Moonlight on the Millpond (8 page)

“You almost done at the mill, Woody?” Doyle asked.

“It's wrapping up fast, this week I expect. It's time to get into the fields.”

“Nickleby started his planting. I think we'll have more frost, but he's sure not.”

“What did he put down in his south field?” Woody asked.

Sitting quietly and taking all this in, Jace thought he could almost thank his sister. Having her challenge him about his involvement with females had forced him to monitor the way he responded to them. So many days he found women wandering past the mill, women who were a little easier to ignore because of how forward he found them.

But now he realized he could easily fall into the same category. He wanted to speak with Maddie, hear her voice, and have her eyes meet his, but he did nothing to accomplish this. He sat quietly and ate, speaking only when he was spoken to and not letting his eyes rest on Maddie for more than a moment at a time.

And he was certain this was wise because she didn't seem to notice him at all. He knew that some of his interest was over this very fact.
The one who didn't want you was the one you wanted.
But Jace knew it was more than that. Had this woman wandered by the sawmill to catch his eye, he would have let it be caught, not worrying in the least if Eden could claim the victory.

“How much field planting have you done, Jace?”

“A little,” he answered, coming back swiftly. “I used to help on a farm, but that was years past.”

“He'll catch on.” Woody spoke with confidence, and Jace had all he could do not to look at Maddie.

Had he but known it, he could have looked at Maddie. She was smiling in his direction over the compliment, and his looking wouldn't have made a bit of difference to her. She was not interested in getting married, and no amount of male attention was going to sway her feelings.

“Let me slice that for you, Doyle,” Maddie offered, taking the apple from her uncle's hand and using her knife.

“Are the little children in Boston missing you, Maddie?” Woody wished to know.

“Everyone is quite grown up these days,” she explained. “I'm really more of a companion to the missus, and I think the family is getting ready to travel, so the timing was very fine.”

“Actually, Maddie, I was wondering who was peeling their apples for them,” teased Woody. Maddie laughed and continued her work.

Jace watched her hands with the apple, finding himself wondering if her skin was soft. The store was rough work, but she'd only just arrived. Had the work in Boston already taken a toll, or would her hands have known an easier life in that place?

“Coffee's ready,” Cathy announced, rising to find mugs while Maddie went for the cobbler and the cream pitcher.

As soon as Maddie stood, Jace relaxed a bit. She was gone from the room for a moment, leaving him free to look around as well as watch for her return, something he did with great pleasure, not missing a thing about the way she moved or looked. Her dress was a soft yellow, not a gingham like Cathy usually wore but a solid color with darker yellow, almost gold, fabric on the collar and cuffs.

Not that he would be caught looking. He was careful to school his features before she had a chance to look his way, realizing that having to be on his toes might make for a long afternoon. It was worth it, however. Right now he couldn't imagine a place he'd rather be.

Maddie was also just where she wanted to be, having had few expectations on the day. All she was looking for was a day off from the store, and she was getting that. When she suddenly found herself alone in the parlor with Jace Randall, she thought little of it. Doyle had remembered something he wanted Woody to see in the store. Cathy had gone with them, Maddie was sure, to keep an eye on her husband's activities. Maddie had slipped up to her room to get some handiwork, and when she emerged, Jace was in the parlor.

“Oh, you're still here, Mr. Randall. I thought you might have gone to the store.”

“It's Jace, and I wasn't invited,” he said easily, trying not to be disappointed at her lack of interest.

“Would you care for some more coffee?” Maddie answered, even though all she wanted to do was sit down and not think.

“No, I'm fine. Can I get you some?”

“No, thank you.”

Maddie took a chair, and Jace sat as well. She set her knitting in her lap and looked across at her guest.

“Don't let me keep you from whatever you're going to do,” Jace said as he stood. “I'll just look at some of these books if that's all right.”

“Certainly.”

Maddie bent her head over her sewing, seeing that her aunt's letters had been correct: Jace Randall was a very kind man, and polite in the bargain. Giving him little attention, she grasped the needles and went to work.

Jace did his level best to read the page from the book he'd selected from the oak shelf, but it wasn't going well at all. While in her room, Maddie had slipped her apron off, unsettling her hair a bit. Her usual wound braids were slightly disheveled, and the little curls that had escaped around her neck were nothing short of distracting.

His own hair was close to the same color, but he'd never thought of his as being attractive. Her hair was so lovely and glossy that he wanted to touch it.

“What book did you choose?” Maddie asked.

“
The Pickwick Papers
by Charles Dickens.”

“I've not read that.”

“Nor I.”

“I'm sure Doyle won't mind if you take it.”

“I might ask him.”

“Is there time in your evenings for reading, or do you have equipment to mend?”

“There is some repair work, but there's time to read too.”

Maddie nodded, her head dipping now and again to check her edges.

“Do you read much?” Jace asked.

“Not books, but I enjoy the newspaper.”

“Boston must have offered plenty of those.”

“Yes, daily.”

“And what about Tucker Mills? Will our small newspaper be enough for you?”

“I think so. I'm not used to the work in the store just yet, so right now I haven't much energy left for reading at the end of the day.”

“I take it this is a little different from your life in Boston?”

Maddie smiled. “I wouldn't know where to begin.”

Jace nodded, but he didn't need any further explanation. Mr. Vargas from the glass factory had a wife and two daughters, and they would visit now and again. Their clothing spoke of style and wealth. Maddie Shephard's clothing—especially the dress she'd chosen for today—looked the same way.

“How long will you stay?” Jace asked before he thought that she might not think it his business.

“As long as I'm needed.”

Jace nodded, his heart torn. In no way did he want Doyle to be in ill health, but if he was back in the store, Maddie would leave. Jace didn't let this fact panic him, but he did know one thing: No matter when she left Tucker Mills, she wouldn't go without knowing how he felt.

“You've been grinning since we arrived home,” Woody teased Jace much later that day.

“Have I?”

“Yes. Something tells me you won't be hanging around on this farm most evenings.”

“Well,” Jace replied logically, “if I'm going to marry the girl, I can't sit out here all the time.”

“Marry her, huh? That bad, is it?”

“Not bad at all,” Jace said with a smile. “And I'll do my best to see that you're there for the wedding.”

Woody's head went back when he laughed, and Jace felt himself relax, realizing that his uncle's approval on this subject meant quite a bit to him. Not until much later did he wonder what Eden would think, and then he told himself he didn't care.

On Monday morning, Alison Muldoon realized she needed lard. She added that to her list for Shephard Store and saw that the list was getting rather long. She was ready to leave Hillary at home with her brothers and do some shopping, but when Hillary asked to go, Alison took them all along.

The store was quiet when they arrived, and because Alison knew Cathy, she went directly to her. Maddie was across the store, restocking bolts of cloth and cleaning the counter, fixing and straightening items from the morning business. She saw Alison come in, the boys behind her, and then she spotted Hillary.

“Paige!” Maddie said without thinking.

Hillary Muldoon heard her and stopped.

“Excuse me?”

Maddie shook her head and apologized. “I'm sorry, but you so remind me of a girl I know named Paige, that her name just slipped out.”

Hillary smiled kindly, aware that Maddie still studied her.

“I'm Maddie Shephard,” that lady said, remembering her manners and beginning the formality.

“I'm Hillary Muldoon.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hillary. Would you be about 16?”

“Only just.”

“And those are your brothers with your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Not in school right now?”

“Our teacher grew ill, and now most kids are needed in the fields, so we closed early this year.”

“You don't live on a farm?”

“No, my father is a pastor.”

“Where is he a pastor?”

“In our home,” Hillary explained. “We don't have a meetinghouse yet.”

“Where do you live?”

“In the yellow house down the way.”

“I know the one.”

Hillary smiled at her, liking this woman who seemed young and making her curious about Maddie's age.

“I just realized that I have some mittens that your mother made,” Maddie said. “She trades them here at the store, doesn't she?”

“Yes,” Hillary said with a bit of pride. “She does beautiful mittens, caps, and scarves.”

“And do you knit as well?”

“Not like Mother does, but I'm learning.”

“I'm sure you'll be following in her footsteps in no time.”

Hillary had no more thanked her when Martin needed some attention. She walked away from Maddie, hoping they would visit again soon.

Four

Doyle was being foolish and knew it, but he didn't want to stop. He had gone across the yard and slipped into the door that led to the office. He then sat on the stairs that led up to storage, giving his ears the opportunity to hear almost everything going on in the store. And he'd been enjoying himself, right up until the moment he heard Maddie offer to carry a bag of feed for a customer.

Doyle's eyes suddenly closed in pain.
She shouldn't be doing
that. It's my job. She's too little.

With the words came real pain, this time from the region of his chest, his heart rate picking up drastically. Moving while he was still able, he rose painfully to his feet, went back out the door, and crossed the yard again.

Once at the house, he wanted to lie down but knew if Cathy checked on him—something she often did—it would upset her to find him in bed. Instead, he made a beeline for the chair by the kitchen fireplace and sat down heavily.