Hearts Rekindled

by Patty Smith Hall

  Merrilee’s hand stayed him, before she turned back to the doctor. “Could you at least stay until John has talked to her? He may have some questions for you afterward.”

  He shrugged. “I figured as much. I’ll watch the children while y’all are upstairs with her.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” John held out his hand to the man. No matter the hard feelings that seemed to exist between Adams and Merrilee, he was grateful to the doctor for treating Aurora. “I appreciate it.”

  Merrilee said nothing, just stood at the door waiting. John opened it for her, then followed her inside. A fine layer of dust formed a film on the few pieces of furniture lining the hallway, brightly colored pictures scrawled in childish hands hanging on the walls like grand works of art. Crayons sat scattered on a table along the stairwell as if to give the tiny artists ample time to put on their final touches. A laundry basket sat in the corner, loaded down with colored balls, chipped building blocks and a sad-looking doll in a dress that had seen better days. Instead of coats and hats, baseball gloves hung from pegs alongside the door.

  A perfect place for any kid to grow up.

  Merrilee glanced over her shoulder as she took the first step. “Any ideas on how we’re going to get Aurora to rest for the next month?”

  John touched her shoulder, and she turned, stopping on the stair above him. The position erased any distance in their heights, her gaze level with his. This close, he could count the thick auburn lashes that rimmed her eyes, feel her warm breath sliding over his face in little puffs, smell the light scent of warm bread and home she always wore. A faint tug pulled at his heart, as if she’d lanced an invisible string through him, holding them together. But whatever had bound them lay in tattered threads now.

  He stepped back. “Why are you doing this?”

  Confusion, and another emotion—nervousness?—clouded her eyes. “She asked for me.”

  “Why is that? You never seemed to like this place before.”

  Anger flashed bright green in her eyes. “People change. Besides, I couldn’t keep Ms. Aurora from her granddaughter, now could I?”

  Any questions he’d had died with her admission. “Claire thinks Aurora is her grandma?”

  The words hung in the space between them. Merrilee swayed toward him, her lips parted, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. “Why did I tell you that?”

  The urge to catch her and pull her against him pushed him back a step. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  She shook her head, the action seeming to give her time to regain her composure. “We should talk to Ms. Aurora. Dr. Adams isn’t going to wait all day.”

  “Right.” John nodded, watching her turn and start back up the stairs. He was glad that their conversation had been forced to end. He was dealing with enough already, and the more time he spent alone with Merrilee, the more questions he found that needed answers.

  Chapter Seven

  John rapped his knuckles lightly on the door. “Ms. Aurora?”

  Merrilee stared down at the faded carpets, her gaze following a muddy trail of footprints that passed Aurora’s doorway and continued on down the hall. Meticulous to a fault, it wasn’t like the older woman to let the house get in such a state.

  Like it wasn’t her habit to blurt out personal secrets. Merrilee mashed her lips together. Keeping Claire’s relationship with Aurora quiet had been the older woman’s idea, not hers. She’d respected her wishes, though she’d never quite understood why Aurora was so adamant about it. Her mother-in-law, whether legally or not, had always been good to her and to Claire. Surely she would understand Merrilee’s slip.

  “Come in.”

  John opened the door, then stood to the side, allowing her to go inside first. Probably just wanted her to make sure Aurora was decent. But the courteous gesture still left her feeling funny, a little jittery inside and utterly feminine, as if she were the only woman in his world. What complete nonsense!

  If only that were true.

  Entering the room, she felt as if she had tumbled back in time. The same lacy curtains she’d helped Ms. Aurora sew when she first married John still dressed the windows, as did the faded bedspread they’d bought her their first Christmas together. But while the furnishings were the same, time had taken its toll. Age had turned the once white walls to a butter yellow, the bones of Aurora’s favorite chair peeked out beneath the threadbare cloth, the once-plump cushions smashed into a thin line.

  “John. Merrilee.”

  Aurora’s whisper catapulted Merrilee’s attention to the four-poster bed that dominated the room. Walking closer, her breath caught at how frail the woman looked, her long hair freed from its usual knot at the back of her head, the iron-gray strands stark against her snowy white pillowcase. Twin blue bruises under her eyes provide the only color on her pale face. Her breathing rushed out of her, as if she was ending a long day with the children.

  Complete rest, the doctor had said. Merrilee bent down beside her. “Can I get you some water, Ms. Aurora? Maybe another blanket?”

  “That quilt from the back of my chair would be nice.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lifting the patchwork blanket, John unfolded it, his frown growing. He handed one end to Merrilee, his gaze meeting hers. The quilt was paper thin, not much warmer than a sheet. Merrilee made a mental note to check the blankets on the children’s beds and go through her linen closet at home.

  “I’m glad you’re both here. I need to talk to you.”

  Merrilee stood at the edge of the bed, leaving John the place by his mother. Her hand looked frail in his as he traced the pale blue veins along her wrist. “What’s wrong, Ms. Aurora?”

  Aurora lifted her other hand and stroked John’s cheek like Merrilee did whenever Claire woke up scared after another bad dream. The faint smile she gave them didn’t reach her eyes. “My heart’s been givin’ me trouble for the past few months.” She drew in a quick breath. “But I never passed out until today.”

  “Have you seen Dr. Adams about this before?” Merrilee asked, leaning over the railing, grasping the older woman’s foot through the blankets. Even with the multiple layers, her toes felt like ice.

  Ms. Aurora’s eyes drifted around the room, settling anywhere but on them. “No.”

  “Why not?” John gently brushed a few rebellious strands of hair away from her face. “Why didn’t you use some of the money I sent you?”

  Her smile grew a bit wider. “That was earmarked, remember?”

  Earmarked for what? She stole a glance at him, but his expression revealed nothing save the worry over this woman who’d raised him.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, Mama?”

  Aurora nodded, her eyelids drooping slightly. “The doctor says I need to stay in bed for a while, though I don’t know how he figures to keep me here.” She laughed softly. “I can’t take care of the children lying around like this.”

  “You don’t worry about it,” John answered. “I’ll take care of them.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve got to get those fields plowed and the crops planted before...” Her eyes met Merrilee’s. “He can’t do it alone.”

  Her insides began to tremble. Aurora couldn’t ask that of her. It would be too cruel. She’d seen what John’s desertion had done to Merrilee, had worn the tears she’d shed puddled on her blouse. “Can’t we get someone to come in and take care of them for a little while? Maybe I could ask around the hospital?”

  “I tried,” the older woman started, stopping to take several deep breaths before continuing. “I even put an ad in the newspaper a couple months ago. Didn’t get the first response.”

  “Their loss, if you ask me,” John answered, shaking his head. “But don’t worry about it, Ms. Aurora. I’ll take care of everything.”

  This was the John she remembered, determined to ta
ke on the world for those he loved, even against impossible odds. And caring for five children with special needs and a sick elderly woman while putting a crop in the field was as close to impossible as it gets.

  But she couldn’t help, not while caring for the boardinghouse and getting Claire to her doctor’s appointments. Only there wouldn’t be any more doctor’s appointments for the time being—there weren’t any more treatments to be done, not until her girl was accepted into Warm Springs, and that would happen only if Merrilee could dig up information on Aurora’s supposed black market activities.

  I’d be like a fox in the henhouse.

  But if Merrilee didn’t do it, who would Major Evans send to conduct the investigation? Possibly someone with a predetermination of her guilt, who would hassle and prod Aurora unmercifully right when she was at her weakest. Then what would happen to the children? Would Adams finally prevail in getting them carted off to the sanitarium?

  She couldn’t let that happen. Instead, she’d investigate herself, and find evidence to exonerate her old friend. It should be obvious to anyone with a brain that if Aurora were supplying a local black market, she’d have the cash to buy a new blanket at least. Could the Lord be providing a way to help both Aurora and Claire out?

  She’d have to shuffle things around at the boardinghouse, ask Maggie if she could handle the cooking, at least. But if Merrilee could kill two birds with one stone, she had to try. She swallowed past the worry knotted in her throat. “I’ll be happy to help John out with the kids.”

  * * *

  Had he heard her right? Had Merrilee just volunteered to help him with the children while Aurora healed? And why did the thought of him and Merrilee being under the same roof give him a sense of elation? John retreated from the thought. “I don’t know about this.”

  “Son,” Aurora admonished with a whisper, shaking her head.

  “What is there to know?” Merrilee said, the jade-green daggers she shot at him pinning him to the mattress. “You need help running this farm and caring for Ms. Aurora and the kids. I want to help.”

  “What about your boardinghouse? Who’s going to run your business while you’re out here helping?”

  A faint shadow passed over Merrilee’s face but was gone just as quickly. “Maggie’s been looking for something to do now that she’s home waiting on the baby, and Donald already helps me out with the cooking. He’d love a chance to try his hand in the kitchen.”

  Jealousy nipped at his gut. “Who’s Donald?”

  “Maggie’s grandfather-in-law.” Merrilee turned her focus on his mother. “You remember him, don’t you, Ms. Aurora?”

  The first bit of color he’d seen in his mother’s cheeks bloomed as she smiled faintly. “A very godly man, if memory serves me correctly. I believe he’s a good choice to watch the boardinghouse.”

  John smirked. They made this sound too simple, but nothing between him and Merrilee had ever been that easy. “What about Claire?”

  Merrilee stared at him as if she wasn’t quite sure what he meant. “What about her?”

  Exactly what he’d expected. She hadn’t thought this situation through completely. “Where is she going to be while you’re staying out here watching the kids?”

  “You make it sound as if I’m moving out here.”

  Aurora shifted worried eyes from John to where Merrilee stood at the end of the bed. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make things clear, but if you’re going to help, you’ll need to move in here, at least for a little while,” she explained.

  John wasn’t sure, but Merrilee seemed to wobble before tightening her grip on the bedpost. “Why? I can be here before the kids wake up in the morning and I’ll stay until after we get them in bed at night. I’ve got transportation.”

  He barked with laughter. “You mean that truck? That piece of junk is going to end up causing you and our daughter to get hurt.”

  She leaned toward him. “It’s not that bad!”

  Merrilee in a temper was exhilarating to behold, he thought, taking in the fiery-red flush bursting across her cheeks and the sharp edge of green shining from her eyes. She’d never been easily provoked, but when she was, it was a beautiful sight. The urge to tease her when she got like this was nearly irresistible. “If I had any sense, I’d take a sledgehammer to it.”

  A tiny gasp escaped the tightly drawn line of her lips before softening, the tense lines around her eyes and mouth relaxing, the color in her cheeks receding to a perfect shade of pink, causing his fingers to itch with the urge to reach out and touch. Her curls trembled around her shoulders as a wave of laughter broke through her. “Why do you always do that?”

  He felt his lips twitch and joined her. “You’re just an easy target sometimes, sweetheart.”

  “And taking a sledgehammer to the truck might increase its value at the scrap yard, right?”

  He snorted, joining her in another round of laughter.

  “Did I miss something?” Aurora looked from one to the other, a smile tickling her lips.

  Still chuckling softly, Merrilee leaned forward and squeezed his mother’s foot. “No, ma’am. Just an old joke between me and John.”

  “But you are going to work things out?”

  The laughter stilled inside him. Could he make this situation work with Merrilee? The children and Aurora needed her to look after them just like they needed him to get a crop in the fields. And really, he needed Merrilee, too. Left alone to handle everything, there was every chance he’d let his mother down if he found himself called before the naval tribunal before the planting was finished. He couldn’t do that to Aurora and the kids.

  “We’ll figure things out,” John answered, giving Aurora’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Right now, we need to leave you alone so that you can get some rest.” Merrilee tugged on the corner of the quilt, pulling the wrinkles free. “You have to get better and back on your feet.”

  “But you’ll talk it through, won’t you? ’Cause I need to know I can count on the both of you right now.”

  Anxiety plowed deep rivets around Aurora’s mouth and eyes, sounding an alarm bell inside John. Fretting over this situation between him and Merrilee wasn’t going to help his mother’s recovery, particularly when her mind was already occupied with worries about the children and this year’s crop. Whatever he had to do to make it work, he’d do it. Hopefully, Merrilee felt the same way.

  “We’ll go downstairs and work it out right now, Ms. Aurora.”

  Merrilee’s voice trailed around the corner of the bed, coming to a halt right behind him. Warm fingers slid over his shoulders before coming to rest, her palms putting slight pressure on his taut muscles, sending little trails of heat across his chest before settling around his heart. “Isn’t that right, John?”

  Words clogged his throat and he coughed. “Yeah, we’ll make a plan of action.”

  Aurora sunk down into her pillow, obviously satisfied with their answer. “Good, because everything in this life that’s worth having is worth working for.”

  John wanted to ask her what she meant, but he didn’t have a chance before her eyelids drooped closed. He leaned forward instead, pressing a kiss against her soft cheek like he used to when he was still just a boy. He stood then, releasing the hand that had guided him through those awful years after his father had abandoned him and his brother.

  He would carry this burden for Aurora for as long as he could. The problem was, he didn’t know how long he had until the navy brought charges against him, until he had his day in court. Hopefully, once that day arrived, he’d be able to convince a jury of his peers he was no more a traitor than FDR. But he had to prepare for the worst.

  And that meant coming clean to Merrilee.

  Chapter Eight

  Dr. Adams stood staring up at them from the bottom of the stairs,
medical bag in his hand with his suit coat thrown over the arm, a brown nondescript hat in the opposite hand.

  All ready for a fast getaway.

  Not a very Christian way to feel, Merrilee admitted, as she stepped down the last few stairs, but it was hard feeling anything remotely Christlike knowing the doctor’s opinion on the children Aurora took in here. Like Claire. Why couldn’t the man see past these children’s physical infirmities to the wonderful little people God had made and care for them as he did everyone else in the county?

  “Don’t like Adams too much, do you?” John whispered close enough for only her to hear, his breath fanning against her ear, gently stirring the tiny hairs at the base of her neck. “At least we’re in agreement on that.”

  How did he know that? Merrilee tried to keep the shock from registering on her face as the man in question approached them. “How did it go?”

  “She’s dozing,” John answered from beside her, his fingers resting possessively against her lower back. A slight flutter started in the pit of her stomach, increasing to a wild pitch when he pressed his palm against her spine.

  Adams’s eyebrow lifted into his hairline. Was John trying to start the gossip mills around town? Or was he simply being supportive in light of her obvious dislike of the doctor? She clamped her teeth down on her lower lip...but she didn’t pull away from his touch.

  “So—” Adams twirled his hat around in restless fingers “—I can bring the paperwork out in the morning so we can get the process started.”

  Oh, dear. “What kind of paperwork?” John asked, his voice restrained as he leaned a hair closer to the man.

  “The hospital in Milledgeville will need a medical history on each of the children.” Adams paused. “That is what you’re planning to do with them, isn’t it?”

  “No.” John bit the word out. One push in the wrong direction and Robert Adams wouldn’t know what hit him.

  The doctor turned to her. “You can’t seriously think you can handle taming this wild crew, Merrilee.”