Linda Ford (4 page)

Aware that she watched him closely, likely wondering why he seemed so vehement about the idea of right and wrong when they’d been talking about her big house, he again studied the mansion before him. Lots of red brick and white trim around the seemingly endless windows on both the ground floor and second story. “It certainly makes a person stand up and take notice.”

“It’s just a house. Isn’t a house the place where
family gathers? Seems to me that what’s important. Not the size of the dwelling.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the house in front of them. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now stop staring at it. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

He jerked his attention away and toward her. “Why would it make you uncomfortable?”

“Because I don’t want to be judged by who my father is or how large the house I live in is. I want to be judged for my own actions.” Her words rang with fierceness.

“I wish I could think such was possible.” But people would always judge him by who his father was. He couldn’t imagine it would be any different for Kathleen, though for vastly different reasons.

She studied him, her gaze searching out hidden meanings in his words, secrets buried deep in his heart. “Can it not be so between us, at least?”

Her question begged so many things from him. Acceptance of her friendship, but more. Openness, sharing of secrets. He couldn’t offer what she silently asked for, though he ached to do so. “I wish things could be different.”

“Can’t you make them so?”

“I can’t control what others say or think or do.”

“But you can choose who and what you are.”

He searched her frank open gaze. He wanted to point out it was easy for her to choose her own path with the protection of her father’s name. But he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

She continued to study him. “Haven’t you done that already to some extent?”

He didn’t understand. His choice was to leave before people learned the truth or immediately after they did.

She must have seen his confusion. “Adopting Joey.”

“That has never been a hardship.” Though partly because Joey fit into Buck’s way of life…moving on before people got too critical. But was he doing the child a disservice by constantly moving?

“I must go inside.” Kathleen shifted her attention to the house.

“Good afternoon. Thanks for everything.”

She turned back to him. Made him happy he’d said something to accomplish that. “For what?”

“For visiting Rosie and being her friend. For praying for Joey. Reminding me of God.”
For being Kathleen and sharing your joy.

She lowered her eyes. “You’re welcome.” Brought her gaze back to his, smiling widely. “I hope you think about God more often now.”

“I surely shall.” Every time he thought of Kathleen and he knew that would be often.

“Goodbye now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She headed up the brick sidewalk, paused at the door to give a little wave.

He lifted a hand in response, waited until the door closed behind her then headed back to Rosie’s, Kathleen’s promise ringing in his ears.
See you tomorrow.

How many tomorrows dare he plan?

He clamped his jaw down hard, making his teeth ache. Not nearly enough.

K
athleen leaned against the door and waited for her heart to calm. He admired her. Approved of her friendship with Rosie. Of course he would, Rosie being his sister. But his approval meant more to her than she could explain.

She hung her coat on the hall tree and slipped out of her boots into a pair of fur-lined slippers. Central heating filled the whole house with welcoming warmth. Yes, she was grateful for the comforts of her life. Yes, she admired her parents for their moral strength. But some days it all felt hollow, and today was one of those times.

“I’m in here,” Mother called from the sitting room.

Kathleen took a deep, calming breath and scolded herself for feeling so restless when she was so blessed. She stepped into the room. “Mother, you’re up already. How are you?”

“I do believe I am feeling better every day.” She
sighed in such a way that Kathleen wondered at the truth of her words. “I get tired of being tired.”

Kathleen sat on the stool at her knees. “You did something different with your hair.”

“Jeannie offered to brush and style it.” Jeannie was more than housekeeper. She often did little things to brighten Mother’s day. Kathleen would be sure to thank her later.

“It’s very becoming.”

Mother brushed her hand over her hair. “Who was that young man?”

Kathleen stalled. She didn’t want her parents to know too much about Buck, aware they would heartily disapprove of Joey. “That’s Rosie’s brother I told you about. He insisted on seeing me safely home.”

“I see.” Mother studied her a long moment. “And yet you’ve gone back and forth safely the past few weeks.”

“I assured him I didn’t need an escort, but he insisted his mother would expect him to do so.”

“Where is his mother?”

“She’s passed away.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

Kathleen wished she could talk to her mother about the thousand thoughts racing through her head. Why were Rosie and Buck so secretive? Both parents were dead. How long ago? Was Joey truly on the mend? If he was, would Buck be on his way? Why did the idea tangle her thoughts? What did it all mean? But aware her mother would tell her to forget such people,
she didn’t voice any of her questions. “I’ll go see if Cook needs help.” She hurried to the kitchen before her mother could say anything.

But Cook had everything competently under control and allowed her only to finish setting the table. Kathleen did so and stood back to study the formal dining room with its perfectly matched chairs and perfectly matched china and silver. It was all very nice but lacked something that seemed to abound around Rosie’s table. Funny—she hadn’t been so acutely aware of it until a day or two ago.

When Buck and Joey showed up. When she discovered in her heart an emotion she couldn’t name.

Kathleen’s father came in, greeted her mother and asked, “Is Kathleen home?”

She hurried from the dining room. “I’m here, Father.”

“Good. Good.” He settled down with the paper. “I don’t want you spending all afternoon at that woman’s place.”

“Her name is Rosie Zacharias and she is a very nice woman, as you would surely know if you ever visited her.”

Father looked over the top of his paper at Kathleen’s tone. She instantly repented of her peevishness. “I only meant she’s a good mother and a decent person.”

Neither parent said a thing, but Kathleen knew she had shocked and disappointed them with her attitude. She had no wish to be disrespectful. In the future she must guard her thoughts and her tongue.

The hours dragged the next morning as Kathleen helped her mother sort through letters from family members. For some reason Mother enjoyed reading them over and over and putting them in chronological order. “I’m sure some day these will constitute a valuable family history.”

Kathleen restrained herself from saying she wondered who would be interested in the chitchat, gossipy things most of the aunts and cousins related. “Today I wore a new chiffon dress. You would love it. Palest blue. One of your favorite colors, as I recall.” “I think I neglected to tell you Mamie and Fred have been seen together more often than not. Why, I myself saw them rowing on the lake Sunday.” Kathleen had no idea who Mamie and Fred were, or why anyone should care if they went out together in a rowboat.

She sighed at her frustration. Perhaps she was only being petty because she didn’t have anyone who would take her out in a boat, which wasn’t exactly true. Young Merv, who worked with Father, would surely take her out if she offered him any encouragement. Perhaps not in a boat, though, as there wasn’t a decent lake nearby and she didn’t fancy a long ride with him to get to one. She secretly thought the man a little too impressed with himself to be interesting.

He never showed the kindness to others that Buck did. Nor the approval Buck had expressed to her yesterday afternoon.

Finally Kathleen’s father arrived home for lunch, again taken in the dining room. As soon as they fin
ished and he returned to work, Mother went to lie down. At last Kathleen could don her winter outer-wear and hurry to visit Rosie.

The house rang with laughter as she stepped inside. Buck was on all fours on the floor, playing horsey to three boisterous boys.

Mattie tumbled off and pulled the others with him. They landed in a giggling heap. Buck corralled the trio and tickled them. They escaped to tackle him.

Rosie held young Lilly as she watched. Kathleen stood beside her and grinned at the roughhousing.

“They’ve missed Bill. He played with them,” Rosie said.

Kathleen tried to remember if she’d ever played with her father. She recalled only sedate walks during which she held his hand and flashed shiny new shoes. If not for the children of a large family—the Rempels—who lived a few blocks away, she wondered if she would even know what play was. Mary Rempel had been her best friend. Kathleen remembered afternoons of giggling and boisterous games and a pretend house in the bushes of the backyard. When the family moved away, Kathleen knew unabated loneliness until she went to a private girls’ school. But even then, her friendships proved transitory. Again, she wondered if it was her fault. Was she lacking some necessary social skill?

Buck rolled to his back, saw Kathleen watching him and grew still, his eyes flashing such warmth and welcome she forgot to breathe. “Hi,” he said. The word seemed to come from deep inside his chest.

Was it her imagination that made her think he silently invited her into a special world shared with him?

Of course it was. She gave herself a mental shake. “Everyone seems to be having a fine time.”

“It won’t last,” Rosie predicted. “Not this close to nap time.”

Mattie rolled into Junior, and right on cue they started to cry.

“Come on, you two.” Rosie led the way to the bedroom. “Bedtime.”

Buck sat up on the floor and pulled Joey into his arms. “What do you say, little buddy? Time for a rest?”

Joey pressed his head to Buck’s shoulder. “I sleep here?”

Buck nodded. “For a little while, though I think I’ll sit in a chair if you don’t mind.”

“I not mind.”

Cradling the boy, he plunked himself on a kitchen chair.

Kathleen realized she still wore her coat and slipped it off. She sat across the table from Buck as Joey’s eyes slowly closed. Watching the two of them brought a sting of tears to the back of her nose. “I think he’s asleep,” she whispered.

Buck nodded. “He’s still not up to his normal self.” He held the boy a moment longer, then laid him on the bed and covered him before he returned to the kitchen.

She sewed together more quilt pieces and tried not
to be aware of his presence. Yet she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing at him.

He leaned his elbows on the table, rested his chin in his palms and studied her so intently she ducked her head and concentrated on taking a small, even stitch.

“Tell me how you celebrate Thanksgiving in your house.”

She drew in a steadying breath, grateful for the offer of normal conversation. “I love Thanksgiving. I didn’t always. We have a formal meal, sometimes with guests.” Mostly they were business associates and not exactly fun company for a young girl. “The mealtimes were often a bit dreary, but since the church started holding a special service with guest speakers and a shared meal, I’ve loved the day. More and more I appreciate how much God has blessed all of us.” Her hands grew still as she sought for words to explain what she meant. “I am in awe of how much God loves us that He sent his son to earth as a baby. Can you imagine sending Joey into a place where you knew he would be shunned and tortured?”

Bleakness filled Buck’s face, and she wished she hadn’t used his son as an example. She tended to forget he was mixed-race and likely faced prejudice.

“Good reason to spend winters in isolated shacks, wouldn’t you say?”

She didn’t think so, but how could she explain in such a way she wouldn’t be misunderstood? “What I see between you and Joey,” she began slowly, forming her thoughts as she spoke, “is a wonderful example of
fatherly love and care. I’m convinced you would do anything for his well-being. I think by hiding your relationship, by seeking isolation, you deprive others of witnessing such a fine example. Our society is the poorer for the loss.” She could think of nothing more to add, though the words were inadequate for the emotion she tried to convey.

Buck stared at her, swallowed hard. “You make me want to walk boldly into the town’s businesses with Joey at my side.”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t.” But was it for his sake and Joey’s she wanted him to believe so? Or for her own sake? She let a picture form in her mind of Buck openly being her friend.

“Life isn’t so simple for everyone.” His expression grew hard, guarded. Again, the evidence of a secret. She wanted to ask him about it, but Rosie returned and took up needle and thread.

For the next few days, the afternoons passed in the same fashion with the exception that Buck didn’t give her an opportunity to say anything more about walking openly and proudly down the street. Kathleen prayed he would believe he could do so or that she would get a chance to discuss it again, because every day she discovered something more she liked and admired about this man—his easy laughter when he played with the children, the way he sprang to his feet to help Rosie. And herself. She ducked her head over her sewing to hide the heat in her cheeks as she thought of how he lifted her coat from her shoulders and hung it on the rack. A common courtesy, yet
when his fingers brushed her neck her reaction was far from common. The way her heart lurched against her rib cage made it impossible to think.

Each afternoon, he escorted her home.

“Won’t you come in and meet Mother?” she asked on this particular day—a request she’d considered several times before, but because of her uncertainty as to how Mother would react, she’d never yet voiced it. Now she wanted nothing more than for Buck and Mother to meet.

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Buck said, his expression giving away nothing.

“I think you’d enjoy meeting my mother. And she you.”

He shook his head. “There are things you don’t know about me. No one here does. Best to keep it that way.”

“I wish you’d tell me what they are so I could understand.” She didn’t care that her request made it sound like she had a right to know, which she didn’t—except for the fact that she admired him and cared how he seemed to feel, he must remain an outsider.

A gentle smile lifted his lips and softened his gaze. “Maybe I will some time.” Hardness returned so fast, she almost gasped. “You do realize I promised Rosie I wouldn’t hang about until people noticed me. I think I am perilously close to reaching that place.”

She reached for his arm, stopped herself before she touched him. “You won’t suddenly disappear without a word, will you? I’ve had friends that dropped out of my life like that. I—” Why did she think it would
matter how it had shattered her life? But she steadied her voice and continued. “I found it hard to accept. I asked myself all sorts of questions. Was it my fault? Was there something wrong with me? Wasn’t I worthy of their friendship?”

His smile touched her. “Kathleen, anyone would be honored to be your friend.”

Her thoughts skidded to a halt as his words spread like wildfire through her insides. Honored? Could he possibly mean it?

“I’ll tell you before I leave. I promise.”

She nodded and relaxed. She had a strong feeling that a promise from Buck was as good as money in the bank. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“I’ll be there.”

She hurried into the house, a smile curving her lips. How sweet to know he would be there tomorrow. If only she could persuade him to consider more. More than that, he made her believe her lack of friends wasn’t due to some flaw in her makeup.

Mother greeted her in the hall. “It’s not proper for you to visit a man on the street like that.”

“Mother, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“He’s below you.” Mother made it sound like Buck belonged in the gutter.

“He’s a decent man.” Stilling defensive words on Buck’s behalf, she hung her coat on the rack, glad of the excuse to avoid meeting her mother’s gaze. “Just as his sister is a decent woman.”

“Your father and I don’t approve of how much time you’re spending with this family.”

“Mother, I am only extending Christian kindness in a way I feel I should.” Yet it was as much for her sake as for theirs that she went. Having Rosie and Buck as friends eased her loneliness. But only one argument would convince Mother. “Jesus didn’t make a distinction between the rich and the poor.”

“He was God. You are just a woman.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” She slowly faced her mother. “I don’t think my being a woman has anything to do with extending friendship to others.” Was it only friendship she longed for from Buck? Or did something deeper, wider, more intense beckon? Afraid her cheeks would flash guilty color, she ducked her head to dust her skirt. Friendship was a good start, but she allowed herself to acknowledge she wanted more.

Buck, with his easy love for Joey, Rosie and her children, and with his loyalty to what he believed, filled in the hollow spots in her heart simply by being there.