Heart of Stone (5 page)

Laura tried to cajole her. “Yes, you can. You can scoot your hands along the floor until you get close and then grab the ladder. I’ve got you.”

“I can’t. I won’t! Papa,
do
something!”

“Listen to Laura, honey.”

“I don’t want to listen to her. I don’t want her, I want you—”

Laura glanced down at Brand. His face had lost all color. She had broken up bar brawls and tossed ill-mannered patrons out of her establishment on their ears. She’d never backed down from an argument or a fight, never feared for her own safety—not when she had nothing to lose. She could certainly handle a seven-year-old.

Laura lowered her voice and spoke with complete calm. “Once Janie is on the ladder, you grab hold of it, please, Brand. Janie, I’m going to hang on to you while you let go of the loft and reach for the ladder.” She tightened her grip on Janie’s waist.

“Now, Janie, move your hands. Reach for the ladder,” she urged.

“But—”

“Do it!” Laura demanded. “Right now.”

Janie inched her right hand and then her left over to a rung above her. Laura knew the minute Brand took firm hold of the ladder.

“I’m going to start climbing down and you are going to follow after me,” she told Janie. “Ready?”

The girl’s braids bobbed as she nodded.

“Now, come on.” Laura started down the ladder. Janie sniffled and whimpered but slowly followed. Laura forgot that Brand was directly beneath her, his hands steady on the rails. When she reached the lowest rung, she realized she had stepped within the circle of his arms.

All the courage she’d mustered to help Janie failed her. She whispered, “You can let go and step back, Reverend.”

He let go of the ladder and gave her room to dismount. She
made a great show of brushing off her apron and shaking out her skirt and petticoats while she collected herself. She refused to meet his gaze for as long as she could.

When she finally looked up she realized she needn’t have been embarrassed by her reaction to his nearness. His attention was focused on Janie. He was hunkered down on one knee, hugging Janie close before he began to dry the child’s tears with his kerchief.

Laura’s thoughts drifted back to that long-distant time when she’d been the one to dry her sister’s tears, to wash their faces, to sing them to sleep. She quickly smothered the memory the way one snuffs a dangerous flame. She couldn’t bear the searing pain.

Instead, she concentrated on the man and child before her. She stood tall and reminded herself who she was, where she was.

“How in the world did you end up there like that?” Brand asked Janie.

“Sam and I climbed up. He climbed down first and when it was my turn he knocked the ladder down and ditched me.” The child spoke between sorrowful hiccups.

Laura turned toward the buggy. Sam was no longer there.

“What are you going to do to him, Papa?” Janie slipped her hand into his.

“I’m going to give him a stern talking to, of course.”

“I think you should beat him within an inch of his life—”

“Jane McCormick. We’ve talked about forgiveness.”

Janie looked doubtful. “But he did a really
bad
thing. Are we supposed to forgive really
bad
things, Papa? What if I fell and kilt myself? Would you forgive him then?”

Laura watched Brand collect himself. A telling muscle flexed in his jaw. She reckoned he would probably like to shake Sam senseless, but after a moment or two, he slowly nodded.

“I would forgive him, Janie. It’s what God wants us to do.”

“Are we supposed to forgive really
bad
things?”

It was easy for him to say he would forgive his son, Laura
thought. Janie was unharmed. But what if she’d been badly hurt or, heaven forbid, killed? Would Brand’s faith truly stand the test?

Still clutching his handkerchief, Janie continued to snuffle as she leaned against Brand’s leg.

“Shall we go back to the veranda and have some lemonade?” Laura suggested.

“What about Sam?” Janie obviously wanted to see justice doled out quickly.

“I’ll look for him as soon as we get you settled,” Brand assured her.

Laura hoped the boy hadn’t snuck into the house. She could just imagine the havoc he could wreak inside.

“Why don’t you look for him now?” she suggested to Brand before she turned to the child. “You can sit on my porch swing. Would you like that?”

Janie rubbed her toe in the dirt. “Maybe.” Then she turned to her father. “But I think you better find him right away. He said something about skinning Mrs. Foster’s cat.”

B
rand found Sam hiding near the back porch steps and led him back to where Laura and Janie waited on the veranda. He whispered a quick prayer of thanksgiving when he saw Peaches curled up asleep on the veranda swing.

He confined Sam to the far porch corner and made him sit on a stool with his nose pressed against the wall. How long would it take to forget the sight of Janie hanging above the carriage house floor, he wondered. His heart hadn’t settled down yet.

“You need to think about what you did to Janie.”

“How long?”

“Until I say you’re done.”

As Brand walked away, he was aware that some would say Sam needed a strong hand against his backside. Brand was tempted to spank him, but whenever his children erred and he wanted to punish them, he was reminded of his own father’s overbearing nature
and unbending discipline and couldn’t bring himself to be firm as he should be.

He found himself wondering what Laura would do if Sam were her child.

Her quick action and courage had amazed and surprised him. A weak-willed woman might have taken one look at Janie dangling high above the ground and fainted dead away. He’d been frozen with fear and all he could think of was catching Janie if she fell. Laura had taken charge.

“How can I ever thank you, Laura?”

She was seated beside Janie on the swing, focused on what the girl was saying as she stroked Laura’s cat. Peaches had survived Sam’s idle threat and was curled up in Janie’s lap.

Laura turned. “Pardon?”

“I was thanking you. You were wonderful in the carriage house. All I could do was wait to catch her when she fell.”

“It was quite a shocking sight.”

“But you didn’t hesitate to act.”

“You might say I’ve had a lot of experience with emergencies.”

He noticed how a flush of color always fanned across her cheeks when she was embarrassed.

“I guess you’ve seen about everything running a boardinghouse,” he mused. He was still amazed by her courage. Not only had she stood up for the child in the mercantile, but when Hank Larson had been wounded in a shoot-out nearly six months ago, Laura had stepped in without being asked to help Amelia nurse Hank. “Amelia still credits you with helping her save Hank’s life,” he said, thinking aloud.

“I was just there as another pair of hands and to act as chaper-one.” Blushing, Laura dropped her gaze to her folded hands. “My being a widow and all,” she added softly, “I was able to save Amelia the embarrassment of having to bathe Hank when he was feverish—” She abruptly cut herself off, as if she’d said too much.

From the far end of the veranda, Sam interrupted.

“Am I gonna have to sit here forever? I’m so thirsty, Papa. I might just keel over right here and die.”

“You may apologize to Mrs. Foster.”

Sam leapt off the stool and crossed the veranda. When he reached the swing, he stared at the floor and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Mean it, please, son.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Foster, for leaving Janie hangin’ in your barn.”

“And…” Brand prodded.

Sam swallowed. “And for saying I was going to skin your cat.”

Brand watched Laura reach for Sam’s chin, tilt his face up, and made him look her in the eye.

“Would you really skin my cat? Or any cat, for that matter?”

Sam mumbled something.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” Laura said. Her voice was soft, melodic, yet laced with steel.

“No. I wouldn’t hurt your cat. Or any cat.”

“Yes, he would,” Janie piped up.

Laura gently took hold of Sam’s hand, effectively keeping the boy close. Brand watched with admiration and amazement.

“I’m talking to your brother right now, Janie. If he says he’s not going to hurt Peaches, then I’ll take him as a man of his word.” Laura turned to Sam again. “Are you a man of your word?”

Brand watched as his son stood a bit taller and squared his shoulders.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a man of my word.”

“Then that’s all that needs to be said,” Laura told him. “I forgive you. I think you need to ask your sister to forgive you too. She’s the one you left in such a precarious position. You need to make her a promise as well.”

Laura let go of Sam’s hand. The boy scooted over to stand in front of Janie.

“Sorry,” he told her. Then he glanced at Laura and added, “Sorry, I left you hanging like that. I won’t do it again.”

Janie stared at him for a moment, then said, “Wanna pet Peaches?”

When Sam said yes, she proceeded to scoot over and let him sit beside her.

Brand let go a sigh of relief. “We’ll take that lemonade now,” he said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

L
aura asked Brand to have a seat while she went inside and told Anna to bring them some lemonade. When she came back, she found Brand seated in the middle of the swing, next to Janie and Sam. If she joined them all, she’d be forced to wedge herself in beside him. Instead, she leaned against the veranda railing. She left her apron on, a reminder that they had interrupted her at her task.

Still, her relief that Janie was safe was so great, she realized she wasn’t in any hurry to have them leave. At least until they’d finished their lemonade.

As if he had read her thoughts Brand said, “We won’t take up much more of your time. I haven’t forgotten that you refused my request to call on you, but what kind of a man would I be if I gave up without a fight?”

His open smile was far too tempting.

“Sensible?” She continued to find herself inexplicably drawn to him.

“And why is that?” His voice was low and warm.

She glanced at the children. They were whispering over the cat.

“Because if you’re looking for a romantic relationship, Reverend, I’m not interested.”

“Your penchant for turning down marriage proposals is legendary, Mrs. Foster.”

“Is it?”

“Very much so.”

Good
, she thought.
Then you won’t be shocked or disappointed when I do not attend the choir performance.

“I realized this morning I don’t know much about you, Mrs. Foster.”

“That’s because I’m a private person, Reverend McCormick.”

He didn’t question her. Instead he said, “I suppose my life is pretty much an open book.”

“I suppose it has to be, doesn’t it?” She tipped her head, studied him carefully. The faithful had a right to know all about this man who was charged with their salvation. They would also want his associations to be of the highest standards and morals.

“That’s right.” He appeared thoughtful.

“So, tell me about yourself,” she said. An expert on men, she hadn’t met one yet who didn’t care to talk about himself more than anything else.

Brand set the swing rocking to a gentle rhythm. “I was born and raised in Illinois. When the war broke out, I enlisted in the Union Army.”

“Were you a chaplain?”

He shook his head no and paused a moment before he went on. “I had a spiritual awakening on the battlefield. After the war, I went back home, met and married Jane, my late wife, and became a minister. I was blessed. Our lives were everything we’d dreamed of when the children came. Then, when Janie was a year old, Jane fell ill and died very suddenly. God presented me with the challenge of living through my grief and raising my children. With the help of my sister, I decided to come to Texas and start over, like so many folks did after the war.”

Standing on the veranda of the grand home built from the shame of her past, Laura could barely speak above a whisper. “Texas is a fine place for that.”

She’d chosen Texas for its size, hoping she was as well hidden here as a needle in a haystack.

Anna appeared with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade and set them on a wicker side table near the swing. Laura poured the lemonade, gave some to Janie and Sam. As she handed Brand
a glass, their fingers met. The touch was entirely innocent, but an unexpected wave of longing hit her. She never sought a man’s touch, never welcomed one. But this—this gentle brush of his fingertips was something altogether different.

She glanced up and found Brand staring into her eyes. Had he felt it too?

She tried to look away but couldn’t. Silence stretched between them, silence full of tension that the children beside him were oblivious to. As much as Laura wanted the startling moment to end, a part of her wished it could last forever.

B
rand found himself in no hurry to leave as they sipped lemonade and chatted awhile longer, and then he told the children they could start walking home, but to wait for him at the corner. He wanted to bid Laura good-bye alone.

Before today, he’d never entertained any opinions about whether or not Laura Foster would make a good mother for his children. He hadn’t thought any further than inviting her to the choir performance on Saturday night. Now he had no doubt that not only was she caring, forgiving, and strong, but loving and gentle.

The direction of his thoughts surprised him. It had been forever since he dared to think about marriage again. Laura would be an easy woman to love.

Laura busied herself with the refreshment tray as Brand watched the children dash across the front yard and head toward the corner. When he turned to her, she appeared to be waiting expectantly for him to take his leave.

“I’ve kept you from your duties long enough. I’m sorry about what happened—”

“Don’t think about it. Children can be unpredictable.” Such deep sadness filled her eyes that it took him aback.

He spoke before he thought. “It’s unfortunate you and Mr. Foster never had any children. You’re very good with them.”