Wings of a Dream (26 page)

I looked at the floor and shrugged one shoulder. It wasn’t often I couldn’t find something to say, but all the words in my head seemed to tangle together like the yarn in my knitting basket.

He blew out a long breath and set his hands on his hips. “When I heard—” He cleared his throat, let the silence settle between us again before he continued. “My children appear to be happy. You can’t know what a comfort that is.”

He seemed to have more to say, but he stopped. Was he trying to tell me to leave? I didn’t even have money to purchase a train ticket—to anywhere. But how could I say that to him?

He shouldered his bag lying near the sofa. Heat crawled up from my toes as I watched his eyes dart toward the bedroom on the other side of the wall. I hadn’t considered sleeping arrangements. Even if he slept downstairs and I slept upstairs, it seemed scandalous.

“I’ll bunk with Ol’ Bob. Good night.” He nodded once before his boots clomped across the floor and the back door eased shut.

I wondered how long he’d be content with that arrangement.

W
riggling into my shirtwaist and skirt the next morning, I listened for any indication of the children stirring in the room next to mine. All remained quiet except for the small sounds rising from below. I knelt next to my bed and asked the Lord for wisdom. Then I made my way downstairs.

I found Frank cracking fresh eggs into a skillet. Not a sight I’d seen often—or ever. Daddy and Will only came into the kitchen to eat. I tied an apron around my waist, wishing I’d been out of bed earlier. “I can do that.”

He moved out of the way, carrying the coffeepot to the table.

“I’m sure it feels good to be home.” I’d felt terrible crawling into bed last night, knowing Frank slept on prickly hay with stinky livestock. I hadn’t even bothered to make sure he had bedding.

“That barn beat all my billets in France.” He sipped his coffee, seeming to savor it.

It made me wonder what he had experienced over there, what my brother had experienced, too. “Was it terrible? The war, I mean.”

Frank stared at the rim of his cup. “I didn’t see the worst of it. I helped build bridges, mostly. Those boys in the trenches had it hard, though.”

“My brother was in the trenches.” I slid the eggs onto a plate and laid strips of bacon in the skillet as I thought about Will. I’d heard nothing from or about him since he’d left.

“Is he back yet?” Frank sipped more coffee, then tipped the pot to fill his cup again.

I set a full plate on the table in front of him. “Yes.” I couldn’t say any more than that. I’d already begun to grieve my brother. I turned back to the stove and swiped away the moisture beneath my lashes.

I heard a blanket drag along the floor and the padding of little feet. Dan. As I turned, he stared up at Frank for a short moment before rubbing his eyes. “Daddy?”

Frank lifted his son into his lap. “Did you think you’d dreamed me?”

Dan nodded. Frank hugged his little boy against his chest.

The others arrived, as tentative as Dan. But it didn’t take them long to warm up again. Even Janie hesitated only a moment before diving from Ollie’s arms to her daddy’s.

“Y’all ready for church today?” he asked.

I whirled around, hands covering my cheeks. “Oh my stars, I forgot it was Sunday!”

The children giggled. All except James. He put his six-year-old hand in mine. “It’s okay, Bekah. We won’t leave you behind.”

“Thank you, James.” I busied myself at the stove, trying to hide my laughter. Frank didn’t try to hide his. It burst into all four corners of the room.

As the echoes died away, his words filled the silence. “George Latham wrote that he’s been stopping by for y’all most Sundays.”

“Yes.” I doled out breakfast to the children, taking in the information that George Latham had written to Frank about us. “Except when they shut down church because of influenza.” I winced, wishing my mouth wouldn’t run ahead of my thoughts.

He pushed up from his chair and pulled the tin tub from the corner. “I think I’ll get cleaned up first, if you don’t mind helping the children.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind.” I watched as he scooped hot water from the reservoir into the tub. By the time he reached the barn the water would be tepid. But he didn’t complain. He simply walked out the door as if living in his own barn were the most normal thing in his world.

Rain slashed at the window long before Frank pulled the buggy up outside the back gate. I met Frank on the porch. A few wrinkles creased his pants and jacket. Had they been in his bag, or had he retrieved them from his bedroom in the house?

I shoved an umbrella into his hands. “I thought you might need this.”

A smile spread across his face. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Did he think I lacked the common courtesy to realize an umbrella would be helpful in the rain?

He cocked his head like Ollie often did. “Can you handle a horse, Rebekah?”

“Of course.” I must have had a curious expression on my face, for his gaze slid to the floor.

“I thought maybe you were used to automobiles instead of old-fashioned contraptions like this.”

“Oh, no. Mama won’t let Daddy get an automobile. She says horses and buggies have been just fine for her family, and she isn’t about to be the one to get uppity.”

Frank’s lips twitched as he turned away, and I found myself wishing we could laugh at Mama together.

“We goin’?” Dan swaggered out to the porch, his shirt buttoned askew.

“Mind if I help?” I knelt down, refastened his shirt, straightened his knickers.

“Ready?” Frank held the umbrella over my head.

“What about the—”

James and Dan dashed past me, scrambling into the buggy. Ollie wasn’t far behind, Janie filling her arms. I sighed contentedly as we stepped into the blustery day.

It had felt funny to have a man sitting in my kitchen this morning. Well, not
my
kitchen. Maybe it felt funny for me to be in a man’s kitchen. Whatever it was, I decided that having somewhere to go would be a good thing for us all.

By the time we reached the church, the yard held several buggies and a few automobiles. We hurried inside. Frank led us up the aisle, the children following their father, me bringing up the rear of our little parade. Every few steps Frank stopped to exchange greetings with someone. At the third pew from the pulpit, he stopped again, this time pointing us into the empty row.

Ollie scooted down the long bench. The boys followed. Frank stood aside, obviously waiting for me to sit first. I felt the stares around us. Did he feel them, too? We looked like a family, all together like this. Especially with Frank treating me like a lady and not as another child. As he sat down, I nestled Janie on the seat between us. No sense causing tongues to wag.

I glanced at Frank. He looked strained, his muscles taut-to-bursting. I bit my lip. Everything would remind him of her. Every place. Every song. Every person. How did he bear it? With great effort, I forced my attention to the service. At least I tried to. But Brother Latham’s words couldn’t hold my attention that day. Frank’s face kept drawing my gaze instead.

The little lines around his eyes weren’t as tan as the rest of his face, as if he’d squinted into the sun for hours and kept the little folds hidden and white. In spite of delicate features, strength showed in his face. No gray streaked hair the color of the scorched stump near the creek. His eyes sparkled blue when he laughed and rested gray when he didn’t.

He was still a young man. And quite handsome, I thought. I wondered if any widows had already pinned their hopes on him. I scanned the congregation. But if any women were smitten with Frank, I couldn’t discern it. My gaze stopped at Sheriff Jeffries. He stared back at me. I returned a timid smile.

Then I noticed Frank frowning in my direction. Heat burst into my cheeks as his concentration returned to Brother Latham. I studied my hands, feeling reproved. But why should I? The sheriff and I had a friendship that deserved acknowledgment. Maybe I’d misjudged Frank from his letters. Maybe he was more rigid in his views of acceptable behavior. More like Mama.

The service ended before I could unravel Frank’s nature. He stood but didn’t move. Janie fussed, so I picked her up as Frank stared out the windows opposite, the ones that overlooked the small cemetery.

The sun had dried its tears, so the older children ran out into the churchyard with the others. Frank remained transfixed. My hand felt as heavy as a full kettle as I placed it on his arm.

“Go on,” I whispered.

The tortured look in his eyes wrenched my heart.

“Please go,” I said again.

With an almost palpable grief, he stepped into the aisle, toward the door near the organ that led directly to the graveyard. A hand touched my arm. I turned. Sheriff Jeffries’s grin sparked one of my own.

This man had plans to be somebody. To live the life of a Ranger, far beyond the homes and fields of this tiny town. I could learn to love him, couldn’t I?

He took Janie from my arms and escorted us out the door.

At the very least, I would try.

When Frank returned to the crowd of lingerers, his face reminded me of James’s the day I’d found him at his mother’s grave. That same look of somber acceptance, of grief smoothed just below the surface. That same wild joy at seeing other loved ones living and breathing.

He lifted Janie, his gaze drinking her in as if he had but this one moment to memorize her for all time. Ollie, Dan, and James huddled around their father’s legs, afraid, I guessed, that he’d leave them again.

“Frank looks good.” Irene’s voice at my ear. “When did he get home?”

“Yesterday.”

“And?”

I glanced at the sheriff, who still hovered beside me. I forced a smile to my face. “Everything’s fine. We’ll get things figured out soon. He was exhausted last night. We all went to bed early.”

Blood rushed into my face. “Of course he slept in the barn, and . . .”

Irene’s head tipped back as she laughed. Sheriff Jeffries’s mouth twisted into a scowl. From across the yard, Frank’s gaze locked on mine. He raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the buggy.

“Good-bye, Irene.” I gave her a quick hug, wondering if I would see her again before Frank sent me home. Then I turned to the sheriff. Instead of a good-bye, he held his elbow crooked in my direction.

“I’d be happy to escort you to the house.” Sheriff Jeffries’s eyes begged me to say yes.

And I knew I ought to oblige. But I found myself wanting to be with my kids again. I didn’t know how much longer I’d have with them. I didn’t want to miss a moment.

My mind whirled like the sheriff’s hat. “Thank you, I . . .” Frank had the older kids in the buggy now. He turned toward me with a look of expectancy. “I think I’d better help with the children.”

His smile faded a bit, although he seemed to work to make it stay. He walked me to the buggy as if my words hadn’t disappointed him and helped me up to the seat. “Good to have you back, Frank.”

Frank nodded. The sheriff touched the brim of his hat and backed away, his gaze undistracted from my face. But Frank’s hard-set jaw and narrowed eyes broke into my line of vision as he plopped Janie in my lap.