Uncharted Journey (The Uncharted Series Book 6)

by Keely Brooke Keith

  She’d been anything but tenderhearted toward Solo during the past two days. Her stomach had burned since the moment she’d decided he must be trying to force his way into a job. The only thing that gnawed at her more than the tension between them was the conviction of knowing she needed to forgive him.

  No matter what his plan was, it wouldn’t work on her. Still, he had one last week at the inn. She needed to forgive him just as God had forgiven her.

  A silent sigh flowed from her lungs, relaxing her stiff shoulders. Solo had done so much good for them. That should be her focus for the next seven days. Then, at the end of Solo’s stay she would send him away with a sincere thank you for his work and food for the road, but no job offer and certainly not her heart.

  She was the last person in the room to bow her head while her father said the closing prayer. It was the same prayer he prayed every Sunday. Zeke leaned against her side so she put an arm over her son. Her sister breathed softly sitting next to them. Surrounded by family, Eva still felt lonely. Of course she was lonely—she was a widow. Grief was to be her lifelong companion. She had reminded herself many times, but that didn’t feel right anymore.

  All that was left was a garbled hunk of confusion clogging her heart. Since Solo had been trying to maneuver her for his own gain, she could ignore the feelings for him that had been budding inside her. It didn’t matter that he was courteous and gentle, loved her son, and had saved the harvest by working a month for nothing. And that he’d kissed her. The confusion he had caused in her was natural after all that, but now she could let it go.

  Solo would soon be out of her life, but he had unlocked a door in her that she never thought would be opened. Now that it was, her feelings were more clouded than the autumn sky.

  All that she had accepted about her lot in life—her widowhood and raising Zeke alone—came into question. Did she miss Ezekiel or did she miss the ideal family she thought they would be?

  Most days it was difficult to remember what her late husband looked like. She could conjure up memories of one aspect or another—grainy glimpses of his eyes or lips—but never all of his face at once. Even his image had departed her. What was she clinging to?

  A wordless prayer lifted from her heart, a plea for God to give her peace if she was free to love again, and for Him to remove the guilt if she was no longer bound to Ezekiel.

  Frederick said Amen and dismissed the family, guests, and traders, ending the service. As everyone rose from their seats, Sybil pulled Eva close and whispered, “Maybe the Lord has more for you in life.”

  Sybil’s words sank in and left Eva wondering if it was God’s answer to her prayer. Tears threatened to warm the corners of her eyes, but with a room full of people, she wasn’t about to let them flow. She tucked a stray brown curl off Sybil’s cheek and forced a smile. “Of course, He does. And for you too, Syb.”

  As the guests and Eva’s family members mingled in the dining hall, Zeke tugged on her wrist. “I want to show you something, Mama.”

  “All right,” she said as he led her out of the room. “Where is it? I don’t want to go outside in the rain in my best dress.”

  “We’re not.” He led her past the staircase and into the reception room where he stopped her in front of the divan. “You sit here, Mama.”

  “Very well.”

  “I hope you like my surprise.”

  The preciousness of her child wanting to please her warmed her heart. “I’m sure I will.”

  Zeke hopped to the bookshelf and drew a single piece of paper out from between two books. After plopping down beside her on the cushion, he held the hand-printed page in front of them both. “Solo gave it to me.”

  As her son scooted close to her on the divan, she read the pristinely written top line aloud. “The Moody Mare by Solomon Cotter.” She glanced down the corridor toward the dining hall but couldn’t see Solo. Looking back at the page, she lowered her voice. “Do you want me to read this story to you?”

  “No, Mama. I’ll read it to you. That is my surprise.”

  She scanned the first few lines. “Are you sure you know all these words?”

  Zeke nodded and began reading the story to her. She tried to focus on the fable, but all she could hear was the sweet sound of her baby boy reading. When he reached the end, she wrapped him in a hug, wishing he would stay like this forever but knowing he was growing even now as she held him. She kissed the top of his head. “I am so proud of you.”

  He pulled away and looked up at her. “Then why are you crying?”

  She dabbed a tear she didn’t know had escaped her control. “Happy tears, that’s all.” She smoothed the thick fabric of her skirt. “Excellent job. Have you read it to Grandpa yet?”

  “Not—” His gaze moved to someone behind her and he smiled. “Not yet.”

  She looked back to see Solo standing in the doorway. He had one hand in his trouser pocket and a humble grin creasing the lines around his mouth.

  Zeke glanced between them. “You two probably need to talk.” His young voice speaking mature words made Eva and Solo both chuckle.

  Solo squeezed Zeke’s shoulder as the boy passed him. “Thanks, partner.”

  Zeke grinned. “I think she liked your story.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Solo stepped to the armchair across from the divan and sat opposite her. He propped his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers. “Listen Eva, I—”

  “No, don’t.” She stopped him not wanting to hear any more about his hiding the message from Revel or his chasing off her potential employee. “You and I have had a rough couple of days. I think it’s best for everyone if we forget about everything.”

  “I can’t.”

  “It’s all right, Solo. I forgive you.”

  He drew his head back a degree and stared at her over the tips of his fingers. “You forgive me?”

  “That’s right. Even as God for Christ’s sake has forgiven me.”

  He raised his scarred eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you noble?”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit a children’s writer, Solomon.” She picked up the paper Zeke had left beside her on the cushion and scanned the sweet and moralistic tale. “You might have captured my son’s heart, but I’m not so naive.”

  His jaw bulged while he tightened it. “You are crossing a line here.”

  “Me? How about you?” Her volume raised more than she intended, so she tried to calm down before anyone overheard them. “You tried to hide Revel’s message from me.”

  He shot to his feet. “That is not true.”

  “And you got rid of Sam so I wouldn’t hire him.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Before she could counter him, he turned away and paced the rug in front of the bookcase, rubbing the back of his neck. After a moment he turned back around, his voice quieter but edged sharper than sewing sheers. “Why are you doing this, Eva?”

  “I was trying to tell you I forgive—”

  “The only way I wronged you was by making you feel something you didn’t want to feel.”

  He was right about that. She’d spent a month feeling guilty and confused and infatuated. She watched the rain hitting the window so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “I will not fight with you anymore.”

  His boots softly thumped the floor as he walked to the divan and sat beside her. “All I want is to win your heart, but how can I? I can’t fight a dead husband.”

  His words pierced her aching heart. How could he say such a thing? Whatever his game was, if she let it get to her, it was working. Teardrops hit her hands. She quickly wiped them away and whisked the others off her cheek. “I have a son to raise and an elderly father to take care of and an inn to run. I don’t have time for this. The last thing I need is a man coming here, trying to take over my life.”

  “Eva, I’m not—”

  She stood. “I’ll honor the deal my father made with you, but the moment your forty days are up, you have
to leave.”

  Pain darkened his eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  She paused to take a steadying breath then managed a certain nod. “It’s for the best.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Solo—”

  He reached for her hand but stopped before he touched her. “You need help with the farm until the new man starts. I can stay a few more weeks. Eva, don’t make life harder for Frederick and Leonard.”

  His hand hovered in front of hers, waiting for her to reach out. Instead, she stepped back. “I’ll manage. I always have. I don’t need you, Solomon.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Solo stepped over a manure pile on his way to the barn for the evening milking on his last day at the Inn at Falls Creek. Nothing had gone the way he’d planned. His stories remained unwritten. He’d worked harder for the past forty days than he had in the past year at the ranch. And Eva’s heart was still as hard as a hoof.

  As he walked into the open barn, the sound of milk spraying into a bucket came from the back of the dark building. Under the light of an oil lantern, Leonard was sitting on a milking stool beside the farm’s crankiest cow. He turned his gray head away from the cow. “I can handle her tonight, son.”

  “What about the other three?”

  “Already milked them.”

  Solo pointed at Leonard’s bone-handled cane, which was propped against the barn wall. “Will you be all right after I’m gone?”

  “I reckon.” He glanced up at Solo as he slid a full bucket out from under the cow. “You finished the harvesting for me. Nothing but cows to tend to till the new man starts.”

  Leonard was making his job sound easier than it was. He slowly stood as if each vertebra of his spine needed a few seconds to mobilize. When he finally stabilized himself enough to reach for the bucket handle, Solo almost swooped in to lift it for him but stopped himself and waited to see if Leonard could indeed manage on his own.

  Leonard grunted as he lifted the bucket and carried it out of the stall. He moved slower than he had before the stroke, but if he could do the work, Solo wouldn’t step on his pride.

  Even if his own was in tatters.

  Nothing may have gone like he’d planned here, but he could leave Falls Creek with some satisfaction knowing Leonard survived his ordeal and the inn would have food for the winter. He leaned his shoulder against a rough post. “The gray leaf tea works wonders, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure the medicine had anything to do with my recovery, not with the way my Claudia prayed for me. The doctor said I should be dead.” He set the bucket down and wiped his palms together. “You still plan on leaving us tomorrow?”

  Leaving us. The phrase scalded Solo’s ears though it wasn’t intended. He didn’t want to leave the inn—to leave Eva—at all. He gave the door a quick check to make sure no one was outside, especially Zeke. “It’s not by choice.”

  Leonard pressed his lips together in a grim line. “So you’re giving up on her?”

  “No. Not giving up. She told me to leave. Said she didn’t need me.”

  “You believe her?”

  “Not for a second, but I have to respect her decision.”

  Leonard chuckled sardonically. “Oh, she’ll have her respect. She’ll deny herself a husband and deny her son a father and send away the best man we’ve had on this property in decades, but she’ll have her respect.” His cheeks reddened as he scoffed. “That stubborn girl!”

  Solo wished he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to upset the older man, especially on his last day here. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault, boy.” Leonard blew out a groan then stared at the dirt floor. “When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow. First light.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Back to the ranch in Riverside.”

  Leonard nodded. “Got a good job there?”

  “Good enough.” Just thinking about going to the ranch made his neck begin to ache. He rubbed it to no avail. “I only have to work one more year for the ranch to earn forty acres.”

  “Is that what you want? To have your own farm?”

  “A horse farm, yes sir. It used to be.” Solo looked out the open barn door at the darkening hills that rolled to the bleak southern horizon. “But it isn’t all I want anymore.”

  Leonard gripped his cane’s handle and leaned on it, the tone of his voice solemn but sure. “There are three truths that make life a lot simpler. Know what they are?”

  Solo thought back to the frequent and fruitful lectures his granddad used to give him while teaching him how to train horses. “Let me think… We all will die, we all can be saved, and tomorrow is a new day.”

  The older man raised his silver brows. “All facts. But the three truths I’m talking about will change your life in this fallen world if you understand them.”

  He didn’t try to guess again.

  Leonard pointed one arthritic finger into the air. “There will always be something wrong with your circumstances.” He raised a second finger, its knuckle more swollen than the first. “There will always be something missing from your life.” Then a third finger. “There is nothing you can do to change either of the first two truths.” He pointed his three raised fingers at Solo. “You accept those truths, and it’ll cut your frustration in half.”

  Even half the frustration Solo felt with Eva was enough to ruin any man’s mood. The same powerful spirit he loved about her was the very force that was keeping him away. She was impossible.

  Leonard’s advice was well-intended but irrelevant, not to mention depressing. Part of Solo wanted to lie down and die, and part of him wanted to break something. “Right, well, Eva doesn’t want me here, so I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  Leonard shook his head. “Still don’t understand, do you?”

  “I guess not.”

  “When most men have trouble with a lady, they have to be told the answer is in giving the woman what she needs. Not you. You got that part, but you still don’t know how to handle her.” A faint grin deepened the creases around Leonard’s mouth and he held up his three fingers once more. “There will always be something wrong, something missing—”

  “And there is nothing I can do about it,” Solo repeated the third of Leonard’s so called three truths.

  Maybe the stroke had done more than slow the older man’s speech and stride. Of course Solo wanted to meet Eva’s needs. She needed him, his help, his affection. She was just too obstinate to see it.

  There was truth in what Leonard was saying, but it didn’t apply to Solo’s relationship with Eva. Unless this was Leonard’s way of telling him this situation was hopeless. Solo pushed away from the post he was leaning against. “My leaving is probably for the best then.”

  Leonard waved a hand as if shooing Solo away. “You’ll understand one day, son.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Bailey walked along the dirt driveway beside Lydia as they left the house to go into the center of the village. She checked the tree-lined road in both directions out of habit—not that a car would zoom past and run them over. Clumps of manure dotted the road, attesting to the Land’s favored mode of transportation.

  Lydia held the two blue dresses the seamstress had made. Bailey opened a hand to her. “I can carry those if you want.”

  “Since Mrs. McIntosh hasn’t met you yet, it would probably be best if your unusual alteration request came from me.”

  She hadn’t meant to make things difficult for her hosts. “Did you already pay her to make my clothes?”

  “Not directly.” Lydia kept her gaze forward. Her chin lifted slightly as her voice filled with pride. “Since I’m the physician, my profession is village-supported.”

  “Meaning, you take care of them and they take care of you?”

  The afternoon sun brightened Lydia’s golden-brown eyes as she smiled a little. “That is one way of saying it.”

  The economy in the Land was still a mystery
to Bailey. There was plenty to eat at the Colburn table, yet they didn’t farm other than keeping a few chickens and one dairy cow. Someone from the village stopped by almost daily with a basket of vegetables or a sack of flour. Maybe John Colburn had an arrangement with the growers as Lydia did with the seamstress. “Is your dad’s position also village-supported?”

  “Yes, all the overseers in the Land are, as are our schoolteachers.”

  “What does everyone else do? Barter and trade?”

  Lydia nodded. “Everyone works and everyone eats.”

  Bailey didn’t want to be the exception. She’d helped with the hay harvest this week, but that was over now. Connor seemed to have the barn chores under control and still had time to study with John and train the security team. Lydia and her father shared the cooking, and everyone pitched in with housework. There didn’t seem to be much Bailey could do to earn her keep. She dipped a hand into her empty jeans pocket and missed having cash. “I’ll pay you back somehow.”

  Lydia tucked a windswept strand of hair behind her ear. “That won’t be necessary. You are our guest.”

  Bailey had come to the Land to start a new life—one that didn’t include handouts. “I can earn my own way. I could help with the vegetable garden.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened. “You could?”

  “Sure.” At the thought of tending a garden, a bubble of joy rose to the top of Bailey’s heart, and she didn’t try to pop it. “I’d be happy to.”

  “Happy to,” Lydia repeated quietly, as if the phrase were unfamiliar.

  “Yeah, you know, I would really enjoy it.”

  Lydia shook her head and her loose bun wobbled. “No, I know what the phrase means. I just haven’t heard you say you were happy before. I suppose that’s reasonable considering the outside world’s condition.”

  Bailey mindlessly followed Lydia onto the road, overcome by what she’d said. It was true this was the first time she’d felt a glimmer of happiness since first seeing the Land. “I hope I didn’t seem ungrateful before.”