Bygones (17 page)

A long sigh came from Joanna’s end of the line. “Every time the family was together, Lisbeth mentioned Marie and Beth. Her way, I think, of keeping them alive for us. Dad rarely let her give many details,
but I found it comforting to know at least someone was keeping in touch with Marie.” Her voice caught. “Being with her today made me realize how much we’ve missed through this separation. I wish. . .”

Although Joanna let the sentence go unfinished, Henry read the final thought. “Me, too,” he said softly.

After a lengthy pause, Joanna’s light chuckle sounded. “Well, aren’t we a pair, throwing imaginary pennies in a wishing well.”

Henry forced a laugh in response.

“I’d better go. I just wanted you to know I followed your advice and went to see my sister. Thanks for pushing me.”

He smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Good-bye, Henry.” The line went dead.

Henry hung up the phone and smiled at the receiver. His gaze rose to a framed needlepoint sampler, a gift from Lisbeth. He read the words aloud. “But now in Christ Jesus ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.” He ran his finger along the top edge of the simple wood frame.

“Don’t worry, Lisbeth,” he said. “I’ll keep trying until we bring her home again.”

M
arie examined the tumble of black lumps on the hard-packed ground next to the monstrous furnace. Over the two weeks of their stay in Lisbeth’s house, Marie had grown accustomed to shoveling fuel into the belly of the iron beast twice a day, but she hadn’t paid close attention to the dent its ravenous appetite had made in the supply.

The Kansas plains could be unpredictable during the winter months. If she didn’t replenish the coal supply soon, she and Beth might end up facing some cold days ahead. She hooked the coal hod on its nail and brushed her palms together. She wondered where she could get coal around here. She was certain things had changed tremendously since she’d left with Jep.

Ask Henry
, her thoughts immediately prompted. That would be simple since he continued to come to the café for supper every evening. For a moment she allowed a smile to twitch at her lips. Although the conversations with Henry were always brief, both of them aware of Deborah’s watchful gaze and listening ear, she had come to enjoy sharing a few moments of chatter with him at the close of each day.

Despite her initial determination to keep a chasm between them, Henry was slowing building a bridge toward friendship. He wouldn’t
mind if she asked how to get a supply of coal delivered. But she pushed the idea aside. No sense in relying on him any more than necessary. He was already keeping the books at the café and would oversee the distribution of property when the time came. She shouldn’t take advantage of his friendship. Besides, she acknowledged with a sigh, leaning on him too much might give him the wrong idea.

Might give her the wrong idea, too.

She trudged up the stairs and went to the kitchen sink to wash the remnants of coal dust from her hands. Outside the kitchen window, the sky looked bleak, the color of an old iron washtub. Rain might spoil Beth’s plans for the day. Last night, after she and Beth were in their pajamas and ready for bed, Mitch had arrived to assist Beth in her quest for boutique items. Marie’s scalp prickled as her mind replayed the image of her daughter throwing herself into her boyfriend’s arms, lifting her face for his kiss.

He slept on the sofa, having collapsed there about a half hour after his arrival. Marie blew out a breath of relief, recalling how Beth had asked for bedding to put together a sleeping spot in the living room for Mitch. Even though Marie hadn’t been faithful in church attendance since Beth was a little girl, she had raised her daughter to have morals. Sharing a bed with her boyfriend wasn’t something she was willing to do. “Thanks for Beth’s appropriate choice,” Marie murmured.

She froze. That thought seemed awfully close to a. . .prayer. Had she really
prayed
? She shook her head. No, probably not a true prayer, more an inward statement of relieved gratitude. But it had felt like a prayer. A shiver shook her frame, spurring her to action.

“Breakfast.” She tried not to bang things too loudly as she got out a cookie sheet and a knife to slice bread. Humming, she buttered the front and back of each slice. Just as she’d grown to prefer the flavor of percolated coffee, toast made from home-baked
bread purchased from the grocer and browned under the broiler before being slathered with Joanna’s peach preserves had become her favorite breakfast. Even though Beth continued to grouse about the lack of conveniences, Marie didn’t mind the additional steps.

In fact, when she was home again, she planned to put the toaster away and continue to use the broiler. She also intended to keep Aunt Lisbeth’s red-speckled percolator separate from the sale items. It was going back to sit on her electric stove and be put to use there.

She opened the oven door to check the bread, smiling as the aroma met her nostrils. The slices were browned to perfection. Just as she pulled the cookie sheet from the oven, Mitch appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Morning, Marie.” Bare-chested, his hair on end, Mitch stretched his mouth in a wide yawn and scratched his toned stomach with both hands. It had been two decades since a male had stood in her kitchen in the morning, sleep-rumpled and relaxed, and Marie found herself blushing profusely at the rush of memories his arrival conjured.

Aware of her gaping robe, which exposed her pink polka-dot flannel pajamas, she turned her back to him, dropped the cookie sheet on the counter, and quickly tied the belt on her robe. Once she was covered more modestly, she faced him. “Good morning, Mitch. Did you sleep well?”

“Pretty well, but that sofa’s as hard as a concrete slab.” He placed his hands against his lower spine and leaned backward, flexing his shoulders.

Marie turned toward the counter and unscrewed the lid on the jar of preserves. She scooped out a spoonful and plopped it on a piece of toast. “That sofa’s been around for a while. I’m sure it’s stuffed with sawdust. I’m sorry it wasn’t more comfortable.”

A low chuckle rumbled, and he cleared his throat. “It’s okay. When a person’s tired enough, he can sleep just about anywhere.”
The shuffle of his feet let her know he’d moved farther into the kitchen. His face appeared over her shoulder. “Wow, that toast smells good.”

Without looking at him, Marie offered a suggestion. “Go wash the sleep out of your eyes, put on a shirt, then sit down and have some. I made plenty.”

His chuckle came again, and the amused undercurrent made Marie’s face grow hot. “Thanks.” He ambled around the corner toward the bathroom.

Abandoning the toast, Marie dashed to her bedroom and slipped into a pair of jeans and a button-up oxford blouse. Glancing at her glowing face in the small mirror above the dresser, she wondered if he realized the effect he’d had on her. She snorted. Of course he did! What else was that chuckle about?

Well, it wasn’t
him
specifically that had her so rattled. She was wise enough to recognize that. It was just having a male, in such a state of dishevelment, so near. Not since Jep’s death had a man spent the night under her roof. It could have been anyone standing out there, and she would have experienced the same embarrassed discomfort.

Worry struck. If his presence was this rattling for her, how might Beth respond?

She set her jaw as she lifted her hairbrush and ran it forcefully through her errant curls. If he planned to stick around, he would need to find a hotel in one of the larger towns nearby. Having him in the house day and night might prove to be too tempting for both of the young people. She would mention that to Beth as soon as she woke up.

As she placed the hairbrush back on the dresser, she heard a knock at the back door, followed by Mitch’s call: “I’ll get it.”

She trotted around the corner in time to see Mitch, still shirtless, swing the back door open. Henry stood on the porch.

Henry took a step back when a half-dressed young man opened the door to Lisbeth’s utility porch. A flurry of movement behind the man captured his attention, and he peered over the muscular shoulder to see Marie hurrying down the hallway.

She pushed in front of the man. “I’ve got it, Mitch. Go finish dressing.”

The man grinned, scratching his whiskered chin. “Okay, Marie.” He lifted his hand in an indolent wave and ambled down the hall, disappearing into the bathroom.

Henry gawked after him, curious about his presence but unwilling to ask.

Marie faced him, her cheeks stained pink. She crossed her arms over her chest and held the door open with her hip. “Good morning. W–would you like some toast?”

Henry shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve had breakfast.”

“Well, at least come in out of the cold.” She pushed the door wider.

Aware of the other man inside, he remained on the stoop, holding his jacket closed against the morning breeze. “That’s all right. I came to see if you—”

“Marie?” the man’s voice intruded. “Can I borrow your toothpaste?”

Marie turned her face toward the bathroom. “Yes. Whatever you need.” Her voice sounded tight. She faced Henry again. “I’m sorry. You came to see. . .?”

“If you need some coal. I’m ordering a ton for my folks’ place. I thought maybe you could use some, too.”

Her eyes widened. “How could you possibly—”

“—know you need coal?” Henry smiled. “I always got Lisbeth’s
coal when I got it for my folks. They seem to run out about the same time.”

She stared at him for several silent seconds, her brows low, puzzlement in her eyes. Then she shook her head, making her curls bounce. She took in a deep breath. “I was just noticing this morning that I need coal, but I didn’t want to bother you. I can get it myself if you’d be kind enough to tell me where.”

Henry released a light chuckle. “You’d have a time getting it in that car of yours. I borrow a truck from one of the local farmers and deliver it to my folks. The railroad brings it to town, but the train won’t come to your house.”

She ducked her head, laughing softly. When she raised her gaze, she looked a little less embarrassed and standoffish. “Thank you, Henry. Once again, your kindness is beyond the expected. Do—do you think you might advise me on how much I’ll need to get me through December?”

December. The reminder of her short time here struck again, making Henry’s heart race. “You could start with a quarter ton. If you need more, we can always get it later.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, her forehead creased in thought. Finally she nodded. “Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your help.”

The young man wandered back into the porch. He had slipped on a shirt that was covered in big flowers, but he hadn’t bothered with the buttons, leaving it flap open. He stepped beside Marie and draped one arm over her shoulders, holding his free hand toward Henry.

“Hey. I’m Mitch Rogers, Beth’s significant other. You must be the Henry Beth told me about.”

Henry shook the younger man’s hand, disconcerted by his familiarity with Marie. Her cheeks blazed again. He wanted to knock the boy’s arm from her shoulder.