“I guess,” Nora admitted.
The nurse stepped to the cot in the corner and removed the sheet protecting it from sawdust. As she folded it, she sneezed. “Maybe we should invite Zeb for supper.”
The sneeze reminded Nora of quarreling with him at the mill. “He wouldn’t come. And if he did, he’d be rude and I’d get angry.” She’d also feel the sweet yearnings she’d discovered at the river.
Hugging the sheets, Carolina walked to the doorway and turned. “A thank-you is in order and tomorrow is Sunday. Why don’t you go to church. Zeb will be there.”
Nora didn’t feel ready to see him. “I’ll send a note.”
“And miss seeing his reaction?” Carolina smiled. “One look will tell you what we’re both wondering.”
“And what’s that?” Nora asked.
“Why he did it.”
Nora had the same question, but going to church meant facing Zeb in public. She preferred dealing with her enemies one at a time. “I don’t think so.”
“Go on,” Carolina urged. “Not only do you deserve a day of rest, Reverend Preston has a way with words.”
Nora wanted to hear the minister preach, but she’d had her fill of malice from Zeb and the Johnsons. On the other hand, she longed for the beat of a rousing hymn, the peace of a silent prayer. She also saw a chance to chat with the families she’d visited and affirm her presence as a physician. She wouldn’t survive for long if she didn’t see more patients.
“You need to be there,” Carolina insisted. “If people get to know you, they’ll trust you. Look at Alex. You helped him.”
“I hope so.”
“And Bess. She hasn’t spoken yet, but she wants to. Yesterday when she came to the door, she opened her mouth instead of clamping it shut.”
Nora saw progress, but Bess had a ways to go. “I’m trying, but it’s not enough.”
“You’ve done plenty,” the nurse insisted. “She feels safe with you.”
Nora wished she felt as safe in High Plains. Even church posed a danger. The Ladies Aid Society would gossip about her. Even more troubling, she’d see Zeb looking handsome in his Sunday best. She traced a swirl in the oak. It dipped and rose, narrowed, then spread around a knot as dark as Zeb’s heart. Only God could remove that hardness. In Nora’s experience, the Lord would either soften hard spots with love, or He cut them out with suffering. As a physician, she knew about surgery and scars. She also knew God’s ways. She couldn’t avoid Zeb just because he upset her. “I’d love to go to church,” she said to Carolina. “Are you sure about staying with Alex?”
“Of course.” The older woman tipped her head. “I’ll press a dress for you. Which one?”
Nora thought for a minute. “The copper silk.” The one she’d worn to the mill…the one that had caught Zeb Garrison’s eye. Why she cared, she didn’t know. If he spoke to her at all, he’d be insufferable. As for the Ladies Aid Society, only the meanest of souls would accuse a woman dressed in brown of low moral character.
Zeb walked into church five minutes late and slid into the back pew. He figured Cassandra would be seated up front with the Logans. When he didn’t see her, he scanned the middle seats and spotted her with Percival. Zeb wished he’d dragged himself out of bed sooner. Cassandra and Percy were seeing too much of each other. If Clint didn’t wise up, she’d be headed back to Boston as Mrs. Percival Walker, a thought Zeb loathed.
He also loathed church and attended for one reason. It was easier to sleep in the back row than it would be to explain his absence.
He never had liked Sunday services. As a boy, he’d been bored and fidgety. As a man, he knew the weaknesses of his character and didn’t need to be reminded. He stumbled every day, though not as badly as he’d fallen in Boston. After Frannie left, he’d disappeared for three days and done things he deeply regretted. There hadn’t been any pleasure in that darkness, only a numbness that had burned like fire in the light of dawn. He’d been ashamed of himself and hadn’t stumbled since, at least not in that way. No one knew about that ugly time, not even Will. He supposed God knew, but the Almighty didn’t seem to care. At least he hadn’t struck Zeb dead, which at the time seemed preferable to living without Frannie.
The hymn ended with a tremulous amen and the congregation sat. As the air stirred, he smelled lavender. He looked to his right and saw Nora seated four feet away. Her eyes were riveted to the pulpit, but the blush on her cheeks indicated she’d noticed him.
He had to wonder…did she like the shelves? He’d planed the wood himself and had a splinter in his thumb to prove it. He’d tried soaking it, but it hadn’t come out. He’d gone after it with a sewing needle and picked until it bled, but the sliver wouldn’t budge. The annoyance seemed fitting. His conscience also had a splinter, the kind that wouldn’t come out until he apologized. He’d hoped for a note from her, something to acknowledge the peace offering. Judging by the tightness of her mouth, she didn’t have that note in her pocket.
Zeb faced forward. He’d given her a gift, a nice one. Did she want his pride, too? She couldn’t have it. He refused to grovel in front of anyone.
Reverend Preston stepped to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, let us pray…”
Zeb bowed his head out of habit, not humility. He heard words like charity and neighbor, but he felt neither charitable nor neighborly. If Dr. Mitchell wanted to make peace, it was her turn to bend.
Reverend Preston cleared his throat. “Please stand for our next hymn, ‘Just as IAm.’ It’s number eighteen in your hymnals.”
The book was sitting to his right. So was Nora. When he reached for it, so did she. Their hands stopped in midair just inches apart over the black leather. Zeb’s gaze traveled up the sleeve of her brown dress to the high collar, past her jaw to her blue eyes. As their gazes collided, she raised her chin. He indicated she should take the book, then faced forward. She could have the hymnal. He didn’t like to sing anyway.
Pages fluttered as books were opened and couples bumped shoulders. The rustling reminded him of the wind. Wind reminded him of the tornado and how empty he’d felt with death a breath away. He still wanted a legacy, a son who’d inherit Garrison Mill, but the thought didn’t bring the satisfaction he expected.
His chest felt as hollow as a drum, each beat more lonely than the last. The scent of lavender rushed into his nose and he turned. Nora had stepped to his side with the hymnal open and cradled in her hands. When she tilted her face up to his, he saw the trepidation of a woman who’d had a door slammed in her face. He couldn’t blame her for being wary of him. He’d treated her terribly and he knew it. A wry smile lifted his lips. It said I’m sorry without words.
She smiled back, then looked down at the page. Zeb pinched a corner of the book and together they sang the first words of the hymn.
“Just as I am, without one plea…”
Zeb doubted God wanted him just as he was, but he sang anyway. So did Nora. Her voice, a timid soprano, didn’t match her hair. With their shoulders nearly touching, she seemed smaller than she had at the mill.
Wanting to bear some of the load, he slid his right hand beneath the hymnal and held it for them both. His thumb grazed the tip of her glove and she pulled back, but only a bit. He felt a sudden lightness at her touch, a lifting of his heart as she sang the words. Did Will feel this camaraderie with Emmeline? Did Pete share it with Rebecca? Zeb recalled his friends laughing at his tirade about women and felt foolish. Instead of chasing Nora out of High Plains, he wanted to kiss her senseless. What a thought to have in church! Surely God would strike him dead…except He didn’t. Instead, for the first time since Frannie had jilted him, Zeb felt joy rising as he sang with Nora…
Just as I am, Thou wilt receive.
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve.
He didn’t want to think about Frannie and pardon in the same breath, but he very much wanted to be cleansed and relieved of the past. For two years he’d lived with claw marks on his heart. Did he want to feel tha
t sting the rest of his life? No, he didn’t. He didn’t want to waste two more minutes on Frannie. The thought freed him, but only for an instant. Forgiving Frannie was one thing. Risking his heart on a lady doctor was another.
When the music ended, he closed the book and they sat. Nora folded her hands in her lap. Zeb rested his palms on his knees.
“Good morning!” Reverend Preston boomed. “This is the day our Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Nora breathed deeply, as if she were savoring a rose. Zeb tried not to fidget.
The reverend opened his Bible. “More than forty days ago, a tornado ripped our town—and our lives—to pieces. Some of us lost loved ones. Others lost homes. We all lost sleep and had bad dreams. We became fearful of the unknown, the uncertainties hidden in clouds on the horizon. Today I want to talk about another storm. This one happened in the days of Noah. It lasted forty days and forty nights and tested the faith of a brave man and the people who trusted him.”
Zeb’s fingers knotted on his knees. He hadn’t built an ark, but he and Will had captained the journey to High Plains. Dozens of families had followed them. He felt responsible for their safety. The reverend had his full attention as he described Noah battling the storm, the rise and fall of the waves, the smell of too much life in small quarters. Zeb thought of families living in shacks. He had to keep the lumber coming for houses.
“What gave Noah his strength?” the reverend asked. “Did he have a compass to find land? Could he meet every need on that storm-tossed boat?”
The reverend paced the length of the pulpit, then looked at Zeb. “Noah couldn’t do it alone. That’s why he leaned on the Almighty. He prayed. He believed God would see them through the storm.”
Zeb wanted that assurance, but he didn’t have it. In his experience, God cared about Heaven and Hell but not the here and now. Anger welled in his belly, but so did a longing to be proven wrong. He only half listened to the reverend’s words about perseverance. Zeb had been persevering his whole life, first to escape Bellville and then to build Garrison Mill.
“So how do we manage in times of trouble?” the reverend asked. “Where did Noah find the wisdom to captain that ship?”
Zeb stopped fidgeting.
The minister kept pacing. “He didn’t get it by staying up all night. He didn’t get it by working hard, either.”
Zeb saw himself as plain as day.
The reverend looked straight at him. “Noah got wisdom by asking the Lord for help. Just like us, he found himself in tough times. He did his best and trusted God to do what he couldn’t do for himself.”
The minister swept the congregation with his eyes. “The Lord loves us, ladies and gentlemen. And He’s given us the capacity to love one another. That’s what kept Noah going. He loved God, and he loved the people in his care. We love each other today because God first loved us.”
Zeb didn’t feel loved by God. He felt worse than empty, as if his soul had turned to dust. Had the dryness started with Frannie? He wanted to blame her but couldn’t. As long as he could remember, he’d had a yearning he couldn’t satisfy. He’d thought success would fill it, but it hadn’t. He’d thought marrying Frannie would make him happy, but she’d left. He’d once asked Will if he felt that same lack. His friend, a godly man, had said no.
Zeb wanted that peace. How did he get it? Show me, Lord. What do I have to do?
His mind traveled back to the church in Bellville. Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and ye shall find.
Was it that easy? Could he ask God for help and get it? As a millwright, Zeb lived by logic. To be effective, the millworks had to be powered by the river. The waterwheel transferred the energy to the saws. What connected man and God? Nothing Zeb could see.
In the next breath, Reverend Preston looked right at him again. “What is it that connects us to God?”
Zeb got chills.
“I’ll tell you what that connection is,” the man said. “It’s love. A mother will go hungry to feed her child. A man will die to save his family. It’s love that keeps us looking for the missing children, and it’s love that gives us the power to rebuild this town.”
A prickling raced up Zeb’s spine and put his thoughts in motion as surely as the flow of the High Plains River powered the mill. God was the river, the source of power. Love was the waterwheel, the connection between God and humanity. Love had put Christ on the cross and given mankind the hope of eternity and new life. As understanding dawned, Zeb felt a trembling in his belly. Without God, he was as dead as a mill in a drought. He couldn’t explain why bad things happened, why tornadoes struck and children got snatched, but he could trust in rivers and waterwheels—in God and His love—the way Noah had trusted during the storm.
Zeb had some amends to make and he knew it. I’m sorry, Lord, for my pride. Peace filled his soul, but only halfway. He owed Nora a real apology, not one made of wood.
Reverend Preston rocked back on his heels. “We share God’s love in many ways. We’re friends. We’re neighbors.” His eyes twinkled. “We’re also male and female. Like the animals on Noah’s ark, we do better in pairs than we do apart.”
The minister smiled at his wife in the front row. Will turned to Emmeline and smiled. Pete and Rebecca tipped their heads together like lovebirds. A yearning for more than work, something beyond a legacy, pulled at Zeb’s gut. He wanted to be in love again, but how could he take that chance?
He looked down at Nora’s hands, loose in her lap and covered with ivory lace. He imagined curling his fingers around them, but in the next breath he called himself a fool. Medicine would always come first in her life. He knew, because he had the same drive when it came to milling. Never mind her keen intelligence and fetching blue eyes. He’d be a fool to do more than apologize. With his jaw tight, he decided to make amends immediately after church. A few words would suffice.
Instead of feeling relieved by the decision, Zeb felt cheated. He didn’t want to have feelings for Nora, but he did. Tough by nature, he was accustomed to fighting for what he wanted. Right now, he wanted to take this pretty, intelligent woman for a walk by the river. He wanted to take her hand and hold it, just to see what she’d do. Did they have a future together? He wouldn’t know unless he kicked that rock down the road. He couldn’t think of a better place to test their feelings than by the waterfall.
Reverend Preston closed the service with a prayer. As the crowd filtered to the door, Zeb turned to Nora. Her gaze held a challenge, but she didn’t speak.
Keeping his voice level, he matched her stare and held it. “I’d like a word with you, Dr. Mitchell. Would you take a walk with me?”
With his heart plinking against his ribs, Zeb waited for her answer.
Chapter Fourteen
Nora matched his gaze with a tough one of her own. “Certainly. I have something to say to you, too.”
“Then we’re of the same mind.”
She doubted it. Zeb Garrison detested her. What she felt for him defied explanation. When he’d slid into the pew next to her, she’d imagined a string pulling them together. She’d seen his jaw, freshly shaved with a small cut, probably because he’d hurried, and she’d wanted to dab it with her handkerchief. She hadn’t thought twice about sharing the hymnal with him. She could no more shun Zeb and his troubled heart than she could leave Alex in a ditch.
He crooked his elbow and offered his arm. With a glint that dared her to accept, he waited for her to slip her fingers into place.
With a defiant gleam of her own, Nora took his arm as they stepped into the aisle, blending into the crowd waiting to greet Reverend Preston. Zeb said nothing, but she sensed his every breath. He seemed different than when he’d slid into the pew without noticing her. Standing at his side, she understood why the people of Bellville had followed him to High Plains. He had the poise of a confident man, someone they could trust because he’d fight for what he believed in.
Nora admired his bearing, but she knew it came at a co
st. As a doctor she maintained the same poise. Only a few people knew how profoundly she wept when she lost a patient. She tightened her grip on Zeb’s arm. When his biceps bunched, she recalled the brush of their fingers on the hymnal. As her nerves twittered, he looked down with the hint of a smile. Nora let go of his arm and stared straight ahead. She owed him a thank-you for the shelves, not a glimpse into her wayward thoughts.
The line moved steadily until they reached Reverend Preston. The minister shook her hand. “Welcome, Dr. Nora. I saw you in the back row.” His eyes twinkled. “That’s Zeb’s special place, you know.”
“I’ll remember that.” In the future she’d avoid him. “I enjoyed the sermon very much.”
“Thank you.” He released her hand. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“You will,” she replied.
The minister gripped Zeb’s hand next. “You, too, Zeb. Even in the back row.”
When Zeb chuckled, Nora felt it in her bones. She’d grown accustomed to his tense moods. Today he seemed at ease. Why had he invited her for a walk? Her mind tripped down a strange and twisting path that ended at the top of a waterfall. Her stomach went over the edge, but she forced herself to weigh the facts. She had no reason to think he’d seen the light when it came to female physicians. Until she heard what he had to say, she’d be wise to maintain a polite distance.
As they walked into the churchyard, he spoke so only she could hear. “Let’s walk around back.”
“All right.”
As he guided her to a side path, Cassandra waved at them. “Zeb! Nora! Come here.”
He kept walking, but Nora stopped. “You can’t just ignore her.”
“Sure I can.” He flashed a grin. “She’s my sister.”
His expression left her breathless, but her mind stayed engaged with her surroundings, especially people noticing them. Zeb didn’t need to earn the town’s respect, but she did. Leaving with him, especially in a secretive manner, would lead to gossip.
Kansas Courtship Page 13