He stared into her eyes, and as he did, something seemed to change in his face. He slipped his hand from hers and reached for his coffee cup, lifting it to take a sip. He watched her over the rim of the cup, and for a moment, Grace held her breath. She knew he was too smart to be fooled by feminine tricks, so she forced herself to think more about what she had just said to him, which did make sense. Why did he have to be so noble? If he needed money for his farm, and he obviously did, why wasn’t he willing to take the money she had offered him?
“I didn’t realize you were thinking of this in such a businesslike manner,” he said.
Grace could hear a difference in his tone of voice, and she thought she knew what that meant. But she sensed that she had hit on the right approach, one that would work, although she wasn’t sure she was going to like the ultimate result of her decision to turn this into a business deal.
“How else can I think of it?” she asked, looking him squarely in the eye. “And why are you willing to be so noble? You promised my mother and me that you would take me all the way to…” She looked around to make sure other customers could not hear their conversation. “All the way to our destination to accomplish our mission. I understood, and she did, too, that you would get me safely back to Riverwood.”
She glanced around and lowered her voice. “As for the Bartons, they are friends of ours.” She looked back at Jonathan. “But they’re even closer friends with the Brittons.”
He leaned forward. “So are you saying that because of that friendship, you don’t want them knowing your business?”
Grace nodded and made a point of glancing around the hotel coffee shop again. “Mr. Barton is much more shrewd than his wife. He’s going to have a lot of questions about how I could obtain the horses and wagon and all the supplies we’ve bought.”
“I can always say that I’m helping your family. For all they know, I could have advanced you money, could have brought money from your father. In a sense, that is exactly what has taken place.”
As Grace listened, she studied his face and watched his eyes. Had he seen through her plan, or was he just testing her? Or was he merely pointing out a reasonable way to explain her money?
She nodded, studying her hands. “Yes, we could say that.”
He waited for her to say more. When she did not, he touched her hand again. “The truth is, you feel that I am abandoning you, don’t you, Grace?”
Her eyes shot back to him. “Yes, I do.”
He sighed and shook his head wearily. “Grace, I wish there were an easy answer to this, but there isn’t. I’ve been through four years of looking at the hard side of life, and I guess maybe I’ve become a bit cynical.” He looked at her again. “I care for you. You know I do,” he said softly. “But what chance do we have? Do you honestly think I can turn my back on my family and never go back?”
She shook her head quickly and found that she couldn’t fight the tears in her eyes. “No, Jonathan, I would never want you to turn your back on your family, and of course I want you to go back. I only wish I could go with you,” she said, speaking the words before she even thought about them.
She was listening to her heart again, and this time her heart had spoken instead of her mind.
“You can,” he said.
She blinked back the tears, touching her eyes with the corner of her lace handkerchief as he spoke the words. Then as the impact of what he had just said registered in her mind, she looked at him in surprise.
“You can go back with me,” he repeated. “We haven’t thought of that as a solution, but maybe it is.”
She stared at him, her eyes still bleary from the tears. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and looked nervously around the room. “I’m not sure what I mean,” he said.
As they sat in silence, trying to sort out their feelings, the thick drawl of southern voices flowed all around them, and for the first time, even Grace noticed the difference in the speech patterns. She had spent so much time listening to Jonathan the past week that to her the southern voices stood out.
Automatically, she glanced around her at the flow of people coming and going in the coffee shop. If they were sitting in a coffee shop in Louisville, the people would be listening to her voice and thinking she sounded different. And it would go further than that, she thought, as her eyes followed the figures of the various people, noticing how the contrast in their lives was paralleled in their clothing.
The better-dressed people she had seen were not Southerners but people like the couple they had met who had bought the plantation at Gordo. They were outsiders who had come in to buy up southern land. They were not her people. How could she, even for a minute, consider leaving Riverwood?
She would be a traitor to the South and to her own family to leave behind all that she was and who she was just to follow Jonathan back to Louisville.
“Jonathan, more people from…other areas…are coming to the South, whereas I don’t believe you will find many of us in your area, buying land, or making friends with bankers and expanding their territory. Don’t you see? It would be easier for you to stay here than for me to go there.”
As she asked the question, she heard the conviction in her voice start to fade. Watching his face, she knew she had said the wrong thing, and she regretted it.
“Grace, I’m not staying here,” he said. While he spoke in a quiet, even gentle tone of voice, Grace could not mistake the firmness in his voice. She knew he meant what he said.
“Then I guess we have nothing else to talk about.”
What else could they say or do? They were both right. He couldn’t live in Alabama; she couldn’t live in Kentucky. Just as the war had dictated the course of events for their lives, the outcome of that conflict was changing the course of her life in ways she had not even begun to comprehend.
She started to get up from the chair, and Jonathan stood as well. She knew he was watching her closely, and she avoided his eyes for a moment as she waged a battle with her conscience. She sighed. She had lost the battle to hang onto him, if only for another week or two. She had almost resigned herself to the fact that she would become an old maid and grow old and die at Riverwood alone. She had been living in a dream world to think that would change.
“Grace, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jonathan said, as he came around the table to stand beside her. “That’s the last thing in the world I want to do.”
She nodded as she looked up into his eyes. “I know, and I believe you,” she said, relieved not to be trying to be so businesslike or playing any silly games with him.
“It’s time to go meet the Bartons. What do you want to tell them?”
She took a deep breath. Again, she reached deep in her soul for the strength that always seemed to reside there when she really needed it. She prayed she could be strong now, for saying good-bye to Jonathan Parker would be the most difficult thing she had ever done.
“I’ll go with them,” she said, as she began to walk toward the door. “And you’re free to go on to Kentucky.”
Chapter 11
Grace and Jonathan soon reached the yellow frame house with gingerbread trim. It was a cozy two-story home, and the first floor had been converted to a tea room to support the small family who now resided on the upper floor.
The front parlors held four linen-covered tables surrounded by cushioned, straight-backed chairs in each room, accommodating a total of thirty-two guests. A love seat and coffee table provided a space for two people, but a couple with a little girl had nestled into the love seat and ordered sandwiches and tea.
All the tables were taken, but Grace quickly spotted Mrs. Barton waving from a table where she and her husband were seated with two extra chairs reserved for Grace and Jonathan.
They walked over to the table, and Mr. Barton stood up to greet them. Mrs. Barton was smiling in her reassuring way that always put Grace at ease.
Mr. Barton was a small man with a sturdy build and a friendly round f
ace and dark hair. His dark eyes were fixed on Jonathan with a look of interest as he extended his hand. After the introductions were made and Grace and Jonathan had taken their seats, Mr. Barton opened the conversation.
“My wife has been telling me how kind you’ve been to Grace and Elizabeth,” he said. “And Fred…” He faltered on the word and looked down for a moment. “Fred was one of the finest men in the county,” he continued, looking at Grace. “His family meant the world to him. He and I were together right here in Tuscaloosa when we read the list of casualties at the town hall and saw Freddy’s name.”
He shook his head and looked at his wife, as though needing her strength. She smiled sadly at him and reached out to pat his hand. “Mildred and I lost two babies and were grateful for our two daughters later in life. I couldn’t begin to imagine the tragedy Fred felt that day when he saw his only son had lost his life.”
Grace looked at Jonathan and saw that he appeared to be mesmerized by Mr. Barton and the sad story he was relating.
Mr. Barton looked at his wife and said nothing for a moment.
Mrs. Barton turned to Grace. “Dear, I can only say that as horrible as it has been for your parents to lose Freddy, it must be almost unbearable for Elizabeth to know that Fred isn’t coming back to her.”
She turned and looked at Jonathan. “How good of you to be so loyal to Fred and now to his family. You must be a very special man,” she said, giving him the full radiance of her smile.
Jonathan seemed to have lost his voice for a moment. He merely gave her a sad smile in return, then looked across at Grace.
“It has been my honor and privilege to know Mr. Cunningham and then his wife. And Grace. I only wish I could do more for them.”
As she and Jonathan looked at one another, Mr. Barton resumed the conversation. “And now Mildred tells me you are going on to Kentucky.”
Jonathan slowly turned his attention to the Bartons. “I will be going back to Kentucky soon,” he said. “But after talking with Grace, I have decided to see her safely back to Riverwood and say good-bye to her mother.”
Grace gasped so loudly that she was certain the Bartons had heard. For a moment, no one said anything, but Mrs. Barton tactfully responded. “Well, I’m relieved to hear you say that. I must confess, I was worried that Grace would tire of our visiting relatives, but we had already promised.”
“I took the liberty of checking on the condition of the river myself,” Mr. Barton said. “I spoke with some people who had just come into town last night, and they confirmed what Mr. Sawyers told you. I think he is correct in the route he suggested. Furthermore, I don’t believe you’ll have a long wait, or rather I hope you won’t. Since this is a Tuesday, it’s not likely to be as crowded on the ferry as it would be if it were the weekend.”
Jonathan nodded in agreement, and Grace sneaked another glance in his direction.
“That’s good to hear, sir. We’re purchasing some groceries, then we should get on our way. Do you mind if we don’t stay for lunch?” Jonathan asked, directing the question more to Mrs. Barton.
“Of course not. In fact, I think you’re wise to be on your way.”
Mr. Barton stood again as Jonathan came around to assist Grace from her chair.
“Let me again express my appreciation to you, young man. And when I get back next week, if you’re still in our parts, we insist on you two coming for dinner.” He looked at Grace. “If Elizabeth is up to a visit, we would love to see her as well.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barton.”
She leaned over to hug him, then she bent down to hug Mrs. Barton. She didn’t know how to thank them for being so kind and gracious to her and of course to Jonathan. They had innocently worked the miracle that she had been unable to attain. Jonathan would stay awhile longer.
As they said good-bye again and walked out of the tea room, Grace looked up at Jonathan. “You don’t have to take me back. I don’t want anyone to make you feel that you do. And I won’t do that to you again,” she said, her voice trembling.
She still felt bad about trying to talk him into staying by using money as an argument, and yet she meant to give him the money she had originally promised. She fully intended to carry out her plan of delaying her payment to Mr. Britton at the bank in the interest of getting the farm up and going again.
“Oh Grace, I can’t just leave you like this,” he said, sighing. “You were right. Another week isn’t going to make that much difference, after all. And I realize now that I would always feel that I hadn’t finished what I had promised your father I would do if I didn’t see for myself that you and your mother were going to be okay when I leave.”
“When I leave.” The words drummed in her mind on the way back to the store to get more food. Still, she had decided to be more reasonable about everything. At least she would have Jonathan with her for another week, and he was right. They were still in desperate need of his help. For the moment, she was afraid to trust anyone but Jonathan.
She slipped her hand in his. “Thank you, Jonathan.”
After buying more supplies, they climbed up on the wagon and headed west. True to Mr. Sawyer’s prediction, the road was well traveled, although not overly crowded with people. At least there had been enough traffic to keep the road maintained, and occasionally people waved to them or even offered water when they stopped to rest.
It was almost dark when at last Jonathan and Grace reached the tent settlement that had sprung up around the ferry. Their hopes for a short wait before crossing on the ferry were quickly dashed. Wagons were lined up, backed up, and spread around a grove of oaks where people had set up rough campsites while they waited.
“Oh no,” Jonathan moaned as he pushed back his hat and looked around the group.
Grace felt a knot of apprehension upon seeing the crowd, and she wondered if they had made a mistake.
They pulled the wagon into the grove of oaks and got out to see to the horses tied on to the rear of the wagon. Jonathan hesitated, and when Grace glanced from his face to the crowd, she saw the reason.
Unlike the agreeable Bartons, who had given them such optimism, the people who waited to catch the ferry were a different breed. They had worn-out faces, wore old work clothes, looked tired, and spoke in coarse voices using rough language. Two men were on the brink of a fight not far from the wagon, and Grace quickly walked away upon hearing the names and insults flying back and forth.
The entire scene brought to mind their encounter with Sonny, and a chill ran over her even though the heat was miserable, and her perspiration-soaked clothes were sticking to her in places.
She turned to Jonathan. “Let’s go.”
He scanned the crowd, saying nothing, his hands in his pockets. Even though he was dressed in riding clothes, he stood out in the crowd as a gentleman, and Grace was terrified of what might happen if someone drew them into conversation. Some of these characters would welcome a chance to vent their frustration on a Yankee, and she and Jonathan were practically defenseless against such a crowd.
Jonathan looked down at her and shook his head. “We’ll stay,” he said in a low voice. He took her arm, and they walked quietly away from the disgruntled people to a secluded stretch of meadow.
“I counted the people waiting, and it looks like we could board the ferry by noon tomorrow, once we get in line. I think our best bet is to stay to ourselves, bed down early, then hope the line moves fast in the morning.”
Grace frowned, glancing back at the array of slab-ribbed mules, wagons with tattered canvas, and a few tired-looking horses. “Jonathan, I don’t feel good about this. I think we should leave.”
“Grace, look at the sky. It’ll be dark before we travel two miles. And I’d rather take our chances camped here with people than on our own back there on the road. At least we can see who’s around us here, and who knows? Maybe you can make friends with some of the women.”
Grace thought about his words and studied the crowd once more, wondering who would want
to be friends with her. “Jonathan, I’m not too tired to ride back to Tuscaloosa if you’re willing.”
He sighed. “That isn’t safe or sensible. I think the smartest thing to do is stay put and keep to ourselves.”
“Then promise me something,” she said, placing her hands on his chest and looking up into his eyes.
“What’s that?” The look of worry slipped away from his face as he gathered her hands in his and searched her face.
“Promise me that we will stay to ourselves. I don’t want another fight like the one with Sonny.”
He chuckled, glancing back at the group. “Neither do I. There isn’t a sheriff here to come to our rescue. Somehow I don’t think I’d win this fight.”
Grace nodded. “I’m going to say that you’re sick. That way you can stay apart from the group.”
“If they think I’m sick, I imagine they’ll want to stay away from me. But don’t put yourself in a position that requires me to come to your defense.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Grace was so relieved that she smiled. And when she remembered what he had said about coming to her defense, she knew he meant it.
She tiptoed up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Jonathan Parker,” she said, then hurried off before he could respond.
It was the first time she had told him how she felt, but she no longer wished to keep her feelings to herself. She wanted him to know the truth.
As she sauntered back to the group, Grace began to look them over carefully. To her relief, the two rude men had been separated, and one was riding off on his horse.
“And don’t come back,” another man yelled after him.
She frowned, watching the man disappear in a cloud of dust over the road they had just traveled. Soon the men had dispersed in different directions. Two walked back to the wagons parked nearest to her own.
She stopped at her wagon and sorted through her purchases. She found the peppermint sticks she had purchased to take home and decided it was time to do some trading: candy for friendship. Pushing a smile onto her weary face, she set out for the nearest wagon.
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