A Time for Everything (15 page)

Portia stood and wiped her brow with
her sleeve. “No… I… saw something I shouldn’t have.”

“
What did you see?” Bessie
held to the countertop to pull herself up.

“
I saw Mr. Stanford’s army
jacket.”

“
Oh, dear Lord — how’d you
see that? Ain’t nobody seen it since he came home.”

“
I put the laundry in his
room like you asked and decided to make his bed. When I came around
the footboard, the chest was open… and there it was.”

“
But you
didn’t—”

“
I did.”

“
And?” Bessie stood still
as a pointer hound who’d found a flock of quail.

“
He caught me.”

“
Sweet Jesus.” She dabbed
her forehead with the corner of her apron. “What did he
say?”

Replaying their brief but
tense encounter brought tears to Portia’s eyes. “He said I had no
business prying into
his
business and accused me of taking a key and told
me to leave his room. So I apologized and came down
here.”

Bessie retrieved the cornbread from
the oven before it burned. She plunked the pan on the work table
and jabbed a knife into it. “Did you take the key?”

“
What key?”

“
The one to the chest.
When Beau came home from the war, we thought he might have to be
sent off to one of them places for lunatics. He raved and cussed
and carried on so much, it scared us. I know he was just grievin’
for his wife, but it was bad. Real bad. One day, he locked himself
up in that room and didn’t come out for a week. We was all scared
he was gonna do somethin’ to himself, but I kept putting food
outside the door every mornin’ and it would be gone by evenin’. He
finally came out, and he’d calmed down. More like the Beau we all
knew before, but he warned all of us to never touch that chest. I
reckon he put all his war memories in there and some of Claire’s
things too and locked ’em out of sight so he could go on with his
life.”

The weight of this revelation hit
Portia hard. Tears dripped from her eyes. She had trespassed into
his most painful memories. He could have dismissed her easily.
Probably should have.

“
I should leave,” she
said. “I should pack my things and go… somewhere.”

Bessie handed her a kitchen towel.
“No, you dry them eyes and get a hold of yourself. If he really
thought you was guilty, he’d have thrown you out then and there.
Both of you’s got a lot of pain to work through. It’ll just take
time. Now, let’s get supper done.”

When they finished preparing the meal,
Portia helped Bessie set the table and serve the food. Mr. Stanford
never made eye contact, and everyone but Ezra stayed quiet. Harry
winked at her and patted the empty chair beside him, but she
pretended not to notice. She couldn’t bear to join them in the
dining room, so she took her meal with Bessie and Isaac in the
kitchen.

Later, after dishes were cleaned and
put away, Portia retreated to her room. Thankful to have a pillow
to muffle the sound, she wept until exhaustion took over. She woke
to a pretty pink sunrise brightening her window and a rooster
announcing the new day. Though tempted to run away and never show
her face there again, she had a job to do. Reluctantly, she got up
and dressed, determined to soldier on.

How could she ever face him again
without feeling like she had trampled on his heart?

~~~~

Portia took her
breakfast in the study with the excuse of needing
to prepare the day’s lessons early. Mr. Stanford wasn’t in the
dining room when she passed through, but she didn’t want to take
any chances. A little distance might help emotions settle enough so
everyone could be comfortable in the same room again.

Jonathan came in at ten till eight,
nodding to her with a muffled, “Good morning.”

He took his seat, licked his pencil
lead, and wrote his name on the blank sheet of paper on the desk.
Blinking those long eyelashes of his, he looked at her and
patiently waited. The thought she had been pondering all morning
stopped ricocheting from bad idea to good idea now that she had a
more willing student.

“
Jonny, I want to indulge
your interest in the horse business,” she said, deciding to call
him by his nickname.

His face brightened momentarily but
quickly turned fearful. “Won’t Pa be mad?”

“
Not if we don’t get in
his way. There’s more than one way to learn about something, so
let’s be clever about it.”

They reviewed some of the horse
journals from their prior lessons. Portia assigned him an essay on
native forage suitable for horses. Jonny grumbled about it, having
had his heart set on a full day outdoors. Though she was adamant he
finish before they ventured out, she sat at the large desk,
smiling, watching his tongue poking from the side of his mouth in
concentration while his pencil scratched across the paper. She’d
never been so thankful for a grumbling student before.

After lunch, carefully avoiding the
barn, they spent a half hour observing the horses in the
pasture.

Jonny pointed at one of them. “See
that Morgan? That’s Pa’s horse, Scout.”

“
He’s a fine
horse.”

The boy nodded and added, “And that’s
a new filly Pa just bought.”

“
I wonder if they get
along.”

Face scrunched in thought, Jonny put
his feet on the bottom fence slat and draped his elbows over the
top. “Well, see how he’s bobbing his head up and down. I think
that’s how they say hello to each other.”

“
Oh, and she just did the
same. I suppose she’s saying hello back. So, now they’re touching
noses. Is that like kissing?”

Jonny smiled. “Maybe. At least they
like each other. They’d have to like each other to make
babies.”

“
I’m pretty sure that’s a
necessary factor.” Portia stifled a laugh, hoping a detailed lesson
on reproduction wouldn’t be requested.

“
He’s a good ridin’ horse,
too.”

“
I’ll take your word for
it.”

Looking rather incredulously at her,
he asked, “Don’t you know how to ride?”

“
Not that well. My daddy
had a work horse I used to ride when I was little, but he got drunk
one day and traded it for an old drippy milk cow. Jake and I never
had any horses either, just some mules. The first time I tried to
ride one, a snake spooked it, and I fell off. I hurt my backside
and my pride too much to try again.”

He laughed, but his smiling face soon
turned solemn. “I haven’t ridden for a while, either. Pa won’t let
me go out by myself, and everyone’s too busy to ride with
me.”

Portia watched the horses
graze happily beside each other and contemplated her next
move.
If only his father could hear him
right now
. With Jonny confiding in her
like this, she had to keep him interested. That really meant only
one thing, and the thought made her stomach do a somersault. She’d
have to take up riding.

It’s worth it. It’ll do
Jonny good, but…
She had to seal her fate
with a verbal promise before she could change her mind. “Tell you
what. If you concentrate on your lessons and mind your manners for
the next couple of days, and if your father approves, I’ll go
riding with you this weekend.”

If his jaw had been unhinged, it would
have fallen right off. “Promise?”

“
Yes, that is, if you can
find me a gentle horse to ride.”

“
The geldings are real
gentle. You’ll be fine on one of those.”

She scrunched her face in mock
seriousness. “Good, because I’m putting my life in your
hands.”

“
I’ll keep you safe.
Promise.”

~~~~

That afternoon,
Portia
caught Isaac at lunch and asked him
to hitch up a horse and cart. She had decided to go into town with
Jonny to see if they could trade a few eggs for art supplies. With
the weather growing warmer by the day, she wanted to take advantage
of it and have a few drawing lessons outside.

With Jonny seated beside her, she
lifted the reins. “Ready?”

Jonny nodded excitedly. Poor boy was
thrilled just to have some companionship. She hadn’t heard any
mention of friends and wondered if he had anyone his own age to
play with. If not, she would have to remedy that. Children needed
playmates. How she would broach the subject with his overprotective
but distant father, she had no idea.

She was about to snap the reins when
Harry came running up the drive, arms waving in the air. “Whoa!
Hold up!”

“
What’s wrong?” she asked
as he reached the wagon.

He panted to catch his breath as he
answered, “What’s wrong… is that you didn’t… ask me to come
along.”

Had Mr. Stanford asked Harry to come
along? He did recommend she be escorted into town. Or maybe Harry
had other intentions. She groaned quietly.

“
Did you need something in
town?” she asked, hoping to dissuade him with her independent
spirit. “I can pick it up for you.”

“
My dear lady, I’d be
remiss to pass up an opportunity to escort you.” His smile nearly
blinded her, and she tried not to cringe at the wink that followed.
“Scoot over and leave the driving to me.”

Apparently, her
independent spirit could not sway Harry Franklin from intruding on
her plans. Tempted to snap the reins and drive off, leaving him in
a cloud of dust, she remembered what her mama always said.
“No matter how poor one is, it doesn’t excuse bad
manners.”

Reluctantly, she scooted closer to
Jonny and handed the reins to Harry as he jumped in. She looked to
Jonny for support on her right. He shrugged. No help there. She
kept quiet between the grown man and the young one, while Harry
pointed out this and that along the way. He kept leaning too close
when he spoke and kept brushing her arm with his. The unwanted
contact distracted her too much to pay any mind to the
tour.

They arrived in town as
Harry said something about him and Beau not being able to borrow
more money. How could she respond to
that
? Before she had a chance to say
anything, two rough-looking men near a hitching post started
laughing. She noticed Jonny’s eyes growing wide at their
conversation.

“
You gotta be kiddin’
me.”

“
Naw, sir. That feller in
Lockport said they had a nigger strung up last night. Reckon they
barbequed him, too.”

Portia’s thoughts immediately turned
to Bessie and Isaac. If things had come to that in Lockport, just a
few miles away, it could easily be the same here.

“
Ain’t no niggers gonna be
safe out after dark. Shoulda known they had it comin’.” He
scratched at his bushy red beard and turned his head toward them.
With a nod of recognition, he threw his hand up in greeting.
“Mornin’, Harry. Is this the girl you been talkin’
about?”

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he smiled
back, eyes shifting from the man to Portia. “Randal, this is Portia
McAllister. Portia, Randal Stevens.”

“
Pretty little thang,
ain’t she?” Randal said to his companion as his gaze wandered over
her.

She shivered in disgust, but patted
Jonny’s back to reassure him. The poor boy stared at his boots and
gripped his knees with white-knuckled fingers.

“
Well now, we’ve got lots
of errands to run, and I’m sure you do, too. Good day,” Harry
said.

Randal lifted his hat in farewell,
revealing his greasy, mostly bald head. The two men mounted their
horses and rode off in different directions.

“
It’s all right,” she
whispered to Jonny. “They’re gone now.”

He nodded and hopped out. Portia
picked up the egg basket, and Harry helped her from the cart. He
kept her hand in his a little too tightly, rubbing her knuckles
with his thumb.

“
Don’t worry about all
that,” he said. “I think they came home from the war with shrapnel
in their heads.”

He tried to laugh it off,
but Randal’s gritty voice still polluted the pleasant spring air.
“…
Is this the girl you been talkin’
about?”

Anger carried a hot blush up her
cheeks. She jerked her hand from his. “From the sounds of it,
you’re well acquainted with them, Mr. Franklin.”

“
No, not since we were
boys. They joined up with the Rebels and ain’t been right since.
Besides, news carries fast, and everyone knows about you. They just
want to get a rise out of you.”

Sincerity poured from his sparkling
blue eyes. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, but
there was still the matter of what those horrid men were
discussing.

She looked to see where Jonny went —
he stood several feet away, gazing at some tin soldiers in a store
window. Keeping her voice down, she turned her attention back to
Harry. “What about Bessie and Isaac?”

“
Probably just a rumor.
They’ll be fine. But you ought to let me escort you to town at all
times… just in case.”