Promise of Yesterday (20 page)

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Authors: S. Dionne Moore

BOOK: Promise of Yesterday
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“Widower?”

“Yes. But another woman had her eye on him.” She explained about Sally and her own visit to Aaron’s store.

Chester chuckled and shook his head.

She pounded him on the arm. “I don’t want her to be lonely anymore.”

Something shifted in his expression. His gaze went intense. His hand came up to cup her chin. “I don’t want to be lonely.”

Her heart tripped, and a song rose to her lips that had nothing to do with music or words but joy. Caught in the light of his warm gaze, she shivered and gave her head a little shake. “I don’t want to be either.”

“Will you be my woman?”

Marylu stiffened, cautious about his use of the term
woman
.

Chester chuckled and pressed his thumb against her lips. “My queen?”

She drew air into her lungs and held her breath as he opened his mouth again.

“My wife?”

twenty-seven

Two skillets, filled with lard, popped and spattered as the batter for doughnuts hit the hot grease. The two women grinned at each other as the implication of the skillets and the hot grease dawned on both of them.

“And I thought you said you’d never pop and spatter like hot grease in a skillet.” Jenny’s eyes twinkled.

“Seems to me you’re spattering, too.”

Jenny chuckled. “I can’t believe it, Marylu.” She put another spoonful of lard into each skillet. “Are you sure you can handle that dress order by yourself Tuesday night?”

It had been a question Jenny had asked three times. “I’m sure as that grease popping.”

They burst into giggles.

“Won’t they be surprised to find doughnuts for dessert?” Jenny asked. “Do you think it was too forward of me to ask him over for supper tonight?”

“It wasn’t your idea. It was mine. Chester said Mr. Walck looked surprised but excited. Probably sick of his own cooking.” Marylu ducked to see out the kitchen window. The sun had long ago sunk toward the west, but enough light still lit the sky for her to be able to see into the backyard. No sign of anyone headed toward the door. “I hope Zedikiah gets here soon.”

“Chester will probably think to swing by and check in on him. Seems he should have been back from Mr. Walck’s shop long before now.”

Marylu took down the tin of cinnamon and put two pinches of the spice into the batter. “They did seem to take to each other.” She secretly hoped that Mr. Walck would offer Chester a job.

“Aaron—” Jenny’s gaze darted to Marylu’s. A blush crept over the woman’s cheeks. “I mean, Mr. Walck.” She cleared her throat and busied herself with gathering plates. “I think he was impressed with Chester’s knowledge of wood.”

Mr. Walck’s departure from the shop had led to a flurry of words and excited squeals between the two women. Jenny had shared the reason for their visitor’s appearance. “He told Sally he didn’t think it would work out between them and that he couldn’t put me out of his mind.”

The news swelled Marylu’s heart to bursting, and when she told Jenny that Chester had proposed, Jenny wanted all the details. They had chattered throughout the afternoon, even rejoicing over an order for a trousseau that meant steady work.

Marylu sprinkled a light coating of flour on the work surface and began to roll out the dough. “Grease ready?”

Together they made short work of frying the doughnuts. A platter of golden rounds, sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, sat on the table, dead center. Marylu frowned at the door and checked on the chicken she had baked. “If those men don’t get here soon, that chicken’s going to be tough as an old rooster.”

Wagon wheels rattled, and Marylu and Jenny both stilled to listen close. Marylu swung the back door open and squinted into the growing darkness. “No use guessing when we can look for ourselves.” But when her eyes adjusted, she saw the wagon pull up and Mr. Walck and Chester helping down a wobbling Zedikiah. “Oh no.”

Jenny hurried up beside her, glanced at the situation, then turned and stared at the table. “Where do we put him?”

“He can’t lay out on the floor. Put him in my room,” Marylu urged the men as they neared. The smell of alcohol was heavy on Zedikiah.

Miss Jenny’s nose wrinkled.

Marylu led the way to her room. They settled Zedikiah down onto the bed.

Chester pulled his feet up. He looked at Marylu with sorrowful eyes. “Shouldn’t have left him alone.”

She recognized his agony, as it mirrored her own spirit. Even though she thought of Zedikiah as a boy, she knew he was a man by most standards. His drinking would destroy him, as she had seen it destroy countless others. “All we can do is pray and keep an eye on him. Does Mr. Shillito know about this?”

Chester nodded, and Mr. Walck spoke up for the first time. “It’s why we were late. Apparently Zedikiah left early, before he’d taken care of some repairs on the sagging overhang that the buggies park under to unload. Chester and I stayed to finish up the project.”

“Is Mr. Shillito going to fire him?”

Chester shook his head. “No. We told him”—he lifted his hand as if it held a bottle—”that we try to help him.”

“He was kind about the situation,” Mr. Walck assured. “But we assured Shillito that if he’d give Zedikiah the chance, we would help out should he go out on a binge again. I think he wanted to help the boy as much as we do.”

Touched by Aaron’s inclusion and Mr. Shillito’s compassion, Marylu turned and swallowed to ease the ache in her throat. “Sure appreciate it. Let me get you some coffee.”

When Marylu felt her wrist enclosed by a hand, she turned to see Chester’s eyes begging her to wait. She caught Mr. Walck’s gaze. “You go on ahead to the kitchen. Miss Jenny’s in there and most likely got a pot boiling.”

Chester berated himself over and over for not talking to Zedikiah that morning. Surely the boy would have opened up about whatever it was that troubled him. As Mr. Walck left him alone with Marylu, he knew what he was about to demand would place a great strain on the household that had taken him in, but his conscience told him he had no choice. “Cooper?” he put the question to Marylu.

“He’s not come out all morning.”

He tugged on her wrist. “Talk to him.”

Marylu stiffened. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t we wait until he’s ready to talk? Miss Jenny thought the Lord might be dealing with him.”

Chester shot a look over at the unconscious Zedikiah then back to her.
Lord, what do I do?

It had become a rote prayer offered up when they found Zedikiah drunk, then again and again as they finished up the work and brought the boy to Jenny’s house. It had been easy to blame himself. For a minute, his senses flared with the remembered scent of rain and wet fields. His mind flashed to the image of cotton, rows and rows, all edged by woods. He could feel the grip of Samuel’s hands holding one of his arms and Old Bob the other. A light breeze ruffled the shirt, rent beneath the whipping he’d endured, edges encrusted in blood.

He had been made to kneel for this. The final punishment. His master stood over him, knife poised. Samuel had been the one to hold his jaws open as the master, blade in hand, had worked the edge under his tongue. His muscles had bunched, and his arms strained, and he knew he could not let them do this to him. As the blade began the slice, something inside his head had exploded. With a heave, he butted his head upward, into his persecutor’s jaw. The master had fallen backward, his head dashed against a large boulder. Samuel and Old Bob were both thrown aside by the force of his upward thrust. He stood over the white man and watched the blood trickle from his mouth. The paleness of the face gone even more pale.

And then the voice. Samuel’s. “Look what you done. You better run. Better run hard and fast and hope no one ever catches you for killing the master.”

Chester had done just that. Terrified. Fearful of getting caught and put to death. Of hanging. He had run far and hidden himself. Then the lies had begun. Covering his true identity. Cowering in the shadows as law officers closed in.

He felt now as he had felt then. Helpless. Fearful. But this time he felt those traits for a person other than himself.

“Chester?” Marylu’s hand tugged at his shirt.

He made a motion toward the door. “Let’s see Cooper.” Whatever else he was, he would not allow Zedikiah to wallow in his grief. Cooper held the key. He felt it deep inside his spirit.

twenty-eight

Cooper’s eyes were swollen almost shut. From crying, by the looks of things. Jenny poured him a cup of hot coffee where he slumped at the end of the familiar kitchen table. It had surprised Marylu that Cooper insisted on having everyone present, as if he knew what was coming and wanted to make things right with everyone present as witnesses.

Cooper started slowly, as if his tongue were heavy and his mind slow. “Miss Jenny has wanted me to tell the truth for a long time. Months.” He lifted his head and raised his brows. “I don’t know how she found out, but I know it’s created a misery in my soul for longer than I want to admit.”

Chester ran his finger around the rim of his mug. Next to him, Aaron Walck sipped his coffee and nibbled on half a doughnut. Miss Jenny sat across from him, her gaze fixed on Cooper.

Marylu nudged the plate of doughnuts closer to Chester, encouraging him to eat, but he shook his head. She knew the feeling. Dread filled her stomach, leaving no room for appetite.

“You loved Marylu,” Miss Jenny prodded the man.

Cooper nodded, a quirky smile on his lips. “She was the hero. Beautiful. Generous and brave. Most the men I know loved her. Even old Russell had himself a soft spot for her. But she never saw any of us. Except Walter.” He pulled in a quick breath and lowered his eyes to the table.

“If only you’d said something,” Marylu said.

Cooper laughed. “In your eyes I was an old man. Still am. I was chasing a fool’s dream, and part of me knew it. Then I had to watch you and Walter, night after night.” His head drooped forward. “It was me that told Walter to leave.”

Marylu gasped and felt Miss Jenny’s soft hand cup hers.

“I’d saved up a little bit working at Crowell and Davison as he healed up. It was all I had, and I gave it to him and told him to leave and get north. Forget about Marylu. That I would take care of her.”

Quick anger stiffened Marylu’s back. She wanted to shout a thousand things at Cooper, but only one slipped out. “How could you?”

Cooper didn’t meet her eyes. “When you cried after him all those months, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I …”

The wave of her emotion eased and morphed into resignation. It was a long time ago. Walter’s love for her must have been very shallow indeed if he so easily was bought. She pulled in a deep, steadying breath.

“When you didn’t love me back, I got mad. Went over to the widow’s house. Dottie’s.” He ducked his head low between his extended arms, and the sounds of his heavy inhalation could be heard. “Zedikiah’s my boy.” The words came out, at once harsh and feeble. “Been burning a hole in me for a long time. Seeing him take to drink. I knew his mama would hate me for clamming up about being his daddy, but I didn’t know how to go about being one, and he’s already grown.”

“He needs you,” Chester said simply.

Cooper bobbed his head once. “I see that now. Don’t mean I know what I’m doing, but it’s right for me to tell him.” He swallowed. “Maybe he’ll hate me.”

For the first time, Marylu felt his fear, as if it had been Walter leaving her all over again. She pressed her face into her hands and let the emotions burst forth. Cooper’s betrayal. His deceit. Where hate should have been stirred to new heights, she could only feel a dull ache. What had happened happened a long time ago. If things hadn’t occurred as they had, she might be saddled with a man she would have grown to hate. God only knew.

But was her love so easy to reject?

“Marylu?” Cooper’s voice invaded her thoughts. When she raised her head and saw the veil of unshed tears clouding his eyes, she knew it was within her power to ease the man’s burden. God would want her to do that. Still, the words came hard, but forgiveness, she knew, boiled down to choice.
Lord, I want to forgive him
. “I do love you, Cooper. You’ve been one of my best friends. You and Miss Jenny and her parents.”

Cooper’s shoulders quaked, and like a building made of sticks, his torso seemed to collapse into a heaving mass. His sobs filled the room.

Miss Jenny rose and went to the man. “It’s all right, Cooper.”

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