The Thorn Healer

by Pepper D. Basham

He halved the distance between them, drawing upon the recent, tangible attraction of their touch. “No?”

  Her breath hitched. “No,” she whispered, and then stepped back, clearing her throat and returning those palms to her hips. “However, competitive certainly does seem to describe you. And determined.”

  “So, we are not that different, you and I?” He shrugged. “Except I am still winning and you are not.”

  The singe in her glare stung a little less. “Stop gloating.”

  “Gloat? What is this word?”

  “It means...” She waved a hand in the air as if the answer might magically appear. “Showing an expression of pride that you’re winning.”

  “I am proud I am winning.”

  She sighed. “You are so infuriating.”

  “Jessica, Mr. Little just arrived.” Granny called from the back porch. “I think you might need to come on in and make yourself presentable.”

  She pinched her eyes closed and placed her palm against her forehead. “Oh, goodness, I completely forgot. I need to go.”

  He made a poor attempt at pitching down his smile and kept in step with her. “Would you like me better if I let you win?”

  “No.” She groaned, shooting another glare from her periphery. “I’m going to beat you fair and square.”

  He moved in time with her steps.

  She pivoted toward him with a groan. “Why is it so important that I like you, anyway?”

  “Because I like you. It’s much more pleasant when it’s mutual.”

  She slowed her pace and turned to him, the crinkle of confusion resurfacing on her face. “I don’t know why you would like me. I’ve not been very nice to you.”

  Her honesty and the pain in her admission drew him closer, teased his need to comfort her. “But that is not the real you. I have learned about the real you through the letters, and have seen glimpses in your love for your family.”

  She braced a hand on the porch step railing and looked away, toward the door. “And you think somehow you know me because of those letters?”

  Her tone took on an edge, curbed with a tinge of sadness.

  “Mostly. There was much of you in those letters.” He leaned closer, drawing her attention back to his face. “But I know you better now, and better with each day.”

  She pushed her hair back from her face and stared up at him, those endless eyes mining deep for something he wasn’t certain how to give. “The woman you met in those letters...” She swallowed and looked away, squinting against the afternoon light. “That woman disappeared in Europe. She’s gone.”

  “No.” His response brought her attention back to him, and he suppressed the overwhelming urge to touch a loose strand of her golden hair waving down her cheek. “Merely misplaced, I think.” He gentled his voice, desperately trying to draw her out, gain her trust... touch her heart. “Underneath all the wounds and grief of war, but I have every faith we will find her. In fact, I caught a glimpse of her today.”

  “Miss Jesse.” Jude called from the back door. “Granny says you need to wash up somethin’ quick.”

  Jess stepped back, clearly shaken, and stumbled up the porch steps. He reached to steady her, but she tugged her arms free gently, almost in a daze. “Good evening, Mr. Reinhold.”

  And with that, she disappeared into the house, but not before glancing back. Yes, he’d caught a glimpse of her, seen her guard lift and the beauty unearthed beneath the pain. Somehow he knew, in finding her, he’d uncover a part of his heart buried and waiting for resurrection.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “How is your research going, Mr. Little?” Grandpa offered Jasper another biscuit

  “Slower than expected, but I hope some of your influence tomorrow will help me make the inroads I need to secure more of Mr. Sharpe’s research.”

  “Well, I can’t promise they’ll warm up to you real quick, but the help of a native might thaw them a bit.”

  He chuckled, a pleasant sound, much like the rest of his demeanor. He charmed, from the dark curls of his hair to the tip in his smile. Jessica couldn’t help but compare him to her fair-haired badminton competitor. Without a doubt, Jasper brought with him a magnetizing energy. Paired with his dashing looks, it seemed impossible not to feel some sort of interest in him, so why was it the ridiculous badminton match with August Reinhold which brought the unquenchable smile?

  She shoved another bite of chicken in her mouth to give her lips something to do beside grin at the preposterous memory. She should focus on Mr. Little. He was English. Flirting with his attention was a much better use of her time than allowing her mind to wander to the complete impossibility of August Reinhold. Even the mere internal conversation made her angry. She shouldn’t like August Reinhold at all. Besides being German, he’d beat her twice at badminton.

  “Are both you and Mrs. Carter natives to Hot Springs?”

  Jasper’s question drew Jess back into the conversation and to his dark eyes. He tipped his glass toward her, his dashing grin in place.

  “Well, I’m from Marshall,” Grandpa answered, scooping a spoonful of potatoes on this plate, and then nodded to Granny. “But Elaine’s family have been in Hot Springs for three generations. We moved here years ago when her mama became sick to tend to her.”

  “Don’t you ever wish to travel outside of these mountains?” He glanced to both of her grandparents and halted his attention on her. “Or for you to return to your family in England?”

  “I’ve had my fill of travel for a long time, Mr. Little.” It always took outsiders by surprise when they learned of the natives’ contentment havened in by these rolling hills.

  “And I’ve done some traveling.” Granny’s brow rose with her smile. “Not as far as your country, Mr. Little, but a few places in this one. It was nice to see them, but there’s no place quite like home for my heart.”

  Faith’s cry broke into the momentary quiet of enjoying Granny’s spread of baked chicken, potatoes, beans, and squash. Jess excused herself from the table and retrieved the little bundle, talking her down from the screaming ledge with soft reassurances.

  Jess returned to a conversation about how Jude and Faith came to live at the farm.

  “It must be difficult for you, returning from the war to instant motherhood.”

  Jess reached for the prepared bottle she’d set on the table and cast a glance to Jude in the chair beside her. The little boy carried enough weight of responsibility. He didn’t need an added guilt. “Jude and I have been learning from each other quite well, haven’t we, Jude?”

  His little smile quivered full. “We sure have.”

  “Although I’m sometimes a slow learner.”

  A glimmer lit the boy’s eyes, a tightening of their growing bond glowing in his smile. “I’ve seen a heap of a lot worse.”

  Grandpa burst out in laughter. “Boy, you’ve got that quiet, quick wit like August. You just never know when it’ll break the silence of a room.”

  “August?” Jasper’s brow rose, his expression tightening. “Your German... friend?”

  “Well, the boy is more like family than just a friend.” Grandpa leaned back in his chair. “But yes, he’s one of the men in the camp.”

  Jasper touched the napkin to his mouth. “As close-knit a community as this is, I suppose the arrival of the Germans caused quite a stir.” Jasper kept his eyes downward. “Not everyone is as generous or obliging as you, I’d suspect.”

  The tinge of warning resurrected again in Jess, but she couldn’t place the shadow with the man before her. His dislike of the Germans didn’t cause him to be a dangerous sort. After all, he was here to research ballads, not harm anyone, but the slight turn in his frown brought a sudden pause. Was she so quick to criticize? So all-encompassing with her judgments?

  Her grandparents’ generosity shone a stark contrast on the recent attitude of her own heart. Hadn’t she learned anything from watching her sister-in-law, Catherine, transform from a fallen woman to a powerful entity of
grace? Her own thoughts pounded in on her heart, reviving doubts she’d pushed underneath her broken heart and biting shame.

  “At first, but most people soon got used to their presence.” Grandpa poured some milk into his cup. “But as you can see for yourself, they’ve not brought any trouble with them.”

  “I’ve heard from several men in town who aren’t too pleased with your town’s acceptance of the prisoners, even allowing some to walk free among the town.” He gestured toward her grandpa. “Work for them.”

  “There will always be those sort, don’t you think?” Granny’s words came out as sweet as the strawberry cake waiting for dessert, but they held a hidden reprimand. “But we don’t have to be part of them, do we? We can show a better way.”

  Jasper didn’t even flinch from the slight reprimand, but Jessica felt it to her core.

  “Yes, I’m certain.” Jasper smiled, an odd-looking expression crossing his face before he took another bite of the potatoes. “Of course, these sailors were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only trouble they would’ve caused was being able to return home and join the Kaiser’s forces, I suppose.”

  How many were like August? Men running away from wounds of their past and caught in the middle of a war’s decision? Not soldiers. Her stomach crunched. Not enemies. “I’d suspect many of them would prefer freedom instead of living behind barbed wire, no matter how lovely the view.”

  Jasper chuckled. “It could be worse for them, you know. It’s almost like they’re on holiday from what I understand about the Mountain Park Hotel and grounds. A swimming pool? Golf course? Three-hundred room inn with heating and electricity?”

  “It is a grand place, that’s for certain,” Granny answered, offering Jasper another piece of chicken which he waved away. “After the first one burned to the ground, this one emerged as an even greater spectacle.”

  Granny’s excellent diversion transferred the conversation to safer ground.

  “I’d love to see it some time.” Jasper looked to Grandpa. “Do you think it would be possible? Mr. Sharpe stayed there a few nights when he came for his research and effused praise of its beauty.”

  “I don’t see why not. If you’re with me, you should be fine,” Grandpa answered.

  A knock at the door broke into the conversation, and August’s face emerged from the doorway.

  “Speak of the devil.” Grandpa stood, not realizing how his phrase might fuel the animosity Jasper attempted to hide behind his perfect smile. “You done for today?”

  “Yes, sir, I am almost finished with the framework. I returned your tools to the barn.”

  “You’re a wonder, August. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind for the finished product.”

  He bent his head in acceptance of the compliment and then looked up through those lashes of his to find Jessica before switching his attention back to Grandpa. The hooded glance, complete with a tipped grin, left a singe across her skin which took full bloom in her face. She’d have reached for a sip of milk for her dry throat if both hands weren’t full with a baby.

  “It is my pleasure to restore something important to this family.” He patted his chest. “And it does my craftsman’s heart good to create.”

  “You’re just in time for dessert, August.” Granny stood and walked to the counter for the cake. “Care to join us for a slice?”

  August’s gaze flitted to Jasper and back to Jess, from hardened to soft, and then he unleashed his gentle smile on her granny. “I appreciate your kindness, Mrs. Carter, but I’m expected back at the camp.”

  “Well, you might as well take a slice with you.” Granny sent him a wink of encouragement which melted any argument the poor man could have mustered.

  How could Granny do that? Diffuse conflict and sway people with a word or wink? Jess looked over at Jude and down into Faith’s sweet face. Oh, she had so much to learn about life!

  “You are most kind, as usual, Mrs. Carter. I could not refuse your excellent cooking.”

  Granny’s face perked with rose from the compliment, brimming Jess’ own smile. And then she got caught back in August’s stare. His ushered a sweet calling to her heart, filled with tenderness, a playful camaraderie, something sifting deep inside of her for an answer she refused to investigate. Her breath pinched against the call despite her pulse running headlong toward it. Caring for him, falling into this attraction, battled against every scar-stain on her heart.

  “You remember Mr. Little, don’t you, August?” Grandpa stood along with Jasper.

  The men exchanged nods, and the tension pinged as tight as a banjo string.

  “And what exactly has these kind folks singing your praises, Mr. Reinhold?”

  “August is rebuilding our family chapel destroyed in the flood last summer. Without much help around here, and the needs of my clinic, I hadn’t gotten to the repairs, but it just so happens to be August’s specialty. Restoring things.”

  “So you’re a sailor and a craftsman, Mr. Reinhold?”

  August took the wrapped slice of cake from Granny and then turned to Jasper on his way to the door. “Circumstances forced me to become a sailor, Mr. Little. But my heart calls me to be a craftsman. I’m certain your love for music helps you understand the beauty of art, yes?”

  Mr. Little’s smile took a somewhat ruthless turn. “Of course.”

  “Yes, of course.” August’s eyes lost none of their gleam as he offered Jess a smile on his way to the door. She really tried not to grin back, but her mouth took on a response of its own. He stopped and raised his parcel. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter. Good day.”

  Jess stifled an infuriated growl and stared back down into Faith’s face, those big blue eyes staring back as if she knew exactly what her fumbling mother was hiding. Mother. The word and thought jumbled through her in a wave of sweet acceptance.

  Granny placed her world famous strawberry cake on the table and she thought the little boy’s eyes might pop clean out of his head. Her boy. Her boy.

  “Eat it slowly, Jude. You’ll want to appreciate the taste of that on your lips for the first time.”

  He nodded, staring as Granny sliced a piece and placed it in front of him.

  “What is this masterpiece Mr. Reinhold is restoring for you?” Jasper asked, taking a forkful of the cake. “And this looks divine, Mrs. Carter.”

  “It’s as close as we can get during sugar rations, Mr. Little. So let that give you an extra dose of enjoyment as you eat it.” She laughed in her good-hearted way and returned to her seat, but only a shadow of Jasper’s light-hearted mood returned. A mock recurrence.

  “We have a photo of the chapel in the parlor.” Grandpa left the room and reappeared with the photo in hand. “You can see it here.”

  To the Englishman, her family’s little country chapel probably looked like a quaint but rustic edifice. Without the stories behind it, how could Jasper appreciate its simple beauty?

  “It’s charming.”

  Ah, the word that meant nothing.

  “Please excuse my surprise, but I still find it difficult to comprehend how you would allow the same countrymen who are endangering the lives of your people across the world to work for you in your home. Even referring to them as friend, or family? Don’t you worry about the possible repercussions of such actions? Can you truly trust this August Reinhold?”

  “We’re not the sort to blame the wrongs of a few men on the heads of the many.” Granny’s words cut into Jess’ guilt with a potent slice. “They’re our neighbors here in Hot Springs, just as you are.”

  “I am not like them.” Jasper seethed, and then quickly tempered his response. “And I beg your forgiveness if I am slow to warm up to them as my neighbors. I lost both of my brothers at the hands of the Germans. Was left like this.” He held up his amputated stump as a grisly reminder of the gravity in his situation. “And have seen more friends than I care to mention die or left crippled by the barbarity used in this war. The torture.” His voice broke, his hand
balled into a fist on the table. “There are some actions which are unforgiveable, and certainly unforgettable.”

  A sober silence met the gruesome vision his words painted. Jess knew it, had experienced the utter devastation. Jude’s fork clashed against his plate.

  “Jude, dear, since you’re finished, would you take your plate to the sink and wash up for bed?”

  He stood but stopped by her chair, leaning to her ear. “You’ll be comin’ up shorly, won’t you, Miss Jesse?”

  The fear in his eyes, most likely from the images Jasper described, beckoned her to follow him. “Of course, once Faith finishes her bottle and I bid Mr. Little good night.”

  He nodded and left the room, casting a glance over his shoulder before disappearing up the stairway. Those visions of the past still haunted her dreams, but not as much as they’d once done. Now... now, she had other memories to push back at the terrifying and heart wrenching battalion of ghosts from the battlefield. Traitors. When had these children begun to smooth the edges of her broken heart?

  “I am sorry for your loss, Jasper.” Granny responded, her voice hushed to keep it from carrying up the stairs. “But generalizing your hate to a whole group of people isn’t going to help heal your wounds or stay your grief either. It will only deepen the pain you harbor.”

  “And as you said earlier, these men were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Grandpa added. “They don’t care to hurt anyone.”

  Jasper looked from one face to the other and then bent his head. “Of course, you’re right. My experiences have colored my vision. Surely, those men behind the fence do not carry the same animosity in their hearts toward your country as the ones on the battlefield, nor would the one you trust most care to wound such a generous family by turning as treacherous as his kin.”

  Though his words glistened with understanding, a darker current slithered with warning. Mistrust. And no wonder. Jessica knew the hatred full well, but something had changed for her. She felt it. Recognized the pulse of a greater voice pushing back the ashes of her anger with the fire of truth. She did not have to care about Mr. Reinhold to show kindness to him.