“I’ve recently moved here and have nothing yet. I ordered two wooden chairs from Mr. Franklin, but they won’t be delivered until later today.” Joanna needed so much more to live in comfort, but why waste the money when she’d be here a short while? She stifled a grunt. Somewhere along the line, she’d picked up Clayton’s frugal ways.
Darcy chuckled. It was the first time humor overtook the sadness. “You found me sitting on the ground. A clean floor that won’t leave stains on my dress is an improvement.” She glanced at her hands and clothing and winced. “Your floor won’t stay clean if I sit on it.”
“We can fix that problem.”
Joanna led her down a hall to the nearest of two bedrooms. She snatched necessary items of clothing from the trunk and laid them on the bed. “You can take your dirty things off. Give me time to heat fresh water, then come into the kitchen and wash.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness, ma’am.”
Joanna paused at the door and turned. “Most people call me Jo.”
Darcy tilted her head. “I know you, don’t I?”
“You came to me looking for work once.”
“I remember now. You’re from the old house on the edge of town. Mrs. Stewart. I thought you were moving away.”
“There’s been a temporary change in my plans.” Joanna walked to the bedroom doorway. “I’ll call out when I’m ready for you.”
Her steps faltered. Dare she leave the woman alone in the bedroom with her trunk—with all the money she had in this world? She was foolish to keep such a large amount of cash in the house. What if the place burned?
Until now, she hadn’t been concerned about being robbed. The recent burglaries reported in the newspaper happened in a wealthier neighborhood. But with a stranger here, a homeless and desperate woman, was she taking a reckless chance with her future?
Joanna brushed away the concern. The money was hidden, and she would risk the loss rather than turn Darcy out on the street without helping her.
She heated a large pot of water. When it steamed, she took it off the stove. “All right, you can come in.”
Darcy walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a yellowed chemise with seams stretched to their limits and a pair of drawers. Her cheeks flushed a pleasing pink, and she rubbed her stomach in a nervous manner. “Before I take further advantage of your kindness, I must be honest with you, Mrs. Stewart.” She raised her chin. “I am not a married woman. I never have been.”
Joanna kept her expression neutral while Darcy studied her reaction. It wasn’t hard to accomplish since she’d already guessed the truth.
“I’m carrying the child of a man who tossed me aside when I told him about it. He has a wife already and wants nothing to do with me or my baby. When my condition was discovered, I lost my job and my room in a boardinghouse.”
A crescendo of anger and resentment swelled inside Joanna. She wasn’t sure where to aim the bulk of her ire—at Darcy for her gullibility, the man for his deceit, or herself for understanding so well the fear and guilt this young woman suffered.
“He said nothing about being married. How could I have been so dim-witted as to throw away every bit of my upbringing and cause a scandal for my family? Should I return home, life will never be the same for them.” Darcy’s tears threatened again. “If you want me to leave, Mrs. Stewart, I will.”
Barely able to retain her composure, Joanna managed a tight smile. “It’s Jo, and why waste the water I heated for you?”
She added cool water from the pump into the wash bowl Mrs. Samuels had supplied, then poured in hot water from the pot and tested the temperature with her finger. She handed Darcy a rag, a towel, and a bar of Pears soap. “It’s almost as fragrant as the lotion you asked me to smell last time.”
Darcy’s eyes bulged. “I didn’t lie about that. All my things were stolen a week ago.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of a fabrication.” Joanna pointed to the bowl of water. “I’ll be in the sitting room when you’re finished dressing.”
As she waited, Joanna sat on the built-in seat under the bay window and stared out the glass. What was she doing? She had trouble to spare and didn’t need to complicate her life even more by taking in a woman whose predicament brought back memories she’d as soon forget.
Among Papa’s favorite Bible passages had been the first twenty verses of Ezekiel 18. He’d sit her down in the parlor and glory in reading all the ways in which she could sin and suffer spiritual death while reminding her that, just because he was her father, God did not hold him responsible for her actions. What would he think of her taking in a woman like Darcy—like herself?
Last night, Joanna had worked up the courage to read the verses, every last disheartening one of them. Then she went on to read the whole chapter, verses of promise to those who turned away from sin. She had turned away from her worst sin long ago. Did that mean God would forgive her if she asked?
Why would her father fail to mention the hope that glowed from the pages of Ben’s Bible to shine on her with the light of mercy?
Bare feet padded across the floor behind her. Gone were the dirty hands and face and the strong odor. Darcy wore Joanna’s loose-fitting wrapper and had used her brush to arrange her rebellious hair into a neat bun at the back of her head. “Thank you for the clean clothes. After I’ve washed my own, I’ll give these back.”
“No hurry.”
A time of silence stretched between them.
Joanna asked, “What happens when the baby arrives? I’d guess it won’t be long now.”
“About a month, I think.”
A month. Joanna hadn’t planned on remaining in Banesville much more than that—only until she felt certain Rose and Annie were safe.
Maintaining her anger with Kit had proved too big a strain on her nerves, so she’d chosen to believe he knew nothing of Liam’s past violence toward his family and had hired the man with good intentions. From what she had gleaned from her furtive visits, Liam behaved himself, but there had to be a way to know for certain. Hiding in the bushes didn’t provide that assurance, especially after witnessing Rose’s aversion to her husband’s kiss.
Besides, she hadn’t fulfilled her promise to notify Perry of her safe travel. He must be worried by now. Then again, he might be like the others and not even miss her.
“I don’t know what to do, Jo.”
Neither do I. “We’ll think of something.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Play for drunkards?
The vivid dream vanished with the fluttered opening of Joanna’s eyes and left behind the unanswered question.
She blinked several times to clear her sleep-blurred vision. The gray light of dawn obscured all details but the bold flower-shaped outlines on the papered bedroom walls. Try as hard as she might, though, she couldn’t conjure the murky impressions that in the realm of sleep were distinct and sensible. All that remained of the elusive fantasy was Kit’s voice offering her an opportunity to play her piano for him … for his men.
The steady beat of raindrops danced on the roof. Every so often, a gust of wind drove the rain against the window of Joanna’s room, as it had on occasion all week. Sick of dreary weather, she longed for sunshine again.
Joanna sniffed the air. Coffee. Bacon. Biscuits? A week had passed since she’d awakened to the smell of food and fresh-brewed coffee. How she had missed the homey aromas.
Throwing off the sheet, she climbed out of bed and slipped into her robe. A star quilt from her trunk lay folded in the far corner of the second bedroom. Darcy had refused the offer of the bed, insisting that if she could fall asleep on the ground, she’d sleep even better on a wood floor cushioned with a quilt pallet. No amount of pleading changed her guest’s mind.
Darcy stood at the stove in the kitchen with a spatula in her hand. Bacon grease popped and sizzled in the cast iron skillet. Gone was the nightgown Joanna provided the night before, replaced by the ample wrapper covered by a long apron.
Darcy had tamed the wild hair—as much as possible—and lifted the down-turned lips of yesterday to form a bright smile. She turned an egg onto a plate purchased from the general store. “Good morning.”
Joanna’s mouth watered. Where did this appetite come from? She rarely ate breakfast. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very. For the first time in weeks, I felt safe.”
Hoisting the coffee pot, Joanna poured a cup of coffee and refilled Darcy’s. “I understand what you mean.”
“You do?”
At Darcy’s quizzical glance, Joanna looked away. How well she remembered that sense of security the day Rose provided her a safe haven. After being cold, destitute, fearful, and lonely, she’d wept with relief throughout those first nights and kept her new friend awake.
Joanna inhaled. “The food smells wonderful.”
Lacking a table, the two of them stood at the counter while they ate and conversed. Darcy spoke freely of her background. Although her parents were not as well-to-do as Joanna’s, she came from a respectable family in Charlotte and had three brothers and a sister.
“Why didn’t you go home? Did they cast you out?” Joanna stopped short of adding “too.”
“I thought I was so smart and able to take care of myself. Look how well I managed.” The tines of Darcy’s fork scraped the graniteware as she swished it through the egg yolk that spread to puddle on her plate. “The shame is more than I can face, Jo. I can’t put my family through it.”
Joanna lowered her fork to the empty plate, wiped her mouth on a napkin, and sought a change of subject. “You’ve told me you can clean house, and I’ve tasted your breakfast. What about other meals?”
“Mama insisted I learn, even though we employed a cook.”
“I’m not proficient in the kitchen. My father discouraged me from stepping inside the room.” Joanna pushed her plate away and gathered the courage to do what she’d known she would do since bringing Darcy home with her. “I can’t pay much and can’t promise I’ll be in town long, but I’d like to hire you to fix meals and clean. Of course, you’ll have room and board for as long as I rent this house.”
Darcy froze with her lips parted. She gathered her composure and asked, “Even when the baby comes?”
“Yes.”
Darcy reached out and pulled Joanna into a robust embrace. “God bless you.”
Once again, scenes from the elusive dream burst into her thoughts. What kind of blessing would it be to play her cherished piano again, to laugh with Rose and Annie, and … and to see Kit without hiding among the trees like a spy?
***
“Nice and smooth, Annie. Like this.” Kit knelt with one knee on the ground and grasped the child’s hand. He guided the brush left, then right, using gentle strokes as they applied a thick white layer of paint to new boards on the side of the house. He’d indulged Annie in her request to help, even though time was fleeting and much more work remained.
Thanks to Mr. Culbertson’s supervision, they just might manage to meet the schedule their backers had set—despite the bad weather and difficulties presented by the three men in their care.
Donovan worried Kit most. At times, the former fighter’s hands shook with such intensity, they dared not assign him anything more important than to fetch and carry supplies.
Howard’s grumbles and insufferable behavior dwindled the longer he went without drink.
On the other hand, Liam gave the impression he was overcoming his dependence on liquor without much trouble. Kit wavered between satisfaction and skepticism.
When they weren’t being examined by doctors, exercising in the yard, or eating Rose’s good food, they all worked hard. None had deserted the House. Yet. Experience told Kit and Ben at least one would fall away in the near future, perhaps all three, but their purpose wasn’t to attain numbers. They wanted to reach men one at a time.
“This is fun.”
“It is, huh?” Kit laughed and ran a finger over Annie’s smooth, paint-spattered cheek, then wiped the white residue on his well-used coveralls. The child giggled. What was one more splotch on the denim material if it brought a smile to Annie’s face? Together, they probably had more paint on them than what the bucket held.
“It looks as though you two missed a spot.”
Annie whipped around. “Aunt Jo!”
Droplets from the brush she held colored the air around Kit and rained on his hair and face. When one splashed into his eye, he jumped to his feet and stepped on Jelly’s tail. The cat screeched and sprinted off.
While he rubbed the paint from his eye, Kit’s feet danced in an attempt to maintain his balance. His right foot plopped inside the bucket. Kicking it free sent the container into the side of the house with a dull thud. It landed upside-down on the ground. What remained of the contents in the bucket coated the grass with a thick, white pool of paint.
Kit’s shoe and the lower portion of his pant leg were as white as a country snowstorm. The material stuck to his skin. He crimped the stinging eye shut and feigned a glare at the two females standing a safe distance away. With their arms wrapped around one another, they howled with laughter.
Joanna covered her mouth and reined in her amusement long enough to say, “May I see that again?”
The laughter broke free once more. Kit drank in a sound of joy he had come to believe was forever lost to him. He spread his arms and stalked toward Joanna. “How would you like a welcome-back hug?”
Staring at the wet paint spattering his clothing, she sobered. Her jaw dropped, and she backed away.
Kit tried to maintain a semblance of gravity, but the sputter of a chuckle gave him away. He picked up his pace and closed the distance between them.
Annie squealed and ran in circles. “Grab her, Mr. Kit. Hug her.”
Joanna shook her finger in the air. “Christopher Barnes, you stay away from me or you’ll be laundering my clothing.”
Her words spawned the mental picture of a half-dressed, well-rounded beauty. Abstaining from his past indiscretions failed to remove the images from his mind. But to give in and wallow in the pig sty of his weakness would affect this fragile camaraderie with Joanna, not to mention his relationship with the Lord. He dropped his arms to his sides and stayed his approach.
“I’m gonna find Mama and tell her you’re back, Aunt Jo.” Annie ran around the rear corner of the house.
In her excitement and innocence, the child left Kit alone with his struggle and the woman who incited it. Once he gathered his control, he found his voice. “Everyone believes you boarded a train out of town.” He stopped short of revealing he and Perry had followed her to the station.
His statement drew Joanna’s attention from the path Annie had taken and back to him. “Not yet.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I rented a house on First Street.”
She rented a house? “You’re remaining in Banesville?”
“For a while.”
“Have you spoken with Perry? He’s worried about you.”
“It’s nice to hear someone missed me.”
Joanna hid away, put them all through eight days of anxiety, and had the nerve to whine that no one missed her? “Everyone missed you. We’ve all wondered if you were safe.”
Her throat rippled as she swallowed hard. She flipped a hand as if to dismiss his claim. “Were you serious about needing a pianist? Is the offer still open?”
Kit stepped closer to be sure he’d heard correctly. “You’ve changed your mind?”
“I can only agree to a temporary period.”
At this point, he’d take any time she allowed. “Understood. Are you free to play in the evenings? Our men are busy during the day.”
“I can arrange my schedule to accommodate yours.”
The moments passed while they watched each other in silence, as if self-consciousness ran off with their tongues. Kit was afraid to move for fear Joanna would shy like a spooked mare. She showed the wild eyes of one.
&nbs
p; “You really are back.” Rose trotted across the yard with Annie following. “Where have you been for the past week? How long will you stay?”
Joanna studied Rose’s face. What was she looking for?
“Oh, never mind.” Rose clutched her friend’s arm and began to drag her toward the house. “Let’s go inside. You can tell me everything over a cup of tea.”
Joanna laughed, a gentle tune Kit committed to memory. “All right, but don’t jerk my arm off.”
When she glanced over her shoulder, he smiled and said, “Welcome home, Jo.”
***
Home? How could Kit possibly think she had come home? Like the rental of the house, this job was temporary, a perfect position to keep an eye on Rose and Annie.
Joanna’s mind didn’t gloss over the fact that Kit had used the shortened version of her name. Never before had he called her Jo. Dare she read into it a message of friendship, or was it a slip of the tongue, a repetition of what he’d heard over and over from others?
She followed Rose into the kitchen and sat at the table along the wall while her friend poured hot water over the leaves in the teapot and prepared the serving set. Joanna pulled Annie onto her lap. The child squiggled close, which filled Joanna with joy. How could she ever think they hadn’t missed her?
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here, Jo. When we never heard from you, we weren’t sure what to think.” Rose poured the tea into the cup in front of Joanna. “Perry has come around every day asking if we’ve received word yet.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll contact him today and let him know I’m fine.”
Rose handed Annie two cookies. “Why don’t you go outside and play with Jelly?”
“But I want to stay with Aunt Jo.”
“You’ll see her later. Now scoot.”
Joanna released Annie. The girl slid off her lap and trudged out the door.
Rose asked, “Why didn’t you leave Banesville as you planned?”
A Reluctant Melody - Will she risk losing everything … including her heart? Page 16