her landlady to bring up the topic? Reese slowly finished her dinner, wondering how she would find out.

  “Reese,” Conner began, coming into the kitchen first thing the next morning. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Yes,” she replied as she fell immediately to whispering.

  “Who is the best carpenter in town?”

  “Mr. Zantow,” she answered without thinking. “I mean, it was Mr. Zantow … um, let me think.”

  Conner ignored the way her nerves seemed to take over. He waited patiently, not standing too close but still wanting to be heard, as Reese nearly wrung her hands and glanced at him in fear every few seconds.

  “If you can’t think of someone right now, maybe you could let me know.”

  “Oh, all right.” Reese’s voice was so comically relieved that Conner had to smile. Reese saw that smile and wished she knew what it meant.

  “Something smells good,” he commented before he could laugh.

  “The potatoes, I think,” she whispered.

  “With onion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Reese?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to whisper.”

  “Do I whisper?” she whispered to him, and Conner only smiled. He also took pity on her and moved from the kitchen.

  “Maddie?” Jace softly spoke his wife’s name, bending over her on the settee. “Time for bed.”

  Jace smiled when she didn’t answer. He didn’t know why he tried. She did this every night and never had an answer for him. During the day she was hale and hearty, but after tea, she could not stay awake. Even on days when Clara was there to help, Maddie’s day ended in the parlor, sleeping where she sat.

  Jace lifted her, and she felt as boneless as a sleeping cat in his arms. Making sure her head and arms would not bump the walls on the stairs, he bore her off to bed. It occurred to him that by the time she delivered, he might have to get her awake in order to put her to bed.

  “Jace?” Tonight she woke when the cool air from the bedroom hit her skin.

  “Right here,” he said, still helping her into a nightgown.

  “I’m sleepy.”

  “Okay.”

  He knew she wouldn’t remember a thing. In fact, she tended to frown at him in the morning, and he knew she was trying to remember getting from the parlor to their bed. She never remembered turning in.

  Finally Jace crawled into bed beside her, trying to pray and not be frustrated with how tired she had been each night for the last few weeks. Before the baby, their evenings had been spent in a much different manner. They were not even to their first anniversary, but life had certainly changed.

  He knew he was being selfish, but a little part of him wanted the old life back. He tried to remember if Clara was scheduled to come in the morning and then wondered if his chores could be done a little late.

  Reese took several deep breaths, making herself concentrate. The men were already at the table having breakfast, and she’d been putting it off since she arrived. If she put it off any longer, she’d miss her chance. At last she made herself step to the doorway and speak.

  “Mr. Betz.”

  Both men looked at her, but Reese’s eyes were on Conner.

  “What’s that now?” he asked.

  “Mr. Betz is a carpenter.”

  “Thank you, Reese,” Conner said gravely, but his eyes just barely hid a twinkle.

  Reese nodded and slipped out of sight. Conner looked to Troy to find him smiling.

  “Progress?” the older man asked softly.

  “Maybe,” Conner replied, his heart hopeful, glancing toward the kitchen before going back to his meal.

  “Gerald?” his mother tried for the second morning in a row. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” he said, but Lillie knew it was a lie. Always a good eater, Gerald had barely touched his food for several days, and Lillie feared that her husband’s absence was starting to wear on him.

  “What are you doing today?”

  “I don’t know.” This was also his standard answer.

  Lillie didn’t worry that he would get in trouble—he wasn’t that kind of boy—but she knew he was lonely, spending most days lying around the house or walking around town on his own. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, and Lillie had never been willing to push him. Victor had always bowed to her wishes on the subject.

  Still worrying over a cup of tea after Gerald left the table, she determined to put on a wonderful dinner, hoping he would have an appetite by then.

  “How many documents have we read?” Troy asked midmorning. He was at the desk this time.

  “Maybe half.”

  “There’s nothing here. Every account is in order.”

  “I noticed that.” Conner’s voice and face were thoughtful, but he wasn’t coming up with any answers.

  “So why did he rush off and say that he was ill? A man doesn’t do that unless he has something to hide.”

  “Or so we assume?”

  “What do you mean, Conner?”

  “Just that, Troy. We assume it means guilt, but what if we’re missing something? What if it’s not about that?”

  “What would it be?”

  “I don’t know, but clearly we’re missing something.”

  Conner sat back a little, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the papers on the desk ignored. He was going to figure out Victor Jenness; Conner had no plans to leave Tucker Mills until he did.

  “Do you have everything you need?” Reese asked when the men were a few minutes into their dinner.

  “Yes, Reese, thank you.”

  “Everything is very good.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to work on the flower beds at the back of the house. I’ll be out there if you need me.”

  The men thanked her again, and Reese nearly skipped through the wide hallway with her plan. Why it had never occurred to her, she didn’t know. She was getting better concerning her fear, but if Mr. Kingsley was in the house, she was tense. She’d stepped out into the yard while they ate dinner the day before; she was going to try it again today.

  Now Reese slipped quietly out the back door, trowel in hand, with plans to attack beds that had long needed weeding. Some flowers had survived well on their own, going to seed and even spreading, but it was plain to anyone who looked that they had been given no care in many years. Reese went the few steps down the back porch, her eyes already on the flowers.

  When she missed the last step and stumbled, she braced he
rself for a twisted ankle. Her knee wrenched painfully in one direction, and a startled gasp escaped her. There was no railing to grab, so she landed on the ground, her twisted knee slamming painfully into the dirt.

  Reese stared at the dirt just past her nose, still not sure how she got there. Her knee already throbbed, so she rolled painfully and tried to sit up. That required bending her knee, and even though she accomplished it, it left her panting with the pain.

  “Oh, this is bad,” she said softly, her breath coming in gasps. “I can’t be hurt. I’ll lose my job.”

  With this reminder, Reese knew she couldn’t let this get the best of her. There was no railing to use, but Reese spotted the door handle and decided she could pull herself up the steps and to a standing position using that. Careful not to bend her knee, she twisted her body slowly that direction, not thinking about what she might be doing to her dress.

  Using just her arms, she gained the bottom step. Had it not hurt so much, she would have laughed when she remembered that she still had one good leg. She made the next step by using her arms and one leg to push, concentrating with all her might not to bend that other leg.

  She had just geared up to try for the landing when the door opened. Reese looked up from her awkward position, her heart thudding painfully, and saw Conner’s face looming above her.

  “Reese?”

  That woman said nothing but turned her body so that it looked like she was simply sitting on the step.

  Conner looked down at her hair, seeing it full of dried leaves and even some twigs. He didn’t need to be a detective to know that something had gone wrong. He didn’t try to speak but neatly stepped around her on the landing and went to stand on the ground, so that they faced each other. Reese glanced to make sure her legs were covered and then watched him with clear distrust.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Conner asked, taking in her flushed face.