Joanne Bischof

by The Lady

  She circled his words, slowly. As if from a distance. But they struck harder than she liked because of the truth there. She thought of the tender way he’d spoken about her heart and the way she’d locked God out of it. His plea still surrounded her.

  Please don’t let him take more. Ella shifted, peering up at the sky.

  “Which makes me thankful every single day that He’ll have me.” His grief was tangible.

  Tears stinging her eyes, she blinked them away. “You’re worth having, Charlie.”

  She peered back down just as the words visibly jarred him. He leaned forward, stoking up the fire, and it wasn’t until he’d sat back down that he spoke. “You should go to sleep. We’ve got some ground to cover still tomorrow.”

  When she slipped between her blankets, he laid down, still a few feet away. Settling on his back, he clasped his hands behind his head.

  Turning toward the sky, Ella stared back up at the glittering, black spans between the treetops that hemmed the clearing. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the fire, the softness of this bed, and the sounds of the woods that had once filled her with fear. All of that was swathed in the comforting peace that goodness could win. It wasn’t until she was starting to drift that she heard Charlie’s gentle voice.

  “Good night, Ella.”

  C H A P T E R 3 1

  __________

  Morning came with birdsong. Blinking awake, Charlie looked over to the fire, the cold coals. He’d meant to tend the flames through the night, but exhausted, had slept too deeply. Somehow in the night he and Ella had come together like magnets, so he pressed his hand to the ground and pushed himself away. In the gray light of dawn, she lay in her bundle of blankets, hair wild in the dew and calling his fingers. Her brow furrowed as if she was dreaming. He wanted to smooth his thumb there…some way to ease her.

  Charlie rubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes and forehead.

  Last night he’d lain awake, just listening. When the forest quieted, he’d been awake for a different reason. It was his father who’d taught him to cling to hymns in times of doubt or fear. Charlie had been waiting twenty-five years for God to bring him to his bride, and last night—laying so close to the very woman he prayed it would be—he’d had to think on the words to many a hymn indeed. Somewhere between “Be Thou My Vision” and “Fairest Lord Jesus” he’d finally drifted off.

  He woke with the words still in his head.

  Now he rose and headed down to the creek. He drank deeply, then stood and watched fish gather in the shallow pool.

  From a tree behind him, a pinecone clattered to the ground. Charlie turned and walked back just as blue eyes blinked open. Ella spotted him and slowly sat up.

  “Did you sleep all right?” he asked, not sure how to greet a woman waking up on his bedroll.

  “I did.” Clearly chilled, she pulled her knees in. “And you?”

  “Well, thank you. Are you hungry?” At his saddlebag, he pulled out one of the little savory turnovers Regina had baked. He held it out to Ella and her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Regina made them,” he said. “She saw what kinds of things I was going to feed you and took pity.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’ll have to thank her.”

  Dropping his focus to his own turnover, he nodded soberly. “I’ll be sure to tell her for you.” He rose and started putting things away while he ate. Then while Ella rolled up her bedding, he saddled Siebel. The black and white gelding seemed rested and Charlie patted his thick neck. He thought of the lions, feeling a void in his routine without them. He’d probably pay the consequences when he got back. The cats had a rambunctious way of letting him know when they’d been missing him.

  Charlie turned to see Ella beside the fire, tugging the pins from her hair. Several strokes with a bristle brush and she piled it low and secure. Rising, she gave him a shy look. “I’d like to change my clothes.”

  Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he glanced around. “There’s some shrubs there.”

  She gathered up her things and he turned his back. He finished saddling the Vanner and secured the saddlebags again. He’d add Ella’s things next, but he wasn’t about to turn around to find out if she was done. A few minutes later, footsteps announced her return.

  She wore a dark skirt, an airy white blouse, and a sash, reminding him of the night he’d kissed her.

  A glance down also reminded him that he was just a Gypsy.

  One who was standing there in his untucked, wrinkled shirt and boots with more buckles than boots ought to have.

  He wanted to tell her she looked nice, but didn’t know if she would smile or get shy—or Lord help him—start crying again, so he just secured the last of her things in place.

  Starting off, they walked side by side, and he couldn’t even bring himself to make small talk. The silence was right in its own way. He was thankful to simply be with her. By the time the sun had crested the tops of the trees, he asked her if she wanted to ride.

  “No, thank you. I’d rather walk with you.”

  She had a sweet way of being honest, so he knew she meant it. Which had him reaching down, brushing his hand against hers, taking it gently in his own. She didn’t pull away, and to his surprise, she slid her fingers between his as if to hold on. They walked on a long while. Whether one mile or two, he didn’t know so distracted he’d become, but the road was smooth and steady, giving them no need to pull away. The sun rose higher, filling the air with warmth as morning turned into noon. Hours passed much too quickly, and as Siebel grew steadily slower, he knew it was time to rest that hoof.

  But then Ella whispered, “We’re almost there.”

  He had no response to that, so simply held her hand in his as they walked down past a bramble of berry bushes that were taller than his head.

  Suddenly Ella drew in a quick breath. There in the distance he saw a house.

  She turned toward him, eyes glassy. “Charlie.”

  He released her hand and looked to the house, a pain rising so fiercely, he couldn’t remember how to speak. So this was it. He swallowed hard, knowing he couldn’t very well just stand here. A goodbye. He needed to form a goodbye. “I’ll leave you here,” he finally said.

  She shook her head, chin trembling. Unable to bear the sight, he went about loosening her things from the saddle, but his fingers were trembling so bad that the knots wouldn’t be coaxed loose.

  “Not like this. Please,” she said.

  “It’s for the best, Ella.” What did she want? Him to walk her to the door? Introduce himself to her family? He untied a knot.

  She shook her head no again. “Please.”

  Patience failing, he asked, “What do you want me to do?” This was killing him, and the sooner he turned around and left the better.

  “Do you think you might stay for supper?”

  He spoke before he changed his mind. “Do you think you might marry me?”

  Her lips parted.

  If not, there was really no point in her inviting him for supper.

  He couldn’t bear kindness. Not when he ached for more of her. Her wide eyes searched his face so intently that in two steps he was before her, hands to the sides of the face he loved.

  Lowering his head, Charlie pressed his mouth to hers. Not calm and patient as he had the night on the roof. But urgent. Hungry. Her hand gripped the front of his shirt, the other pulling at his waist. She kissed him fervently, but even then her shock was tangible with eyes wide and hands trembling more than she probably realized. From somewhere, a door opened and closed and it was just as well because he’d told himself he wouldn’t kiss her until she was safely home. And here they stood, a few brief seconds not nearly enough. Though he knew he shouldn’t—plain sight or not—he eased three kisses down the side of her neck. The pulse of her throat pounded against his thumb and Ella dipped her face as if overwhelmed.

  “I didn’t say that to startle you,” he whispered. “I’m genuinely asking you.” Charlie
forced his feet back, releasing her. She stumbled but he cupped her elbow.

  Her shock was tangible, chest rising and falling.

  Heart pounding in his ears, he rubbed at the back of his neck. There was probably a much better way to propose, but they were short on time.

  And he had to know.

  She was simply watching him, tears forming in her eyes. His stomach churned as moments passed. Why was she crying? Girls usually said yes if they wanted to.

  Didn’t they?

  He’d tried to convince himself that maybe he didn’t repulse her, but his defenses crumbled. What was he thinking?

  He was in a freak show in the circus, for Pete’s sake.

  Standing here, seeing her grief, he knew he’d only been deceiving himself. Had been for months now. Trying to still think of himself as no different than any other man. Worthy of a bride. And like an idiot, he’d just asked a woman to marry him. And not just any woman. Ella. His Ella. To bind her heart and flesh to him. His chest rose and fell with the weight of it, heart thrashing against his ribs. “You’ve only known me for a week, and I know it’s a lot for me to assume that it would be enough.”

  Her eyes were wet and shining—regret clear. He was going to be sick. She stepped closer. “Charlie…” her voice quavered. “I…I…this is so fast.”

  “Ella, is that you?”

  The strange voice jolted Charlie. Ella turned just as a man was walking toward them. Hair misted gray and pulled back with a cord, his face was slightly weathered but he was by no means an old man.

  It had to be her father. Charlie adjusted his grip on Siebel’s lead rope.

  “Papa?” Ella stepped forward then quickened into a run, belting into his embrace so quick, the tenderness struck Charlie square in the soul.

  “Ella.” The man ran his hand down the back of her hair, and lifting her off the ground, turned in a slow circle. The man’s shoulders shook as he buried his face against her neck. “You’ve come home.” His arms seemed to tighten. Then her father lifted his head and looked at Charlie…and lowered Ella back down.

  She brushed a bit of hair from her face and turned back to Charlie as if just remembering he was standing there.

  Really, the earth could swallow him whole now and he’d be happy.

  “Papa, this is Charlie. Charlie Lionheart.”

  Expression wary, the man stepped forward and extended a meaty hand. Charlie wiped his own on the side of his pants and shook the firm grip.

  “Charlie, this is my father.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Beckley.”

  “Likewise.” The man said it kindly then looked to Ella as if seeking answers.

  “Oh. I’ve been in Roanoke, as you know…” She seemed to choose her words with care, and for the life of him, Charlie was glad she didn’t look his way. “I knew it was time to come home and Charlie here is with the circus—”

  “The circus?”

  Ella nodded and Charlie could sense her nerves. “He’s a lion tamer.”

  Those silver eyebrows shot skyward. So that’s where she got it from. Mr. Beckley glanced over at him.

  “Yes, sir,” Charlie said. “Our troupe was in Roanoke and my niece was ill. Ella tended to her, and thinking I might…thinking I might be of service in getting her home to you, I came along to see her here safely.”

  Ella’s father studied her a moment. “You traveled with the circus?”

  She nodded sheepishly.

  He gave a laugh. “You’ve got some explaining to do, daughter.” When she blushed, he added, “And a few stories to tell, I’d imagine.”

  Her eyes lifted to Charlie’s face and everything in him hurt.

  “A few stories,” she said, her voice holding all the bitter sweetness that he himself felt.

  “Any one in particular I might need to be knowing about just now?” Mr. Beckley glanced between the two of them.

  Ella gave a little shake of her head. Her gaze flicked to Charlie then back to her father. “We’re not…we’re not married,” she said.

  Her father looked his way and Charlie wondered how clear the view was from that front window.

  “No, sir,” Charlie added.

  The man rubbed the side of his jaw. “Hmm.”

  Probably really clear. Charlie adjusted his grip on Siebel’s reins again.

  “That horse looks tired,” Mr. Beckley said.

  Charlie shifted his feet at once regretting this moment and relieved for the distraction from all Ella didn’t say. His question—if she might have him—still hanging between them. “He’s accustomed to it.”

  “Why don’t you rest him a spell. You’ll join us for supper?” Her father’s face was stern. “I’d like to meet the man who brought my daughter home all the way from Roanoke.”

  Hearing a challenge there, Charlie swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

  __________

  Charlie watched as Mr. Beckley held the front door open for Ella, and never had he heard a room in such a tizzy. Charlie hesitated, but the man motioned him forward, those eyes on him at once welcoming and searching. Inside the house, a woman was hugging Ella. Holding tighter than he’d ever seen someone be held. Charlie stepped back, nearly bumping up against a window. The woman and Ella exchanged words and tears and even laughter. It had to be her mother.

  Charlie had never felt so tall and awkward. He’d always been good with crowds. But not this kind. Aside from the occasional business dinner or Ella’s apartment, he’d never been inside someone’s home before. He’d certainly never met a woman’s family.

  Ella turned to him. “Mama, this is Charlie Lionheart.”

  The woman looked his way and her husband added, “He’s with the circus.”

  From the hallway, a young man emerged. “The circus!”

  A little girl was close on the lad’s heels, followed by another boy. Ella gave them all hugs and the girl clung to her as she introduced them to Charlie. He tried to hang onto the names afresh, but his pulse was racing in his ears…

  “You’re from the circus?” the older boy repeated.

  Words just wouldn’t come, so Charlie nodded. He touched his collar to make sure it was securely buttoned. Then his cuffs. Ella watched him sadly and Charlie swallowed hard. He’d never been this nervous before. Made worse by the way Ella’s father was studying his hand. It took all of Charlie’s resistance to keep from cramming it in his pocket. He finally met the man’s quizzical gaze. It was a leveled look that made the room close in. Charlie took a step back, nearly knocking a vase off the windowsill.

  Ella’s mother gave Charlie a kind smile. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Lionheart?”

  He wanted to decline, but then she was pulling out a chair and offering him a cup of coffee. Swallowing his heart, he slowly sat. Ella’s eyes were wide and wondering as she slid him little glances. But when her mother unleashed a bundle of curiosities, Ella responded in turn. Ella’s brothers and sister were watching him and Charlie realized he hadn’t answered that question.

  “I am from the circus,” he said gently to the young man.

  “We’ve never seen a circus before.”

  Charlie smiled. The conversation easing him, he figured he’d do just that until he could leave. “Well, that explains a few things about your sister, then.”

  The boy laughed. “What do you do there?”

  “I work with lions. Raising and training them.”

  “Lions!”

  Charlie nodded.

  The young man’s mouth hung open a few moments. “You. Have. A lion.”

  “Three of them.”

  Arms still about one another, Mrs. Beckley finished saying something to Ella, then turned back to Charlie. “And what of your family, Mr. Lionheart?”

  He looked at the woman and noted how much she resembled her oldest daughter. “I have a little girl,” he said. “She’s my sister’s…who passed away last year.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Charlie nodded his thanks.

&nbs
p; “It’s just you and her then?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And my godmother who lives with us. She helps take care of Holland as she’s just a baby.” Charlie turned the coffee cup in unsteady hands. “And me as I’m not very tidy.”

  Mrs. Beckley chuckled and Ella’s eyes were wet and shining. “Holland is the baby’s name,” she said softly to her mother.

  “And how did you come to know our Ella?” the woman asked after a moment.

  He’d been waiting for that question. The very subject moved to the table and sat across from him, her sister leaning lovingly against her.

  The sight shooting a pain through him, Charlie turned his attention to Mrs. Beckley. “I met Ella about a week or so ago.” Just saying that out loud made him realize why she was prudent in hesitating. Charlie swallowed a lump in his throat. “Holland was real sick. We came to Roanoke, slowed down by weather, and so I brought her to the doctor’s.” He looked over at Ella, thinking of how he’d almost crashed into the nosiest nurse he’d ever met. His heart hurt at the memory. Throbbed really. But people were watching him and waiting, so he spoke. “And Ella took care of her.”

  “She’s the most delicious doll you’ve ever seen, Mama,” Ella added.

  Mrs. Beckley laughed. “You say it as if you could eat her with a spoon.”

  Charlie smiled, missing her even more.

  Mrs. Beckley’s face turned thoughtful. “And she’s not here?”

  “No, ma’am. She’s back with the circus. They’re about a day ahead of me. I’ll be catching up with them in Charlottesville.”

  “A day and a half, I’d say,” Mr. Beckley cut in.