“I think water will suffice,” he replied. Even with the wind blowing through the open window and cooling the room, he decided water would be best. As she turned to leave, he called out, “Thank you, Mrs. Larson. For everything.”
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “You’re welcome.”
After she left the parlor, he turned his attention to the music book and flipped through it. Few things soothed his soul like music, and it’d felt wonderful to play this fine instrument yesterday evening. For the moment, he was allowed to lose himself in the music. He found a song that reminded him of Ireland since he played it so often while he lived there.
Setting the book in front of him, he scanned the notes on the music sheet before he ran his fingers over the keys. The music swelled around him. He closed his eyes, imagining—just for one moment—he was back on his uncle’s estate. He’d played this song often after he left America. It reminded him of her—Ann Statesman—at the time. Now it reminded him of his uncle and the friendship he’d developed with him before his death.
His uncle understood him in ways no one else did. He realized how much music meant to him and allowed him to play whenever he wanted, even in the lonely hours of the night when the heartache did its worst. His uncle often said he could feel Kent’s emotions when he played, that the way he played told much more than words ever could. And that morning, Rose had said the same thing.
He stopped playing and took a deep breath. He didn’t like that Rose could read him so well. It unnerved him. Why couldn’t she be like Harriett? Harriett didn’t overstep her bounds. She was quiet and unassuming, patient and kind. Best of all, she gave him all the privacy he desired. But not Rose. Rose came unashamedly at him, her intentions so obvious that it’d take a dullard to miss them. Why did she have to keep pursuing him? Was there nothing he could do to dissuade her?
Forcing her out of his mind, he picked up where he left off. The music once again flowed around him with its soothing power. He was aware that Rose lingered just on the edge of his awareness. Try as he might, he couldn’t fully get her out of his mind. Why did she have to haunt him so?
A noise from behind him notified him that someone had stepped into the room. He slammed the keys and glanced over his shoulder, ready to tell Rose to leave him alone, but when he saw Eli jerk, he immediately calmed. “I’m sorry,” he told the boy, embarrassed he’d overreacted. “I didn’t realize you were standing there.” And that was true. He’d thought it was Rose. Clearing his throat, he smiled, hoping to ease the boy’s discomfort. “Was there something you needed?”
“Well, um, I wondered,” he hesitated and shifted from one foot to the other, “if you’d teach me a song?”
“Sure.” He scooted over, careful not to aggravate his ribs. “Sit down.”
A big smile crossed his face as he hurried over to sit beside him.
Grinning at the boy’s enthusiasm, he asked, “What song do you want to learn?”
“I don’t know. What do you think I should learn?”
After a moment, he said, “I suppose it depends on what you already know. What do you currently play that you’re good at?”
“I can do the scale.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
He studied the boy. “You probably want to play one of the songs I did last night, don’t you?” When Eli nodded in excitement, he offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid you have to start with a foundation before you can move up to complicated songs. Since you only know the scale, we’ll start with a song that is simple.”
Eli’s smile faltered.
“I know it’s disappointing, but you can’t get to where I am if you don’t master the basics.” He flipped through the book and selected a song that would be suitable for him. “I should warn you that you won’t get to where I am overnight. This is going to take time and dedication. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with playing from time to time for fun, but you won’t be as good as I am if you’re not serious about it.”
“I want to be as good as you.”
He set the book down and motioned to the page with the music on it. “Then we better get started.”
***
Rose spent all afternoon in the kitchen with Harriett, carefully following her instructions as she cooked the beef stew. Soon, it would be time for everyone to eat.
“I can’t wait for Kent to taste this,” she told her sister as she stirred the stew which she’d just taken off the cookstove. “It smells wonderful! Thank you for the recipe.”
“You’re welcome, but don’t assume Kent will take one bite of it and fall madly in love with you.”
Her cheeks grew warm. “Who said I expected such a thing?” Harriett shot her a pointed look and she sighed. “Alright. You know me too well, but it was Ma’s cooking that made Pa fall in love with her.”
“It was more than her cooking. It was also her sweet and gentle spirit. He says she has the biggest heart of anyone he knows.”
“And he loves her more today than the day they married.” Sighing wistfully, she clasped her hands together and imagined that Kent might one day say that about her. “Isn’t that romantic? And she was a mail-order bride, too. What do you think the chances are that love can form from something as simple as two strangers meeting and deciding to get married?”
“Well, if you think about it, everyone who gets married have to meet each other at some point, so they were strangers to begin with.”
“You know what I mean. She came off the train and he saw her being rejected by the man she came to marry. He took a moment to talk to her and knew she was the one for him. It’s just like that with Kent, Harriett. When Pa brought him here and I talked to him, I just knew he was meant for me. It took Pa all of a couple minutes to figure it out, so why is it so hard to believe that the same would be true for me, that I wouldn’t need much time to know who I’m meant to be with?”
Turning from the biscuits she was making, Harriett wiped her hands on the apron and shook her head. “There’s one problem with your analogy.”
“Oh?”
“Ma said she fell in love with Pa right away. Kent can’t say the same about you.”
Groaning, her shoulders slumped. “Why must you make sense?”
“I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to discourage you.”
“No, you didn’t discourage me. It’s just that I can’t understand why Kent is stupid enough to not know a good thing when he sees it.”
Her lips curled up into a smile and she laughed. In a low voice, she admonished, “That’s not nice.”
“I’m not trying to be mean. I’m stating a fact. He and I are meant to be together, but he refuses to acknowledge it. In my opinion, that’s not a very intelligent thing for him to do, though I do adore him so.”
“Even though I still think it’s nice of you to suggest he’s lacking wisdom, I hope for your sake you’re right. I’d hate to see you with a broken heart.”
“I won’t be broken hearted. Once he realizes the truth, he’ll make me his bride.”
Harriett turned back to the biscuits and shook her head. “I suppose in time we’ll find out which one of you is ‘lacking intelligence’, as you put it.”
Undaunted by her sister’s pessimism, Rose added the last of the salt to the stew.
Chapter Nine
Once Mr. Larson said grace at the dining room table, Kent picked up his spoon and dipped it into the stew.
“I heard Eli played a song today,” Mr. Larson told Kent as he buttered his biscuit.
“I haven’t had many chances to practice,” Eli inserted.
“You did fine,” Kent assured Eli, recalling how uncertain the youth had been while he attempted the simple song on the piano. “It takes time and hard work to get to where you want to be. I wasn’t born playing the way I do now.”
“That can be said about anything,” Mr. Larson replied. “And to be fair, Eli, I’ve kept you busy out in the fields. It’s not like you had a l
ot of time to play the piano. You’ll have more time this winter.”
“Will you be here to give me more lessons?” Eli asked Kent, his wide eyes hopeful.
Lifting his spoon halfway to his mouth, Kent glanced around the table. He ignored the confident look on Rose’s face. “I’m afraid not, Eli. I need to head out to California as soon as my ribs heal.”
Mr. Larson smiled at his son. “You’re a smart boy. You’ll be able to teach yourself.” Glancing at Kent, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Much better, sir. Thanks for asking,” Kent replied, touched by the older man’s concern.
Many times since Kent arrived here, he wished his father had been like Mr. Larson. Mr. Larson was the kind of man who would never force his son to do anything he didn’t want, one who could accept his son’s path in life, especially when it came to choosing who he’d marry.
Kent put the spoon in his mouth and paused. The stew had looked good. It’d even smelled appealing. But it tasted awful. He couldn’t understand it. Up to now, all the meals had been among the best he’d ever had.
Adam gagged on his spoonful of stew and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Harriett, what’s going on? Did a mouse die in here?”
“Adam!” Mrs. Larson admonished, her eyes warning him to be polite.
“Sorry, Ma, but this isn’t anything like the stew Harriett makes,” Adam replied with a bewildered shrug.
“That’s because she didn’t make it,” Rose said, lifting her chin in the air and crossing her arms. “I did.”
“Ugg. That explains it.” Eli shoved his bowl away. “I’m sorry, Ma, but I won’t eat it.”
“Me neither,” Adam agreed. “If you want to send us to bed without supper, then we’ll accept our punishment, but we don’t want to get sick like we did last time by forcing this garbage down our throats.”
At the mention of them getting sick from Rose’s cooking, Kent brought his napkin from his lap and spit the stew into it. As much as he hated to criticize a lady’s cooking, he wasn’t going to risk a stomachache later by being polite.
“I was only trying to help,” Rose insisted, her cheeks pink.
Despite his best intention to not let anything she said or did affect him, Kent felt a slight twinge of compassion on her behalf. From the way her face fell, he knew she’d done her best. And apparently, cooking wasn’t one of her talents.
Mr. Larson turned his gaze to Adam and Eli. “Apologize to your sister then you may go and clean out the stalls.”
Kent knew Mr. Larson intended to punish them by making them clean out the stalls, but the relieved expressions on her brothers’ faces told him they would much rather do that and go hungry for the night if it meant they didn’t have to eat the stew. He knew he was going to regret it, but he knew he’d have to eat the stew in front of him. He couldn’t stand the sad look on her face. Every time he’d seen her, she’d been cheerful. Annoying perhaps, but cheerful all the same. And God help him but he couldn’t stand to see a lady cry.
Taking a deep breath, he dipped his spoon into the bowl as her brothers hurried out of the room. He focused on how relieved he’d feel after he was in California and forced himself to eat the stew, stopping once in a while to eat the biscuits and mashed potatoes to help him stomach it. The others brave enough to eat the stew did so at a slow and methodical pace, seeming to follow his example as they also switched between the stew and the other foods on the table. By the time Harriett set down her rhubarb pie, there seemed to be a silent agreement that they were all relieved the worst was over.
Kent fully expected to get sick later that night, but he didn’t. He did have trouble sleeping, however. While Adam and Eli slept, content as could be despite their growling stomachs, Kent laid on his back, hands folded over his chest. The moonlight cast shadows from the nearby tree across the ceiling. At first, he just watched the way the shadows danced, almost hypnotized by the display.
But then the shadows soon formed images, images he tried to will away but images that persisted. There was a wine glass, a gun, a train, a ship, a carriage, a mansion, a piano, a grave. He swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his eyes, not bothering to stop the tear that trickled down his cheek. His uncle’s death had prompted him to return to America. Without his uncle, his life held no meaning because with his uncle’s death, he lost the only person who loved him, the only person who cared enough about him to see who he was instead of what he could do for him. His uncle gave him a place to belong, a reason to keep going. And now he had no purpose. All he could do was wait until he could pass on into the next life and see his uncle again.
***
Rose got up from her bed and walked over to her sister whose eyes were closed. “Are you asleep?” she whispered. Her sister didn’t respond, so she gently shook her arm. “Harriett?” she asked in a louder voice.
Harriett mumbled and rolled over.
Disappointed, Rose decided not to bother her sister anymore and went outside so she could watch the stars. There was no point in staying in bed if she couldn’t sleep. After she retrieved her robe, she slipped it on and tightened the strings before she left the bedroom. The house was still, making her footsteps sound loud as she tiptoed down the stairs. She headed for the front door and stepped onto the porch, surprised to see her father resting in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the railing.
He glanced in her direction. “Rose, what are you doing up?”
She shrugged and sat in the chair next to him. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“You still upset about supper?”
The reminder made her face grow hot. “I followed Harriett’s directions perfectly. The stew tastes good when she makes it. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
He chuckled. “Well, you do know how to make memorable meals.”
“That’s not a good thing, Pa.”
“I was only jesting. Try not to let the stew bother you. It really wasn’t that bad. Besides, there are some things you make well.”
“It’s not hard to make a sandwich or fry up some eggs. Even Eli could do that.”
After a moment, he directed his tender gaze toward her. “There’s more to a woman than how she cooks. There’s also her kindness, integrity, and generosity. A man can forgive a woman’s simple meals if she has a good heart.”
She swallowed and studied her hands which were folded in her lap. “You can tell I like Kent?”
“I think everyone knows how you feel about him.”
While she had made her intentions known to Kent and revealed her feelings about him to her sister, she didn’t realize her father had picked up on them.
“Rose, the only person you can be is yourself,” her pa softly said. “You’re not Harriett, and you shouldn’t try to be. The kind of young man who’ll want Harriett isn’t the same type who’ll want you.”
“You think Kent prefers Harriett?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You think he prefers me?” she pressed, hoping he’d say yes.
He offered her a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know. He guards his feelings. There’s no telling what he’s thinking, nor is it our business to know.”
“He feels alone. Even when he’s in a room full of people, he feels alone.”
“He told you this?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t have to. I just know by the way he plays music. The only time he feels at peace is when he’s playing the piano.”
Her pa hesitated to answer and finally sighed. “Honey, I know you mean well. You’ve always been more perceptive about people than your brothers and sisters. But there’s a reason Kent hasn’t mentioned his past, and we need to honor that. Try not to push him to tell you things he’s not comfortable talking about, alright?”
“I won’t.”
Besides, it wasn’t his past she was interested in. She wanted to be in his future, to make a life with him as his wife and have his children. Whatever happened in his past didn’t have to affect his future. She
only hoped he understood that. She glanced at her pa who was staring at the flat land surrounding their house. The corn was growing nicely and if the weather cooperated, they’d have a good crop that year.
“Pa?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
“Do you like Kent?”
“Yes,” he replied. “He’s a nice young man who has respect for others.”
“So you wouldn’t mind having him as a son-in-law?”
“Rose, there are some things you can’t, and shouldn’t, try to control. If things are meant to be, they’ll work out. If not, then they won’t. Don’t force it and don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. Alright?”
“Alright.”
He stood up and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t stay up too long. I’d like your help washing the horses tomorrow.”
“I’ll go back to bed soon,” she promised.
After he went into the house, she turned her attention to the sky, watching the stars as they twinkled. She loved watching them. They were incredibly romantic, and she couldn’t help but think of the many times Kent had looked up at the sky, maybe even on the same nights she had in the past. Perhaps there were even nights he sat under the stars and wondered if someone would ever come along who would love him.
Biting her lower lip, she tried to figure out her best course of action. She wasn’t a great cook like Harriett, so there was no sense in winning Kent over by tasty meals. If that was all it took to win him, then he’d already be in love with Harriett anyway. But since he wasn’t, it couldn’t be that important to him. She’s tried tending to him, helping him walk and reading to him, but he wasn’t the type who wanted to be pampered.
All she could do was what her father suggested: just be herself. She needed to get him to spend enough time with her so he could get to know her better. The question was how was she going to put him in a situation where he had to spend time with her? It had to be a situation where he could relax and enjoy her company.
Catching Kent Page 7