The Redemption of Micah

by Beth Williamson

  Perhaps to prove to himself he wouldn’t drink even if tempted, he’d left the bar in the parlor fully stocked and for the last almost three years, the bottles had yet to be opened.

  Demons cackling in his ears, his body buzzed with rampant thirst as he walked toward the room. It had been the room where Madeline had hosted guests, one of her least favorite rooms because of all the frippery her father had insisted on. It stood unused most of the time because the population of Plum Creek didn’t come visiting very often.

  His feet had a will of their own and he felt caught up in an urge so powerful, it made his bones shake. By the time he entered the parlor, he was breathing as if he’d run to the end of town and back. Tears stung his eyes as he closed the door behind him. What was he doing? He shouldn’t even be in the parlor, much less with the door closed.

  He leaned on the door and tried to tell himself to leave, but it was no use. The bottles sparkled in the late afternoon sun that crept through the gauzy curtains. Myriads of light bounced around them as he approached as if they welcomed him, asking him where he’d been. If it had still been raining, the shadows in the room would have hidden the bar. Instead the sun had come out and he was helpless to stop himself.

  Micah watched as he grasped the neck of the whiskey and pulled the cork out. The woodsy scent of the amber liquid filled him and he breathed in deeply. His entire body screamed in utter delight and his mouth actually watered. He swallowed hard and picked up the bottle and a glass.

  As he walked over to the settee, he told himself to put the whiskey back, to run like hell and find his daughter. Yet he didn’t. The demons inside exploded from him, filling the room with dark magic as he sat down and poured himself four fingers of liquor.

  His hand shook so bad, it spilled onto his fingers and he leaned forward to lick it off. At the first taste of whiskey, he closed his eyes in nearly sensual bliss as his body jerked in reaction. It had been so long, so long since he’d given in, since he’d found peace. Perhaps just this once he could lose himself for just a little while.

  Micah let the tears flow unchecked down his cheeks as he raised the glass to his lips.

  Eppie sat in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon, talking with Candice and watching her make dinner. When Miracle came in looking like she’d rolled in mud, Candice tut-tutted and sent her back outside to wash up. The girl obeyed without question, but her feet dragged a bit. She obviously was raised well and did as she was bade, but was a very typical three-year-old.

  How Eppie knew anything about a three-year-old’s behavior escaped her, but she had apparently been around children enough to understand. It comforted her to know that she wasn’t completely without knowledge to be a parent, particularly given the resemblance she saw between her and the girl.

  Wanting to help, Eppie was shucking peas at the table while Candice hummed and added meat to her stew. It smelled heavenly in the room, especially after she started making dumplings to cook on top of the stew. Miracle came back in, this time with a face scrubbed until it shone with a pink glow and water spots all over her blue dress.

  She sat down on the chair with a humph and stared at Candice as if she’d ordered her to do something terrible.

  “You know you needed to be cleaned up, so you just need to cut that out,” Candice admonished with one dough-covered finger. “You can suck that lip back in where it belongs.”

  Miracle sighed and moved her gaze to Eppie. “Mama better?”

  Eppie swallowed and tried to find a way to ask the girl not to call her Mama, but couldn’t think of one. The word made her skin jump but judging by what she saw, it was true. Who was she to judge a little girl when she’d obviously been told all her short life that Eppie was her mother? Eventually the name might not make her uncomfortable, but for now she would have to simply accept it. After all, the girl accepted her without question.

  “Yes, I do feel better. Thank you for asking.” She smiled at the girl. “Miss Candice is a good nurse.”

  “Daddy’s good.” She snatched a handful of peas from the bowl. “He fixed you.”

  The idea that Micah had fixed her hadn’t entered Eppie’s mind, but given Candice’s comments earlier and Miracle’s pronouncement, perhaps he had fixed her. If she’d been so grievously injured as to be in this “coma” for almost three years, he had done his best to take care of her, to fix her.

  It had been a week and she hadn’t taken into consideration that Micah had given up all his time, his life even, to care for her. Did that show devotion? Perhaps it did, and she would do best to recognize that. Micah might be like her constant shadow, but he may have good reason to be. She didn’t know if she was ready to open her arms to him, but she was ready to give him a chance.

  Suddenly it seemed important to talk to him, to ask him what had happened and find out more about how she ended up in the coma. She’d left him sleeping in her room, but since it was close to supper, he’d need to wake up anyway.

  Her decision made, Eppie focused on finishing the peas. Candice chatted with Miracle about Daisy, who Eppie discovered was a puppy, and apparently one with a mind of her own. She tried to focus on the stories about the dog and its proclivity for digging, but her mind kept wandering to Micah.

  The sad-eyed man was thin to the point of gauntness, yet he managed to take care of her and his daughter. Candice told her she only came during the week usually at five, but today she wanted to come early because Eppie had woken. She knew there’d be more to do and wanted to make sure she was there to help. Micah had said hello, asked her to watch Miracle, and disappeared upstairs.

  “I was surprised to see you, actually, since he said you were sleeping. Where is he, anyway?” Candice took the bowl of peas and put it in the stew. As she expertly dropped the dumplings on top, Eppie watched with envy. She hoped she knew how to cook, too.

  “He was sleeping in the chair in my room.” She glanced at the doorway to the hall, as if she could see him around the corner, up the stairs and through the door.

  “Ah, that chair became his bed.” Candice shook her head. “No matter how many times I told him not to sleep in it, he usually did. The man hasn’t had more than two hours of sleep at a time since, well, since the accident.” She looked away, likely still respecting Micah’s right to tell Eppie what happened.

  The need to talk to Micah overwhelmed her and she got to her feet slowly. The lightheadedness wasn’t so bad anymore. The milk and food must have done her a world of good. Her legs still felt as shaky as they had, but she did feel stronger.

  “I’m going to talk to Micah.” Once she said it, she immediately felt as if she’d made the right choice. It was time she found out exactly what had happened.

  “Take it slow now, Eppie. No need to rush around when you’re still getting better.” She pointed at Miracle. “You help your Mama now.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Eppie wasn’t sure the girl was ready to hear what her father had to say. It likely wasn’t fit for a child’s ears.

  “Oh, pshaw, she’ll come right back when you get where you’re going. I won’t hear of you walking around alone anymore. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Candice was like a mother hen, clucking around Eppie as if she was one of her chicks.

  “I help, Mama.” Miracle hopped up and ran over, tucking her arm around Eppie’s waist. She smiled up at her and Eppie knew a moment of sweet innocence. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to love the girl, after all.

  Eppie put her hand on top of the girl’s head. “Okay, I give in. You can be my helper.”

  “Yea!” Miracle squeezed her just a bit, then looked serious as Eppie started walking.

  Together the two of them made their way down the long hallway to the foot of the stairs. The effort made Eppie winded, so she sat down on the bottom step to catch her breath. Miracle scooted next to her looking up with wide eyes.

  That’s when Eppie heard the crying. Someone sobbed in a room nearby, but it was muffled, as if they had a pillow over their face.
She glanced at the girl, but she didn’t appear to be bothered by it.

  “Do you hear that?”

  Miracle nodded. “Daddy cries.”

  Daddy cries.

  Those two words echoed through Eppie’s mind, repeating over and over. He cried because he was sad or for some other reason perhaps. Obviously to the girl, it was commonplace, and she recognized it easily. It bothered Eppie that he cried because it meant it was likely because of her.

  This man who had apparently sacrificed everything to take care of her and his daughter was regularly torn up enough inside to let tears flow. She might not remember much, but a man crying was not a common sight. Apparently it was in this house.

  Fatigue forgotten, she wanted to find him and get the truth from him. She didn’t want him to cry about her anymore. Eppie rose and hung on to the banister for a few moments. Miracle got to her feet and readied herself to help Eppie again.

  “Where is he?”

  Miracle’s brows furrowed as she listened, her head cocked to the right. “Fancy parlor.” She pointed at the closed door closest to the enormous front door.

  It was made of dark wood with a paneling that looked too ornate for someone’s house, but the entire place was like that. The parlor was a fancy name for a room, and she was sure it meant it was where rich folks entertained visitors. It was usually at the front of the house with lots of windows.

  Eppie must have either lived in this house long enough to know that or had brought the knowledge from wherever she’d come from prior to arriving here in Plum Creek. No doubt the “fancy” part came from the furniture in the room.

  She approached the door with a little trepidation, not knowing what to expect. If he was crying, did he really need her to intrude? Regardless, she knew she wanted to talk to him and it was as good a time as any. She looked down at Miracle.

  “I’m going to talk to your Daddy now.”

  Miracle nodded sagely. “Needs a hug.”

  Eppie pinched her lips together to stop the smile from spreading. The girl was really a precocious little thing and seemed to understand a great deal about what was going on around her. It was a skill someone far more mature than a three-year-old normally had. At least that’s what her mind was telling her.

  Shaking off the confusing thoughts, Eppie knocked lightly on the door. As she waited, her stomach jumped around as if an army of frogs had taken up residence. Miracle’s little hand slid into hers, and Eppie squeezed it, absurdly grateful for her presence.

  There was no sound from the parlor.

  Eppie knocked again and heard a shuffling sound from within the room. Then what sounded like glass clinking against glass. What could he be doing in there?

  She raised her hand to knock a third time when someone else knocked on the front door beside them. Eppie jumped about a foot, startling herself and Miracle.

  “There’s someone at the front door, Micah.” She called through the parlor door.

  “Don’t care,” came the muffled, slurred response.

  Was he drinking? It sounded that way to her, but she didn’t know Micah well enough to know what he did or didn’t do. The knock at the front door sounded again, even louder this time.

  “Hello? Anyone home?” trilled a woman’s voice.

  Miracle wrinkled her nose. “Miz Webster.”

  Mrs. Webster? Was this the wife of the infamous sheriff Candice had told her about? Eppie couldn’t stop herself from answering the door if she wanted to. She had to know more about the infamous woman. With her will firmly in place, Eppie walked to the large front door and turned the knob.

  She didn’t know what to expect, but the appearance of three nearly identical blond women surprised her. Each one had a slightly different hairstyle and wore a fancy dress of varying shades. They also had identical expressions of shock upon seeing who answered the door.

  Eppie told herself she shouldn’t feel a sense of perverse satisfaction for shocking the three ladies. It wasn’t kind of her, and she pushed the feeling to the depths of her heart.

  “Eppie?” the middle woman asked, her face as pale as milk.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Eppie put a smile on her face. “What can I do for you?”

  “I, um, well, I can’t believe that’s really you. I mean, it looks like you, but, well, I don’t know what to say.” The blonde in the middle appeared to be the spokesperson for the group.

  “Did you ladies come calling for Micah? He’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but I’d be happy to let him know you came by.” As soon as she figured out who the heck they were.

  Miracle peeked out from behind Eppie and all three of them looked down, then back up at her.

  “Why, she does have your eyes, doesn’t she?” The one on the left had a nasally voice.

  “Virginia, I told you Micah was telling the truth. He wouldn’t have guarded the house like an attack dog if she wasn’t.” The middle one pasted a smile on her face that didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes.

  “We’re so happy to see you recovered, Eppie. May we come in?” While she spoke, the three of them stepped across the threshold, their combined bodies forcing Eppie to step back. “If you’d be so kind as to let Micah know we’re here, then fix us some lemonade. We’ll be in the parlor.”

  They turned right like a school of fish and stepped toward the parlor. Before Eppie could stop them, Miracle slid across the floor and blocked the door with her little arms across her chest and a scowl on her face.

  “No.”

  The ladies stopped in their tracks and looked back at Eppie as if waiting for her to do something. Eppie didn’t want her first impression with these ladies to be a sour one, but she couldn’t allow them to intrude on Micah’s privacy, especially considering the haunting sobbing she’d heard not ten minutes earlier. She pushed aside the fact that they’d considered her hired help and ordered her to provide refreshments. That particular battle could wait.

  “I’m afraid Micah is not accepting visitors at the moment. He’s come down with a terrible cold and is sleeping in the parlor so as not to get anyone else sick.” Eppie smiled and pulled Miracle to her side. “I will be sure to let him know you stopped by.”

  “You’re very different, Eppie.” The middle one cocked her head and frowned. “You sound, well, you sound like you’re educated, which is impossible.”

  Eppie’s face felt hot with embarrassment and anger. This woman was pushing her too far, but she didn’t want to ruin the day by slapping her, especially in front of Miracle. Later on she’d think about how the urge to let her temper fly was troubling.

  “Perhaps being in a coma for three years was education enough.” Eppie gestured to the front door. “Again I thank you for coming by to visit.”

  Although they were pushy, they were apparently still ladies and understood a dismissal when they heard one.

  “Of course. Do you know when Madeline might be here for a visit? I mean, after all, you are awake now.” The blond spokesperson raised one eyebrow and waited.

  “Madeline will be visiting soon.” Eppie was lying, of course, but she kept her face neutral.

  “Thank you for the hospitality. Beatrice, Virginia, let’s depart. I hope next time you’ll feel well enough to complete your ablutions, Eppie.” With that parting snide comment, the three of them filed out the door.

  Disbelief, anger and hurt swirled around as she stared at the backs of their pretty blond heads. Eppie controlled the urge to slam the door, but just barely. They were like a pack of vicious dogs, biting and snarling with shiny bows in their fur. She shook with the emotional upheaval their short visit had caused. If the spokesperson was Mrs. Webster, Candice had been right about her walking around town as if she owned it. She certainly owned her two little blond accomplices.

  Eppie wanted to ask the woman who she was but wasn’t about to let on that her memory was gone. That would no doubt be a terrible mistake.

  “Mean ladies.” Miracle frowned at the closed door.

>   “They weren’t very polite, were they?” Eppie put her hand on top of the girl’s head. “Why don’t you go help Candice while I talk to your daddy?”

  Miracle frowned and stomped down the hallway, but she went just the same. Eppie took a deep breath and wondered how she’d woken up in such an odd little family in an odd town. If she didn’t feel so sore and tired, she’d think she was still sleeping. This time she decided not to knock on the door. It was a parlor, after all, which meant it was meant for everyone to use.

  She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t to find Micah sitting on a window seat, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He’d removed his shirt and sat only in his trousers.

  She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, as the scent of booze and despair washed over her. It appeared as though she was right—he did have a dark side that he hid in front of her and Miracle. The dark side should frighten her, but somehow, it didn’t. It drew her in.

  “Micah?”

  He didn’t move but a sigh bubbled to his lips. “Eppie, love, I made a mistake.”

  A shiver crawled up her spine at the word “love.” It was the same as in her dreams, the same inflection and depth. Perhaps she’d been remembering rather than dreaming as suspected. Did that mean she and Micah had been intimate lovers? Had she truly been in love with this broken man?

  The setting sun made a halo around him, making his light brown hair into a fiery mass of gold and orange. She couldn’t quite make out his expression, but no doubt it was as sad as the atmosphere in the room. As she stepped closer, she started to make out details, such as the scar on his left arm and the larger one on the right side of his chest. He appeared to be a mass of scars, both inside and out, although muscles crisscrossed his thin body, belying the appearance of thinness.

  “What mistake?”

  He turned and smiled, relaxed for the first time since she’d opened her eyes. “I forgot why I didn’t drink.”