Rekindled (14 page)

She turned back to Mr. Taylor with the intent of putting his concern to rest. But at the look in his eyes, her thoughts suddenly evaporated. His look was less like that of a ranch hand to employer, and more of a man to a woman. Warning sounded within her and she made herself look away. No, it couldn’t be . . . surely she’d misread him.

When Taylor prodded his horse closer, Kathryn looked back. The unmistakable sentiment in his face clearly portrayed a desire she did not—and could not—reciprocate.

Deciding to save them both embarrassment and hoping Gabe hadn’t noticed, she quickly forced a smile. “As always, Mr. Taylor, I trust your judgment completely. And I appreciate whatever you do on my behalf, as will my husband . . . upon his return.”

His features clouded for an instant, then quickly smoothed. “Yes, ma’am, of course. Gabe, you take care of Mrs. Jennings.”

“Yes, sir,” Gabe answered, giving a mock salute.

Absent of his customary smile, Matthew Taylor tipped his hat.

Watching him ride away, Kathryn wondered if she’d misinterpreted his intentions. It had all happened so fast. Surely she had. And now she felt a bit foolish at the hasty presumption. Still, it would be wise to distance herself from the friendship that had been developing between them recently, if only to avoid further misunderstanding.

“Are you ready to go home, Miss Kathryn?” Gabe’s quiet voice pulled her back.

“Yes, Gabe. I am,” she whispered, thankful for his company.

But she wondered where home would be in coming days. She’d have to move to Willow Springs—that much was clear. With the ranch being insolvent, she needed to find a job that paid and a place to live. She knew no one in town, and even with selling everything she owned, the amount would fall far short of what she needed.

The wagon jolted as a front wheel slid into a rain-worn rut. She gripped the buckboard and laid a hand over the promise nurtured deep within her belly. Thoughts of the cabin pressed in close, and she realized how lonely she’d been there without Larson. She couldn’t imagine staying there without him indefinitely. Strangely, with each passing day, home became less a place and more a person.

Kathryn closed her eyes, uncertain if she would ever truly be home again.

She folded the last of Larson’s clothes and laid them in the trunk, smoothing a hand over the shirt on top. Kathryn had spent the last two days packing and had saved this task for last. Holding the shirt to her face once more, she breathed in the fading scent of him.

A heaviness filled her chest as her grip tightened on the cotton fabric.

“Can I help with something, Miss Kathryn?”

She jumped at the voice behind her and turned. “Gabe . . .” She blew out a breath. “You startled me.” She nodded to the crates by the door. “You could take those to the wagon, if you don’t mind.” Placing the shirt back in the trunk, she secured the latch.

Gabe carried the crates outside, then returned and hefted the trunk with the customary smile in his eyes. They had worked in companionable silence all afternoon. Having Gabe there brought a comfort to Kathryn that she hadn’t anticipated, and with his strength and dutiful attentiveness, the difficult job was finished before the afternoon was spent.

She loaded a light crate into the wagon, then walked back to the cabin. Pausing in the doorway, she drew a slow breath.

Loneliness emanated from every empty corner. Painful reminders of failure.
Her
failure. And of broken dreams. She’d planned on staying here one more night but didn’t know now if she could.

Gabe stopped beside her in the doorway. “How long did you and your husband live here?”

“Ten years,” she whispered, tracking his gaze around the barren space. It looked smaller than she remembered upon first seeing it all those years ago. Larson had built it for her, and that had made it a palace in her eyes. So when had the silent, subtle comparisons between this cabin and her childhood home started to encroach the happiness of her and Larson’s early years together? And had Larson ever sensed her longing for more?

Gabe shifted beside her. “It makes you sad to leave.”

She wiped away a tear. “Yes . . . it does. But I hope to return someday.” She hesitated, glancing back at the wagon. “Gabe, I was wondering . . . would you have time to help me take all this into town today?”

He looked at her as though considering her request, and Kathryn almost wished she hadn’t imposed on him.

Then he nodded, his blond brows arching. “I know a real nice woman you can stay with when we get there too.” His fathomless blue eyes lit like a child’s. “There’re lots of rooms where she lives.”

Later that evening, Gabe reined in the horses behind the Willow Springs mercantile and brought the loaded wagon to a sluggish halt. The mere thought of climbing down made Kathryn’s aching muscles weak with fatigue. The budding life inside her drained her energy, and she longed for her bed back at the cabin, but she pushed herself to climb down.

She introduced herself to the new owner of the mercantile, a Mr. Hochstetler. After speaking with him briefly, he agreed to sell her items, keeping a percentage for himself, which she deemed as fair. Gabe unloaded the heavier items and carried them into a back room. Overhearing him chat with Mr. Hochstetler, Kathryn learned that Gabe made deliveries for the mercantile on occasion. It would seem he got around and knew more people than she’d figured. Kathryn followed him inside with the lighter crates, but her thoughts kept returning to the bank across the street.

She planned on meeting with Kohlman tomorrow to offer a good faith payment—however modest—hoping to propose a payment schedule for her loan. Imagining his reaction to the idea made her cringe. Part of her knew it was foolish to try and come up with the money, but it wasn’t within her to quit. And maybe Larson would return. After all, God was in the miracle business, as her mother had always said.

Exhausted after several trips, Kathryn sank to the back steps of the mercantile and rested her head on her forearms. Feeling a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, she nearly wept.

“You’re tired, Miss Kathryn. The woman’s house isn’t far from here. I’ll take you.”

Kathryn started to rise, but at the familiar buzzing in her ears, she sat down again. She held up a hand. “Wait, Gabe. Give me a minute to rest, then I’ll be fine.”

He leaned close and, before she could protest, gathered her in his arms. Kathryn felt her eyes grow hot with tears again. She thought he was carrying her back to the wagon, but he walked on past.

“Where are we going?”

Gabe nodded down the street. “To Annabelle’s house. I’ve delivered stuff there before.”

“But what about the things in the wagon?”

“I’ll take care of them for you.”

After a minute, she tried again. “Gabe, I can walk now, I’m sure.”

But he shook his head and held her closer. His embrace was like that of a father cradling a daughter, and it gave Kathryn a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“You need to rest,” he whispered, looking straight ahead. “You miss your husband, you left your house where you lived for ten years, and you gave all your stuff to the mercantile.”

“Actually, I’m selling it,” she corrected.

“Still. None of it belongs to you anymore.”

Her throat tightened at his blatant observation, and a wave of fatigue moved through her. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more tired. Knowing Gabe wouldn’t mind, nor would he misinterpret her intentions, she closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder.

Vaguely aware of being deposited in a soft bed sometime later, Kathryn awakened, groggy. “Gabe?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered softly, arranging the bedcovers over her body. In the stilted shadows of the dark room, his massive stature appeared larger than life. He stood by the bed looking down upon her like a sentinel, the outline of his shoulders broad and commanding, his stance daring further harm to try and touch her. His body suddenly looked like it was chiseled from marble.

Kathryn reached out, and he took her hand. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

He didn’t answer, but she sensed his smile in the darkness.

She closed her eyes, unable to hold them open any longer. After a moment she turned back to thank Gabe again. Though she hadn’t heard the bedroom door open and close, the place where he had stood was empty. She must have drifted off and he’d left without her hearing. Kathryn curled onto her side and slept.

Whispered voices awakened her sometime during the night. They drifted through the apparently thin walls around her, but she couldn’t make out the conversations. A footfall, the creaking of wood, muted laughter. The strong smell of perfume and something else she couldn’t quite name scented the air. But she shut her mind to it and slipped back into sleep.

The next time she opened her eyes, a slanted beam of sunlight shone through a window cut high in the wall above her. She yawned and turned onto her back. Picturing Larson’s face, as she did every morning upon waking, she spread her hands over the secret blessing that would soon be visible to the world and breathed the familiar prayer.
Lord, please bring him back to me . . . to us
.

Blinking to focus, she listened for any of the sounds she’d heard during the night. A horse whinnied in the distance, then silence. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked around. The room was smaller than she’d sensed the night before, about a third the size of their bedroom at the cabin. In fact, it was mostly bed. A small table sat in the corner.

A knock on the door brought her fully awake. The door opened before she could respond. The first thing Kathryn noticed about the woman was her red hair. But it was unlike any shade of red Kathryn had seen before.

“My name’s Annabelle.” The woman plopped down on the edge of the bed, remnants of kohl smudging the edges of her eyes. Her lips bore evidence of a claret red long faded, and her dress was cut surprisingly low. The fabric left little to the imagination.

Kathryn caught the faint scent of cloves and noticed the woman chewing something.

Annabelle crossed her legs Indian style, despite the filmy garb. “Gabe said you needed a place to stay and Marcy was away last night, so you got her room. But on the nights all of us are here, you’ll have to stay in the room off the kitchen. There’s a cot and it’s near the stove, so you’ll keep warm enough till you find someplace else.”

Kathryn pushed herself to a sitting position. “Thank you for letting me stay in your home, Annabelle. My name is Kathryn. Kathryn Jennings.”

Annabelle stared at her for a second. “Sure.” Her smile had a mischievous quality. “Glad to do it.”

“We got in so late last night, and I certainly don’t want you to think that . . .” Kathryn paused, then smiled. “What I’m trying to say is that I promise I won’t impose on your generosity for too long. I’m planning on looking for a job today.”

Annabelle shrugged. Her eyes swept Kathryn’s face, then moved down over the rest of her body. She huffed. “Just watch out that Betsy doesn’t try and put you to work here.” Then she laughed as though she’d told a joke. “The other girls wouldn’t like that much, that’s for sure.”

Kathryn smiled along with her, wondering about this interesting woman. She guessed them to be about the same age, although Annabelle was shorter and claimed a more petite build. The dark brown roots of her hair tattled its true coloring, and Kathryn tried to imagine her without all the extra window dressing, as her mother used to say. Annabelle’s blue-eyed gaze was direct, and the slight tilt of her chin portended a stubborn will.

But one thing was certain—Annabelle possessed a kind heart. She’d let Kathryn stay here the night, and for that Kathryn was grateful. Her stomach growled.

“You hungry?” Annabelle asked needlessly, patting the bed. “Come on, let’s head to the kitchen before all the good grub is gone. The girls here eat like pigs!”

Kathryn got up and smoothed the covers and then her wrinkled dress as best she could. She followed Annabelle down the narrow hallway, passing door after door. Two of the doors were ajar. She quickly surmised that all the rooms were about the same size as hers, and with the same sparse furnishings.

Part of her was embarrassed to meet the other women in the boardinghouse in her disheveled state, but Annabelle appeared accepting enough. Hopefully the other women would be too.

A cacophony of women’s voices met them in the hallway and soon blended with the delicious aroma of eggs, bacon, and coffee. How long had it been since she’d been in the company of a woman? Much less a group of women? Images of quilting bees and baking for church socials flitted through her mind. She’d asked God for another woman to share the joys of her current condition, and she smiled at how quickly He’d granted her request.

Annabelle pushed open a swinging door, then glanced back and winked. “Betsy may work us hard, but she feeds us good, I’ll say that for her.”

Kathryn followed Annabelle inside and took a seat beside her at the end of the long wood-plank table crowded with women. The steady hum of conversation suddenly dwindled. Kathryn looked up and scanned the faces now aimed in her direction.