by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris
“You’re just a baby!”
“No, I’m a woman,” she said stiffly.
“And I’m an old bachelor nearing thirty. What do you think of that?”
What did she think of that? She’d only kept a record of his birthday every year since she’d been old enough to mark the date on the calendar. “Thirty’s not old.”
He grunted as if not pleased with her response. “So, you live with your family?”
“Yes.”
“And what do they think of their daughter walking across town every day to tend to a blind recluse?”
“Everyone I’ve told supports me.”
“Everyone you’ve told?” His brow lifted.
“Yes.” She fidgeted again, trying not to tell a lie, though the deceit of her ruse made it difficult.
“In other words, your parents don’t know.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Do they?”
“Does it matter? I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I don’t need their permission. And besides, I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“You sure about that? I think maybe you’re hiding something.”
His words came laced with suspicion and prickled at her conscience.
“Seriously? You think I’m hiding some terrible dark secret? That I have a skeleton in my closet?” She tried to make her voice sound light and confused, humorous even, but it came out strained. “Why? What have I ever done to make you feel that way?”
But as she said the false words, they only made her feel worse. This was all wrong. Hannah was right. Thea was right. One lie begat another, and she was tired of always needing to cover her tracks. She must confess, hope he would forgive her, and pray he wouldn’t shut her out of his life. She opened her mouth to try to find the right words to explain, but his fingers tentatively touched her lips before she could.
“No. Don’t. You’re right. You’ve been nothing but helpful, even when I was a real jerk, and I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer any more questions. And you sure shouldn’t have to defend yourself to me. I’m the last person to act as judge and jury.”
She wondered what he meant by that remark but couldn’t think straight as, feather-light, his fingertips trailed her bottom lip in the act of slowly pulling them away. “I just hope I’m not wrong about you.”
The mood between them changed, her every sensation intensely felt as she teetered high on an emotional seesaw.
“I”—she breathed against his fingertips—”don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Say nothing.” And then his lips covered hers, stealing any words and every breath.
She had often wondered what it would be like to receive Joel’s kiss, ever since she was a young girl. The reality of her dream shook her to the core of her soul.
The lime scent and taste from the specks of remaining shaving cream mingled with the heat of his mouth on hers, all of it making her lightheaded and strangely warm inside and out. She clung to his shoulders as if she might fall, when suddenly he pushed her away and leaned back, holding her far from him.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He momentarily remained frozen then practically shoved her from his lap. She forced her wobbly legs to stand. “This was wrong.” He shook his head, clearly angry. With her, with himself, she didn’t know. “Look, I think it would be better if you just left and didn’t come ba—”
“I’m not upset,” she hurried to say before he could finish and throw her out for good. “And—and I want you to know. I’ve decided how you can pay me back.”
“What?” Confused, he shook his head at her abrupt change of topic. “What do you mean, pay you back?”
“When I first started working for you, you said you didn’t feel right about not giving me wages.” She was surprised she could speak rationally, as addled as she felt by the memory of his touch and kiss, both of which she could still feel traces, and she had to hold to the table’s rim to remain steady. “I know exactly how you can pay me.”
“Well?” Joel asked when she didn’t elaborate. “I’m waiting.”
“Take me to the county fair.”
Her preposterous words at first didn’t connect. When they did, he snorted in disbelief that she would suggest such a thing. “Are you off your nut? That’s impossible!”
“Why?”
“Why? Why!” He worked to get his temper in check. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m blind.”
“You have two good legs, don’t you? Use your cane.”
“No.” He winced at the thought of the blind man’s stick that stood unused in the corner.
“Why not? You’re the one being impossible.”
“How can you say such a thing to me? Do you know what it’s like to live like this? It’s not your eyes that were struck blind. Do you know what it’s like to step off a stair and walk into the unknown? To be literally in the dark? To have people stop and stare at the pathetic wretch, wondering if he’ll trip and fall?”
“How do you know they’re staring if you can’t see them?” Her voice had gone quiet and subdued. “From what I understand, you were never one to care what strangers think about you. And if you’re really all that concerned, I can be your eyes.”
“I said no!” He flung his hand sideways in an arc. Without meaning to, he felt it connect with the bowl. It crashed to the floor. “See what mistakes a blind man can make? Now beat it before I get really upset.”
Her footsteps were steady as she did the opposite, moving toward him. He heard the bowl scrape wood as she picked up the shattered pieces.
“Leave it.”
“I can’t just leave this on the floor for you to step on.”
“I’ll take care of it. You could cut your hand.”
“Nice of you to care, but I’ve had to clean up worse messes than this when my younger brothers had one of their little tantrums.”
He pulled his lips in a tight line. “So, you think I’m throwing a tantrum?”
“Yes I do. You’re so full of self-pity, it’s a wonder you don’t drown in it.”
He snorted in exasperation. “Will you just get out of here?”
“We’re not finished. I haven’t cut your hair.”
“I’ve had enough of your help for one night.”
She paused. “Fine. We’ll resume tomorrow, and I’m not taking no for an answer.” Her steps moved to the door, paused, then turned around and came back. “Before I go, there’s one thing I don’t understand.”
“What’s that?” he bit out through clenched teeth.
“If you’re so unhappy with the way things have been and so dissatisfied with life as it is now, why don’t you agree to the operation?”
Incredulous anger made his face burn hot. “Thea had no right to tell you about that!”
“Don’t blame Thea. I got curious and asked. I guess you could say I almost forced the information from her.”
He slammed his fist on the table. “Well, stay out of my affairs! It’s none of your business!”
“I understand there’s an element of risk involved,” she persisted, “but you were never the type of man to run from danger. Even as a boy, you never retreated from a challenge. Even life-threatening ones, though I understand this doesn’t qualify. In fact, you were usually the first one to jump into trouble, feet first.”
He narrowed his eyes at her correct assessment of his character, though she had the logistics of the doctor’s findings wrong. “How do you know so much about me or what I’m like?”
“Herbert talks about the old days quite often.”
He snorted in derision. “Another person who should keep his big trap shut and his opinions to himself.”
“And I’ve built my own evaluation of your character in the month that I’ve been here.” She continued as if she’d not heard him. “One thing you’re not is a coward. So why didn’t you go through with the operation, if there’s a chance you could see again? Why don’t you go through with it now? You’re clearl
y not happy.”
“Thanks for the psychoanalysis, doc, but for the last time, mind your own potatoes and keep out of my business.”
“Is it that you have no one to help you financially? No friends or family?”
“I’m not a charity case!”
“There are such things as loans.”
“In these hard times? Look, just leave it—and me—alone.”
“You asked me questions. Don’t I have the right to do the same?” She wasn’t backing down, and rather than argue further, he felt weary of the whole subject. “Go home, Marielle. I’m tired and want to turn in for the night.”
“A shave exhausted you so much?”
He heard the skepticism in her voice.
“Having a veritable stranger hold a razor to your throat does tend to wear on a man’s nerves,” he countered dryly.
“That’s all I still am to you then? A stranger?”
He couldn’t mistake the sadness in her words. But that was all she could ever be to him. He couldn’t afford to get involved, no matter how phenomenal it had felt to hold and kiss her. It had been well over a year since he’d been so close to a woman, but she had a rare quality he couldn’t pinpoint that separated her from the rest.
Even so, he had nothing to offer, and she had no reason to want to give him an opportunity. He was only a curiosity to her. A charity case upon whom she wished to dole out her good deeds and brandish compassion. Even if she was interested in more, once the novelty wore off, she certainly wouldn’t want to find herself trapped in a relationship with a man who couldn’t see and would always need some sort of guidance.
She’d been accurate in most of her assumptions regarding his character, but she was wrong about one thing. He didn’t pity himself for his condition. He deserved no man’s pity. But he did warrant all the blame.
“Go home, Marielle,” he said tiredly.
“Then you agree?”
“No, but you can’t spend the night here, and I’m going to bed.”
“Fine.” He heard her huff of exasperation. “But this isn’t over, Joel Litton.” He ignored her declaration. “As long as you insist on using both my names all the time, you might as well save yourself the trouble and just use the one.”
“Litton?”
He couldn’t help the faint smile that quirked his mouth at her teasing. “Joel.”
“All right.” Pleasure softened her voice. “Good night, Joel.”
He laid his head back without answering and closed his eyes. At the soft click of the door, he knew he was again alone.
“Good night, pixie angel. I don’t know whether to call you a menace or a saint. Just who are you, Marielle?”
It was then he realized he didn’t even know her last name.
Chapter 9
It took four visits to convince Joel to change his mind. For every reason he gave that he couldn’t go to the fair, Clemmie offered a solution showing that the outing was not impossible for him—as he claimed—but probable, even preferable. He needed to get out of the house and into the world.
Thea offered her support, and Herbert announced they would make it a family outing. Hannah talked to her mother, both of them overburdened with work for the upcoming bazaar, and Hannah’s mother gladly relinquished the chauffeur for a day, eager to help when Clemmie broke down and told her of Joel’s presence in town. Sworn to secrecy, Hannah’s mother also expressed concern that Clemmie was keeping her identity from Joel, but Clemmie assured her hostess she would tell him soon. And at last, with no further arguments, Joel curtly agreed to attend the fair, though his mood grew dour the rest of that afternoon.
She hadn’t realized it would be so difficult. Not just to conceal her identity but to continue in her plan to help him. Some days everything proceeded smoothly, and she felt the heavens smiled upon her—that God, indeed, had orchestrated her arrival to Connecticut, and she was following through with His plans. She’d even begun to hope for her girlhood dream to come true, realizing she’d never gotten over wanting to be more than Joel’s friend, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself and everyone else she was long over her infatuation. Only this didn’t feel like the old silly schoolgirl fascination.
His unexpected kiss had brought her buried feelings back into glaring relief; she had to stop lying to herself and especially to him. Still, every time she considered how to tell him she was Clemmie, her mind played out the scenario of what would ensue. No matter how many ways she imagined it, the ending always remained the same—they both wound up hurt and losers. She had mired herself in this web of deceit too deeply and didn’t know how to gracefully extract herself without breaking the fragile cords of trust that slowly had begun bonding them—and causing her pain.
Those were the days she wondered if she could or should continue the charade, feeling sadly inadequate to help Joel, who bore a secret burden he wouldn’t share, no matter how she tried to get him to open up to her. But she wasn’t a coward, and that’s what she would be if she never returned, giving no confession or explanation except for whatever Thea might offer Joel should Clemmie suddenly quit working for him.
And if she did conclude all association with him, wouldn’t he feel rejected and betrayed despite his demands that she go, which had been coming less frequently?
When asked, she continued to read her novel to him. One afternoon after they’d both eaten, he was in one of his sullen moods and ordered her to resume their reading. She did—from the book she had open. She’d brought along a Bible, intrigued to find symbolism that was in the allegory of the novel and the verses relating to it. When she started reading where she’d left off, he’d shown surprise not to hear her speak of Pilgrim’s progress to the Celestial City. He hadn’t ordered her to stop, but his expression had grown hard and shuttered, making his feelings clear with regard to her choice of reading material.
Each evening she shared her frustrations of the day and concerns for Joel’s spiritual health with Hannah. And when she retired, she offered supplications to the Lord, asking Him to intervene and bring the lost lamb that Joel had become, however black, back to God’s fold. She hurt for him but refused to show pity, knowing it would only make things worse. Instead her pillow bore the brunt of her heartache as, alone in her room, she shed any tears she’d held at bay while in his company.
But this day held no place for tears. The morning shone sunny and bright, full of promise. And Joel, much to her surprise, seemed in a pleasant mood, though he showed some stubbornness in his refusal to use his cane, even just for the walk to the waiting car. She clung to his arm, both to aid him and for the closeness such an action afforded.
Inside the Rolls, despite its roomy nature, the seats were crowded. Any closer and she would have been sitting on his lap. The memory of that moment and what followed made her face go hot, something that Herbert, who sat directly across from her, didn’t fail to miss.
“What did you say to Marielle?” he teased Joel from the seat opposite, where Thea and Loretta also sat. “You should see her face—as red as a peony. Almost matches her hair.”
“Thanks a bundle for that trite and unnecessary information.” Clemmie modulated her voice gently while staring daggers at her old childhood torturer. “But I’ll have you know my hair is not that red. It’s almost auburn.”
“Dream on, little girl.”
Thea sharply elbowed him in the ribs, though she couldn’t know the extent of damage her husband may have done. Clemmie’s heart skipped a beat at the words he often used to say to her when they’d lived at the Refuge. She hoped Joel hadn’t caught on and gave him a swift glance.
His perfect features, no longer half hidden by facial hair, were a mask, his blue eyes indifferent. She couldn’t read his emotions no matter how hard she tried. Herbert realized his error by the deer-struck look on his face and mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Well, old man, at least your hair no longer resembles a caveman who hadn’t yet invented a comb,” he said too robustly. Clemmie roll
ed her eyes heavenward at his lame tactic to save the moment, and Thea elbowed him again. “What? What did I say? She did a good job is all I meant.”
“Enough talk about hair,” Thea inserted. “Tell me about this bazaar your friend’s mother is holding. I ran across some things yesterday if it’s not too late to make a donation.”
“I would think the ladies on the committee would be thrilled.” Clemmie mouthed a thank-you. “I’ll ask about it tonight.”
“Mommy,” Loretta interrupted, “will there be animals at the fair?”
“I think so, sweetheart. If I remember, fairs have them.”
“Have you been to the fair?”
Thea laughed. “It’s been many years.”
“What about you, Uncle Joel?” Bethany asked.
All eyes turned his way, and Clemmie uneasily thought again how silent he’d become since the drive began. Of all things, this morning he had shocked her speechless when he’d asked her last name! She had literally been saved by the cat when it chose that moment to run between them, and Loretta had given chase.
“When I was a boy, I went to a carnival.” His reply came quietly.
“Is a carnival like a fair?”
His grin to Bethany was halfhearted. “Something like it, I guess. I’ve never been to a county fair.”
“What did you do at the carnival?”
“Look, Bethany, see those tents ahead,” Herbert pointed out. “We’re almost there.”
“Yippee!” Loretta bounced on the seat, clapping her hands and earning her mother’s admonition to sit still like her big sister.
Clemmie knew about that carnival and understood Herbert’s eagerness to change the subject. As an adventurous boy of twelve, Joel had run away from his chaperones and into the path of a dangerous criminal, getting into some of the worst trouble he’d ever been in and also deceiving her parents. Thinking of her own deceit, she squirmed almost as much as Loretta.
Joel’s hand suddenly clamped down on her knee, startling her into sucking in a huge lungful of air—one she found difficult to release.
The feel of her leg tensing beneath his hand made Joel realize what he’d done. He had initiated his reflexive action to keep her still, but at her shock he quickly withdrew his hand.