Hearts Awakening (9 page)

He pulled on the reins to halt the horses. “You really don’t know much about me or my life on this island, do you?” he asked, letting the horses nibble a spell.

She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she murmured.

He set the brake, climbed down, walked around the back of the wagon, and helped her down from her seat after making sure the boys were still sleeping. “It’s probably easier to explain if I draw you a map. That way you’ll be able to see it and be better prepared, just in case the boys decide to wander off on an adventure, which they’ve been known to do from time to time.”

Taking a stick he found lying along the side of the road, he stood next to her and brushed at the dirt in front of them with the side of his boot to make a blank slate. He outlined the shape of the island with the end of the stick and put an X on the southern tip of the island. “My home . . . our home is here, as you must have guessed, just inside a stand of woods that borders the river’s edge. The Grants live here,” he said, making a larger X at the opposite end of the island. “The homestead there is the original homestead my father-in-law built when he settled here with his first wife.”

“That would have been Abigail, I believe, right?” she asked.

When he narrowed his gaze, she moistened her lips. “I found the family cemetery this morning when I was trying to find my way to the landing.”

He nodded. “The cemetery is here,” he said, planting another X near the western shore, close to their home, before he drew three lines running from north to south. “These are the dirt roadways connecting our home to the Grant homestead, with the orchards in-between. There’s a different variety of apple planted in each section, but I can explain why later, assuming you’re interested. The island isn’t very wide, and I suspect you’ll be able to find your way around it fairly quickly.”

“Is it all that safe, or should I worry about ending up face-to-face with another raccoon or a wild critter of some sort?”

“It’s safe enough,” he insisted, reluctant to frighten her yet with stories of the one or two predators he had seen on the island since he had first moved here. “My father-in-law actually lived at the original homestead with his first and second wives, although he never had any children with them. He didn’t build the second house until after he married his third wife, Emily, and learned a good year or so later that he was finally going to be a father. Rebecca was born when he was sixty-two. His wife, I believe, was only twenty-nine. Unfortunately, she died a few years later.”

“How sad for them all,” Ellie whispered.

Reminded of how his life seemed to mimic his father-in-law’s at times, he drew in a long breath, anxious to finish the map as well as his explanation. “As I was saying, my father-in-law was passionate about his orchards, but he was even more devoted to being a father, and he had enough money to indulge himself on both accounts. He hired Michael Grant to come live on the island with his family and run the farm and paid him handsomely, in addition to allowing him to keep whatever profits he might make from the farm.”

“That seems quite generous,” she noted.

“It was, which might explain why the Grants have stayed here for nearly twenty-five years or so. But in return, they provided my father-in-law and his family with whatever they needed, and I saw no reason to change the arrangement after my father-in-law’s death. Michael still keeps our smokehouse filled and the root cellar stocked, and his wife, Alice, along with their daughter, sees that we have all the milk, butter, and eggs we need.”

“Then I was right. This is a most unusual place.”

“I trust you’ll have no problem adjusting.”

She actually grinned. “To less work? No, not at all. I’ll make good use of the extra time I’ll have by spending it with the boys. After I give the entire house a thorough cleaning,” she added. “Would you have any objections if I tried weeding and replanting the herb garden? There are a few herbs I might be able to harvest before the first frost, assuming I have the time to—”

“It’s your garden. The island is your home now, too. You can do whatever you like here, as long as Daniel and Ethan remain your first priority. But remember: You can’t ever leave this island alone, or take the boys with you, under any circumstances. Any,” he insisted.

Judging by how quickly she dropped her gaze, he had probably spoken too harshly to her, but experience had been more than harsh to him, too.

“Pappy?”

He looked up and saw Daniel standing next to Ethan in the front of the buckboard. “It’s about time you two woke up,” he said, helping Ellie back into the wagon. “There’s still enough left of the day for me to work in the orchards for a few hours before it gets dark. I could surely use your help filling up those drop baskets, Daniel,” he said as he climbed back into his seat.

Ethan pouted, but Daniel edged closer to him. “I’ll help, and I think Ethan wants to help, too, but maybe you should take Miss Ellie back home to the city first. That way she can get home before it gets too dark to cross the river.”

Jackson met Ellie’s troubled gaze and shook his head. “Miss Ellie won’t be going home to the city. Miss Ellie and I were married today, remember? Her home is with us now. She’s my wife,” he said gently.

“Mama’s not gonna like that,” Daniel warned, holding tight to his brother’s hand. “She’s gonna be real, real mad at you when she gets back.”

Eight

Ellie decided to wait until Jackson and Daniel were well on their way to the orchards and out of sight before attempting to lure Ethan away from the kitchen window.

While she unpacked the basket containing the remnants of their picnic on their way home, she also sorted through her other tasks for the afternoon: Keep Ethan occupied. Unpack her travel bag. Start supper. Find a sewing basket. Discover a way to help the boys’ broken hearts to heal. And find a way to silence the echo of her cousins’ harsh parting words.

She removed several cooked eggs from the basket and stored them on the middle shelf next to the crock of butter, caught a glimpse of her wooden wedding ring, and tried not to think about Cousin Mark’s hurtful claim that Jackson had married her because she was so unattractive. Not because it was not true. She’d known all of her life that she was plainer than most women, despite her parents’ insistence otherwise. Jackson himself had practically admitted as much when he had made his unusual proposal.

She turned, walked back to the basket, removed the scraps of leftover bread, and set them into a bowl. She had made leftovers like these into a sweet pudding for dessert many, many times, but she had no hope of transforming Olivia’s snide remark that Jackson’s first wife, Rebecca, had been unfaithful. Her comment was mean and malicious, and while it made Cousin Mark’s words more hurtful, it also set Ellie to thinking.

While Jackson had admitted that his first marriage had been troubled and that there had been gossip about it, he had vehemently claimed he had been faithful to his wife. At the time, Ellie had never considered that his wife had been guilty of the ultimate betrayal within their marriage.

If it were true, then the fact that he wanted an extremely plain wife like Ellie made even more sense. By marrying her, he would not be troubled by the possibility that she would betray him, since no other man would want her. But it also meant that he was not troubled by the possibility he could ever be tempted to become more than her husband in name only, either.

What would Jackson think if she told him why she had been put out of Cousin Philip’s home in Philadelphia? But more important, why hadn’t Jackson been honest with her and told her the nature of the gossip that obviously still surrounded his marriage to Rebecca? Didn’t he think she had a right to know? Or didn’t he care about her feelings at all?

Hoping work would silence thoughts far too troubling to resolve at the moment, Ellie scrunched down next to Ethan to meet him at eye level. “I could surely use some help unpacking my travel bag, but I’m not certain if I can find my way to my new room. Will you help me?” she asked and offered him her hand.

Ethan hesitated at first, his gaze wary. When he took her hand, she let out a sigh of relief and held on tight as he scrambled down from his seat.

Without saying a word, he led her through the kitchen and past the door at the bottom of the enclosed staircase that led up to the bedrooms on the second floor. He stopped at the very next open doorway, taking two steps inside before stopping abruptly.

Standing alongside him, she gave the room she would call her own a good look. She smiled, despite the dust and musty odor in the room, which had been closed off for a good number of weeks. The room itself might have been considered modest in size by most people, but it was larger than any bedroom she had ever had as a child or as an adult. Ever.

The dark blue quilt on the large double bed, the oversized trunk at the foot, on which Jackson had set her travel bag, and the heavy chest of drawers had probably suited the boys’ grandfather when this had been his bedroom. But the delicate lady’s desk set in the corner between two large windows that splashed the room with light most definitely appealed to her, almost as much as the small stove that would keep the room warm in winter.

Ellie made an exaggerated effort to sniff the air and crinkled her nose. “It’s smelly in here. Maybe we should open those windows first.”

With a quick nod, Ethan let go of her hand, raced to the nearest window ledge, and climbed up before she was halfway there. “You’re awfully quick,” she murmured and planted herself directly behind him so he would not topple off and get hurt.

Unfortunately, despite both their efforts, the window simply would not budge. “Let’s try this,” she suggested and tapped around the bottom frame with the side of her fist to loosen the sash. She waited until Ethan repeated what she had done before she set her feet and tried to lift the sash again.

“Up it goes,” she gritted and got rewarded for her efforts with a gush of fresh air and just the hint of a smile from her stepson.

Once they had opened the second window, he actually offered her a full smile that stole her heart. “You’re a good, strong boy. Thank you for helping me.” She smoothed his stubborn cowlick, which refused to surrender and lie down.

As fast as lightning, he ran across the room and knelt on top of the trunk next to her travel bag, stirring up dust in the process.

She chuckled her way over to him and wondered how she would find the energy to keep up with him every day. “You’re very fast, too. Let’s see how quick I can be at emptying out that travel bag of mine,” she suggested and opened it up.

When he poked his face straight into the bag, she chuckled again. “I doubt there’s much there you’ll find very interesting.”

He pulled away and sat back on his haunches, which gave her the room she needed to lift out the single gown she owned that was suitable for Sunday service. Once she did, she realized she had no place to put it that was not coated with dust.

“Hopefully, this trunk is empty so I can store this inside. Scoot yourself over to the bed so I can open it,” she suggested and waited until he climbed onto the bed before she set the travel bag alongside him.

She lifted the lid to the trunk with her free hand and grinned. “It’s empty. See?”

Ethan leaned forward, peered over the lid, and nodded.

After bending down to place the folded gown inside, Ellie stood up and pointed to her bag. “There are two aprons next. Will you hand them to me?”

He did, although she had to discreetly refold them as she added them to the trunk and then closed the lid. “We can put the rest into the chest of drawers.”

Ethan acted on her suggestion before she scarcely had the words out, tugging the travel bag. But in the process he lost his balance on the soft mattress and plopped down bottom first, while the travel bag flipped off the bed. It landed upside down, scattering most of the contents across the bare planked floor as it fell.

When Ethan took one look at what he had done, he promptly burst into tears. Not silent, tiny baby tears—huge, noisy, marble-size tears that rolled down his cheeks, accompanied by heaving, heart-wrenching cries that rumbled from deep within from his narrow chest.

Driven by a maternal instinct that seemed to surface quite naturally, Ellie swooped the child up into her arms and sat down on the bed. She rocked him from side to side, cherishing the opportunity to hold him close and comfort him, just as her mother had always done for her. “Hush, now. Don’t cry, baby boy. All is well. There’s no harm done. All is well,” she crooned and blinked back tears of her own when he snuggled closer, just as he might have done with his own mother.

When Ethan’s little body trembled against her, his tears dampening her bodice, she sighed and laid her head against his. She rocked him and rocked him, not only to comfort him but also herself, until his tears were exhausted and his body lay limp and very still, save for an occasional hiccough.

Holding this little one close to her felt good and it felt right. She could not imagine feeling closer to a child of her own, and she tucked the memory away to cherish over and over again whenever doubts about her place in his life, as well as his father’s, nibbled at her faith.