More Than Meets the Eye

by Karen Witemeyer

  Her quiet words only made it worse. “Please, Zach.” Her voice lowered even more. Logan had to strain to hear as he fiddled with Shamgar’s saddle and pretended he wasn’t listening. “He looks and speaks to me as if I’m normal.” His chest tightened at that admission. She was normal. Better than normal, in his opinion. “Never once has he made me feel self-conscious or uncomfortable. I trust him.”

  She trusted him? A con man would rejoice at those words, but Logan simply felt awe and a deep sense of responsibility not to let her down. The ache in the region of his heart intensified, and an odd swirling sensation afflicted his gut.

  “If it will make you feel better,” she said, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her lips, “you and Seth can follow us in the wagon.”

  Hamilton harrumphed. “While you walk? For three miles?” He shook his head. “Watching paint dry would be a better use of my time.”

  Logan kept his body language neutral even as he pumped a victorious mental fist. Getting Eva to open up about her odd behavior would be difficult enough without her overprotective brothers watching their every move.

  Hamilton prowled over to Logan and glared at him across Shamgar’s back. “If my sister’s not home in an hour, I’ll come looking.” He eyed Logan up and down. Logan jutted out his chin and accepted the perusal, silently praying Hamilton wouldn’t see his father reflected in his features. Hamilton frowned, and his eyes narrowed, as if not particularly impressed by what he’d seen. “I promise it won’t be pleasant if I have to come find you.”

  Logan accepted the threat as his due and nodded. “You have my word that I’ll see her safely home.”

  “Emphasis on the safely, mister. She so much as stubs her toe, and you’ll answer to me.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Eva shoved Hamilton’s shoulder. He swayed slightly but gave up no ground. “I traipse all over the countryside by myself seven days a week. I think I can manage to walk the road from here to home without endangering my health.”

  “It ain’t your capability I’m questioning.” Hamilton’s stare never left Logan’s eyes. Logan knew exactly what he was questioning. His honor. But the way Eva’s forehead wrinkled proved her too innocent to fully comprehend the implication.

  “Sure sounded like it,” she grumbled. “As if I need a man’s arm to keep from stumbling over my own two feet. You make me sound like an invalid.”

  Logan finally broke Hamilton’s stare to smile at Eva. “You are far from an invalid, Miss Hamilton. I find you delightfully . . . robust.”

  A strangled noise gurgled out of her brother’s throat, but Eva’s giggle banished the sound. “Robust, am I? I do believe that is the most unique compliment I’ve ever received.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake.” Hamilton turned his back with a grunt and waved them off. “Take your walk already and spare me this idiotic conversation.”

  Eva grabbed her brother’s arm and lifted on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Zach.”

  Hamilton wrapped a rather awkward arm around her shoulders before releasing her and stepping away. “Be careful, Evie.” He glanced over her shoulder at Logan. The warning was evident, but so was the worry. “People aren’t always what they seem to be on the surface.”

  “I know.” She glanced at Logan, too. “But unless I get past the surface, I’ll never know the truth, will I?”

  Logan held her gaze for a heartbeat before looking away and setting his jaw. She’d discover the truth soon enough. All of it. Including her brother’s sins.

  Logan flipped his wrist and freed Shamgar from the hitching rail as the blond Hamilton brother joined their group, a frown marring his brow. Before he could verbalize the questions written on his face, Logan moved the lead line to his left hand and offered his right arm to Eva.

  “Shall we?”

  She smiled and fit her slender hand into the crook of his elbow. “We shall.”

  “What—?” the blond brother sputtered, his head swiveling to follow their progress as they swept past.

  “Neighbor,” Hamilton huffed in explanation before grabbing Seth by the shoulder and directing him toward the wagons.

  Unfortunately, Hamilton couldn’t manhandle the rest of the gawking crowd. Eva’s smile dimmed under the weight of their stares. Conversations hushed and eyes prodded—some with simple curiosity, others with something more akin to the look one would give a bearded lady when gaping at circus oddities. It took only a few steps for the heaviness to bend Eva’s head back into the shepherd’s crook she’d sported in the pew.

  “Who’s that man with Eerie Evie?” A pair of girls near Eva’s age pointed at them as they walked past, their voices hushed yet projecting loudly enough to ensure the couple would hear.

  “I don’t know,” her companion sneered, “but look at that scar. He’s probably as wicked as she is.”

  “Maybe she hexed him with one of her spells, and he’s trapped in some kind of trance.”

  “Probably. It’s the only way a girl like her could get a man to walk out with her.”

  Indignation flared in Logan’s chest. The good people of Pecan Gap needed a lesson in manners and common decency. He glared at the insufferable girls, wishing he could give them the dressing down their cruel words deserved, but lashing out at them wouldn’t help the woman at his side. He’d no doubt embarrass her and cause her to retreat further into herself. This called for a different tactic.

  He leaned close. “Ashamed to be seen with the guy with the scar?”

  Her head snapped up, just as he’d bet it would. “No! Never. I—” Her eyes darted away from his face to the smirking girls, then to the rest of the crowd standing in little clusters around the churchyard. She started shrinking again, her posture going lax, her neck bending.

  “Good,” he said. “Had me worried when your head went all droopy.”

  His words had the desired effect. Her chin jutted forward, and determination straightened her neck. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “It’s me they’re staring at. I’ve never had a . . . man walk me home before.”

  That hesitation. She’d been about to call him something else before she thought better of it. Suitor? Beau? His limbs loosened into a stride with a bit more swagger, though he worried a bit over why his mind had leapt to fill in the blank with those particular terms.

  He wanted her to think of him fondly, he assured himself. Romantically, even. The closer they became, the more information he could glean. Yet when her striking eyes met his, a shy blush rising to her cheeks, it wasn’t information he found himself wanting.

  Logan hugged her hand to his side and gave her his best roguish grin. “They’ll get used to it.” He winked. “I plan to walk you home next week, too. And the week after. Pretty soon, seeing us together will be so ordinary that no one will even think twice about it.”

  Her eyes softened. Grew dewy. For a heartbeat he panicked, afraid he’d made her cry, but then a tender smile blossomed, and her expression took on a glow of such dreamy adoration, he felt as if he’d single-handedly slayed a den full of dragons. He tried to shake off the feeling, leery of its addictive properties, but it lingered despite his efforts, warming his insides.

  They walked in silence through the remainder of the churchyard, Eva with her head up and her steps in time with his. Taking the road that led away from town, Logan waited until her brothers’ wagon rolled by—one dark face scowling at him while the other sported concern—before broaching the topic most on his mind.

  “Why do you hide yourself from them?”

  Eva turned startled eyes on him. “What?”

  “In church. You never looked up. Not at me when I came in late. Not at the preacher. Not even during the singing. It was as if you were a different person. Timid and afraid, not the warrior sprite I remember from the woods.”

  She grinned. “Warrior sprite? I like that. Even more than robust.”

  He chuckled. “I aim to please.”

  She held his gaze for a moment be
fore her smile slipped away and her attention floated down to the road in front of her. “I . . . disturb them.”

  “What do you mean, disturb?” He kept his voice deliberately neutral even as anger rose inside him at the cruelty of people who should know better.

  “You heard those girls. Eerie Evie.” Her voice clogged as she struggled to get the awful name past her lips. “They’ve called me that since school. They’d throw rocks at me during recess when the teacher wasn’t looking and threaten to tie me to a tree and burn me at the stake if I looked them in the eyes. So I stopped looking at them.

  “Not everyone is as heartless as Ethel and Hortense, though,” she rushed to explain, as if she could feel the tension radiating up his arm beneath her fingertips. “I’ve been here long enough now that most people are used to my strange eyes and pay me no heed. There are even a few I consider friends, like Charlotte Clem and Mrs. Bishop. She was my teacher for a couple years before she married.” A small grin tugged the corners of Eva’s mouth upward. “She made Hortense stand in the corner for a full afternoon one day when she overheard her awful taunts.” The twinkle returned to her beautiful, mismatched eyes. “Best school day ever.”

  Logan smiled even as he inwardly railed. This kindhearted woman was defending the townsfolk with pitiful evidence. Two friends. Two. Both older than her. Both in mentoring roles. People who were supposed to make those in their care feel welcome. Did Eva not have any friends her own age?

  The truth hit him hard in the gut. She didn’t. The Hamiltons kept to themselves, just as the saloon owner had told him. No visits to town. No shopping excursions. No social calls. Eva’s closest companion was an ugly black boar with a ridiculous red bow.

  “It’s usually better in church,” she said, “but I hide my eyes there, too, because it’s easier for everyone to worship if they don’t have to worry about certain . . . distractions.”

  He wasn’t going to let that one slide. “People deal with distractions all the time during worship, Eva. Random thunderclaps. A cricket hopping across the floorboards. A baby fussing. If they can’t handle a beautiful woman smiling at them from the back pew, they should contemplate their own weakness instead of passing the blame to someone who cannot change the appearance God gave her.”

  Eva stumbled to a halt. “You . . . you think I’m beautiful?”

  “Don’t go changing the subject on me, Evangeline Hamilton.” Logan shook his finger at her, aiming for a little distraction of his own. Her looking at him all shy and hopeful like that was making his own weakness abundantly clear. “I’m not done taking you to task for all that hiding.”

  She nibbled her lip and glanced away, then resumed her strolling pace.

  Logan sensed the truth lurking behind the silence, yet he didn’t want to press her too hard. So he just walked beside her. Steady. Patient. Supportive.

  He might not verbally press her, but he wasn’t about to change the subject, either. Few people could let quiet stretch for long unchallenged. They had a little over two miles left. He could wait.

  Before they’d traveled a hundred yards, Eva inhaled and broke the silence.

  “Several years ago, a man visited from another town—a man of some importance, I assumed, by the way everyone treated him with deference. A revival preacher, someone told me later. He was asked to lead a prayer during the service.” She slipped her hand free of his arm, but Logan refused to let her withdraw from him. He reached out and clasped her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and holding tight. She glanced up at him, questions burning in those lovely eyes of hers.

  Logan smiled in encouragement. “What happened with this man?”

  Eva turned to focus on a spot farther down the road. “He approached the pulpit, his leather Bible clasped firmly in his hands. He scanned the crowd, his face harsh and judgmental, as if ready to call down fire and brimstone on anyone who dared fidget or yawn on his watch.”

  So many details. Which meant there was a lot of emotion attached to them. They’d lodged in her mind and not given in when time tried to siphon them out.

  “He had just invited the congregation to bow their heads,” she continued, “when his attention reached the back pew—reached me. His eyes flew wide, then narrowed in accusation. He clutched his Bible to his chest like a shield and pointed a bony finger at me. ‘Demon child,’ he said. ‘How dare you defile the house of the Lord? Begone!’”

  Outrage fired Logan’s veins, stealing his ability to speak or even move. He halted abruptly, snapping Eva around and leaving Shamgar to bump his chest against the back of Logan’s shoulder. The only thing that kept the imminent eruption inside him from blasting free was the sad little smile curving Eva’s lips.

  “You should have seen Zach.” She shook her head and even managed a small chuckle. “He was halfway down the aisle, ready to physically remove the old man from the pulpit and the building itself, when four men leapt from their pews to restrain him.”

  Logan would have cleared his path.

  “Mr. Clem managed to smooth things over, got the man’s son to escort him back to his seat, then publicly apologized to me and our family.”

  Not before the damage had been done. What on earth would lead a man of God to say something so vile?

  “Charlotte told me later that the old preacher’s mind had been slipping for some time. The family had tried to hide his deficiencies, but after the episode in Pecan Gap, they forced him to retire and kept him at home, where his outbursts would cause less harm. It’s sad, really, if you think about it. After all those years of godly service bringing lost souls to Christ, he didn’t deserve to have the good forgotten simply because he misspoke while in a confused state.”

  Didn’t deserve . . . ? Logan gaped at her. How did she forgive so easily? Confused or not, that man had hurt her with his cruel words, yet she felt pity for him. Compassion. Sure, Jesus taught his followers to love their enemies, but Logan didn’t think anyone actually did so. Tolerate them, maybe. Refraining from actual violence against them seemed loving enough to his way of thinking. But Eva? She took things to a different level, one he’d thought only existed in sermons and books. Not in real life.

  Yet the truth of it lay written on her beautiful face. She’d forgiven that old man. Completely. A shadow of leftover hurt and embarrassment might cast an occasional pall over her, but it didn’t define her. Didn’t control her.

  An uncomfortable sensation jabbed at Logan’s chest, but he tamped it down. Eva was still speaking. He needed to focus on her, not wear out his brain analyzing his own motives.

  “It took several weeks and a dozen or so visits from the Clems before I felt up to returning to services,” she admitted with a sheepish glance his way, as if afraid he would think less of her for being human. “Zach threatened never to darken the doors again, but he wasn’t about to let me go without him, so we reclaimed our pew a couple months later.”

  “And you started hiding your eyes to keep some other closed-minded dolt from sticking his foot in his mouth?”

  She twisted from side-to-side, her skirt swishing against the edge of his trousers. “Something like that.” She sighed, and the swishing slowed. “I wish I could say that I keep my eyes hidden to promote orderly worship and to ensure I don’t inadvertently cause a brother to stumble. But in truth, I do it because it’s easier. If I hide my eyes, I don’t have to see how others react to me.”

  Logan released Shamgar’s lead line and cupped the side of Eva’s face in his hand. “If you hide your eyes, you’ll never teach them to accept you.” His thumb stroked the softness of her cheek. “Let them see you, Eva. The real you. The brave, cheerful wood sprite who spreads joy wherever she goes. Once they do, the surface differences will fade from their notice.”

  He leaned forward, his gaze shifting to her mouth. The urge to kiss her was so strong, he nearly forgot they were standing in the middle of a road where anyone could happen by. Thankfully, a jangle of harness from somewhere ahead of them jerked him back to reality.<
br />
  He lifted his head, searching for the wagon that must be near. But nothing was on the road.

  “I heard it, too,” Eva said, her brow crinkling as she scanned the area. “Maybe off the road?” She slid her hand from his and walked to the north edge. “Oh, there. I see. A wagon down by the river.” She pointed at a small path that veered from the main road to a low spot along the river’s edge.

  Logan came alongside her and squinted into the distance. “Someone having a picnic perhaps? That fellow seems to be carrying a rolled up blanket or carpet or something.” The distance was too great for him to make out any details, but something felt off. The man’s movements were lumbering, labored. Even a heavy carpet shouldn’t cause that much difficulty.

  Before he could share the puzzle of it with Eva, she bolted down the road toward the river.

  “Eva!” He ran after her and caught her before she could get up to full speed. He spun her around to face him, and the distraught look in her eyes immediately set his senses on alert. “What is it?”

  “That’s no picnic. It’s murder!”

  12

  Evangeline struggled against Logan’s grip. She didn’t have time to explain. She had to get down to the river before it was too late.

  It wouldn’t be the first time someone had decided to rid themselves of an unwanted animal in such a vile manner. The stream off the main river wasn’t deep, but an animal wrapped in a pillowcase or sheet wouldn’t stand a chance. It would drown in a matter of minutes. And that infernal path led right to the stream, making it all too easy to drive up to the water’s edge and dump the defenseless creature, just like that horrid man was doing right now.

  “You don’t understand!” She dragged Logan a few steps toward the river. “I have to stop him.”