The Thorn Healer

by Pepper D. Basham

  His gaze followed her until she disappeared through the back door, her skirt swaying the entire way.

  “You leave very little for her to guess, don’t you?” Anna shook her head.

  “She’s had enough guesses the past two years.” He shrugged, glancing back at the porch, more certain than ever to keep his direct approach. “I will offer truth or I will offer nothing at all.”

  Despite her firmed frown, the lines around Anna’s eyes gentled. “And what about that heart of yours?”

  He patted his chest, attempting to cloak his sister’s worry with some levity. “As I told Mrs. Carter, I’m playing to win.”

  ***

  The game kept a frenetic pace from the first serve. Jessica played like a woman with a ghost on her heels, pursuing each step, and August struggled to keep one pace ahead of her. She moved with a bit more fluidity, and ran for the most unexpected shots. It wasn’t until about halfway through the match that she unleashed her natural charm from behind the cautious and killer quiet from which she’d attacked him.

  All of her hair slipped from its pins, cascading around her in a rain of gold and completely distracting him from his winning shot. The birdie spun out of bounds and Jessica laughed.

  “You shall not have that game point, Mr. Reinhold. I mean to beat you this time.”

  He couldn’t pull his gaze from her face—the color in her cheeks, the smile lighting her emerald eyes. Her lips parted as she breathed in the afternoon scent of honeysuckles. Would those lips taste as sweet as honey?

  “It looks as though you have something devious on your mind.” She moved to the net and placed a hand to her hip. “Are you worried about the game? Have I tired you out? Come now, share your thoughts.”

  “I wondered if your lips would taste as sweet as honey.”

  Her eyes shot wide and all color fled her face. She didn’t speak for a few seconds. His grin itched to respond.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

  He met her at the net. “Why not? I think things like that about you.”

  She stumbled through another reply, clearly off-set by his directness. If he had to practice patience, perhaps he could enjoy the process.

  “But... but we are not...” She waved a hand between them. “Together.”

  He glanced around the yard. His sister had retired with Sylvie to the cottage long ago, and Mrs. Carter had taken Jude inside to help tend to Faith. Nothing but the birds and the sunbeams offered any audience. “It looks as though we are. Together. Right now.” His voice dropped as he tilted his head closer, wiggling his brow in playful invitation. “Alone.”

  Her narrowed eyes held a fiery sting. “You need a good beating, Mr. Reinhold, and I mean to win this game.”

  “And you need a good kiss, and then we’d both win, yes?”

  Nothing but a helpless squeak came from her open mouth.

  “I see I’ll need to wait until you are ready, Miss Ross. Kisses are powerful things.”

  She firmed her lips into a decided frown and marched back to her place, racquet to the ready as if a weapon. “You’ll be waiting a long time, then.”

  August whistled on his way to his place at the line, then turned to prepare for his serve. Jessica looked everywhere else except at his face, and the racquet in her hands bounced like Jude’s new rubber ball.

  He tamed his smile and served a beautiful ace, barely crossing the net without a touch. She struggled to reach it and got her racquet on it, but the birdie spun up into the air and out of bounds.

  “Match point, my advantage.” August winked and she quickly looked away, a deeper shade of rose darkening her cheeks.

  Jessica took a ready position, her lips as pinched as her brow. “That smirk does not become you, Mr. Reinhold.”

  He unleashed a laugh and her frown tipped in the opposite direction. A little. Not enough to encourage him to march across the court and satisfy the curiosity about the taste of her lips, but enough to hint at a certain softening behind her apparent disdain? His lips hitched wider. Perhaps he was winning in more ways than one.

  The next rally proved the longest, a battle of stamina and speed, until he tipped the birdie over the net with the slightest touch and she couldn’t get to it in time. He stood, breathing hard, and offered his hand of sportsmanship.

  Her stare bore into his as she walked toward the net and wrapped her cool fingers around his in a vice. “You cheated.”

  “Cheated? I assure you, I did not cheat.”

  “Yes, you did.” She rounded the net, a pointed finger punctuating each word. “With what you said.”

  What he said? The previous conversation and her current rosy cheeks punctuated his clarity. He feigned innocence with a full shrug. “About winning?”

  “No.” Her lips thinned against the words, hesitating before lowering her voice to a whisper. “About the kissing. I couldn’t concentrate.”

  “Very flattering, my dear Miss Jesse.” He leaned in to match her volume. “But if it didn’t matter to you, it shouldn’t distract you.”

  She stared back, wide-eyed, so he continued. “Besides, as long as you’re near, my thoughts will eventually turn to the topic without much difficulty.”

  Her gaze dropped to his lips, sending a tingle shooting across them before they spun into a smile.

  She blinked from the daze and stood straight, distancing herself with a step. “I’d say you need more work to do because clearly, your mind has too much free time.”

  “No, no. My thoughts are properly ordered. Quite in order.”

  “You, Mr. Reinhold, are insufferable.” She marched across the lawn toward the house.

  He ran to catch up. “What does this mean? Insufferable?”

  She stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, her head down. “It means you’re impossible. Nearly unbearable.” She enunciated each word as she turned to face him. “You should take this interest you have and lay it at the feet of some woman more interested in your persistent adoration.”

  “I have a feeling you’ve succeeded in frightening away many suitors.” A sudden awareness drew him closer, in search of the truth. “You are afraid.”

  “Of you?” She scoffed.

  “Nein, of releasing your heart, I think.”

  “Very clever, Mr. Reinhold, but the heart isn’t trustworthy.” She looked away under his scrutiny. “Better to use one’s head and experience.”

  He covered her hand on the railing with his, snatching back her attention. “Ah, you know what you want? What is best for you?” He searched her face. “But He knows.” He tipped his head to the sky. “He knows what you truly need in your head and your heart, and you might be surprised by His choices.”

  She tugged her hand free to cross it in front of her chest. Her expression laced with suspicion, a little humor... and maybe the tiniest bit of curiosity. “And I suppose you are what’s best for my head and my heart?”

  “Alas, I am not strong enough to get through to your head.” He placed his racquet by the porch steps and shoved his hands in his pockets, the tug to take her in his arms almost overpowering. “But I think I might be getting through to your heart.”

  She pinched her palms tighter in a hug and the sardonic smile slid from her lips, though she tried to keep the strength in her stance, the barrier. “Oh really?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged, holding her gaze, memorizing her silhouette against the farmhouse with the backdrop of blue sky. “But just like a good kiss, I will wait. I’m very good at waiting.”

  ***

  “I did not write the letter, sir. I give you my word.” August stood to attention in front of Ruser, readied to find whatever proof necessary to clear his name. After such a rewarding afternoon, his face still warm from his invigorating conversation with Jessica Ross, August thought he’d turned a corner of disappointment. Her eyes held such hurt, such mistrust, but the wall was beginning to crumble. Little by little. Could this dream for which he’d prayed truly solidify into fles
h and blood? Was it possible God would not only give him a future in Hot Springs but also Jessica Ross’ heart?

  But he’d barely made it through the threshold of the Lower Camp before Cliff took him directly to Ruser’s office.

  Ruser scanned over the paper in his hand and then removed his wire-rimmed spectacles, examining August with the same scrutiny. August stared back, unwavering, the letter in Ruser’s hands a pure act of ruthless fiction.

  The letter contained information about the Allies movements in France, hidden within a flimsy code any grade school child might decipher, and signed with August’s name.

  “And you have no knowledge of this Lieutenant Schleigle to whom the letter is addressed?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Your father is mentioned.” Ruser pointed an accusing finger at the page.

  “Only by the last name, which could be written by any person who knew my surname,” August argued. “Is this the only such letter discovered?”

  Ruser placed the paper down on the desk and braided his hands together to rest on the desk. “No, this is the third, but the first within the past two weeks.”

  “And the other two?”

  Ruser sighed and leaned back in his chair, his frown deepening. “Written anonymously by someone who means to stir up discord for us.”

  August sighed down into the chair Ruser had offered him in the beginning of their meeting. “Then you know I am no traitor.”

  Ruser’s moustache twitched. “August, there are some men in my camp for whom the title could most certainly fit, but not you.” His frown returned. “However, it seems someone is attempting to bring trouble to our camp, and I mean to find out who it is.”

  August leaned forward. “So you do not blame me for this?”

  Ruser matched August’s position, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny for a moment until his brow cleared with a smile. “I have been in war and life for many years. I’ve learned to recognize the difference between an honest man and a traitor, no matter how virtuous the intentions. You are no traitor, but I would keep a watch on others around you, whether inside or outside the camp. Somewhere, we do have a traitor, and I hope his intentions are limited to ill-planned letters.” Ruser picked up the paper and waved it in the air before depositing it back on his desk. “And nothing more.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jess barely touched her supper. After Anna’s unwitting reprimand, Jess’ heart spun on a carousel as fast the one the Germans had constructed inside the camp. Her shoulders bent, wearied from the struggle to capture peace but determined to hold to her cause. Her pain deserved justice, just as the man who’d almost killed her brother and then defiled her deserved whatever justice he received beyond the grave.

  The thought caught. What justice did he face at this moment? She’d killed him in self-defense, sent him to his eternal destination. A shiver trembled over her skin and strained her emotions, raw and aching. Tears teetered for release, as they’d done since her conversation with Anna. She couldn’t keep living like this.

  Even her struggle to distance herself from August grew more difficult with each passing day. Everything about him, from his gentleness, to his quiet strength, to the teasing glint in his morning-blue eyes, called to all the bruised places in her heart for a shelter. A refuge from the chaos of nightmares and harbored grief.

  Her smile bloomed, starting around her heart and moving upward. And she enjoyed his conversation.

  She kicked against the resignation, the old argument rising to battle her weaknesses. She didn’t need a man’s protection. Faith nestled close, staring back at Jess with unwavering confidence. Trust.

  But every little girl needed to know the strength of a daddy, as she’d known. The presence of someone who’d stand up to all the monsters or bullies in the world. And that desire still wove into grown-up girls’ hearts, though molded into a different sort of hero.

  A hero she didn’t necessarily need...

  Jess sighed deeper into the dining chair. But a hero she wanted.

  The internal admission turned the few bites of chicken she’d eaten sour in her stomach, but her heart pulsed a stronger beat. The very thought of sharing her burdens, blessings, dreams, and cares with someone who might also buffer the trials of life alongside her encouraged a welcome whisper of daydreams.

  But certainly not August Reinhold! His camp would transition out of Hot Springs, on to Georgia, and then back to Germany. Despite what August or Anna wanted, staying in America after the war seemed unlikely.

  “I hear you didn’t get to introduce Mr. Little to the finer points of mountain life yesterday, Uncle Jacob?” Cliff took Jessica’s plate from the table, tossing her a mischievous smile. “I reckon my company was a great disappointment compared to the sophisticated Englishman.”

  Jess exaggerated her eye-roll, grateful for his levity intruding into her thoughts.

  “No.” Her grandfather finished up his meal at the end of the table. “He had an unexpected meeting with some professor in Asheville, so he left on the early train. Told me he’d like to reschedule for next week, but I’m not sure what our week will look like once Alexander and David arrive.”

  “I know Jessica’s been sparkin’ him, but I’m not too impressed with the fancy fellow.”

  “Cliff Carter, I’ll have you know I’ve not been sparkin’ anybody.” But her familiarity with Jasper Little annoyed her usual sensibilities. Why had she warmed up to the man so quickly? The unfamiliar response bounded against her typically cautious nature.

  “What does sparkin’ mean?” Jude’s voice rose above her grandpa’s chuckle.

  Jessica’s eyes fluttered closed.

  “It means Miss Jesse has a particular interest in Mr. Little’s company.” Cliff snuck a maple cookie from Granny’s offering on the counter and pointed it at Jessica. “In the hopes he’ll take a particular interest too.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Cliff.”

  “I don’t like Mr. Little.” Jude’s little nose wrinkled with his admission. “Why don’t you spark August instead?”

  “That is one fine question, Jude. Why don’t you spark August instead?” Cliff leaned against the counter and tilted his head, his gaze needling her response while he took a bite of his cookie.

  Jess stood and snatched the remaining cookie from Cliff’s hand, then pointed it at him like a weapon. “Cliff Carter, you are the most exasperating man on this planet. Don’t put ideas in Jude’s head.”

  “Just because you don’t appreciate my certain brand of charm, doesn’t mean I’m exasperating.” He reached for another cookie without hesitation. “And don’t try to change the subject. Your boy asked you a very thoughtful question.”

  “What does exasperatin’ mean?”

  Jess smiled at ‘her boy.’ “It means Uncle Cliff needs to mind his own business.”

  The daggers she shot her cousin bounced off his self-satisficed smirk. He glanced around her. “And just why do you think your mama ought to spark August, Jude?”

  Grandpa’s chuckle didn’t help one bit. “This brings back memories.”

  “I’d better snatch Faith before they get worse.” Granny wedged in between Jess and Cliff to pry little Faith from Jess’ arms. “You remember the time she jumped on Cliff’s back and held on by his hair?”

  “Granny! I was seven.” Jess reluctantly released her little, squirming bundle.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t make it to blows again, the two of you.” She eyed them both, a laugh in her smile, before returning to her chair to coo over Faith.

  Jess returned her attention to her annoying cousin. “I don’t feel the need to be sparkin’ anyone, at present.”

  “I saw Mr. Little talkin’ up a storm with that Davis man, and I don’t think he’s good through-and-through.”

  “Smart boy.”

  Jess smacked Cliff’s shoulder.

  “Now, Cliff, just because he’s talking with the Davises doesn’t mean he’s a problem.” Granny�
�s sweet reprimand came out with steely undertones.

  Cliff hitched a brow as if he didn’t catch one hint of Granny’s tone. Stubborn man. “Doesn’t mean there isn’t either.” He turned to Jude. “What do you like about August, Jude?”

  Jess groaned and rubbed her forehead. Trouble maker. “Leave the boy alone, Cliff.”

  Jude swallowed the last bite of potatoes in his mouth, unaware of Uncle Cliff transforming into a complete nuisance.

  “You already know,” came Jude’s reply. “You done seen it too.”

  Jess turned completely around to face her ‘little boy’ as Cliff called him. She liked the sound of it. “Seen what?”

  “All the good things about August.” Jude reached to take a cookie from the plate that Granny had moved to the center of the table, seemingly oblivious to the mystery his words evoked.

  “Like what?”

  Jude munched on his cookie, barely casting a glance to the adults listening in. “You know, he smiles with his whole face, and he sits on the porch with me.”

  Jess slid back down into her chair, trying to make some sense of Jude’s simple statement. “Sits on the porch with you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Like Grandpa and Cliff do. They don’t mind sittin’ on the porch steps to tawk.”

  Jess exchanged a look with Granny. Did Jude have memories of his father? Had he known long talks on a porch step or a family game of badminton? The simplicity in his statement spoke volumes and opened the hurt for him in her heart even more. He had no idea how his words pierced the room.

  “And you don’t have to ask if he’s good or not. Mama says the best folks do good even when no one’s lookin’. I seed him work hard. Make purdy things with his hands. Help folks, even when no one’s lookin’. I reckon that’s worth somethin’.”

  He took a drink of his milk and looked up, staring from one face to the other, and finally landing his attention on Granny. “These are real good cookies, Granny.”

  “He is a smart boy.” Granny tossed Jess one of those looks Jess really wanted to ignore but found her gaze inextricably linked to Granny’s against her will. “There’s a whole lot of truth in those words.”