He met her eyes. His were so tender, so soft, and she felt like she knew him as she would an old friend. A terrible thought entered. “What about Lily? Please tell me, he didn’t harm that girl?”
Frank shook his head. “No. Claire always protected her. Till the day her father died, Claire wouldn’t let him touch her. Paid for it dearly, too.” He looked at her almost pleadingly. “See why I had to step in? Poor woman had it rough enough without having to run that house by herself.” He laughed then and smiled wryly. “Course, bit of a change from my bachelor days, suddenly with a wife and a child to support. And Lily can be difficult at times. I’m not her father, so she don’t like to listen much.”
Eveline placed a hand on his shoulder, felt the strong muscle that connected to the tan neck. “You’re a good man.”
He took the compliment lightly. “We do what we can to make things right, don’t we, Eveline?”
She squeezed the shoulder, realized she touched him. She pulled her hand away, didn’t want to let go of the fabric. “Stay right here, Mr. Morton. I’m going to bring you out some lemonade.”
“It’s Frank, remember!” he hollered back amicably.
When she came back, he was raking out an old tangled mess near a fallen fence. “Know you have grapevines out here?”
“Really?” Eveline put the tray on the stool and looked at the spot he tilled.
“Concord, far as I can see. Bet this whole stretch is lined with them. You build some new rods and pull up the vines with string, you’ll have yourself a lovely vineyard.”
If he had produced a rainbow with his words, she couldn’t have been happier. She already envisioned the vines vibrant and clustered with purple grapes by autumn.
“Well, I can promise you one thing, Mr.—I mean Frank—the first batch of jam is coming your way.”
She picked up a glass of lemonade and offered it to him, the action reminding him of something. He held up a finger for her to wait while he picked up a brown box and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” Her eyes widened.
“Open it.”
She knew she was blushing, the heat creeping all the way to her hairline. She opened the cardboard flaps and pulled out the Waterford pitcher. “I don’t believe it,” she said. She stared at the crystal, rotated it in her hands. “It’s the same one that I had. The one that broke.”
He turned bashful. “Felt terrible that day when I saw you open that crate to find it broken. Know a guy in town who can get anything. Shipped it to me the next day.”
Her mouth fell open and she couldn’t speak. “I can’t accept this.” She handed it back, but he stepped away.
“No refunds, I’m afraid. You got to take it. Hurt my heart something bad if you don’t.” His face mollified to that of a puppy, looked at her with complete seriousness. “A woman needs pretty things, Eveline. Especially, a lady as pretty as you.”
Her heart fluttered. “I simply don’t know what to say.” But then she cradled the pitcher against her chest. “Thank you, Frank.”
He sat down, picked up the lemonade, sipped slowly. “Can I be honest with you?”
She couldn’t remember talking to a man like this, ever. “What is it?”
“I’m not going to lie. This gift is a bit of a bribe.”
She laughed. “A bribe? For what?”
“For your trust.” He turned his gaze to his hands. “You’re going to hear things about me. Things that aren’t true.” He gave a half-smile, his smooth cheeks strong and firm. “All I ask is you make your own opinion instead of following gossip.”
“My word, what kinds of things do you think I’ll hear?”
“It’s given the business that I am in. I loan out money to the people who can’t get credit from the banks. Sure, I got to charge a bit more in interest, but I’m also putting my neck out. But sometimes these people don’t pay back and they lose their property. Doesn’t happen often, but it happens. Had one man took out a loan for a new harvester and spent it all on drink. Had to come in and take the harvester right from under him. Nearly got myself shot in the process.
“But you see, I got these girls to care for. I don’t want to see a man losing his property. Breaks my heart. But hell, I got to make a living, too. It’s a contract, you see? You make an agreement. I keep my end of the bargain. Just ask they do the same.”
“Sounds reasonable. Like any other business.”
“Exactly. But people don’t see it like that. They make up stories like I’m a monster. Make me sound like I evict babies onto the street. Nearly everybody pays back, but sometimes you got the ones that can’t. Breaks my heart. It does. But what am I supposed to do? Sit back while they take my money and then spend it on drink?”
Eveline sighed. “Well, I haven’t heard any rumors. But thanks for setting the story straight just in case.”
“Oh, you’ll hear. Mark my words.” He turned silent, swirled the lemonade in the glass, the sugar crystals at the bottom capering. “I’m not a bad guy.” He met her eyes square and her breath caught. “I just didn’t want you to think I was.”
He smiled and looked down again. “I like you, Eveline. You’ve got eyes that make a man feel warm. Makes a man feel like he doesn’t have to be different than what he is. Saw that the first day I came over here.” He drank his drink in one gulp and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “About the prettiest eyes I ever laid eyes on.”
The conversation was inappropriate and she knew this, felt the panic and the rush of the words. And she loved it at the same time, to feel the blood in her veins in a way that she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. She stood and felt faint, felt a young woman without children or raw hands from washing.
“I should be heading back,” he said. “Glad we could chat a bit.”
She nodded too quickly and too long. “Yes.”
“You and the family need anything—anything at all—let me know. All right?”
“Thank you.”
He gave a short wave and ambled back through the gate, her eyes drawn to the curve of his back pockets and the wide shoulders.
“You want me to hang these back up, Mrs. Kiser?”
Eveline nearly jumped out of her skin, instantly ashamed. Hoped Lily hadn’t seen her staring at her brother-in-law . . . her sister’s husband.
“Frank bring you that?” Lily reproached, pointing to the pitcher in her hands.
“Yes.” Eveline wanted to dip her head in the well bucket to cool off, clear her mind. “Was very kind of him.” She calmed and smiled at Lily. “He’s a very sweet man.”
A hard glint shone in the girl’s eye. “He’s not sweet, Mrs. Kiser.”
She was taken aback. Lily seemed ungrateful, even selfish. “Well, seems he’s given a roof over your head. Takes good care of you and your sister,” she huffed.
Lily sighed and turned away. “I better get these hung before the clouds set in.”
CHAPTER 25
“Will, you have the line and hooks?” asked Andrew. The child nodded, held up a tangled mess of threads, hooks and sticks.
“I got the sandwiches,” Edgar declared helpfully as he raised the picnic basket with unbending arms.
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Mind if I join you?” Lily stood next to the barn, her thin sweater cradling a small pile of apples. “Unless you think I might scare away the fish,” she added.
“Sure, Lily!” Edgar welcomed. “Here, you can put the apples in my basket.” The little boy hoisted the wicker handle and brought it to her side.
“Got enough sandwiches in here to feed an army!” Lily exclaimed.
“Men work up an appetite when they fish. Don’t we?” Andrew winked at the boys, who puffed with pride.
“Ma says we’re growing outta our shoes faster than she can buy ’em,” shared Will. “Says we’ll be eating the bark off the trees if she don’t keep us fed.”
“Well, certainly don’t want that,” agreed Lily. “Sheep already nibbled this place raw.�
� She laughed and picked up the picnic basket weighted with food. “I’ll make sure I bring a batch of cookies next time I come over.”
“Oatmeal raisin?”
“If you like.”
Together, Lily, Andrew and the boys followed the curve of the creek as it meandered through the property and spilled out to a large pond surrounded by weeping willows. Andrew stopped then and put a finger to his lips for quiet, bent down on one knee and tilted his head in the direction of the reeds. A blue heron, majestic and slender, stepped lightly upon the shallow marsh, the long neck straightening and then curving nearly to an S. In a blink of an eye, the yellow beak seized the water and gripped a shiner, swallowed the body whole.
“Whoa!” shouted the boys. “Did you see that?”
Andrew chuckled, glanced at Lily, who was resting on her haunches, holding her knees. The light brown hair spun to gold under the sun, framed her face in silk. The collar of the pale pink dress reflected the hue to her cheeks and brightened the smiling lips. And the figure blended into the grass, competed with the beauty of the day and won without a fight. Her eyes met his and they held the light in one saturated moment.
“I caught one!” Will cried. “I got—”
The giant bullfrog hopped out of his slimy hands and plopped near Edgar’s foot. “I got him!” Edgar shouted. “I got him!” The frog bounced from the boy’s staggered chasing until leaping into the stream just as Edgar slipped, belly first, in the mud.
Andrew plucked his cousin up by the waistband, the boy wet and dripping in pond sludge. “Yuck!” Edgar shook his hair and hands, splaying dirt and scum into the air.
“We’re supposed to be catching fish, not the other way around,” Andrew joked.
Under the willow, Lily helped pull the hooks from the wad of fishing line and salvage which pieces were long enough to use. Andrew and the boys collected worms from under the soft moss.
Andrew picked a leaf from the cluster of jewelweed growing on the bank. “Will. Edgar. I want to show you something.” He took the leaf to the water’s edge, submerged it and tilted the green that morphed to silver no different from metal. “Magic, see?”
The boys’ jaws dropped; they pulled up the leaf that turned green again before submerging it again and turning it silver for themselves. “It’s the only leaf that does that. Far as I know anyway,” Andrew said.
While the boys marveled at the plant’s alchemy, Andrew picked up a round, flat stone and flicked it across the water, sending it skipping four times before sinking.
“How’d you do that?” Edgar asked, dropping the jewelweed into the current.
“Have to find the thinnest ones you can.” Andrew took a stone and placed it in Edgar’s fingers, stood behind him and showed him the back-and-forth motion for launch. Edgar released and the stone skipped once and sank. “Like that?” The little boy’s eyes grew wide and brown as a cow’s.
“Just like that.” Andrew stacked a small pyramid of stones. “Keep practicing and you’ll get it six times across, I bet.”
A heat shimmered from below the willow, vibrated down his skin, and he knew Lily watched him. He plopped down beside her and brushed the dust off his thigh. “You hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head, smiled as Edgar squatted and readied his stone, his nose scrunching in concentration. “You’re really good with them,” she said.
“They’re good boys.” Andrew unwrapped one of the ham sandwiches. “After the accident, they practically lived in my room playing marbles and Old Maid. Always with a million questions, those two,” he said affectionately. Andrew rested his elbow on his knee and stared at the bread in his hand. “But it was good having them there. Kept me distracted. Kept me from thinking about the pain.” He took a small bite of the sandwich and chewed easily.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
The light reflected off the water in ripples, lazy white lines that sparkled at the tips. Edgar flung his stone and it bounced three times.
“Nice one!” Andrew hollered, and the boy beamed. Will followed suit and picked up a stone, watched his little brother’s technique carefully before attempting his own.
“You’re very lucky.” Lily’s voice hummed wistful and longing. “I’d give anything to have a family like this.”
Andrew swallowed his food, watched his cousins, scanned the meandering creek and followed it to its source at the Kiser homestead. Family. Until then he hadn’t thought of the Kisers in that way, and the realization prickled his skin with gratitude.
Lily leaned on one arm, tucked a section of hair behind her ear. “All I ever wanted was to have a family. Piles of kids. My own house. My own animals. A garden so big that I would get winded going from one end to the other.” She picked up a small stick and traced a shape in the dirt. “Want to know something? Before you moved here, I used to come up to your farm every day. Pretended it was mine.” Her head turned to scan the view. “Even when I was little, I’d see the Andersons out here with their sheep, thinking this land belonged to me and not them. Silly, isn’t it?”
“Is that why you carved your name in the apple tree?”
“Oh, you saw that?” She smiled and shrugged. “I love that tree. Couldn’t even tell you how many apples I ate from that one tree. You’d think I’d have cider running through my veins instead of blood.”
“Eveline loves that tree, too. See her out there every day picking up the fruit and polishing them like diamonds before she puts them in the apple chute.”
Andrew finished his sandwich just as Will and Edgar trotted up with their long fishing sticks. Will handed his to Andrew. “Can you tie the line for me?”
“Me too,” Edgar said, accidentally jabbing the tip of his rod against Andrew’s leg.
“Sure.” Taking the fishing line, he measured it up to the top of the first stick and then paused. His fingers played with the line, rolled the thread despondently between them, unable to make a simple knot one handed. The boys waited, shuffled feet in impatience. Andrew pushed the fishing rods away. “I can’t tie it,” he said scornfully.
Lily scooted next to his side and quickly tied a line and hook to each stick, handing them back to Will and Edgar. “Thanks, Lily!” they called, and ran off to the edge of the water.
Andrew relapsed into an insulted silence. Lily held her hands in the skirt of her dress as they watched the little boys splash in the water, scaring away any fish they hoped to hook.
“Claire and I used to fish down here, too,” said Lily, her face fallen, her voice siphoned. “Sometimes we didn’t have anything to eat except for the fish and turtles we caught down this way.”
The reeds tapped against the hollow sticks, now starting to brown and become brittle. Lily’s face turned somber, softened with the faraway thoughts. “Claire used to hunt as good as any man. Could pluck a rabbit or squirrel without missing a shot.”
Will pulled hard at his line, pulled up a clump of old branches, searched the black leaves for his worm. “But after our father died, she couldn’t hunt anymore. Couldn’t stand the sight of blood.” The cool wind blew Lily’s collar so the fabric fluttered under her chin. “Couldn’t even kill a chicken after that. She tried, once. Left her screaming for days. Sometimes we had nothing to eat except for your apples and a couple of potatoes. Ate them raw out of the bin a few times.” She licked her bottom lip as if she could taste the baseness of them. “Guess that’s why she married Frank. To keep me from starving.” Lily picked up a small rock and hurled it to the water. “Guess that’s why she’ll never leave him.”
The words from Andrew’s conversation with Pieter trickled between the notes of Lily’s speech. She’s Lily’s sister. She’s also her mother. “Have you and Claire always been close?” Andrew ventured.
She nodded and then shook her head as if the two sides of her mind argued. “Claire’s the only one who’s ever been there for me. Ever.” Her features scrunched in a pained moment. “She raised me from the day I was born, b
ut . . .”
“What?”
“It’s hard to explain. It’s like standing in a crowd of people and feeling more alone than if you were the only one there.” She swallowed. “How it felt growing up, I guess. Claire was always there but gone at the same time. Like a ghost who was seen but fading away.” Her voice trailed and she bit her lip. “Part of me was always afraid that if I got too close or if I didn’t try to make everything right or if I said the wrong thing she’d disappear straight from my fingertips.”
Andrew watched her. Take care of your family. Always. His father’s voice came from the willow leaves above. Andrew wished he could have been there for Lily, wished he could have brought her warm stews and bread melted over with butter. Wished he could have made fires for her when she had been cold, held her to him when she was scared. Wished he could have taken away the scars of her birth and the wounds of her raising. The severed arm stung then in pulses. He couldn’t even tie a knot, let alone build a life for this woman.
Lily pulled the picnic basket over and stationed the wicker between them. “Want another sandwich?”
“No.” Andrew bent his fingers around the ball of fishing line left by the boys, tossed it under the tree.
Lily kept her arms locked around her knees, stared off at the frogs that hopped onto the warm stones and then off again, making small ripples with their back legs. “The boys don’t care that you can’t tie a knot.” She turned to him. “I don’t, either.”
“You wouldn’t understand.” Andrew sighed. His jaw clicked once below the smooth skin. “Don’t know what it feels like not to be able to do something so simple. Something everyone else in the world can do.”
“Actually, I do.”
Andrew turned to her, the lovely face twisted in humiliation even as she tried to smile through it. “I don’t know how to read.”
* * *
The feed stockpiled in the hayloft of the barn looked enough to sustain a herd, but Wilhelm and Andrew knew they’d be lucky to get two months out of it. To conserve, they sent the cows to graze in the farthest patches of the property, let them cross old property barriers outlined with crooked stone walls and enter into the woods to forage. Then, each evening, Andrew, Edgar and Will would hunt down the wayward cows, turning it into a game of finding the black-and-white-spotted spies hiding in foreign territory. They’d find Maggie, the lead cow, and walk her back to the barn; then out of the recesses the other cows would follow like children trailing their parents into church on Sunday.
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