by Megan Besing
Dear, sweet Mrs. Turnbull had given her another night out.
The production moved along, eliciting more laughs and more cheers than the first time. After a round of shouts for encores and one last group bow, the audience broke up to move to the refreshment table.
It was as if an artist had painted the same scene twice. This time, though, Josiah wove his way through the crowd. Was he trying to hide from her or find his way to her? He paused for a moment. Yes, he could go to her. The mask protected him.
Nora ran into the jester near the back of the room. Her heart trilled. “I’ve found you.”
“So it seems you have.”
“I’ve been searching all over town for you. No one knows who you are.”
“I like a little mystery to surround me.”
“Can we speak outside again? There’s someone here I’m hoping to avoid.”
He nodded, and she led the way through the door and down the steps. “You look lovely.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
With a touch to his forearm, she stopped him from turning to go inside. “No, thank you. I don’t have long before I have to leave. Let’s enjoy this moment together. You were very good again.”
“And I thank you.”
“But why all the mystery? Why not reveal your identity? At least to me. I promise not to tell anyone who you are.”
“That isn’t possible.” He fidgeted with the sash around his waist.
“Why not?”
“It just isn’t.”
At his strong words, she stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push, but it would be nice to know who you are.”
He grasped her hand. “No, I’m the one who must apologize. Forgive me for my rudeness, but I simply can’t permit it. I have my reasons. Can you trust me that this is for the best?”
She nodded. Was it his familiarity that brought out this trust in her? His soft, gentle manner with her? The mystery behind the man? Whatever it was, she did trust him. He hadn’t betrayed her to Wade and Maude. She wouldn’t betray him.
Cicadas chirped as darkness settled around them. Fireflies danced above the cotton fields, a show that rivaled the stars twinkling in the sky.
She couldn’t risk staying much longer. Maude would complain of something or another at any moment, and she and Wade would leave. But she couldn’t allow the jester to slip away again. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
He turned away from her, his focus on the lone tuft of grass beside him. “I wish there was a way. But there isn’t.”
“If we meet in the darkness, in private, we could speak without me having to know who you are.” Did she reek of desperation?
He caressed her cheek, and her breath hitched in her chest. She swallowed hard. Not even with Richard had she had such butterflies in her stomach, such whirring in her head.
“You are an incredible woman. But this is nothing more than a dream. A fantasy. A fairy tale for us to enjoy just for this evening.”
“I’ll never see you again?”
“Not unless the next play has a jester, no.”
“Are you J. M.? The man I was supposed to marry?”
“Don’t ask such questions of me.” He bent over.
He was going to kiss her. She pulled him close, and their lips touched. Sweet and soft then intense and fiery.
“Goodness, Wade, I don’t see what was so wonderful about the production. I just need to get home before this headache blinds me.”
Nora yanked away from the jester. Maude. She had to get out of here before Wade and Maude left the building. With her pulse pounding in her neck, she raced for the buggy, hopped in, and spurred Mrs. Turnbull’s horse to a gallop.
Tears blurred her vision.
She’d never had a chance to tell the jester good-bye.
Chapter 8
Nora flipped another batch of flapjacks onto a plate and turned the bacon in the frying pan. For two weeks, she’d hoped and prayed the jester might reconsider, that he might come calling for her.
He hadn’t.
And he wouldn’t. The truth hit her in the gut. Hard.
That dream, that fantasy, came crashing to earth like a kite that lost the wind.
But was the jester somehow connected to J. M.? The little niggling in the back of her mind pestered her day and night.
No one came to the table. Where were they all? Usually the salty fragrance of frying bacon brought the boys scrambling to the table long before it was ready. Come to think of it, Wade hadn’t gone to the barn this morning to do the chores.
After pulling the bacon from the pan, she went to the boys’ bedroom and opened the door. “Why aren’t you boys…”
Charles and William sat on one edge of the mattress, eyes wide, William sucking his thumb. James was stretched out, asleep on the other bed. Charles took the lead. “James is real sick, Miss Nora. He’s hot and moaning.”
She crossed to the little boy, his cheeks scarlet, burning with fever. “You boys go and have your breakfast. It’s on the table.”
Without waiting for them to scurry away, she spun and hustled to the room she shared with Alice. Instead of being happy that she got a few minutes to herself while Alice slept unusually late this morning, she should have been concerned. Sure enough, the sweet child lay curled in a ball, her cheeks as red as James’s. Nora dropped to the bed and cradled the little girl. “Oh, dear one, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were so sick.”
Alice peered at her with glassy eyes. “I’m thirsty.” She croaked out the words.
Nora kissed her fiery forehead. “You rest. I’ll get you a nice, cool glass of water.”
“Nora? Nora.” Maude’s weak call came from the bedroom she shared with Wade. Nora tucked the covers under Alice’s chin and went to her stepsister’s door. She knocked, soft at first then harder.
“Get in here.” Though weak, Maude’s words still carried impact.
Maude and Wade lay in bed, both with the same burning cheeks as the children, both with the same fevered eyes. “Not you, too. James and Alice are ill as well.”
“Then do something. I need water.” Maude fussed with the sheet.
“I’ll bring some for both of you.” Nora stepped out of the room and clicked the door shut.
In the kitchen, Charles and William sat at the table, staring at their plates. “Have you finished already?”
Charles shook his head. “We aren’t much hungry. It’s…”
“It’s what?”
A small bell tinkled from the back of the house, coming from the direction of Wade and Maude’s room. Wherever had she gotten that? “Try to eat a little. You don’t want to get sick, too. I have to take care of the rest of your family.” A doctor. That’s what they needed. But Charles and William were both too small to send out on their own. And she couldn’t leave the ones who were ill.
What was she going to do?
She inhaled and let the air out in small increments. First things first. “Charles, clear the table. William, find me every towel you can.” They hustled to their jobs while she went to the pump and filled a bucket with clean, clear water. As she worked, she scanned the horizon. A good number of mornings each week, Josiah appeared here for one reason or another. Today, she needed him. He could go for the doctor. Help her care for all these patients.
But the horizon remained empty.
Except for the sharecroppers in the fields. The Lord provided the answer right in front of her. She brought the bucket to the house, ladled out glasses of water, and distributed them. For ease of care, she moved Alice into the room with James and helped them both sip from the glass.
Once everyone had their fill, she returned the cups to the kitchen, but before she had a chance to get outside to speak to one of the sharecroppers, Maude’s bell rang.
Nora scurried to the back of the house.
“I need some chicken broth. And help to use the chamber pot.”
<
br /> “I was about to send someone for the doctor. Can you wait for a moment? And the broth, well, I haven’t even thought about starting that yet.”
“You would leave a poor, sick woman to take care of herself? What if I get dizzy when I get up and I fall?”
Wade waved her away. “Get Doc Stephenson. I’ll help Maude.”
“How unseemly. Nora, please.”
She finished the humiliating chore, checked on the children, and at last made her way across the fields to send someone out, when a horse and rider appeared on the horizon.
Josiah.
She ran to meet him. He reined to a halt and slid from the stallion’s back when they met. “What’s wrong?”
Tears pooled in her eyes. A few spilled down her cheeks. “Everything. Just everything.”
Josiah pulled her into his embrace. “Hush now. Things will be fine. I’ll take care of you.”
And for a brief moment, she leaned against him, his embrace a refuge.
One she never wanted to leave.
Josiah cradled Nora close to his chest as she relaxed into him. He breathed in her scent, a mix of rosewater and bacon. He kissed the top of her head.
For one sliver of time, he had everything he needed.
Then she stepped back. “Wade, Maude, James, and Alice are all ill. Some kind of fever, I don’t know what. I was about to send one of the sharecroppers for the doctor. And Maude keeps ringing a bell so I can’t get anything done. Thank goodness you’re here. What would I have done without you?”
“Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t know.” A few tendrils of hair escaped their pins and curled around her face. “Everything. Help.”
“I’ll send Joe for the doctor. Have the chores been done?”
She shook her head. “The poor cow.”
“One of the sharecroppers can take care of that.” He grabbed the horse’s reins, and together they made their way to the house. “What else do you need?”
“A chicken for broth.”
“Consider it done.”
She stared at him. Such a little bit of a thing, but with a strong constitution. Still, she shouldn’t have to go through this alone.
He butchered the chicken, plucked it, and brought it in to her. She had just put it in the pot when the doctor’s buggy pulled up to the door.
The middle-aged man with a head of gray hair entered. “Hear you have some sickness going around.”
“Four down as of right now.” Nora’s shoulders slumped.
Josiah rubbed her back. “Let me take you to see the children first.”
Nora followed them and sat beside the little ones as the doctor examined them, hemming and hawing. She held them close and whispered into their ears. As she did so, each ones’ features softened. No doubt she reassured them they would be fine.
While the doctor checked on Wade and Maude, Josiah and Nora went to the kitchen. She poured him a cup of coffee.
“You should be the one sitting and letting me bring you something.”
“I can’t be still until I know what’s going on. I should have noticed yesterday. The children were lethargic, and no one ate much supper. Silly me, I thought it was just the heat getting to everyone. And here they were coming down with an illness.”
She stood beside him, and he pulled her into the chair next to him. “You are running this household, taking care of the children, and catering to Maude’s every whim. How much more can you expect of yourself? You had no way of knowing they were getting sick.”
“But Maude complained of not feeling well.”
“Maude complains every day of the week.”
Nora flashed him a small smile. “That is true.”
“In my book, you’re a saint for putting up with her.”
“She’s my stepsister. And she gave me a home when I didn’t have one. I owe her a great deal.”
“Do you know what a wonderful woman you are?” Josiah held his breath at his brazen words. Why had he gone and said that?
A furious blush stained her cheeks, and not from fever. Could it be that she cared just a little for him?
But no, it could never be.
The doctor emerged from the sickroom. “Mighty ill bunch you have there. Ague, most likely. I’ll leave you some willow bark powder to mix into tea for them. I’m smelling chicken broth, which is good. Make sure they get plenty to drink. And Josiah, I noticed you limping. Is your stump giving you trouble?”
Nora gazed at him, her mouth open.
Why did the doctor have to say anything? Josiah squared his shoulders. “It’s fine.”
“Good luck to you, then.” With that, the doctor breezed out of the house and left in a cloud of dust.
Nora refilled his coffee. “What did he mean by your stump?” She glanced at his legs.
“Chancellorsville cost me my right leg.” If he closed his eyes, the scene played in front of him, the acrid odor of gunpowder, the heat of the ball penetrating his shin, the screams of dying men.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t like people to know. I don’t want pity. Not yours, not anyone’s. And now is not the time to talk about it. We have a sick family to care for.”
“You’re going to stay and help me? Can you do it?”
He ground his teeth together. She should never have found out. Now, even this connection he had with her was ruined.
Chapter 9
Josiah dropped a load of firewood into the box beside the stove, his stomach growling at the aroma of chicken and onions. Nora came down the hall, her steps slow, her shoulders slumped. All day, she’d been running between the two sickrooms and the kitchen.
He pulled out a chair at the table and gestured to it. “Sit down before you fall over sick.”
“I can’t. Maude needs—”
“At this point, I don’t care what Maude needs. What I care about is what you need. Which is time off your feet and a good, strong cup of coffee.”
She moved in the direction of the stove until he grabbed her and steered her toward the chair. “I can get it for you. Sit. Now.”
“You’re almost as demanding as Maude.” In between the slow blinks of her eyes, a small light twinkled. His heart flipped.
He poured the coffee and set the cup in front of her. “How you manage to keep your sense of humor is beyond me.”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll probably cry.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” From the larder, he pulled the half-eaten apple pie he’d spied earlier. Once he’d cut slices for himself and Nora, he sat beside her at the table. She clasped her delicate hands together. “You’re done in.” But still beautiful.
“I’m afraid it will be a long night.”
“I’ll lend you a hand.”
“Oh, but you can’t.”
“I’m every bit as capable as anyone else.” His words came out more of a growl than anything.
She sat ramrod straight, every inch the genteel Southern lady. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No one ever does. But they always do. That’s the way it works. That’s why I never wanted you to find out.” His fork clanked to his plate. He shot upright, knocking the chair over, and marched out the door, slamming it behind him.
He’d made it down the porch steps when the door squeaked open behind him. “Josiah, wait.”
He continued stomping away from her.
“Please, stop and listen to me.”
He spun around to face her. “What is it? What do you have to tell me that I haven’t heard a thousand times before? This is why I left Virginia and came to Texas. To get a fresh start, away from everyone who knew me. Away from the pitying stares, the platitudes that almost drove me out of my mind.”
“You’re upset about nothing. I didn’t mean—”
The ringing of Maude’s little bell drifted through the open bedroom window.
“Go to her.” He spit out the words.
“No. Not until I tell you what I
need to say.”
His heart thumped against his rib cage. What did she have to tell him? Did he want to hear what she had to say? No. He couldn’t stand the pity anymore. He wasn’t half a man. But no one understood that. “I don’t want your sugary words.” He turned back for the barn.
Light footsteps tapped behind him. The bell dinged once more. “Nora? Nora?” Maude’s weak voice drifted through the open window.
Without turning, Josiah waved Nora away. “Go take care of her.”
But the footsteps behind him continued. She wasn’t going to give up.
He entered the barn, his eyes needing a moment to adjust to the dim interior. “Josiah.”
He gulped. Sooner or later, he had to face her. It might as well be sooner. Get it over with. Then get over her. “What?”
She reached him, took hold of him by his forearm, and spun him so he had to look at her. At her beautiful, oval face, her green eyes shimmering with tears, several tendrils of chestnut hair curling about her flushed face. When the pain sliced through his chest, he fought to remain upright.
If only she could be his. If only she could see past his impediment.
“Please, listen to me.” She breathed hard after her sprint.
“You’ve said enough.”
“You haven’t listened enough. I wasn’t finished.”
“Then by all means, say what you have to say and leave me in peace.”
“Your leg means nothing to me. It doesn’t define who you are or what you can do. I won’t stop being your friend because of it.”
His friend. And nothing more. Because she had never seen him without it. When it came off, that’s when horror set in.
“But you asked me if I could do it. Now, knowing what you know, you’re afraid I can’t be of help to you. That you’ll end up having to take care of me, too.”
“Only if you get sick. Maybe my words didn’t come out right. I meant to ask if you could take time away from your plantation and crops and animals to be here.”
He rubbed his sweaty forehead. Was she sincere? Did she mean what she said, or was she only trying to get herself out of an awkward situation?