Benjamin extended his hand. “I guess you’ll be seeing her safely home?”
He nodded. “She’s safe with me.”
“Thanks. I’ll be here Thursday night.”
“Report to the smithy shack for your watch. The man before you will alert you to any suspicious activity.” Captain Reynolds headed for the stairs then paused. “Benjamin. Bring your gun.”
18
Ruth Ann placed her satchel on the floor near the Petersons’ door. “Hello, Captain Reynolds has brought me for a visit.”
“Come on in,” Mrs. Peterson called. Charlotte and I are in the kitchen.”
Her stomach growled as the smell of warm bread wafted into the Petersons’ spacious parlor, reminding her that she’d barely eaten in the last few days. At Myra’s insistence, she’d taken a hard-boiled egg, cheese, and a few soda crackers with her to school, but she had no appetite. Instead, she’d given her fare to Sadie Houser who’d forgotten her lunch and accepted Ruth Ann’s offering with a gracious smile.
Anticipating the taste of melted butter on warm bread, the delicious yeasty scent enticed Ruth Ann to quicken her pace. She deftly unbuttoned her cape, laid it on the back of Mrs. Peterson’s rocking chair, and made her way to the kitchen. Relieved that Benjamin would be working until supper, she’d be able to enjoy her visit with Charlotte without fear of seeing him. The thought of another encounter like the one at school last evening made her growling stomach turn suddenly queasy.
Having never mastered the art of hiding her emotions, she plastered what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face. “Good day, Charlotte. Mrs. Peterson. It smells wonderful in here.”
“I do love baking day.” Trudy Peterson paused and wiped her hands on her apron. Tiny lines creased her forehead. “Are you all right? You look a bit pale, dear.”
“I’m fine.” She worried her bottom lip. “You aren’t expecting Benjamin any time soon are you?”
Mrs. Peterson pushed the handle on the kitchen pump twice then washed her hands at the sink. “It’s hard to say. His hours vary, but we don’t usually see him for about another hour or so.” She yanked on the middle drawer of her red corner cabinet. “Remind me, Charlotte, to have your uncle...fix...this drawer.” Finally freeing the drawer from its recess, she removed the large bread knife and set to work cutting thick slices from a loaf of brown bread cooling on the counter.
“You may have the first piece.”
Ruth Ann tore off a piece of crust and popped it in her mouth. Closing her eyes, she savored the warm, fluffy treat. “Mmm, tastes like heaven itself, Mrs. Peterson. Thank you.”
Charlotte placed a ball of dough into one of the many greased loaf pans on the counter. “Have you seen Benjamin since Saturday night?”
Ruth Ann peeked in the captain’s direction. She appreciated his attentiveness to her, but she had no intention of discussing Benjamin with him seated at the table. She lifted a cautious brow when their eyes met.
Gathering his newspaper and pipe, Captain Reynolds stood. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’d prefer to read my newspaper by the fire if you don’t mind.”
“Just one minute, John.” Mrs. Peterson handed him a piece slathered with apple butter. “Just the way you like it.”
He smiled and nodded his appreciation.
Ruth Ann traced a knot in the bench beside her while she waited for Captain Reynolds to retire to the parlor. She leaned forward making certain he wouldn’t overhear their conversation. Satisfied, she faced Charlotte and her mother. “Benjamin came by the school last evening. He thought he was going to teach arithmetic with me. I told him he was no longer needed.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll do it myself before I let him help me.”
Charlotte glanced at her mother.
Mrs. Peterson placed her hand on Ruth Ann’s shoulder. “Kneading dough is a wonderful way to work through the trials and sufferings of life. Would you like to help us?”
“Thank you. I think I will.” Ruth Ann stood and rolled up her sleeves before sprinkling flour on her section of the table. She grabbed a huge chunk of bread dough and got to work. Pressing her hands deep into the dough, she folded it over and over again. Leaning forward, she pressed her full body weight into the flour mixture. “Myra says her bread tastes best when she and Amos are having words.”
Mrs. Peterson laughed. “I suppose that’s true.”
“When Benjamin discovered that we may still hold classes on February first, he looked me straight in the eye and said he forbade it.”
Charlotte grabbed another chunk of dough and placed it on the table. “He still has feelings for you. I’m sure of it.”
Ruth Ann pressed her eyes closed. Ben didn’t want her. He wanted Rose. She brushed her temple with the back of her flour-covered hand. That woman attracted men like hummingbirds to larkspur.
“What’s done is done. He made his choice, and I’m allowed to make mine—without interference from him.” Ruth Ann placed her dough into a greased loaf pan then peered out the Petersons’ kitchen window. Rain splattered against the glass. How fitting. The weather seemed to match her dismal disposition.
Mrs. Peterson separated another chunk of dough and placed it on the table for Ruth Ann. “Maybe, with God’s help, he’ll work out what’s gnawing at him on the inside and come back for you a much-improved man.”
Ruth Ann returned to the table. “That’s not likely. Not with Rose Martin on his arm.” She pressed her weight into the new ball of dough, massaging it with her palm. Flipping it over, she squeezed the mixture firmly, watching it squish between her fingers. “I’m not holding out for that, Mrs. Peterson.”
Charlotte covered the dough-filled loaf pans with a red and white checked kitchen cloth. “I know you’re angry with him, but you can’t allow your heart to grow bitter.”
Ruth Ann glanced from Charlotte to her aunt before smacking the dough.
Charlotte took a deep breath. “The Bible tells us to pray for those who have wronged us, even if we don’t feel like it. The discipline of obedience will change your heart from anger to forgiveness.”
She folded the dough in half. “What if I don’t want to forgive him, Charlotte? What has he done to deserve it?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
She wiped her brow with her forearm. “Benjamin broke my heart, and I have to forgive him?”
Charlotte met Ruth Ann’s gaze and nodded. “While Christ hung on the cross He asked His Father to forgive those who crucified Him.”
Her shoulders slumped. Charlotte was right, but she didn’t like it. She pounded her fist into the mixture several times. Fine. She’d ask God to help her forgive Benjamin, but hopefully, someone would talk to him about seeking forgiveness as well.
Mrs. Peterson gently grasped Ruth Ann’s wrist. “All right, Ruth Ann, that dough you’re…uhh…
kneading is ready for the loaf pan.”
Ruth Ann winced. “Sorry, Mrs. Peterson, I shouldn’t have pummeled it.”
“No problem. Why don’t you wash up and make us some tea?”
Ruth Ann cleaned up, set the water to boil then went in search of the tea. Mrs. Peterson whispered as she stepped from the larder, tins in hand.
“You’ve got to ask her, Charlotte.”
“Ask me what?”
Mrs. Peterson locked eyes with her niece and nodded encouragingly.
Charlotte patted the space next to her on the wooden bench. Ruth Ann placed the tea on the table and took a seat between Charlotte and her aunt.
“Aunt Trudy and I have been praying for you frequently the past few days and each time we pray, I have this nagging feeling something bad may happen to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Something bad? I assure you, whether at home or at school, day or night, I am never alone. I’m always well protected.”
“It has nothing to do with the Freedmen’s School.” Charlotte placed her hand on Ruth Ann’s arm. “The danger is from your own hand.”
Ruth Ann’s head drew back slightl
y. Her lips parted, eyes blinking rapidly. “From my own hand? Are you suggesting I might hurt myself—intentionally?”
Charlotte slid her hand across Ruth Ann’s palm until their fingers knitted together. “While Aunt Trudy and I were praying yesterday, I felt this overwhelming sense of sadness and loss. Then I saw your face, and you were dead.”
She sucked in a breath then quickly covered her mouth. “I would…never—”
Charlotte kept her eyes trained on Ruth Ann’s as if she were searching them for any hint her friend harbored harmful thoughts.
Mrs. Peterson’s flour-covered hand rested on Ruth Ann’s shoulder. “All right then, we are going to pray for your protection.”
The seriousness of Mrs. Peterson’s voice unnerved Ruth Ann. She was a quiet woman with the heart of a warrior when it came to prayer, much like her niece. Ruth Ann looked to Charlotte and nodded. “I don’t understand any of this, but since I have no desire to harm myself for any reason, then yes, let’s pray against it.”
Ruth Ann and Charlotte bowed their heads.
“Lord, we ask Your protection over Ruth Ann. May she know deep down in her heart that her value rests in being Your daughter, not in the fleeting opinion of man. Put Your angels around her and keep her safe. Ruth Ann is Your child, Lord, and Satan has no hold on her. Amen.”
The tea kettle whistled as Charlotte and Ruth Ann said amen.
Charlotte rose quickly. “I’ll get it.”
The gentle pitter-pat of the rain against the kitchen window soothed Ruth Ann. She removed a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her nose. The information Charlotte shared should’ve left her fearful and overwhelmed. Instead, peace prevailed, wrapping her snug like her grandmother’s afghan had done so many times lately.
Mrs. Peterson put her arm around Ruth Ann, her eyes intense. “You are welcome here anytime, Ruth Ann, no matter the time of day or night.”
She was as at home in the Petersons’ kitchen as she was in her own. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Peterson kissed Ruth Ann on the cheek. “How about a nice cup of tea?”
Men’s voices drifted from the parlor—Benjamin.
“No, thank you, ma’am. I’d better be going now. Mama will be expecting me for supper soon.” Ruth Ann hugged Charlotte and walked with Mrs. Peterson to the parlor.
Benjamin stopped mid-sentence when she entered the room. “Ruthie. I didn’t know you were here.”
Too busy concentrating on preventing her wobbly knees from buckling, she managed to nod in his direction. Why couldn’t he remember to call her Miss Sutton? And why did he have to look so handsome? The rain had dampened his hair, and a few curls appeared at the base of his neck. She had never noticed that before.
Benjamin reached for her cape. “Can I walk you home?”
Walk me home? Not likely anytime soon. Hadn’t he broken her heart only days ago to pursue another woman? “No, thank you, Mr. Coulter.” She glanced at Captain Reynolds. “I have an escort.”
Benjamin scowled in the captain’s direction then plucked her satchel from the floor and offered it to her. “I don’t mind. The captain can stay here.”
She shook her head then closed her eyes briefly. “It’s better this way.”
~*~
Benjamin’s stomach roiled. What was taking so long? He hadn’t been this nervous standing outside the Suttons’ front door since he’d first called on Ruth Ann. Seeing her leave church earlier that morning with Captain Reynolds had unnerved him. Where was her family? Maybe he was growing paranoid or perhaps he didn’t want to leave Captain Reynolds as Ruth Ann’s sole protector. It was bad enough he escorted her on his arm everywhere she went, but now he’d volunteered to teach the adult classes with her. Fate was putting them together entirely too much for Benjamin’s liking. He lifted the brass knocker a second time and swallowed hard. Would she listen to him? Could he persuade her to wait for him?
The door creaked open, and Captain Reynolds offered his hand. “Benjamin, nice to see you today.”
Great. He’s here now? Answering her door? “Hello, John.” Benjamin firmly grasped the captain’s hand. “I’ve come to see Ruth Ann.”
“Follow me. Miss Sutton is in the parlor.”
Benjamin scanned the spacious room. Captain Reynolds and Ruth Ann alone—fire blazing in the hearth, newspaper, book, and coffee mugs on the side tables. For the love of Pete, the man was even smoking his pipe. John had become a bigger threat than he’d realized.
He wiped sweaty palms against his pant legs as his eyes locked on Ruth Ann. “May I speak with you, Ruthie?” His head tilted toward the dining room. “It will only take a few minutes.”
Her fiery gaze shot flaming arrows in his direction. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mr. Coulter.”
“Please, Ru—uh, Miss Sutton. There are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
Captain Reynolds gathered his pipe and newspaper. “I’ll wait in the kitchen.”
“Nonsense, Captain. Enjoy your paper by the fire.”
The smile she had given John vanished when her attention shifted to Benjamin. “Mr. Coulter won’t be staying long. He can speak to me in the kitchen while I ready the soup for our meal.” She pivoted and walked briskly through the dining room.
Feeling like a pup, Benjamin followed on her heels.
Ruth Ann lifted the apron loop over her head then tied its strings behind her back. Grunting, she lifted the cast iron pot onto the work table. She eyed Benjamin. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
He glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s your family? I noticed they weren’t with you at services this morning.”
“They’ve gone to Oak Hill to visit Joseph’s family.” She removed a large jar from the icebox and set it beside the pot.
“You didn’t wish to join them?”
“No, I preferred to stay here.”
Benjamin’s fingers skimmed the brim of his hat. “With Captain Reynolds?”
“No, not with Captain Reynolds. I have lessons to plan and the outing to Middleburg will bring them home after supper. And I haven’t been the best company of late.” She gripped the jar lid with a damp rag and twisted with all her might. “Is this...what you wanted…to discuss…with…me?” Ruth Ann straightened, apparently frustrated that her efforts hadn’t opened the container.
Benjamin reached for the soup. “Let me help you with that.”
She slid the jar away. “I can manage.”
He leaned forward and swiped the container from her hold. “Like you managed at the creek the day I met you? When are you going to learn not to refuse my assistance?” With little effort, he loosened the lid and pushed the jar in her direction.
Her gaze flitted to the soup before zeroing in on his face. “Why exactly are you here, Mr. Coulter? I thought you wanted to pursue Rose?”
“I’m concerned about the unprofessional manner Captain Reynolds has taken in protecting you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Maggie says he has been ‘very attentive.’”
“Maggie is a dear friend. She’s just trying to get your dander up.”
He scraped his jaw. “From the looks of the cozy scene inside your parlor, she’s right. Since when is it required of him to read his newspaper and smoke his pipe in your home? Shouldn’t he be out patrolling the grounds or questioning suspicious people?”
She blew out a breath and poured soup into the pot before placing it on the stove.
Benjamin paced the short distance between the ice box and the dry sink. “The captain escorts you about town on his arm as if he is courting you rather than protecting you.”
“The captain offers his arm because that shows courtesy to me. In truth, it felt a little awkward at first.”
“But not anymore?”
She shrugged.
He stopped abruptly and waggled his hat in her direction. “He’s nearly twice your age. Have you forgotten me so quickly, Miss Sutton?”
She squared her shoulde
rs. “I’m not the one who stepped out with Rose Martin.”
He slapped his hat against his thigh. “Rose Martin. Rose Martin. Will I never hear the end of that name? There’s nothing between Rose and me, but apparently the same cannot be said for you and the captain.”
Fisted hands landed on her hips. “There is no understanding between Captain Reynolds and myself other than that he is here to protect the children and me from harm. He has been a perfect gentleman.”
Ruth Ann returned to the stove and stirred the soup. She glanced over her shoulder. “Why weren’t you sitting with Rose in church this morning?”
Benjamin sighed. “As I said, there is nothing between us. She’s not what I want.”
~*~
Ruth Ann’s voice caught in her throat. “W-what do you want?”
In an instant he was behind her, his chest brushing against her back. “You.”
The spoon slipped from Ruth Ann’s grasp and clanked against the iron pot before slipping beneath the golden broth. Shivers rolled over her skin, racing behind his fingers as they traced the length of her arm. She should step away from his reach. Unable to fight the desire for his touch, she faced him instead.
His thumb caressed her cheek. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Ruthie.”
Her insides quivered at the sight of his honey-colored eyes, his words nourishing her desiccated heart. She was willing to try and mend fences if he was.
“I’ve never stopped loving you either, Ben.”
He took her hand in his before lifting it to his lips. “Please understand how it pains me to say this, but we can’t be together just yet.”
The quick tightening in her chest matched the brisk fluttering of her eyelids. What had he said? Her eyes darted from the coffee grinder to the handle of the ice box, before pairing with his. “I don’t understand. If you love me as you say, why can’t we be together?”
He reached for her hand again, but she stepped away from him.
“I can’t say, not yet. I need you to trust me, Ruthie. I need you to wait for me.”
“Wait for you?” Emotions reeling from his contradictory declarations, she leaned against the kitchen chair, needing its strength to remain on her feet. “Is this a game to you, Ben?”
A Love Restored Page 20