“I’m glad she knows. John deserves a chance to know his daughter as her father.”
There wasn’t any censure in her words, but Merrilee felt it nevertheless. She dropped her chin down, her gaze focused on her soft cotton slippers. “I wrote and told John about the baby before the divorce. A letter every day for months.”
“Oh, dear. I know you did.” Aurora’s frail arm snaked around her waist and drew her close, her white head rested against hers. “Those were the letters Beau found in his father’s house last year, weren’t they?”
Merrilee jerked her head up, but the older woman’s stare stopped her questions as they formed on her lips. “Let’s go fix us both a cup of warm milk.”
Merrilee nodded, grabbed the lantern from the hall table and followed the older woman down the narrow passageway to the back of the house. It was only when they’d reached the privacy of the kitchen that Merrilee felt ready to speak again. “Beau was supposed to keep that quiet.”
Aurora headed straight to the icebox. “Maybe he didn’t say anything.”
With a frown, Merrilee walked over to the cabinet where the mugs were stored and opened it. Who else could it be? She went through a mental file of possible suspects, her mind shifting through any connections until she found one. “Edith Watson.”
A low chuckle filled the room. “The most gossipy postmistress the United States has ever known. She overheard Edie and Beau talking.”
“So much for loose lips sinking ships.” Merrilee smirked as she pulled down two mugs.
“Probably. She’s a nice enough woman. Just lets her tongue get the best of her at times.” Aurora grabbed the glass container of milk and walked to the stove. “But enough about Edith. Has John ever mentioned receiving the letters?”
“No.” And she’d given up hope of him ever getting them. It had been a year after all. Merrilee crossed over to the table and set the cups down. What would it have mattered anyway? But she couldn’t push away the memory of this afternoon, of John pulling her in his arms, holding her close. She tried to convince herself that he’d only sought to comfort her after the whole mess with Claire and the cigarettes, to let her know that she was a good mother. But if that were the case, then why had his irises darkened to that indescribable blue when he’d lifted her face to meet his gaze? Why had his hands trembled slightly as he’d held her, as if she were extraordinarily precious?
The soft clang of metal against metal drew Merrilee’s attention back to the stove. Ms. Aurora lifted a tablespoon from a small pot, milky white drops making a watery trail across the countertop as she turned off the gas. “Then they’ll get here in God’s own timing.”
If she were someone like Aurora, it would make sense to be overly optimistic, but Merrilee knew better. “A year seems like plenty of time to me.”
“Ye of little faith,” Aurora muttered in a gravelly voice. “He just received Claire’s letter a few weeks ago. Just when she needed him the most.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, don’t get all in an uproar, young lady. All I’m saying is that who better to understand a child dealing with physical difficulties like Claire than a man who championed his disabled brother?”
Merrilee stood quietly for a moment. Why would God bring John back into the picture now if he’d already made plans to desert them again? But this line of conversation did open the door on another subject she was curious about. “Why didn’t you tell me about Mattie?”
“It wasn’t my story to tell.” Aurora wrapped a dish towel around the pot handle, lifted it from the stove and carried it to the table. “It was John’s.”
Merrilee pulled out a chair for Aurora, then sat down. “What was Mattie like?”
A soft smile transformed the older woman’s face as she sank down beside Merrilee. “Sweet as sugar. His arms and legs were all gnarled up by the time I brought them home—that’s what happens after years of being kept in a crib, I guess—but Mattie always had a smile on his face. And he thought the world of John.” Steam rose from the iron pot as she poured milk into one mug, then the other. “Mattie couldn’t talk, but anytime John came in the room, his brother would follow him with his eyes.”
Merrilee understood. John had had that same effect on her from the first time she’d seen him, standing so tall and handsome between rows of ripe cotton. She hadn’t wanted to look at anything else ever again. “John said Mattie died the winter after they came to live here.”
“Mattie couldn’t draw a deep breath, so when he got the pneumonia...” Aurora’s voice caught as if the memory of the loss was still fresh in her mind. “John refused to leave him. He was only ten, but he stayed right by Mattie’s bed, bathing his face with cold water when the fever shot up, talking to him when he passed from this life into the next. I’d never seen that kind of love from such a little fellow. Figured that once he gave someone his heart, he loved them for keeps.”
Aurora’s words tore through Merrilee like buckshot, leaving a gaping hole through that innermost part of her, that place where she still held out hope John could love her again. Merrilee slid her hands around the mug, the warmth doing nothing to chase the chill settled deep in her bones. “I must have been the exception to the rule.”
“What do you mean?”
Merrilee kept her eyes on the cloud of steam rising from her cup. “John was the one who wanted the divorce, not me.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute.” Aurora shook her head, her voice strengthening with conviction. “I saw the way my son looked at you, Merrilee. When you were around, that boy was as happy as a puppy with two tails.”
Wasn’t that how she always felt around him, as if she’d had a stomach full of firecrackers and each time he came around, another one sparked into life? But if he’d felt the same way, then why had he wanted to end their marriage?
“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but your daddy never favored John. Whoever heard of putting a man in jail for getting married? And keeping him there for three days was just plain mean.”
Merrilee shook her head. “Ms. Aurora, that was my fault. I couldn’t get to the jail to get the police to release him.”
The older woman leaned into the high-back chair. “What do you mean you couldn’t get to the jail?”
Merrilee swallowed. She’d never planned to tell anyone what had happened once her father had gotten her home. But what did it matter now? “Daddy locked me in the root cellar.”
“For three days?” When she nodded, the older woman frowned. “It makes sense. Jacob went traipsing off to Chattanooga to find the justice of the peace who married the two of you. Guess he figured if he got hold of the license before it was filed, that would be the end of that. He wouldn’t have wanted you able to get in his way.”
And if he’d succeeded in his plan, they wouldn’t have been officially married in the eyes of the law. “How do you know all of this?”
She drew in a weary breath. “A few months ago, I got a letter from Jimbo Haynes. He wanted to know if I had John’s address because he needed to apologize.”
Merrilee blinked. Jimbo had been one of her brother’s lapdogs, doing James’s bidding in exchange for the corn mash that numbed the pain of losing his wife and baby. “Why would he need to apologize to John?”
“I think it’s part of a program he’s in to keep him off drinking. Anyway, I wrote him back and told him John was off in the Pacific, but if he needed to talk, I was there.” She took a long sip. “James must have told him about following you and John up to Chattanooga.”
“But Daddy didn’t convince Judge Reynolds to destroy our marriage license. He had to have accepted that I’d married John. He even set us up in our first home.”
The challenge in Aurora’s gaze sent a chill down Merrilee’s spine. “Set you up on the worst plug of land he owned. Rocks wouldn’t
grow there, much less cotton or vegetables, but John coaxed a crop out of those fields until the rains washed him out. Didn’t you ever wonder why all those letters were found at James’s house, even the ones that you mailed from your daddy’s house? And how did the one letter from John that demanded a divorce manage to get through when all the others didn’t?”
“It didn’t come through the mail—it was delivered by a lawyer.” The memories of that morning, the fear that had coursed through her when Mr. Jacobson had stated he was there on John’s behalf. Horrific scenarios had played out in her mind, flashes of John, his body battered and beaten against the jagged rocks as he worked building Boulder Dam. She’d snatched the envelope from the man’s hand and torn it open, relief and shock warring within her as she read the words, once, twice, until finally, the realization had sunk in. John wanted a divorce. The wooden floor had reached up to meet her, her arms automatically curving around her swollen belly, protecting the life she and John had created together. Shadows and light had drifted by her over the next few days, but one voice had penetrated the unbearable pain that enveloped her.
Daddy’s going to take care of this, baby girl.
“John would have never sent a lawyer,” Aurora said softly.
“He would have come himself,” Merrilee whispered, her eyes slamming shut, unshed tears like fire behind her closed lids. What had her father done? Why had he robbed her of the husband she loved, of the father of her child? And how had she missed what he was up to, sneaking around behind her back, watching their every movement in hopes of discovering a way to destroy her and John’s marriage?
Spying on them just like she’d been spying on Aurora and all the others.
The truth gripped her heart in an unyielding vise. Like father, like daughter. How many lives had she ruined with the bits of information she’d passed on to Major Evans? She couldn’t pretend she’d hurt those people for the greater good. How many leads had turned out to be rabbit trails, scampering down a dead-end path, with no prize at the end and only devastation left behind?
“Do you still love my son?”
The denial came quickly to her lips, then died. She needed the truth. “Yes, I always have.”
Aurora reached over, clasped her hand and gave her an encouraging squeeze. “Then you need to figure out a way to convince him of that.”
The older woman made it sound so easy, but Merrilee knew John had a stubborn streak almost as wide as her own. Was it too late for them, or was there hope? “I’ll think about it.”
“And we’ll pray. God’s already at work here.”
“How do you see that?”
She patted her hand. “That letter Claire sent out a year ago reached him, didn’t it?”
Merrilee couldn’t argue with her reasoning. Claire’s letter had traveled from one side of the world and back before being delivered to John, bringing him back to Marietta.
So what happens now, Lord?
One thing Merrilee knew for sure—no carrot Evans dangled in front of her was worth turning into the bitter person her father had become in his later years. She turned to the woman who was as close to a mother as she’d ever had. “Aurora, I know this is out of left field, and you may not want me anywhere near John after you hear me out, but I’ve got to level with you. Major Evans sent me here to find out if you’re trading in the black market.”
Chapter Sixteen
Claire ducked her head inside the kitchen two mornings later where Merrilee and Aurora sat at the table, enjoying a cup of coffee. “Daddy wanted me to tell you someone’s coming up the drive.”
Merrilee stood. “It’s a bit early for visitors.”
“Probably just the sheriff,” Aurora assured her as she lifted her cup for another sip. “Mack likes to keep an eye on us, seeing how we’re a ways off the road.”
“And maybe join us for breakfast?” Merrilee walked around the corner of the table, set her cup and saucer in the sink then leaned back against the counter. “I swear he ate so many meals at the boardinghouse, I should have asked for his ration books.”
“Nothing wrong with providing a meal for someone who’s watching over our community.”
“No, but I get the feeling he’s lonely.”
The older woman leaned back in her chair as if she were thinking on the matter. “Yes, it must be very lonely being left behind while everyone else around you goes off to fight.”
“Yes, I guess so.” Merrilee grabbed a clean dish towel off the countertop with one hand while the other worked the water pump. What she would give to be like Aurora, thinking the war only existed over in Germany or in the Pacific, never realizing that there was a battle being fought right here at home? Was Mack part of this secret war like she was, staking out loved ones and old friends, scrutinizing every move to test their loyalty? She’d have to ask him when the fighting was finally over and the boys came home at last.
The loud bark of high-pitched screams jerked Merrilee around, the wet, soapy dish towel hanging from her clenched fist. “That sounds like the children.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” Despite her words, Aurora rose in a one quick urgent movement, the faint lines around her eyes and mouth sharpened into deep valleys, her complexion pale.
Merrilee dropped the dish towel into the sink, then hurried toward the kitchen door. “Those kids had better have a good reason for causing such a ruckus. Scaring a body like that.”
“Now, don’t be too hard on them,” Aurora called out behind her. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for all the noise.”
Merrilee nodded, but only to keep the older woman from investigating the situation herself. The children knew enough about Aurora’s illness to know not to go around screaming their heads off like that.
She had barely taken two steps out into the hallway when two strong hands reached for her, pulling her against a muscled chest that felt made for resting her head against. She drew in a breath of air full of the sweet smell of fresh earth, sunshine and John’s unique scent. If only they could stay like this forever.
But questions barged into her thoughts. She lifted her head, but before she could form the first words, he lowered his face, his mouth seeking hers in a kiss that robbed her of her senses and scrambled her thoughts.
Merrilee lifted her arms up, her hands pressed against the firm expansion of his chest, snaking their way over sinewy shoulders, her fingertips tingling as she twined her arms around his neck, her fingers buried in his short hair. She heard a whimper when he ended the kiss and started to step back, to put some distance between them, but John only tightened his arms around her, bringing her even closer to him if that was possible.
“Merri.”
The whisper of her name against her mouth felt like coming home. Here, with this man, was where she belonged.
“Well, it’s about time,” Aurora said, a humorous tone in her voice. “I’d begun to think you two had forgotten how to do that.”
Heat torched Merrilee’s face even as John loosened his hold, though his hands rested comfortably on her waist as if threatening to pull her in for another kiss at any second.
If only he would!
“I’m sorry, Ms. Aurora. I guess I just let the moment get away from me.” John gave his mother an unrepentant grin that made Merrilee’s heart gallop. “The Germans have surrendered! The war in Europe is over!”
“Praise the Lord!” Tears filled the older woman’s eyes, her mouth turned up in a watery smile. “All those boys are finally coming home!”
John brought Merrilee flush against his side and offered Aurora his other arm, kissing the top of her gray head as she curled into him. “Some of them will be, I guess, but we’ve still got a fight with the Japanese.”
There was something in his tone, a hesitancy that caught Merrilee off guard. Was it fighting the
Japanese that bothered him or something more, something personal?
What was she thinking? Of course, John wanted the war to be over, for their country and the world to be at peace. This was a day to celebrate, not nitpick every little thing.
Another thought burst across her mind. With the war won in Europe, her stint as a homeland informant was drawing to a close.
Thank You, Lord!
“You look happy.”
Merrilee tilted her head back to look up at John, the tenderness in his gaze causing her heart to flutter wildly. Maybe they did have a future together once John returned from wherever it was he had to go. They could live on the old Todd place, make it into the productive farm they’d always dreamed of having. Aurora would be next door so they could keep an eye on her and the children.
Her smile widened even more. Claire would have the father she’d always longed for and maybe a little brother or sister, too.
Gracious gravy! She’d planned their entire lives based on a kiss or two. “Where are the children?”
“Out on the front porch with Mack. He said he had something for us in his car.”
“Probably just another box of rations from the church.” Merrilee’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “I hope Mrs. Williams didn’t get any ideas and send a jar of her pickled okra.”
“She didn’t.”
Merrilee pivoted around, Mack moving down the hall toward them, the children following closely behind the lawman. The sheriff held in his arms not the box of canned goods she had anticipated, but a bundle of coarse, rat-tail blankets too dirty to even think of placing on any of the beds. Who would think to give such an unusable gift?
Then the bundle moved.
John must have noticed, too. “If that’s a dog, Sheriff,” he started, his arm slung over Merrilee’s shoulders, “you’d be better off just turning around and going right back out that door.”
Hearts Rekindled Page 19