Hearts Rekindled

by Patty Smith Hall

  Why had she slipped up and told him she had a mountain of bills? It wasn’t any of his business how she spent her money, or how little of it she had left to spend. It just made her spitting mad when he went on about buying new dresses and such as if she had all the money in the world. Is that how he’d thought of her, as some flighty socialite, only good at wasting her daddy’s money? What would John say if he knew she’d sewn most of her own clothing for years, using discarded feed sacks from Mr. Varner’s grocery store?

  “You always did want to learn.”

  Stay focused. Merrilee nodded. “And you tried to teach me, remember?”

  “In that old Model T.” John draped his arm across the back of the bench seat, his fingertips barely brushing against her shoulder before curling over the top of the seat. “When your dad found us in front of the church, I thought he was going to drag me out of that car and beat me to within an inch of my life.”

  “Instead, he took a sledgehammer to your headlights.”

  “Your old man did me a favor.” He chuckled, the sound low and melodious, like a Bing Crosby tune. “Sold that piece of junk for scrap metal the next day.”

  A gentle breeze blew through the cab of the truck, leaving in its wake the sharp scent of John’s lemon-lime aftershave. “You always were one to land on your feet.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

  She’d never thought of him that way, not when John came across as so confident, as if he could take over the world if he chose to do so. She knew how lonely it was, trying to convince yourself and everyone else that you’ve got things under control when really you don’t have any idea what to do. Merrilee had felt like that most of her life. Why hadn’t she ever thought that John might feel the same way?

  “Why didn’t Jacob want you to drive? It wasn’t like you were running any of his moonshine or something.”

  She scoffed. “If I could have turned a profit running corn mash, Daddy would have had me in a car the minute my feet could reach the pedals. But he thought it unladylike for a girl to drive.” Or at least that was what he’d told her every time she’d brought the subject up. But Merrilee knew the truth. A car meant freedom, and that was the one thing Daddy had refused to give her. “After Claire was born, it seemed silly sitting around, waiting for one of my brothers to come take me to the grocery store or to one of Claire’s doctor’s appointments. So I convinced Jeb to teach me.”

  From the corner of her eye, she caught a brief glimpse of his smile. “I wouldn’t want to have been in Jeb’s shoes once your father found out.”

  “He never put up with much of Daddy’s nonsense like James did,” she answered, putting her arm straight out the window to signal a left-hand turn. “Daddy wasn’t doing too well by then, so he didn’t have the fight in him like he once did.”

  “How old was Claire when he passed?”

  “Barely two. She didn’t understand that her papaw had gone away.”

  “I’m sorry,” he answered soberly.

  She glanced at him. “Why? Daddy made your life miserable. So don’t pretend you could stand him just because he died.”

  “I was thinking more about you. How hard losing him must have been for you.”

  Where was a hole when she wanted to crawl in one? Of course, John had figured she’d taken the death of her father hard—and she had. Because she’d never measured up in Jacob Daniels’s eyes, had always been “just a foolish girl,” not a person on equal footing with her brothers, and with his death she’d lost any chance of changing his mind. “I appreciate it, but that was a long time ago.”

  “Not so long ago that it can’t still hurt.”

  Merrilee stole a glance at him in the rearview mirror. Was he talking about her losing her father or...

  Had something in her manner told John how much she still grieved the end of their marriage? How, in the wee small hours of the morning, as she’d lain in her bed, she’d let herself go back to those last few weeks before he’d sent her the letter asking for a divorce? In the years since, she’d pored over every moment, every detail, wanting an answer and never getting one that made any sense until only one conclusion remained.

  John had stopped loving her.

  Her fingers tightened around the wheel. This isn’t about me and John, Lord. It’s about Claire building a relationship with her father. Please protect my baby girl’s heart.

  She nodded toward the two children huddled in the back of the truck bed. “Do you think they’re okay back there?”

  Her breath hitched when John turned toward her, rested his bent knee on the seat between them where it lightly brushed against her hip as he stared out the glass. “They seem to be having a good time. Still think we should have made Claire sit up front with us.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Now who’s being the overprotective one?”

  “Billy’s been talking her ear off. What could the kid have to say to her that would take that long?”

  Poor man. He really didn’t have a clue about raising a daughter. “Don’t you remember when you’d sneak over to the house and we’d sit out on the porch talking until Daddy finally chased you off with a broom?”

  The startled look John gave her would have been funny if he wasn’t so serious. “But you were older. Not to mention mature for your age.”

  Merrilee laughed. “Claire’s only two years younger than I was when you started courting me.”

  “She’s not—” he hesitated, and his handsome face contorted in a look of sheer horror for one brief moment “—boy crazy, is she?”

  Despite her best intentions, her heart ached for him. She gave him what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. “Not yet, but she’s already wanting to wear lipstick and get her hair cut like Maggie and Edie.” Merrilee caught herself. “But that was before she got sick.”

  She felt his gaze resting on her as he leaned back against the truck door. “No wonder your daddy put me in jail after we got married. If someone took off with Claire, I don’t think I could be that merciful.”

  No, she could imagine he wouldn’t be, not to a boy who’d come to steal away their daughter. But then John had always been the protective kind, watching out for Aurora and her children, acting as the man of the house. Maybe that was one of the reasons she’d been so attracted to him in the first place; with John, she’d always been safe.

  Until he’d left her; then her world never seemed safe again. Merrilee bent her arm upward to signal her turn as she slowed in front of Aurora’s driveway. “Remind me to hide all the shotguns and shovels when Claire starts dating.”

  John laughed, his face relaxed. “On the job two days and already I’m sounding more and more like your daddy.”

  He was wrong, Merrilee thought, wrestling with the steering wheel. Whereas John wanted what was best for Claire, Daddy had only thought of himself.

  Silence filled the cab as she spent the next several minutes maneuvering through a maze of deep gullies, the truck pitching from one side to the other. A cloud of fiery-red dust trailed behind them, and Merrilee wondered if it was too much for the kids. But the peals of childish laughter coming from the bed of the truck eased any fears she might have had that Claire was distressed.

  As she drove the truck into the clearing, which served as a front yard, John leaned forward, his brows furrowed together in confusion. “What happened to this place?”

  She wasn’t sure what he was looking at, still too busy fighting the truck’s jerky moves. “Haven’t you seen it already? I thought you were staying here.”

  “I am.” He leaned against the dashboard, his arms cushioning the ebb and flow of the truck’s movements. “But we got home after dark last night, and I left before the sun came up this morning. This is the first time I’ve seen it in the light.”

  The shock in his voice jerked Merrilee’s g
aze toward the house, her foot slipping off the gas until the truck slowed to a stop alongside a newer sedan. The place didn’t look much different from the last time she’d been here, but through John’s eyes, Aurora’s home most likely looked shabby, rundown. The brick-red barn she’d watched John paint the summer before he’d joined the Civilian Conservation Corps had faded to a pale shade of pink. There were brown rotted boards patchworked into the old roofing, and a hint of mildew hung in the air.

  The house appeared sturdy enough; the ramp running alongside a set of stairs looked fairly new, though some gaping holes between the casements and the windows were in sore need of attention. Georgia-red clay and granite grew wild in the front yard that had once boasted thick Kentucky bluegrass and pansies in rich shades of purple and gold.

  “How did it get this bad?” John whispered, glancing around the landscape as if it were foreign soil. “Aurora always grew some kind of flowers along the house just for the little ones.”

  The bleakness in his voice caused a knot to tighten in her throat. She’d been fifteen the first time John had brought her home to meet Aurora and Margie, his “little sister,” as he’d proudly called her. Barely three years old, Margie had been too feeble to do anything but lay in bed, her arms and legs a tangled mess that looked more like a spider’s web than anything human. But every day, Aurora pushed her cot out on the front porch and sang to the child, planting posies and marigolds that teased a rare smile from the girl and made her gray eyes sparkle.

  The cool metal of the door handle bit into her palm. Fourteen years had passed since Margie’s smile had faded into dust. Why does life have to be so unfair, Lord? Why?

  As she had begun to expect, He didn’t answer. All things were supposed to work together for those who love the Lord, but what was His purpose in all this?

  At least, she could answer John’s question. “Most of the younger men are overseas now, and when the women aren’t at the plant pulling their shifts, they’re at any number of places helping in the war effort. Besides, with the rations on building supplies, everyone’s house needs a little work, and gardening anything but vegetables is a low priority.”

  He pulled on the door handle and pushed it open. “I’ll have to see what I can do while I’m here.”

  While I’m here. So she’d been right. John had every intention of leaving Marietta again, but when? And what kind of damage would his departure do to Claire?

  Merrilee opened the door and jumped out of the truck, staring out over the sparse yard. One thing was for certain. There’d be no excuse for the rundown condition of the house and yard if Aurora had access to rationed supplies through the black market. Her job of proving Major Evans wrong just got easier.

  Sunshine bounced off the screened door as Dr. Adams, a stethoscope flung around his neck, stepped out on the porch. Wrapped around one trouser-clad leg clung a little girl with the palest blond hair Merrilee had ever seen, her face lit up with childish glee.

  “Ellie, get off Dr. Adams’s leg!” Billy ordered, holding out his hand to help Claire scoot off the tailgate of the truck. “He’s not a seesaw.”

  Adams lifted his leg, sending the child off into another fit of giggles. “It’s all right. She’s just having a bit of fun.”

  “Some fun, huh?” John raced across the dirt yard, the worry that had clung to the lines around his eyes temporarily pushed aside. He charged up the stairs, swooping down to grasp the little girl, then lifted her over his head, sending the child over the edge into a full-belly laugh.

  “She’s a cute little thing, isn’t she?” Claire hobbled over and curled into Merrilee’s side.

  “A handful is more like it,” Billy said. “You know, she actually climbed up in the hayloft and couldn’t get back down. We spent nearly an hour looking for her.” He shook his head. “Always into something. That’s what Ms. Aurora says.”

  “She sure does like Mr. John,” Merrilee stated, wrapping her arm around her daughter.

  Billy glanced over at Claire. “Didn’t you know? He’s our brother. He lived here, too, a long time ago, with his little brother.”

  Little brother? John had never mentioned any family except for the one he’d found with Ms. Aurora. That must be what Billy meant by little brother. Because if it wasn’t, where was John’s younger brother now?

  “Merrilee?”

  She looked up to the porch where Dr. Adams and John, with Ellie perched on one hip, waited. She’d have to put her questions aside.

  For now.

  * * *

  Something had happened, John thought, holding the wriggling child as he watched Merrilee speak to Claire and Billy. There had been a shift, probably not perceptible to most, a new edge of dogged resolve in his former wife’s expression. What had happened in the short seconds since he’d left her by the trunk? And why did it seem he was in her sights?

  “Merrilee, I didn’t know you were going to be here, but I’m glad you are,” the doctor said, giving her a smile that hinted at a familiarity John found annoying. “Ms. Aurora’s been asking for you.” He glanced at John. “You must be her son John, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Adams’s gaze slid over him, examining him for any of the impairments he’d most likely seen in all of Aurora’s other children, then frowned almost as if he were disappointed he’d found none. “She’s been asking for you, too.”

  “How is she?”

  He glanced down at Ellie. “It might be best if we talked inside.”

  At least he’d had the courtesy to consider Ellie, John thought. Folks didn’t realize just how much a child with Down syndrome could understand, and Ellie was brighter than most. He leaned his forehead against the little girl’s. “Mr. John needs to talk to the doctor for just a few minutes, okay?”

  Her twin pigtails bounced in rhythm with her nodding head, her little hands already pushing John away. She scrambled down his leg, then hurried across the yard to where Billy and Claire stood, her infectious laughter matching a nearby blue jay note for note.

  John turned back to the doctor. “Where are the other children?”

  “There’s more?” Merrilee asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “She only had Billy and Ellie last time I was here.”

  “There are three more in the parlor,” Adams answered. “Two mongoloid boys and a girl who’s blind.”

  “Who’s with them?” John asked.

  “Nobody right now, but I don’t think they can get into much trouble just sitting there.”

  The man’s attitude irked him. Didn’t he realize that they were still children who, despite their disabilities, could manage to find trouble just like any other child?

  He opened his mouth to say so, but Merrilee cut him off. “Children are children, Robert. Let me go check to see that they’re okay, and then we can talk about what’s going on with Aurora.”

  John stole a quick glance at Merrilee. He didn’t remember her being so comfortable around Aurora’s when they were together, so why the big change?

  Of course, she’d been barely a woman then, with a heart he’d sometimes suspected was too tender to handle his adopted family. Her attitude had obviously changed over the years, he thought as the screen door closed behind her. What other changes would he discover in the woman who’d once been his wife?

  He turned back toward the doctor, but the man’s expression was as hard as the granite peeking out under the crimson dirt in the front yard. Another set of giggles drew his attention across the front path to where Claire and Billy stood, swinging Ellie between them.

  The screen door slammed shut behind him, and Merrilee came to stand next to him, lifting her face to look at him. “They’re fine. The boys are playing with their toy trucks and the girl is sitting by the radio, listening to music.”

  “Thank you.”

  She lowered her gaze, but c
ouldn’t hide the faint blush that invaded her cheeks. He turned back to find Dr. Adams giving him a dubious look. John cleared his throat. “It might be best if we talked out here.”

  The doctor’s shoulders lifted in a sigh. “I can’t go into the details of Ms. Aurora’s condition except to say that she needs complete rest. At least a month, maybe longer.”

  “That’s not telling us much,” Merrilee said, a slight bite to her words.

  The doctor ignored her. “I’ve left her with a couple prescriptions. Make sure she takes them as directed.”

  Merrilee tensed beside him, finally wrapping her arms around her waist as if to keep her hands occupied. “Come on, Robert. Tell us what’s wrong.”

  The man’s lips pressed into a hard line. “You know I can’t do that, Merrilee.”

  John felt a fight looming between the two, a battle that was part of a larger war.

  He glanced down at the doctor. “Why can’t you tell us what’s wrong with her?”

  Adams straightened to his full height, but still fell short of meeting John’s eyes. “Because you’re not legally Ms. Aurora’s son, and as much as I’d like to help you, I’m forced to abide by the law.”

  “I see.” Though truthfully, John didn’t. How was he supposed to take care of Aurora if he didn’t even know what was wrong or what signs he should look for if her condition was worsening? What if he waited too long to get help?

  “Can you at least tell us if it’s infectious?” Merrilee asked. “We’ve got a houseful of kids to worry about.”

  John hadn’t even thought of that. All he needed was an epidemic running rampant through the house with no idea how to fight it. And what about Merrilee and Claire? Had he put them in harm’s way by bringing them here?

  Adams shook his head. “No, she’s not infectious.”

  Merrilee gave a sigh of relief beside him. “Thank goodness.”

  But that still left them no closer to discovering what had caused Aurora to pass out. “I’m going to go talk to her,” John announced.