Loving Liza Jane

by Unknown

  “Miss Merriwether!” Liza turned in the direction of the greeting. Thomas and Erlene Barrington were approaching from the other side of the street. She waved at them. “Have you seen Lili?” Erlene asked in her usual shy manner when they reached the bottom of the porch steps. Erlene had gotten used to Lili looking after her on the playground.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t,” she answered. Liza had been avoiding the Broughton family, Ben in particular, leaving this morning at dawn to do a few things in her classroom. She’d come to realize that even socializing with Benjamin Broughton put her on dangerous ground. In time, he would look into her eyes and recognize her feelings for him, and then where would she be? No, it was best to keep her distance from him altogether.

  “Well, we’ll be on our way then,” Thomas said, taking his sister by the hand. “Have a nice day.”

  “You as well,” Liza said, “Have fun.”

  “Nice kids,” Emma stated as the two children headed back across the street.

  More easy silence followed as both women watched the gathering crowds of townsfolk.

  “I understand that Ben Broughton decided against sending for a bride,” Emma said, startling Liza with the pointed declaration. Emma’s eyes dropped to Liza’s face, as if searching for a reaction.

  “Really?” Liza asked, pretending disinterest.

  “He’s asked if I’ll continue watching Molly until he can decide what to do,” Emma said. “I told him I would. The extra money comes in mighty handy.”

  “I’m sure you helped take a load off his shoulders with your generosity. Molly’s a dear, isn’t she?” Liza said, feeling wistful.

  Emma nodded. “Easy as pie, too, but let’s admit it, Ben needs a wife and those little girls need a mama.”

  “Why don’t you marry him?” Liza asked on a dare, sneaking a peak at Emma to see if there were any chance the woman carried feelings for him.

  “Me? Ben and I are friends, but that’s as far as it goes. He’s always respected my privacy, and I ’preciate that about him. But I’d never marry him. Men are a bother. I ’spect even Benjamin would wear on my nerves after a while.” To this, she gave a little chortle. “The plain truth is, most men can’t be trusted.”

  Liza detected a bitter edge to Emma’s words and wondered what had put it there. Was it her father who had made her life so unbearable? Worse, had he treated her cruelly, thereby putting a sour taste in her mouth for all men?

  Liza had few words to offer, her own sheltered life certainly making her less than wise when it came to relating to Emma’s vindictive world. She did have God, though, and His promise of faithfulness. Hastening with a quick prayer for guidance, she challenged, “Have you ever considered what your heavenly Father can do for you?”

  Emma turned a questioning look on Liza. “You mean God?”

  She bit back a grin. “Yes, God.”

  “Can’t say I have. God and me don’t seem to be a mix.”

  “You shouldn’t be so quick to decide something like that. What if I told you He loves you more than you know and wants to be your friend?”

  “Then I guess I’d have to say I’m not interested.” This time her tone went cold, approaching icy.

  Liza looked off into the distance and listened to the delighted squeals of children, a barking dog, approaching horses’ hooves, and the whir of turning wagon wheels. Closer, she overheard neighbors conversing on the street, a whistling passerby, and the rasping chatter of a squirrel as he darted from one branch to another on a nearby elm.

  “I meant no offense,” Emma hastened.

  “Oh, none taken, believe me,” Liza replied. “It’s just that God has done so much for me, and I thought maybe you…”

  “I prayed once when I was a little girl.”

  “You did?” Liza’s ears perked up at that confession. “What happened?”

  “I asked Him to make my father disappear.” She laughed at the absurdity of her own remark.

  “Oh.” A sort of helplessness moved in. “I don’t mean to poke my nose where it doesn’t belong, but your father, well, I caught a glimpse of him once.”

  “Yeah? I’m certain you don’t frequent Madam Guttersnipe’s vulgar establishment.”

  Liza forced a nervous giggle. “Absolutely not!”

  “Then when?”

  “You were shooing him off your porch that first day I arrived in Hickman.” To Liza, it seemed like years ago and not mere months.

  Emma squinted into the sun as if trying to recall the instance. Then light seemed to dawn. “Oh, that time. Yes, every so often the old coot tries to persuade me to open my doors. He has no idea that I will never welcome him, not inside my hotel, and certainly never again into my life. He’s done too much damage for me ever to forgive him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Liza said, once more feeling at a loss.

  “Don’t be. What’s done is done,” she said with a gentle flick of the wrist and a smile to cover up any trace of emotion.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.” Jonathan Atkins’s pleasant voice broke into their quiet conversation.

  “Jonathan. Or should I say, Reverend? How are you?” Liza greeted happily.

  The sandy-haired fellow helped himself to the porch, then approached an empty wicker chair and plopped himself into it, as if it sat idly by, purposely waiting for him. His ready smile was enough to melt most any woman’s reserve, certainly Liza’s, even though he’d never had to work hard to charm her.

  “Have a seat,” Emma said coldly and pointedly after the fact.

  Nothing about her face looked welcoming, and for the life of her, Liza couldn’t figure out why. What had Jonathan ever done to her? Surely, she couldn’t find fault with him, a man of the cloth.

  “Please, Reverend sounds too stuffy,” he replied, snatching a quick glance at Emma before allowing his eyes to rest on Liza. Stretching out his long, sturdy legs so that they took up the better share of the porch, he gave a relaxed sigh. “Ah, I must say, you ladies do add an extra ray of sunshine to an already beautiful day.”

  Liza laughed at his forward behavior, having come to recognize him as one who never put on airs; instead, taking life as it came to him, enjoying and relishing in its offering, whether good or bad.

  He could teach Emma a thing or two.

  One glance at Emma, however, put a halt to that thought. The woman sat stiff and unmoved, obviously put out by the preacher’s sudden emergence.

  Eager to right the situation, Liza attempted conversation. “I have enjoyed your sermons the last two weeks, Jon. They’ve been so challenging and inspiring.”

  “Thank you, Liza. I had hoped for that. I’m afraid too many sermons these days serve only to satisfy the egos of the regular attendees rather than confront the issues. I hate to think of the church sinking into oblivion when we are surrounded by a world in need.”

  “I agree,” she answered, casting a wary look at Emma and finding her unresponsive and clearly annoyed.

  “Are you ladies planning to join in the festivities or simply watch them from afar?” Jon asked, his sandy hair blowing off his forehead, drawing attention to his finely chiseled face. Despite his rather long and lanky body, he exuded masculinity, easily dispelling all preconceived notions that men of the cloth couldn’t be handsome and fun loving.

  “Oh, we are planning to enjoy it, right Emma?” Liza said, hoping her overdone cheery spirit wouldn’t give away her uneasiness at Emma’s sudden overcast mood.

  Jon trained keen, heedful eyes on Emma, tipping his head to one side as he studied her. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Liza thought he looked like someone who held the answer to some vague mystery. And maybe he did.

  “Yes, of course,” Emma answered. Then, standing, she blurted, “Would anyone care for something to drink?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Jon said, a touch of humor sneaking past his deep blue eyes. “I merely stopped by to say hello.” With that, he stood to his feet so that his eyes met up with Emma’s ta
rt stare.

  Hesitating at the door, Emma matched his gaze. “Well, all right then.”

  Liza felt a chill run the length of her spine at Emma’s cheekiness. Did she have no respect—even for a minister of God’s Word?

  Apparently not, for the next thing she did was escape into the house, allowing the door to slam behind her.

  Hurrying to make amends, Liza stood as well. “Jon, I don’t know what got into her. I was speaking with her earlier about spiritual matters. Perhaps I…”

  He touched a hand to her elbow and gently squeezed. “Don’t worry about it, Liza. Ben thinks she is a woman running scared, and I tend to agree with him.”

  “Ben?” Confusion set in.

  “Yes, and speak of the ugly fiend himself…” Jon looked up and waved his free arm toward the street, keeping the hand at her elbow firmly in place.

  Liza looked up in time to catch Ben Broughton’s icy stare along with the tirelessly joyful reception of his eight-year-old daughter.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ben swallowed down an invisible lump and fought to stay calm. What was Jon doing holding so possessively to Liza’s elbow, looking for all the world as if he’d already laid claim to her? Furthermore, what had they been discussing when he’d drawn the buggy to a halt in front of Emma’s place, their heads close, both serious and contemplative? Moreover, why was it not fitting or proper to be seen with him, Ben, but perfectly acceptable when it came to Jonathan Atkins? Jon may be a minister, but Ben knew him to be just as red-blooded as the next guy.

  A kind of panic ran through his veins, the kind that created havoc in his gut and made him hot under the collar. Apparently, Liza had been serious when she said she intended to forget about the kiss they’d shared. From the look of things, she’d more than forgotten it.

  “Hello, my friend,” Jon hollered, his smile more annoyed than pleased. “Are you butting in on my private time with this pretty lady again?” His good-natured tone made Ben’s teeth clench.

  Molly stirred in Ben’s lap. He readjusted her, then handed her over to her older sister. “Just driving by,” he announced. He wasn’t about to admit he’d had his eye out for the schoolteacher ever since he’d arrived in town an hour ago. It hadn’t occurred to him that he would discover her at Emma’s place.

  “Miss Merriwether, I’m about to do the sack race. Are you planning to come and watch?” His daughter leaned over his lap to shout the question, and Ben had all he could do not to cover his ears.

  “I wouldn’t miss it, Lili,” Liza replied. “By the way, Erlene Barrington was looking for you a while back.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Lili shrieked. “Sarah Jenkins and me are gonna be partners in the three-legged race. Can you watch us?”

  Liza’s golden hair, tied back in its usual bun, looked looser today, the side strands blowing in the wind. As always, Ben longed to brush it from her flawless oval face and twist a couple glistening wisps around his forefinger. A blue calico dress, gathered at the waist with a wide belt, accented her womanly features. If he had been a man bent on anger, he might well have told Jon Atkins to remove his hand from the teacher’s elbow and make it snappy. Instead, he resolved to sit still on his high perch.

  Liza laughed. “I will cheer you on, as I will any other of my students who might be participating, but I shall secretly wish you the winner.”

  Lili clapped and then took Molly’s hands and patted them together as well. The baby giggled with glee. Ben, however, had to force a smile. Liza had yet to look his way. Jon on the other hand seemed bent on rubbing in the fact that he’d reached Liza ahead of him.

  “I think I’ll join you if you don’t mind,” Jon said. “I love a good contest, don’t you, Ben?” Ben offered Jon an empty smile.

  “That would be lovely,” answered Liza, looking up at Jon. “Just let me talk to Emma to see if she’ll meet us at the site of the race.”

  Emma? “I’ll talk to her,” Ben said. And just like that, Ben climbed down from his rig, instructed his girls to stay put, and walked up to the house to invite Emma Browning to join him.

  If Ben’s secret ploy in inviting Emma to join him was to make Liza jealous, it was childish and foolhardy. Yes, she’d accepted, but from a sense of duty, and for that, Ben regretted inviting her. She was a friend, already distrustful of men, and he’d used her as a means for getting back at Liza.

  “I best get my evening meal on the table,” Emma announced after having watched a few events from the quilt they all shared on the large grassy field overlooking the masses of people that had shown up for the festival. Ben knew she felt uncomfortable, although why that was, he couldn’t say.

  “Want me to walk you back?” Ben offered, sitting straighter, one knee drawn up so that his arms rested lazily over it.

  “Don’t be silly, Ben,” she said, standing to her feet.

  “How about me?” asked Jon, eyes filled with merriment. He was the only one lying straight out on the blanket, his hands serving as cushions for his head. He chewed idly on a foot-long blade of grass.

  She produced a brittle smile and an upturned brow. “I’m sure I can find my own way back.” Then to Liza, “Stop in and see me anytime.”

  “I will. Bye, Emma,” Liza said from her corner of the blanket, Molly sprawled out asleep on her lap. The sight of woman and child caught Ben in the gut and squeezed till it hurt.

  “That woman despises the ground I walk on,” Jon said. “And I can’t for the life of me figure out what I did.” Oddly, he wore a grin at the pointblank assertion, apparently unmoved by her lack of responsiveness. Extraordinary coming from a man who defied all odds when it came to his number of admiring acquaintances. In fact, Ben never had met a person who didn’t crave Jon’s company. And Liza didn’t appear to be the exception, much to his chagrin.

  “You probably didn’t do anything. She’s not fond of men in general unless they’re old and crusty—and not related to her.”

  Jon scoffed. “You being the exception, I take it.” He pulled himself into a sitting position, one hand still holding to the long blade of grass, guiding it in and out between his teeth, and the other going behind him for support.

  Here and there, folks milled about, waving greetings. Games and races of all types had been stationed in various places. Lili, still breathless from her last two contests, both of which she’d placed in but not won, returned and leaned her tired body into Ben’s broad chest and mopped continuously at her sweaty brow.

  “We’ve formed a safe alliance over the years. I guess she knows I pose no threat,” Ben said.

  “And I suppose I do?” Jon said, his brow knit with confusion. “What is there about me that threatens her?”

  Ben tipped his head to one side to study Jon’s expression. Somehow, it’d gone from blithe and unconcerned to perplexed in the space of a second.

  “She was hurt bad as a kid; that much I know, although even I don’t know the half of what went on behind closed doors. There were bruises. A cut lip here, a scratch there. Once I saw a scald mark on the side of her neck, which she told me she’d gotten as a result of dropping a frying pan. I remember thinking it seemed an unlikely spot for a burn, but, shoot, I was just a kid. What did I know?”

  Jon made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. “That pitiless excuse of a man. How dare he treat his own daughter like some kind of—of mongrel. What is wrong with him?” Jon’s anger seemed more rooted in the personal than the righteous, which Ben found interesting.

  “He’s a worthless drunk, plain and simple,” Ben answered. “Always has been—far back as I can remember.”

  Moments of silent deliberation ticked by before Liza spoke. “Seems to me that the plain and simple truth here is that Emma and her father need the Lord.” Her statement put Ben to shame, and doubtless Jon as well. “I think we should make a pact to pray for them.”

  “You’re right, Liza,” Jon said. “Rather than talk about it, we should be praying.”

  A thoughtful smile curved Liza’
s mouth. “I spoke with her about the Lord today, but she quickly let it be known she is not interested in God. It made me think of the woman at the well who was afraid to let Jesus see her for who she really was.”

  “That’s insightful,” Ben said, giving a nod while simultaneously shooing a fly from his face. “Perhaps if anyone can reach her, you can, Liza.”

  Liza nodded, and the three adults fell into another state of quiet reflection.

  Finally, having had enough of the adult conversation, Lili sat bolt upright, her strength renewed, and shot a frustrated glance at everyone. “Well, this has turned boring,” she announced, jumping to her feet and pulling Ben with her.

  Taken aback by his daughter’s boldness, Ben looked down at Jon, who hadn’t moved so much as a neck muscle, and Liza, who gently rocked his sleeping child where she sat. “How about we all go for a walk?” Ben suggested.

  Jon shook his head. “No thanks. I believe I’ll just sit here and enjoy this wonderful autumn breeze.” Glancing in Liza’s direction, Jon added, “It’d be a shame for Liza to move the baby, don’t you think?”

  “Come on, Papa,” Lili said, tugging on his arm. “You can buy me an ice cream.”

  “An ice cream?” Ben gave Liza a look he hoped she would read as yearning.

  But she merely flicked a free wrist at him. “Go on. Molly and I are fine. I think it’s good that she’s getting this nice nap, don’t you?”

  “Sure, but…” He continued gazing down at her, wishing she could read between the lines. “I wouldn’t mind carrying her.”

  “Nonsense. She’d awaken. Jon’s right, the weather is too perfect not to sit a spell longer. You and Lili go have fun.”

  That was it, then. She wanted to be alone with Jon.

  Ben shot Jon a warning look, but if the guy detected it, he didn’t let on. Instead, he reclined again, squinting up at the clear blue blanket of warmth and sighing with contentment.

  Later, Ben’s hand holding tightly to Lili’s as they picked their way through mobs of townsfolk on their way to the ice cream stand, he blurted, “For someone afraid that Mr. Atkins is going to get to Miss Merriwether before I do, you sure were anxious to leave the two of them alone together.”