Loving Liza Jane (35 page)

Of course, Jon would recognize the propriety issue for what it was. Although he’d seen Liza to her door before, there’d be no point to visiting her alone now while she was so much in the public eye.

“Papa, can you deliver this letter to Miss Merriwether for me?” Lili asked, giving him a start when she appeared in the barn doorway.

“You’re up early,” Ben said, walking over to drop a light kiss on the top of her braided head. She was becoming quite adept at braiding, a skill he’d never quite mastered.

“I had to finish my letter.”

“Ah.” Ben set the milk bucket down and looked at his daughter. “Well, since she had so many visitors yesterday, perhaps you can deliver it yourself—after school, I mean.”

“Yippee!” At that, she turned and made a dash for the house, the letter flying through the air at the end of her arm.

After transporting Lili to the schoolhouse and Molly to Emma’s, Ben decided to make a stop at the post office. He received so little mail that weekly stops were usually sufficient.

As soon as he entered the post office, George Garner gave him a wave from the back room. “I was wonderin’ if I was gonna have to come lookin’ for ya.”

“Why is that?” Ben asked.

“You’ve had a letter sittin’ in yer box for nigh onto a week.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, walking to his box and flipping open the little glass door to retrieve the posted missive.

Like a meteor falling from the heavens, Ben’s heart fell when he caught a glimpse of the letter’s origin. Sarah Woodward.

All the way home, Ben wondered how to deal with this new set of problems.

Since he’d sent word to the Marriage Made in Heaven Agency requesting they put a halt to the proceedings, he hadn’t heard one word of reply. Enough time had passed, he’d figured, and so he’d clung to the assumption that the woman he had sent for had indeed received his message. In fact, he’d put the matter out of his mind.

But apparently, that wasn’t the case, for she’d written of her mother’s sudden death after months of caring for her, and how she hoped her move to Kentucky would help to alleviate her untold grief. She made no mention of Ben having cancelled his end of the bargain. Moreover, she explained that the bridal agency had folded some weeks ago due to poor management of funds. Apparently, they’d failed even to forward Ben’s message.

If all goes well, she’d said at the close of her letter, I should be leaving for Kentucky via train by the end of the week.

The end of the week? If his figuring were right, she would arrive within the next ten days.

Oh, Lord, I’ve made a mess of things.

“The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.” The verse from Nahum 1:7 went through his mind.

Ben searched the heavens as he clicked the horses on their way over Hickman’s new bridge and up the trail toward home. Work awaited him on the farm. He still had bales of hay to haul in from the north field, a couple stretches of fence to repair, hinges to replace on the barn door, stalls to muck out, and a lame horse to tend. And that didn’t even count the daily chores that running a farm entailed.

He needed a wife, yes, but marrying a woman out of a sense of duty? How did that fit within God’s perfect plan?

But what were his choices? A woman whose fare he’d prepaid was coming to Hickman with the purpose of wedding him. Did he have sufficient funds to send her back East? Moreover, would she balk at returning? She’d mentioned in her letter having sold her possessions. After all, they’d struck a bargain of sorts, hadn’t they?

And what about the kiss he’d given Liza some weeks ago and the declaration that he wouldn’t marry Sarah Woodward after all. Would it matter in the end if he changed his mind? Despite his deep affection for Liza, it appeared that Jon had won her heart.

He passed Liza’s cabin on his way to the barn, scoffing at his predicament. Smoke swirled from her little brick chimney. Was she sitting in front of the fireplace, soaking up its warmth, perhaps curled up in her Sears and Roebuck chair enjoying a good book? He dropped his gaze. No point in dwelling on what went on inside her cabin.

“Lord, I’ve been a fool,” he prayed as he led the team into the barnyard. “I think I know so much and then discover I know nothing. Your ways are perfect, Father, and yet I continue to set about making a mockery of them.

“First, I send for a mail-order bride without putting the proper amount of prayer into my decision. Surely, You don’t mean for me to marry a stranger, someone I don’t even love.

“Next, I fall for a woman who seems to have set her eyes on someone else. I can’t blame her for her attraction to Jon. He’s my best friend, after all, full of love for You and compassion for others. Naturally, his warmth and personality would draw her.

“But in her attachment to him, I’ve grown bitter and sometimes hateful, not only toward Jon but toward the entire situation. It is true I need a heart adjustment. Shoot, Lord, I need a life adjustment. I’ve grown cranky and irritable.

“Not only did I want to catch Clement Bartel for what he did to Liza, I wanted to kill him. I believe I might have if the boy hadn’t turned tail and run the other way. Jon was right, I had a mind to take matters into my own hands, and it wasn’t right, Lord. Yes, I want Clement brought to justice, but I don’t want to carry a heart of hate in the meantime.

“Forgive me, Lord, for allowing my humanness to once again control my thoughts and desires. Please renew my spirit and my longing to serve You. Make me all that You have designed me to be.

“And, Lord, please show me exactly how to handle this matter of Sarah Woodward.”

And with that, he jumped down from the rig and set about removing the harnesses. The horses nickered in appreciation. At least he’d managed to make them happy.

Monday morning couldn’t come early enough to suit Liza. After five days of rest, she needed to feel alive again, needed to feel useful. In the past days she’d come to rely too much on the help of others, having received a total of seventeen visitors, all bearing gifts of food, flowers, baked goods, and even a treasured ladies’ magazine, something she hadn’t laid eyes on since living in Boston.

She’d been thrilled to see the Barringtons, the Bergens, the Jenkins, and so many more families concerned for her welfare. Perhaps most surprising, however, was her visit from Mrs. Bartel and Iris Winthrop.

Mrs. Bartel had shed crocodile tears upon first seeing Liza. “Oh, it’s all my fault,” she’d cried, dropping into a chair that Liza had directed her to, Liza winding up more the comforter than the other way around. “If only my Rosie hadn’t told you about the beatin’s and Clement’s pushin’ her off the porch. Clement has a powerful bad temper. I just wish you hadn’t had to suffer at my expense, Miss Merriwether. I’m sure he was fightin’ mad when you went to the sheriff.” Her crying had continued, so Liza quickly had handed her a handkerchief.

At first, Mrs. Winthrop had been aghast at all the tears and words of despair, but soon she’d offered her own brand of encouragement.

“You mustn’t blame yourself for another’s willful actions,” she had said, standing just behind Liza. “It’s not your fault that Clement turned out as he did. He’s made his choices in life.”

Liza had thought Mrs. Winthrop’s reasoning uncommonly sensible and compassionate until the less-than-tactful remark that followed. “If you want to lay the blame to someone, you could start with that deplorable husband of yours. Why, if he’d stayed home instead of patronized that—that awful establishment when he did, then Clement would never have been born!”

Mrs. Bartel had cleared her throat, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and simply stared at Mrs. Winthrop, evidently unsure how to handle the coarse comment.

“I think what Mrs. Winthrop is trying to say is that you shouldn’t carry the guilt for Clement’s wrongdoing. He is the one responsible and he alone.”

With that, Liza had served the women tea and cookies, pleased that the balance of the visit was cordial.

Her favorite visits had come from Lili. At first, the little girl had seemed horrified by Liza’s bruised face, but in a short time, she had disregarded the contusions altogether, as they chatted about Lili’s school day, her lessons and activities, and various students in the classroom.

“Sam Hogsworth misses you,” Lili had said over cookies and fresh milk. “He hasn’t been very nice to Mrs. Barrington.”

Liza had gasped. “Oh dear. What has he done?”

“He told her that she had a big nose.”

“What?” Liza could barely believe her ears.

“Well, it’s true that she does,” Lili had said in Sam’s defense. “Have a big nose.”

“But he never should have made such a cruel statement, and to the teacher, no less. I’m sure it hurt her feelings, not to mention that of Thomas and Erlene. Erlene is so sensitive. I hope he didn’t make Erlene cry.”

“Huh-uh. Well, I mean, he told Mrs. Barrington she had a big nose, but not to her face, of course. He just said it to the window what sits next to her desk when him and me was outside. He was mad when Mrs. Barrington made him do his sentences over ’cause they was so messy.”

Liza had sighed with relief and chased the last bite of cookie down with the last of her milk. “I would have made him do the same,” she’d said.

“But Sam is in love with you. He’s not in love with Mrs. Barrington,” Lili had reasoned.

Liza had bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I will have to have a talk with Sam when I get back.”

“Are you coming back soon?” Lili had asked.

“Monday.”

“Yippee!”

From Friday on, Lili had made a point to visit often, bringing Molly twice. It had been such fun watching the baby toddle from one place to another, enraptured by all there was to see in this strange new place.

On Saturday, Liza had happily fixed them a lunch of tomato soup and strawberry preserve sandwiches while Ben drove into town. He’d instructed the girls to eat at home, but, of course, Liza wouldn’t hear of it. Who could pass up strawberry sandwiches? Even she had caught herself lapping at the corners of her mouth, checking for any remains of sweetness.

The only thing that had put a damper on Liza’s long days at home was Ben’s lack of visits. Lack of interest was more like it, she’d mulled more than once.

The only time they’d talked was at a distance, once when she’d stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and had spotted him walking across the yard to his house. “Ben!” she’d called, waving wildly.

“Hello!” he’d returned, stopping midway between the house and the barn.

She’d have given the moon for him to walk just one step closer to her house so she could gauge his expression, but instead she’d had to guess by the timbre of his voice.

“How are you?” she’d asked over the distance, fishing for words to keep the conversation running, even though the bitter air had her shivering.

“I’m great, but the better question is, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” she’d returned.

“Glad to hear it. Then you’re healing?”

“Yes. I’m going back to work on Monday.”

“So Lili tells me. She’s excited about that.”

“Ben, I want to thank you for—well, everything you did, you know, joining the posse, coming to see me at Emma’s place, making sure I had a fire when I came home—and filling my water bucket.” There was so much more she’d wanted to say, but it stopped there.

“You noticed that, huh? Well, don’t mention it. What are neighbors for if not to lend a hand?”

He’d looked like a giant standing there in his big wool barn coat, arms crossed, and his dark hair blowing in the wind. And was that a shadow of beard growth on his chiseled face?

“Yes—you’re right.”

“You’ve had a good deal of visitors,” he’d said.

She’d wanted to ask him why he hadn’t been one of them, but then remembered how she’d chased him away the other times, her fear of Mrs. Winthrop’s discovering it making her wary. She’d nodded. “Yes, people have been so kind and generous. I have enough food to feed an army.” That would have been a good occasion to invite his family over for supper, but that would have been playing with fire.

After a moment’s lull, he’d waved her off. “Well, you best get inside before you catch a cold.” And that was where the conversation had ended.

Then there was yesterday.

She’d wanted to give her body one more day to heal before facing her students, and so she’d foregone church. Besides, without Ben’s offer to drive her into town, she’d been hard-pressed to know how to get there unless she called on Jon Atkins, who was certain to be busy preparing for his Sunday sermon. She doubted arriving at church on Tanner in her Sunday dress would look good to the general populace. No, it was best this way.

As Ben and his family had ridden over the crest on their way back from services, Lili had waved a greeting at her from the wagon seat. “Miss Merriwether! Want some help beating that rug?”

Liza had put the rug to her side and waved. “I’m finished now, Lili, but thank you for offering.” Lifting a hand to her eyes to block the sun, she’d noted the strained look on Ben’s face. Anyone could see he was avoiding her. “How was the church service?” she’d decided to ask.

“Mrs. Farnsworth sang a song that didn’t come out so good,” Lili had offered, “and Mr. Atkins talked about—I forget—what did he talk about, Papa?”

Liza had smiled at the child’s candidness, then waited for Ben’s response, hoping it would earn her at least a look.

“He spoke on the importance of forgiveness,” he’d supplied, giving Liza a hasty inspection before returning his gaze to the barn straight ahead.

“Forgiveness. That seems timely,” Liza had answered, “in light of all that’s happened. I wish I could have heard it.”

“It was a good reminder for us all.” He’d seemed to put particular emotion into the words, making Liza wonder. “I thought Jon might have come for you this morning, but I see you decided on another day of rest.”

His remark about Jon had confused her, but she’d passed it over with a nod. “Yes, I figured tomorrow is soon enough to frighten my students with how bad I look.”