“No, that’s not necessary,” he quickly cut in.
“Honestly, I did have plans to have tea with Colleen Teller, the senator’s daughter,” she twittered. “Of course, I’d have to go home and change. It would simply be unacceptable if she were to see me wearing my new dress today and then again for the celebration. Don’t you think?”
He offered a hearty nod, thankful she had other plans.
“Well, then, by all means let me see you out, Miss Cranston. You won’t want to be late,” Miss Ellickson clipped off.
“That’s completely unnecessary. I can see myself out.” Julia clutched his hand and leaned closer, her perfume nearly choking him. “Maybe I should stay. What do you think, Joseph?” A whine of regret laced her whispered words. “I suppose I could reschedule with Colleen. Her agenda is busy, but I’m sure—”
“Please, go. Have your lunch with Colleen. I’d rather eat alone.” He braced his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Miss Ellickson, you can take a dinner break, too. There’s a good diner just down the road—have them put your bill on my tab.”
“I’ll be joining you here. Thank you all the same,” she responded quietly.
Julia’s sharp intake of breath wasn’t lost on Joseph. She grasped his shoulder. “Miss…Miss Ellington—”
“Ellickson.” Joseph shook his head.
Her nails bit into his flesh. “Miss Ellickson, perhaps you didn’t hear Joseph. He said he’d rather dine alone. If you—”
“Julia, I can handle this,” he ground out, disgusted at her steely tone. Although he’d taken her on a few outings in the past two months, he didn’t fancy being treated like some possession of hers. “Miss Ellickson, you’re probably in need of a break. I’m sure I can handle it on my own.”
“I can understand your hesitance, Mr. Drake. Believe me, I do.” Her voice trembled.
Tension chorded his body as he wondered why everyone couldn’t just let him make his own decisions. If he wanted to eat alone, shouldn’t he be afforded that one small courtesy?
“I’m sorry.” Miss Ellickson’s voice was soft and even, coming from the chair to his left. “But I’m here to—to teach you. Not to coddle you.”
Julia withdrew her hand from his shoulder, mumbling as her booted heels clicked loudly across the floor. When she slammed a plate down on the table, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
He swallowed hard, trying to control his mounting frustration. “I didn’t ask you to coddle me, Miss Ellickson.”
With a harrumph, Julia plopped down in a chair across the table from him. “Oh for goodness’s—”
“You’ve made that quite clear,” Miss Ellickson continued as if oblivious to Julia’s presence. “But as with all my students, I’m here to instruct you in how to get along on your own, and that’s what I’m going to do—starting with dinner.”
“Joseph has been eating dinner for twenty-seven years, Miss Eberhard,” Julia informed on a nervous laugh. He could hear her dishing something onto her plate. “He can get along just fine. Can’t you, Joseph?”
“Just drop the subject.” He grasped at his fading calm.
“Fine, I see the way of things.” Julia gave her napkin a swift snap and a puff of air fluffed over to him. “You have never had a problem doing things on your own,” she reminded him, the shrill sound of her voice contrasting sharply with the delicate chorus of birds outside. “I realize that when you were laid up flat on your back you needed assistance. But now—”
“But now, with these bandages on, I still can’t see.” Raising his focus to where she sat directly across from him, he wished he could see, but he couldn’t even open his eyes through the thick bandages. “And there’s a slim chance that my vision might not be what it was.”
He swallowed against the admission. If his sight didn’t fully return, he’d have to find independence as soon as possible or he’d never be able to stomach himself.
“Oh, Joseph, don’t be silly. You’re going to be fine,” Julia dismissed, then took a bite of something that crunched.
Awkwardness flooded his resolve. He could hear Miss Ellickson arranging things on the table, even dishing items onto his plate while he sat rigid as a board, every muscle in his body stiff and unyielding to the internal cry to relax. All he wanted was to be left alone, but Julia was being unusually possessive and Miss Ellickson was intent on doing her job.
A job he didn’t even hire her to do!
“Your plate is in front of you,” Miss Ellickson began, her voice low and measured. “Now, like numbers on a clock face, there’s a thick wheat roll at nine o’clock, mashed potatoes at twelve o’clock, cooked carrots at three o’clock and roast at six o’clock. If you’ll raise your hands to feel for your plate,” she directed, pausing as if waiting for him to follow her lead, but he couldn’t seem to move his hands from where they were tightly fisted in his lap. “You’ll find your fork to the left of your plate, spoon and knife on your napkin to the right. And your glass of grape juice is about three inches to the right of your plate, at two o’clock.”
From across the table, Julia’s sharp scrutiny bore down on him like a locomotive. He tried to ignore it. The aroma rising from the food normally would’ve made his mouth water, but instead his stomach churned. His discomfort could reach a swift end if he insisted they leave, but at this point he was too stubborn to give in.
“Shall we give thanks?” Miss Ellickson asked.
The distinct air of vulnerability in her voice pricked Joseph’s heart, but he quickly brushed it aside as though it were a pesky bug. In spite of his surging anger, he bowed his head as Julia’s utensils clanked to silence against her plate. Truth be told, over the past weeks he’d spent more time telling God what to do than talking with Him or thanking Him. Had God heard his plea for healing? Or had He passed him by for good?
On a long sigh, he began to pray. “Lord, thank You for this meal. Bless the hands that prepared it.” Remembering his sister-in-law’s tenuous health and the certain stress Aaron had to be under, he added, “And be with Ellie and the baby. Keep them safe.”
“Amen,” Miss Ellickson whispered after a long pause.
With a curt nod, he sat in the offending darkness, trying to ignore the daunting insecurity as he struggled for self-control. Pulling his sagging shoulders back, he braced himself, unwilling to look like a helpless excuse for a man—especially in front of Julia.
Crisp, metallic sounds from her silverware sounded against her plate. She hadn’t uttered one word in the past moments, but he knew she must be closely monitoring his every move. Her sharp inspection pierced like tiny shards of glass.
Could he do this? With his head bowed, Joseph tried to picture the things set before him. He slowly slid his hands up to the table, probing for his knife and fork. Once he’d located his utensils, he raised them to the plate.
“Now, when you’ve located your fork and knife—”
“I’ve eaten without help in the past, Miss Ellickson,” he cut in, knowing even as the words formed on his lips that he should just swallow his pride. “And I can do it now.”
Joseph fought to still his trembling hands. As he made a stab for the meat to cut it, the supple chunk seemed to dodge his effort, sliding away from him. His fork fell from his grasp, clanking loudly against his plate.
He couldn’t miss the small gasp Julia gave. “Oh, no, Joseph, you dropped your fork,” she announced loudly.
“Really?” Fumbling for his fork, he put it to the plate again while inside tremors of fury thundered. When he couldn’t locate the piece of meat with his utensils, his agitation increased.
“Here you are, Mr. Drake. The roast is back on your plate,” his teacher spoke evenly.
The roast had flown off his plate?
Steeling himself, he struggled to gather his composure as he repositioned his fork toward the carrots. With intense focus, he tried to recall where she’d said they were—three o’clock or ten o’clock? Framing one side of the p
late with a hand, he set his fork to the plate, succinctly stabbing one long spear and cutting it in two. A small sigh of relief passed his lips as he opened wide and directed the carrot in. It brushed his lips, tumbled down his shirt, then fell to the floor with a moist thud.
He gritted his teeth as Boone immediately shifted across the floor and sniffed at the vegetable. Joseph’s breathing came heavy, labored. The loud rushing in his ears grew almost deafening.
“It’s all right.” Miss Ellickson’s tone was low and even.
He slammed his fist on the table to ward her off. He would do this alone or drown in a pool of humiliation.
“If you’ll put your fork to the plate,” she offered, forced patience lacing her words, “and first gauge where the food—”
“I will do it!” Joseph interrupted angrily, acutely aware that not one morsel of food had made it to his mouth yet.
Humiliation ricocheted in his mind like a shotgun blast in an underground cavern. Groping for his knife, his hand careened into his glass of grape juice. It tipped, the glass clinking on the solid wood.
“Oh, my new dress!” Julia yowled, her chair scraping away from the table. “My beautiful new dress! It’s ruined!”
Joseph sucked in a shaky breath. He stood, knocking his chair over with the back of his legs and sending Boone scurrying away, toenails scratching across the floor as the loud crash reverberated throughout the house.
Hearing the frantic sound of Julia wiping at her garment, Joseph brought his hands to his head, threading trembling fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he forced on a broken breath.
“Please don’t worry, Mr. Drake. Accidents happen,” Miss Ellickson responded quietly as she rose and crossed to the sink. “I’ll get it cleaned up.”
He drew quivering fingertips over the bandages covering his eyes, failure’s evil taunt screaming through his thoughts. He was sickened at his stubborn pride. Balling his fists firmly at his sides, he clenched his teeth tight. Even if he couldn’t see, he should be able to make it through a meal.
Simple things were now difficult. Difficult things, seemingly impossible. When he’d been released from bed rest, he thought he’d feel more comfortable, more capable. Instead, he felt more like a prisoner than a free man.
He jerked suddenly at Miss Ellickson’s light touch on his arm. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wondered what you’d like for me to do?”
Julia huffed. “Isn’t it obvious that you’ve already done quite enough? Just look at the mess he’s made,” she hissed. “Poor Joseph obviously isn’t ready for this. I’m certain that you can’t be doing him a bit of good by pushing—”
“Stop!” he growled. “Just leave, now.”
A moment of crushing silence was followed by the whoosh of Julia’s skirts as she walked toward the front door. “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” she spat, her voice laden with unveiled disgust as she stormed out, slamming the front door behind her.
“Mr. Drake? I’m terribly sorry about all of that.” Miss Ellickson slid her hand off his arm. “I’ll understand if you want to call it a day.”
Tilting his head down toward her, he wished he could see her. He just wanted one glimpse. From the moment they’d met this morning, she’d seen him at his worst, with behavior he didn’t even know he was capable of. She’d taken his rude, unyielding responses with a stiff upper lip. Why? Who was this woman who would sacrifice her own comfort and willingly endure the ugliest part of him?
Chapter Three
Unadulterated fear had shown like gaping holes in Mr. Drake’s stony wall of composure. From five years of experience working with the blind, Katie had learned to recognize the sure signs. And she’d never seen such desperation. All morning she’d witnessed it in his tensing jaw, tight fists and grim expression. She was worn out just watching him work so hard to fortify himself against the fear.
She stood for several moments on his porch, her legs weak as she clutched her books to her chest. He’d said that he’d lost his appetite. That he needed some time to think. And she knew when to let up a little. After all, this was all so very new and painful for him.
Breathing deep, she welcomed the soothing west wind filtering through her skirts, cooling her skin. For over three hours she’d remained stalwart in spite of his unyielding behavior, though she’d nearly bit her tongue in two when Miss Julia Cranston had shown up. It wasn’t Katie’s business who that woman was to Mr. Drake, but whatever her relationship, Miss Cranston wasn’t taking into account his vulnerable state. And for that Katie felt fiercely protective.
Compassion for him tugged at her heart. It was clear that this man of strength and self-sufficiency had been dealt a very difficult hand in life. Things were horribly unfamiliar to him. Maybe for now, anyway, he felt like a shell of what he had been.
Still, Katie could see an iron will there—and a fortitude that perhaps he didn’t even realize existed. He was unlike anyone she’d worked with. Decidedly stoic, yet beneath that stony exterior, a vulnerable man, scared to death. And she wanted to do everything she could to give him back his life.
Squaring her shoulders, she struggled to gather her wits before walking the distance back to Uncle Sven and Aunt Marta’s. She’d never hidden her feelings well. No doubt they’d worry if she showed up looking as distraught as she felt.
Brushing wisps of hair from her face, she started down the three steps, but came to an abrupt halt when Mr. Drake’s voice penetrated the solid walnut barrier.
“Why? Why me?” he choked out, his halting footsteps shuffling from the area of the kitchen where she’d left him, toward the front room. “How could you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?” Mr. Drake’s voice rose in volume, twisting her heart with its mournful, almost terrorized sound. “Why, God? Why me? You have to let me see again!”
His deep, raw cry sent shivers down her spine and a piercing sword to her heart. When she heard him knock something over, her breath caught in her chest.
“Oh, God! You—promised!” Heaving sobs broke his words.
A heavy object slammed against the door.
Swallowing hard, she blinked back hot tears stinging her eyes. She could try to comfort him right now, but he’d reject it. She could do everything she knew to aid him in gaining physical freedom, but only God could heal his wounded heart.
Lifting a trembling finger to her face, she swiped a tear sliding down her cheek as she remembered his awkwardness this noon when he’d prayed. She didn’t need eyes to see that his relationship with God was being sorely tested. How well she knew that reality—her own trust in God had been pulled up painfully short in the past year.
“God, please help him,” she whispered. “Help me.”
From behind the door, Mr. Drake’s breathing came in audible gasps. “God, You pr-promised you wouldn’t forsake Your own!”
“Go ahead, Joe-boy. Hit me as hard as you can,” Aaron provoked, his words sounding more like he was offering to loan Joseph his boots, rather than his face.
“Hit all three of us till you can’t pull another punch if it makes you feel better,” Ben added in complete earnestness. “You need to do something. You’re about ready to explode.”
Joseph balled his fists and sucked in a slow breath, trying to hold his mounting frustration at bay. Since yesterday he’d felt like a tightly coiled spring begging for release. The reality of his inadequacy had hit him full force, and since then he’d been fighting just to stay clear of the bitter rage that nipped at his heels. In the past if he were angry, he might’ve laid a well-aimed ax to logs, splitting wood till he dropped, but now he couldn’t even seem to make it around his house without knocking something over or bumping into a wall.
Last night he’d successfully warded off his brothers when they’d shown up on his doorstep. But this morning they wouldn’t be put off. For the past thirty minutes Ben, Aaron and Zach had been trying to get him to talk about yesterday. They’d said that Miss Ellickson wouldn’t divulge a thing, but t
hat Julia had given away plenty. She’d been loose-lipped all over town.
If he needed a reason to be mad, that definitely could’ve been it, but for some reason he didn’t really give a coyote’s hide. Whatever she’d said was probably true. He could hardly blame her for spouting off. Had he insisted that he be left alone to eat his meal, then she wouldn’t have had a thing to talk about.
Julia’s stories were to his benefit anyway. His blessed privacy would be ensured this way. No one would brave visiting if they knew how uncomfortable they’d be.
“Come on, Joe-boy, swing at one of us,” Aaron urged. “We’re standing right in front of you.”
“This is your chance, big brother,” came Zach’s low voice. At twenty, he was the youngest of the Drake brothers and had been striving to sow something other than wild oats. “I reckon you’ve probably been wantin’ to do this to me more than a time or two.”
“Ha! Are you giving us the opportunity, too?” Aaron guffawed. “Line on up, boys! Maybe we could knock some sense into Zach—keep him from making any more dirt-poor choices.”
Joseph could hear a scuffle in front of him and figured that Aaron was probably ruffling Zach’s hair or faking a punch. Like a couple of playful bear cubs, they were always messing around, but he knew it wouldn’t amount to much. Zach had made some bad decisions—decisions that had almost landed him in jail. They were just glad he was finally holding down a job as a ranch hand, and hadn’t gone the way of the third brother, Max, who’d taken off eight years ago with his inheritance and then some, and was living on the run.
“You two yahoos cut the bantering! We’re not here about Zach, we’re here about Joseph,” came Ben’s firm warning. “Come on, Joseph. We’re not kidding. Let loose—it’ll do you good.”
Joseph gave a low growl. “Would you three knock it off?”
Shaking his head, he pushed between them and with hands outstretched and clumsy, shuffling steps made his way to the dining table. He grasped the top rung of a chair, leaning heavily into it. “You might as well stop this charade. I’m not going to hit any of you. Never have, never will.”
Rocky Mountain Match Page 3