Forbidden Fire
Page 9
While Katherine didn’t want the woman to feel obligated, she also didn’t want to offend her by refusing her gifts. Katherine was about to shut the door when Jake crossed the small compound. Other than choosing to be rude, she had no choice but to wait and greet him.
“You got any bread to go with that?” Jake questioned, eyeing the bounty in her hands.
“You must be part hound dog. Did you smell food from inside your house?”
“Church,” he corrected. “Getting ready for Bible school.”
“That something new?”
“Uh-huh. For the kids. Sort of like a week-long Sunday school. So is there any fresh bread?”
Sighing audibly, Katherine edged the screen door open wider. “Bessie Johnson seemed to think the jam needs fresh biscuits, but I’ll see what Hattie’s made.”
“Is the coffee on?”
“Is there no limit to your audacity?”
“Nope,” he answered cheerfully, sniffing as they walked toward the kitchen. “I think there’s coffee.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m so relieved.”
“Reverend,” Hattie greeted him. “That stew set all right?”
“Lunch was wonderful, Miss Hattie.”
Katherine refused to comment on his daily treks to her kitchen. Instead she walked to the bread box and took out one of the fresh loaves Hattie had baked that morning. “This do?” she asked Jake.
“Till supper,” Hattie answered for him. “A bite of bread and jam ain’t enough to fill a big man like the Reverend.”
“What was I thinking?” Katherine responded, realizing Jake had Hattie neatly in his pocket.
She watched Hattie pour his coffee and fuss over his plate before she left them. Narrowing her eyes, Katherine offered him more coffee, waiting to speak until he’d taken a large sip. “You planning to move in here?”
Gratified, Katherine watched Jake spit out the hot liquid, spraying the front of his shirt and the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means your congregation isn’t going to be too pleased to know you take your meals here. You stroll over here whenever you want. You spar with Morgan. With me, you—”
“Do what, Katherine?” He rose from his chair, pushing aside the uneaten food and striding around to Katherine’s chair. Before she could realize his intent, he pulled her up, meeting her gaze evenly.
Before he could make good on the promise in his eyes, she moved back a bit. “Nothing. I’m just trying to show you how all this must look to the people in your church.”
“I can watch out for myself, Katherine. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big boy now.”
The reminder wasn’t necessary. The strength in his hands as they gripped her arms was sufficient proof. “But you’re not being careful. Mrs. Johnson hadn’t even left before you were over here.”
“So?”
“So, what if she tells someone, who tells another person, who—”
“Why are you more worried about my reputation than I am?”
“Because I don’t have one of my own to worry about!” Katherine practically shouted.
“Whoa. What kind of tripe is this?”
“Don’t pretend to not know what I’m talking about. It doesn’t matter what the good people of Browning think about me, but it matters what they think of you.”
“I told you once before, Katherine. No one chooses my friends for me.”
Her voice was barely a whisper as she answered. “Is that what we are? Friends?”
When he stared at her without speaking, Katherine realized he didn’t know the answer any more than she did.
A few days later Katherine watched with interest as the churchyard filled with children. Jake’s Bible school was in session again. Without their parents, the children ran free when Jake dismissed them for recess. Perched in her window seat, Katherine had a perfect view. As the week had progressed, Katherine had identified her favorites and came to recognize the mannerisms of others.
The tiniest children captured her attention, running on their chubby legs in unsuccessful pursuit of their older brothers and sisters, their round faces flushed and smiling. Having children of her own was the one desire Katherine had never been able to completely dampen. She ached to go downstairs and join them.
Instead she watched, laughing at antics and despairing when a child tumbled and fell. But Jake seemed to have control of the situation. He soothed disagreements, calmed the wounded, and supervised the rest.
Recess ended, and the children went back inside. Wishing they could spend more time outside, Katherine eased away from the window, reminded of the tasks she had to do. She gathered receipts and books, dreading her ledger work. Procrastinating, she also rearranged her wardrobe and straightened her combs on the dresser. Realizing she had little else to do besides attack the books, she left her room.
Downstairs she found some corn and took it to Romeo and Juliet. They accepted her offering with their usual charm. She checked for mail on the front hall table, but didn’t find any.
Knocking on Morgan’s door, she found him absorbed in a dime novel, a new passion of his. “Did you pick up the mail, Morgan?”
He didn’t look up. “We didn’t have any. You expecting something?”
“I’m waiting to hear from Beth.”
Putting the book aside, he sighed. “Ah, yes. Beth.”
“Don’t use that tone with me, Morgan Tremaine.”
“Somebody should.”
She smiled mirthlessly. “Yes, Uncle Morgan.” Curtsying, she exited. But when she was gone, he didn’t smile.
“Uncle Morgan?” he asked the empty room in disgust.
But Katherine had left. Still avoiding the worrisome ledgers, she wandered down to the kitchen, knowing it would soon be time to fix the cookies. Puttering in the kitchen, she took advantage of the large window to watch the children at their second recess. Jake allowed them a break every two hours because he knew it was difficult for the children to stay inside when the warm summer weather beckoned.
Hattie had baked cookies every day, and together they served lemonade to go with them during the second recess. The first day Katherine protested, but then she realized the children didn’t know who she was or where she worked. And she derived joy from serving them a snack.
She filled the glasses and put them on the tray. Hattie would be ready in a moment to serve the drinks. Glancing out the window again, Katherine dropped the glass she was holding, not hearing the glass shatter as it hit the hard floor. She flung open the door, running outside, screaming Jake’s name.
Caught by surprise, he stared at her, seeing a wild dark-haired apparition who scarcely resembled the Katherine he knew.
“There!” she screamed, pointing toward the sky, which had turned a strange coppery color.
Jolted, he stared upward. Clouds of dust formed above the ridges and swells of the horizon. Separating from the formation, a dark, swirling funnel cloud descended rapidly. Just as quickly, Jake took charge, shouting orders to the older children to gather the younger ones. Katherine ran forward, fetching the toddlers and herding them toward the church. Inside, she searched for the cellar and directed them rapidly down the steps. Their boots clattered against the raw wooden stairs as they descended. As each older child came to the head of the stairs, Katherine thrust a toddler in their arms to be carried to safety. Jake latched the door and opened the windows so they wouldn’t explode.
“Downstairs, Katherine.”
“But—”
“Now!”
She obeyed, hearing him close the trap and then come down the stairs after her.
The filtered semidarkness of the cellar surrounded them, and a few of the younger children started crying.
“What’s this?” Jake’s voice washed over all of them. Turning to the boy nearest him, he plucked the tiny girl from his arms and chucked at her chin. “Here we can play hooky from Bible school and you’re crying!”
The girl hiccuped.
Several children shouted out suggestions, and soon a game of Mother, May I ensued. The wind howled outside and sounded as though it might level one or more buildings. To distract the children, Jake directed noisy games of London Bridge and Leapfrog until the smallest children laid down, curled up and went to sleep. When only the oldest ones were left, they settled down, talking quietly, wondering what was going on outside.
The storm had died down quite some time ago, but Jake didn’t suggest they check the damage outside. Instead he asked for spook stories.
“No, you, Reverend,” they protested.
“You go ahead, Jim, and I’ll try to think of one.”
Katherine had been looking around the building she’d never been in before today, wondering if Jake excelled at the helm. He certainly had done so in the cellar during the storm. Slipping next to him unobtrusively, she asked him in a whisper, “Don’t you think we should go check on the damage?”
“There was more than one funnel cloud in the sky,” he answered. “And the wind might turn again. I don’t think the church was hit, but something was. Their parents will be here soon looking for them. Until they do, the kids are safest where they are.”
Noting the wisdom in his words, Katherine relaxed against the mortar wall, listening to twelve-year-old Jim’s story.
“Now, Reverend, your turn!” the children pleaded.
“I’m not a very good storyteller,” he warned.
The kids didn’t look worried as they snuggled down to hear a scary story.
“Have you heard the one about the blanket?” he asked.
They didn’t look impressed as he launched into the story. They wanted ghosts, headless riders, or wolves, not a story about a blanket.
“Seems there was this nice old lady,” he began as sighs of disappointment filled the air, “and she crocheted a blanket. Now, this woman was pretty generous, offering the blanket to several people. The only person she didn’t offer the blanket to was her daughter-in-law. As a matter of fact, she said that no matter what, the daughter-in-law was never to have the blanket.
“Time went by, and the old lady died. The greedy daughter-in-law who hadn’t gotten along with the old lady insisted on taking the blanket. The others didn’t approve but didn’t want to fight her.”
At his mention of death the children became interested and crowded closer.
“That night the daughter-in-law took the blanket home, went to her room, and covered the bed with it. She fell asleep, and a short time later something woke her up.” The kids crouched even closer as Jake paused dramatically.
“The blanket was creeping off the bed. The woman leaned over to look closer. She just couldn’t believe it could move on its own. But as she watched, the blanket slid completely to the floor.” Jake paused again, and the children stared back at him wide-eyed. “The woman couldn’t sleep all night, but when it was daylight again, she decided her fear was foolish. That night she took the blanket to bed with her again.” The sound of breath being caught and held filled the room as the children waited to hear what happened.
“She fell asleep, and before long something woke her up again.”
“The blanket,” David Browning whispered.
“Exactly. It crept slowly from her bed, and this time the woman believed the old woman’s curse. At daylight she took the blanket to a neighbor, insisting the woman keep it.”
Jake paused and looked around.
“Then night came again. The woman locked her doors and windows and went to bed. After awhile she fell asleep. Pretty soon something started to wake her up.” Jake slowed his words, his voice a deep whisper in the darkened room.
“She felt the blanket slither over the bed and toward her throat.” Jake turned abruptly and grabbed Katherine, who promptly screamed. The children screamed also, and pandemonium ensued. Katherine tried to look unflustered and calm, but her composure was shattered. Sheepishly she glanced up at Jake who had the nerve to grin at her audaciously. Promptly and completely out of character, Katherine stuck her tongue out at him. The children roared appreciatively.
In the midst of their laughter, the hatch flew open, and parents began descending the stairs, gratefully retrieving their children.
Most of them had gone when one small girl ran back and reached for Katherine’s hand. “Bye, Miss Katherine.”
Hearing the child’s mother gasp in horror, Katherine swallowed the bittersweet lump in her throat. “Bye, Ellen.”
Jake walked the child back to her mother. “Miss O’Shea saw the tornado first and alerted us. We can all thank her for getting the children to safety.”
The woman seemed torn between moral outrage and motherly gratitude. Moral outrage seemed to win out. “Well, I never.” Snatching Ellen’s hand, she marched them both upstairs and out of sight.
“Not everyone is like Ellen’s mother,” Jake apologized.
“And not everyone is like Reverend Payne,” Katherine answered, gathering her dignity and turning toward the stairs. He watched as she walked up. When she was almost out of sight, she turned back. “I’m glad you are, Jake.”
Chapter 16
Jake and Morgan circled the parsonage, assessing the damage. Both the church and the saloon were undamaged, but the twister had lifted the roof from Jake’s house.
“Uncanny the way those storms hit,” Morgan commented, checking the porch and finding it sturdy. “Skipping one house, ripping down another.”
“Sounded like it was tearing the whole place down,” Jake answered, dispirited.
“Be glad it didn’t. We can fix this up.”
“Right.”
“You’re the preacher. You’re supposed to be telling me this.”
Jake tossed his hat on the glider. “Guess I’m out of goodwill.”
“Something happen?”
“You know Katherine saved those children.”
“So?” Morgan answered, testing the support and finding it solid.
“The parents didn’t exactly thank her.”
“And that surprised you?”
Jake lifted his gaze and stared at Morgan. “Shouldn’t it?”
“You’ve lived in the real world. What was your opinion of saloon singers? Were they the girls you brought home to meet your mother?” When Jake didn’t answer, Morgan continued. “I didn’t think so.”
“But she helped their children!”
“And for some people that’s an even better reason. They don’t want ’em to grow up and be saloon singers and gamblers. They don’t want her to set an example.”
Jake stared at the church in disgust. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
“You can. ’Cause for every one like Ellen’s mother, there’s a Sadie Browning or a Bessie Johnson. You can’t turn your back on them.”
Jake wanted to protest that he could. That the small-minded narrowness of the town was choking him. But Morgan was right. He couldn’t abandon the Sadies and the Bessies. They deserved more. Jake turned his hands over, examining them in the daylight, wondering at the direction his life had taken. It was a long way from when he’d used those same hands for a living.
Hearing wagons approach, he turned and saw several men with loads of sod.
“Reverend,” he was greeted by several.
“Better get that roof on,” John Peterson said unnecessarily, as he began unloading the tough sod bricks. Laced with buffalo grass, they would last for years as long as another twister didn’t head their way.
“If we work the day through, you can be back in your house tonight,” Lloyd Davis added. “The wife’s on her way with some food.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Jake started to protest.
Ralph Turner stopped his motions to stare at him. “Course it is.” Not spending any more time talking, Ralph joined the others as they began reconstructing the roof.
Morgan caught Jake’s eyes, telegraphing him an “I told you” message.
“Hey, Reverend!” David Browning called out from the street.
“Hi, David.”
“Freight office has a delivery for you. You want me to get it?”
“No. I’ll go by later. Thanks.”
David waved and left. Jake turned his attention back to the roof, hoping what he’d ordered hadn’t been a mistake, too.
Katherine sat in the parlor, one hand holding back the lace curtain as she stared down the street at the closed doors of the dry goods store. Romeo and Juliet chirped quietly to each other, and she envied their happy solitude. The storm had passed by most of the town, but she didn’t know if it had hit any of the outlying farms or ranches. She hadn’t wanted to know.
“Miss Katherine?” The housekeeper stood hesitantly at the doorway. “You have a visitor.”
Turning slowly, Katherine encountered Jake’s steady regard.
“Thank you.” She rose and met Jake halfway across the room.
“We got the roof on,” Jake said lamely, shocked by the haunted look in her eyes.
“Morgan said he thought the rest of your house was all right,” she said softly.
“It is.” Jake’s voice fell away, wishing he could erase the pain he saw in her expression.
“If your things were damaged in the storm, and we can help…”
Jake took her hands, unable to believe her generosity, wishing the good folk of Browning could see the real Katherine. He cursed the fame of Kitty O’Shea. It made it impossible to reveal the true person beneath. “You and Morgan have helped more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“I just want to make sure we don’t help you out of a job,” she responded.
Realizing her pain was for him, he gripped her hands even tighter, the hidden sadness of her face pulling at him. “If I leave the church, it won’t be because of you. It’ll be because of me.”