“Ellie begged me to bring her out here, Joseph.” Aaron settled a desperate kiss on his wife’s forehead as though hoping that his love for her would be enough to bring her back to life. “I wanted to. But I didn’t th—I didn’t think she’d be strong enough. And the rain…”
“I know, Aaron. It’s all right.” With a compassion that gripped Katie’s heart, Joseph tentatively reached up and wiped at the tears streaming down his brother’s face. “You did the right thing. You’re a good, loving husband.”
His brother shook his head sharply. “No. No, I’m not,” he moaned, rocking Ellie’s limp body back and forth over the fresh grave. “I should’ve stayed awake all night watching over her. She was so upset. I couldn’t have nodded off for long when—” His words broke on a loud sob.
Tears trickled down Joseph’s face and mingled with the droplets of rain beading his face. Katie allowed her own tears to fall as he slid his hand down to find Ellie’s face and then to her arm, as though feeling for himself, whether the cold, hard touch of death was really there.
Aaron pulled in a broken breath. He lifted Ellie’s hand that held the little booties to his mouth, pressing his lips to each finger. “Somehow she made it out here by herself. I found her here at daybreak. Laying dead on Jeremiah’s grave.”
A quiet groan escaped Katie’s lips. She squeezed her eyes against the tears, knowing that Aaron’s pain must be almost more than he could bear. To see this man, so strong and capable, and so full of despair, made her weep for him.
“I’m so sorry.” Joseph’s low voice was barely audible over the pounding thunder and unyielding downpour.
Aaron rained kisses over his wife’s serene, pale face, his whole body shuddering with quiet sobs. He stared into his Ellie’s face for a long, agonizing moment as though memorizing her beautiful, delicate features. Then he pulled her even tighter to himself, rocking her back and forth again in some silent rhythm that perhaps only heaven knew.
Joseph grasped Katie’s arm and leaned close. “We need to get him inside. Can you help me?”
She lightly squeezed his hand, blinking off the raindrops beading her lashes. “Yes. Just tell me what to do.”
For the next few minutes Katie wavered between strength and weakness as Joseph coaxed Aaron step by heartbreaking step back to the cabin. Although Aaron was exhausted physically and emotionally, he refused to relinquish his wife’s body to Joseph’s strong arms. Witnessing the way Joseph took charge of the situation with the utmost compassion as he helped his brother back to the house made Katie’s heart nearly break.
When they reached the door, she turned and peered through the heavy drizzle to stare at the fresh mound under the tree. Tears came hard as she saw where Ellie had lain, her lifeless body heaped on the grave, her blood soaking into the earth where Aaron had buried their firstborn son.
Chapter Eleven
The three days since Ellie’s funeral had felt like a month. And the six days since Joseph’s appointment in Denver, like a year. The hours had dragged by and his agitation had grown tenfold knowing that Aaron had resumed work on the furniture order at the crack of dawn this morning. Over the past couple of days Joseph had urged Aaron to take plenty of time off, insisting that a weekend full of family and friends visiting and offering condolences, food and help wasn’t a sufficient amount of time.
And now here it was Monday morning and Aaron was back at work, pouring himself into things.
Joseph hadn’t stepped foot in the shop since his accident. He’d banked on digging into things upon the return of his sight, and that hadn’t happened. Since his return from Denver, there’d been one tragedy after another. But knowing that his brother was in the shop this very moment, working so hard to escape the pain of his loss, drove Joseph to try and find his way to the building at the back of his property, to help if he could.
In spite of the long list of trials, the order deadline hadn’t been lengthened even a day. And even though the chance of completing it on time was slim to none, he had to at least try.
Standing on his back porch, he gave a sharp whistle and immediately heard the sound of Boone’s large, heavy paws padding across the ground. The dog gently burrowed his head between Joseph’s knees, a trait he’d recently adopted.
“Hey, boy. How are you doing?” Joseph bent to scratch him behind the ears. “Do you want to go to the shop with me?”
Boone lightly pressed his full body against Joseph’s legs and Joseph slid his hands down the dog’s back. He could feel the way Boone lobbed his tail from side to side, his back end moving almost independently of the rest of his body.
“I take it that’s a yes.” He chuckled.
Boone didn’t get to go to the shop often because his hair wreaked havoc with the work. Like homing pigeons, the fine hairs inevitably landed on whatever had been freshly varnished.
“Do you think I could tag along? Unless Aaron’s been snitching, I bet we could find some jerky for you in my stash.” He stepped down from the porch and trailed the dog.
“Good job, Boone,” Joseph encouraged as he opened the shop door and poked his head inside.
“Aaron? Are you here?” he called, his voice echoing in the large wood-filled room.
He was surprised when there was no reply, so he stepped inside with Boone scurrying in beside him, no doubt determined to cash in on the tasty incentive. Closing the door, Joseph reached down and ruffled the unruly hair on Boone’s head, then stood upright. He found the can of jerky he kept by the door and gave a couple of pieces to Boone.
“Aaron, you here?” he called again, wondering if maybe he’d caught his brother at a bad time, when words were hard to find. No matter how strong Aaron had seemed over the weekend, Joseph knew very well that his brother was devastated.
Aaron’s pain was far worse than the sting of going blind. That awareness had struck Joseph deep over the past few days, bringing some needed clarity and perspective to his situation. Life without sight was difficult, but maneuverable. But Aaron’s heartache seemed cruel.
Swallowing hard, he inhaled the distinctive scents surrounding him. The fresh-cut wood, the varnish, the stain. Even the old leather chair by his desk. He closed his eyes and drank everything in, strangely invigorated by the experience.
When Boone dropped to his place at the door, Joseph stepped forward, the familiar, muffled crunch of sawdust bits beneath his feet, like some kindhearted grandfather drawing him out of hiding.
He reached out, his fingertips connecting with the large workbench that sat like a massive centerpiece in the room. Grasping the bench’s thick edge, he ran his hands across the surface, noticing how scarred, how well used it was. After a long moment, he turned and moved over to the wall, feeling for where the small hand tools were usually hung. He carefully worked his fingers over the wall, surprised to find each tool suspended neatly in its place, as though he’d never been gone.
A little farther and he reached his desk. Afraid he might find the surface littered with papers and tools, he tentatively set his hands on the desk. He patted the expanse of oak and furrowed his brows. There were no tools, no papers. Just one neat pile at the left-hand corner where he’d always set aside any paperwork related to ongoing jobs.
Aaron had not only kept the shop from complete disarray in Joseph’s absence, but he’d managed to maintain a condition that was tidy. The shop was essentially just as he’d left it.
“You make me proud, Aaron,” he whispered, determined to tell his brother that face-to-face.
He skimmed his hand over the old and slightly torn leather chair pushed into his desk, then moved on to find a row of unfinished furniture. A good number of the pieces were lined up in the back of the shop, their broad surfaces rough and awaiting the fine finish for which he’d gained a reputation.
A small tremor of satisfaction shook him from deep within. And a sense of belonging settled over him like a warm, life-giving breeze after a cold, harsh winter. This was a part of him. This shop and the work done h
ere was not only a solid part of his past, but a promising part of his future.
Moving over to the workbench again, he used it as a guide as he slowly worked his way around the room, savoring the revelation. An overwhelming sense of contentment stole over him and he found himself eager to work with his hands again.
But when his fingertips came into contact with the large steel clamp bolted to the workbench, icy aversion sliced through him. He pulled back as though bitten.
Images of that day when he’d fallen from the ladder came hard and fast. Reaching to grab a board. Losing his balance. Falling backward. He’d tried to right himself. He’d groped for something to hang on to.
Trembling, he raised his hands to the cold, hard steel. Held his breath and slid his fingers over the unyielding shape. Bleak and dank to the touch, it seemed as though it mocked Joseph and his blindness. With a strong grip and an even stronger determination, he held the vise and outlined the shape, with its combination of sharp edges and rounded curves.
Standing here now, he knew that he couldn’t go back and change things. Instead, he removed his hands from the vise, breaking free from all the what-ifs and lingering regret. For the first time since his accident, he didn’t feel overwhelmed, or depressed, or even bitter…but resolved.
Although he could begin to embrace the idea that he could be a carpenter again, he would never let himself grow used to the idea of taking a wife.
Standing in the mercantile, his hands positioned nervously on the glass counter, Joseph jerked to attention at a familiar odor.
Julia. He’d know her cloying scent a mile away.
The sound of her footsteps lightly tapped across the scarred plank floor, her overwhelming perfume blocking out the various dry goods scents that wafted to his senses.
He clenched his hands into fists, steadying himself as he stood there waiting for Aaron to return from the storeroom with Mr. Heath. Almost a week had passed since Aaron had buried Ellie beside their baby boy. Aaron had spent every waking hour at the shop, working his hands raw, then sleeping on a cot near the stove in the shop. He’d submerged himself in his job, rather than seeking out others for comfort. Joseph had worked alongside him and considered it a small victory that today his brother had agreed to accompany him to the mercantile.
“Well, Joseph Drake! I didn’t dream I’d run into you today,” Julia announced, slipping up next to him.
He turned toward her, sure that by now she must know the outcome of his appointment. With Ellie’s funeral, there’d been enough friends and townsfolk around that she’d have heard.
“Didn’t plan on running into you either.” He shifted uncertainly, pulling his shoulders back.
When she perched her hand on his arm, her touch stirred up unease. “I see you have those awful wraps off. Quite frankly, I can’t imagine how you could stand them for so long. I’m absolutely certain I would’ve ripped them off, had it been me.”
He forced a congenial look her way. “Can’t say I miss them much.”
Julia trailed her fingers up his arm to his shoulder. “So…is it true?” she uttered conspiratorially. She leaned toward him, her powdery perfume nearly gagging him. “You’re…blind?”
He cringed when she whispered the last word as though it was socially impolite, offensive. He still had a hard time admitting the truth—that he was blind. In the presence of others, except his brothers, Sam and especially Katie, he sensed awkwardness. As though people didn’t quite know what to say or do. Well-meaning though they may be, sometimes people would treat him as though he was deaf, mute and blind.
If Katie was around, she’d almost always come to his rescue, though never by making it look as though she had to—a small detail for which he was thankful. She had a very tactful way of diverting attention.
He hadn’t asked for her to return to work with him again, though he surely felt the lack. Joseph was grateful for the two weeks he’d had with her, knowing that without them, he’d be fumbling around like a babe in nappies. He’d been trying to get by without help from his brothers, but some things he just couldn’t manage on his own.
Maybe when he was certain he could be around Katie without feeling the intense draw he still experienced, he’d ask her to come back. And if Sam would just get the ball rolling and propose marriage, then she really would be off-limits. Sam had commented that they’d had several in-depth conversations on her aunt and uncle’s front porch, and that he was just waiting for the “right” time to tell her of his intentions.
For now, Joseph had to fight his own desire for her.
Through the deaths of Ellie and the baby, Joseph had gotten a closer glimpse into Katie’s character. Her compassion, her strength and her gentle caring ways. She was everything and more of what he wanted in a wife. He cared deeply for her. But she could never know. And Sam could never find out.
When he felt Julia’s breath fan across his face, he jerked his attention back to her lingering question. “Yes. It’s true. I’m blind,” he answered, loud enough to make her uncomfortable.
Her tsk-tsk-tsk set the hairs of his neck on end. “That’s what I’d heard, though not from numerous sources. Just one very reliable source.” On a dramatic sigh, she patted his arm. “Of course, you can imagine my surprise. I scarcely believed it, since you were absolutely certain things would be fine. But now that I’m here, seeing with my very own eyes, I must concede that it is true.”
“Yep. It’s true,” he echoed, waving a hand in front of his face for effect. “Can’t see a thing. If you’ll excuse me…”
Slipping away from her, he tried to picture the layout of the mercantile, wanting to move as far away from her as possible. But uncertainty assaulted him and instead he scooted down to the end of the counter. A heated flush worked up his neck and his pulse pounded in his ears. Drumming his fingers against the glass, he willed his brother back. Now!
Although he tried to look nonchalant and unaffected by her presence, doubts as to whether he’d buttoned his shirt correctly suddenly assailed him, undermining what little composure he had. He resisted the urge to check, knowing for certain that she was still standing there. He could smell her, for goodness’s sake. And he was sure she was staring at him. He could easily imagine her curious gaze, taking his full measure as if he were a piece of meat that had spoiled.
He hated this!
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he pulled his shoulders back. He could loathe this kind of incident and let it get the best of him or get used to it, knowing that people would be curious whether he liked it or not.
And Julia was curious to a fault.
“So, did you want to ask anything else?” he began, drawing his mouth into a tight line as he raised his brows. “There must be some kind of burning question on your mind, like maybe if I’ve made a mess of a meal lately?”
After a stunned silence and imperious sniff, she muttered, “Uh…no.”
A self-satisfied grin stole across Joseph’s face. And even though Julia still stood there, no doubt glaring at him, he didn’t even try to wipe it off. It felt too good.
The sun had begun a leisurely descent in the western sky, sinking low and dragging with it the minute bit of light Joseph treasured. He sat on the porch steps and stared into the sky, letting the waning light of day wash over him before night crept in and the dim shadows turned dark again.
He’d worked in the shop with Aaron from sunup until now, and was exhausted from the level of concentration he’d maintained all day—every day. He wondered if, given time, things would grow easier. Every task seemed twice as hard and took twice as long. Even though they’d made surprising headway on the order, finishing it on time was still a long shot.
But he wasn’t about to go down without a fight and lose his shop because of some intimidating deadline. He’d do whatever it took to make sure the job was finished on time. And though Aaron probably didn’t care one bit whether he received anything extra, Joseph was eager to reward his brother heftily for the hard, labo
rious work he’d given to complete the job.
The distant cadence of footsteps over the boardwalk generated a long, wistful sigh from Joseph. What he wouldn’t give to walk to and from without relying on someone else. Since he’d joined Aaron in the shop over a week ago, his brother had picked him up in the morning or Joseph had coaxed Boone to let him tag along, bribing him with a handful of treats. If he kept that up, Boone would be so round that Katie’s initial impression that the dog was a black bear wouldn’t be so far off the mark.
The memory brought a low chuckle from Joseph. He didn’t think he’d ever forget that day, when she’d squeezed behind him, afraid she was going to be bear lunch.
For an instant he’d felt useful, normal. But the bandages he’d had on his head had been a stark reminder that things had changed for him, he just hadn’t known how much at that time.
In most every aspect of life he had made adaptations, from the way he prepared a meal, to something as small as making sure he’d pushed in a chair. Sooner rather than later, he’d have to start using the cane. That’s why he sat holding it now, determined that today would be the day. Hadn’t Katie said that it would make things easier for him? Affording him independence he was desperate to taste again? It had been almost two weeks since he’d returned from Denver, and though he’d come to some sort of resolution regarding his blindness, he still avoided the thing. It was as if using the cane as his guide would somehow solidify his fate.
He held the finely sanded object in his hands, feeling its length and narrow circumference. He tried to imagine himself with it, walking to the mercantile or to church or to the hotel restaurant. Humiliation rose hot and ready to sting.
Joseph ignored the caustic burn, forcing his focus to the cane. He set it on end at his feet and tapped the small tip on the hard ground again and again, determined to come to terms with this. He’d never imagined that a stick of wood, so insubstantial and harmless, could loom like some evil enemy.
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