Heaven Sent (46 page)

As she began to set the table, Myrtie rushed in and stood in the doorway looking at Hannah. Her body block
ing
the view to the outside, she held herself stiff and her face revealed anxious agitation, as if some terrible calamity had occurred. She kept darting her eyes back over her shoulder as if someone were coming up behind her.

"What is it?" Hannah asked her, but when she only answered her sister with a pleading look of dismay, Violet took up the questioning.

"Wasn't that Will I heard ride up?" Violet questioned. "What are you doing still in the house?"

Myrtie darted glances back and forth between the women and then with a somewhat indecisive whine, said, "No, it wasn't Will."

The older women waited in silence for a moment, expecting Myrtie to continue. When she didn't, Violet and Hannah exchanged confused looks.

"Well, who was it?" Hannah asked.

Myrtie took a deep breath and then looked sympathetically at Hannah.

"You'd best set another place," she said finally, lines of concern marring her pretty face. "Papa has invited Henry Lee for dinner."

Hannah set down the plate she was holding as if it were a hot skillet. Glancing through the door behind Myrtie, she saw nothing but wasn't reassured.

"He's out there?" she asked nervously, her voice barely above a whisper.

Myrtie nodded furiously, her face contorted with misery. "I'll help you, Hannah," she offered. "If we hurry, we can still have you fixed up nice before you see him."

"See him?" Hannah asked stupidly, and then as if suddenly getting a grip on her senses she quickly reached behind her and pulled the ties on the apron and handed it to Violet.

"I have no intention of seeing him," she told them. "I'm going to my room. You'll just have to tell him that I am indisposed. I can't see him."

"Hannah!" Violet sounded dismayed and almost angry. "He's made the first move, you can't just ignore it."

"I have to. I can't see him. I just can't."

As Hannah turned to go to her room, Violet grabbed her arm. Her worry and concern for her stepdaughter altered her normally placid visage into a reflection of anguish.

 
"This is your future you're throwing away. Please don't do this."

Hannah pulled away without answering and hurried to the sanctuary of the bedroom. She couldn't face her husband. Her feelings were so raw, and so near the surface, she feared she would shame herself.

* * *

The supper table that night was a curious affair with everybody talking cheerfully and all feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Even Will and Myrtie, normally so wrapped
in
their own world, seemed to be caught up in the problems of Henry Lee and Hannah.

Henry Lee
had
nearly turned the buggy around four times before he finally made it to the reverend's place.
And
then, to find that his wife wasn't even willing
to
sit at the same table with him was humiliating. He had been ready to leave right then. He
had
tried to make his excuses, but Violet would hear none of it. He
had
come
to
supper and he would stay and eat, Violet insisted. Despite her usual cheery temperament, she brooked no argument.

So he did eat what he could. It had been so long since he'd had good food that he should have been div
ing
into his plate. But he was having a difficult time forc
ing
anything down at all. Being
told
that almost everything on the table was cooked by the woman he
had
come to see didn't help a bit. He wanted to cherish this meal, probably the last she would ever cook for him. But every time he looked around the table and was reminded that she wasn't there, his throat tightened
with
grief.

As Henry Lee sat in the kitchen, Hannah paced in her room. She told herself that she would take a much-needed nap and that when she awoke, the man in the kitchen would be gone forever. Although she'd stripped down to her chemise and drawers, the idea of sleep was totally ridiculous. The blood seemed to be pounding through her veins and she couldn't, for the life of her, even sit still. Lying down would have been impossible.

Her mind played over and over the memories of Henry Lee.
It
was as if there were no other memories in her life, no life at all before he became part of hers. This room that she'd shared with her sister for five years now only represented the one night the two of them had been here together. That one night when she was so embarrassed and frightened, and he was so kind. And that wonderful morning when she had first discovered what it felt like to be held close by a man.

Before the dreamy smile could take over her face, she pushed the memory away. All the kisses they had shared, all the incredible heat that she had learned from his body, couldn't change the facts. Her husband was a moonshiner and he intended to live his life on the wrong side of the law. She could not approve of that, not ever.

He was a gentle man, and he was good to her, she couldn't deny that. He was not frivolous and shallow as she had thought at first. Nor was he shiftless and lazy. She remembered her surprised pride when she heard about him bringing in his hay alone.

She also remembered the depths of pain in his eyes when they had shared their childhood grief at the loss of their mothers.

He was strong and worthy and admirable. He could make her heart soar and her pulse race with desire. But he was a moonshiner. A purveyor of that evil elixir that could turn a man into an animal. Despite that, she knew she loved him.

She saw him again, in her memory, on that day under the catalpa tree. Armed with a singletree, he had come running to protect her. He had shown tenderness and offered comfort. Teasingly, he'd agreed to slay all her dragons, to keep her safe from lizards and spiders. And he had made her body sing with passion. It was a husband's bargain he had offered. And she had accepted it so casually, never dreaming of the leap of faith he was taking.

She, the pious preacher's daughter, had been willing to accept him as a husband, graciously forgiving him for his good humor and frivolity, when he had proved himself to be a hardworking farmer.

But he had accepted her, believing her to be a sinful and wicked Jezebel willing to draw an innocent man into scandal to guard herself. Even being saddled with another man's child had not deterred him from trying
to
be
a good husband to the woman who had deliberately tricked him into marriage.

Henry Lee was just that way. He accepted the cruel and difficult life that heaven had handed him and he made the best of it.

Looking beyond her obvious misdeed, he sought the strengths in Hannah, to see what was really true about her, what was really inside. It was not a condescending forgiveness that he offered, it was acceptance of the human frailties of all and an opportunity to move on without penance or remorse.

"It's too bad, Miss Hannah May Bunch," she reviled herself, "that you aren't a good enough person to be able to do that. You know already that, inside, he is a man of tenderness and depth, inestimable value and honor. But you are willing to discard all of that because, outside, he doesn't live up to your measure."

Hannah stopped her pacing. Leaning her head against the wall, she covered her eyes with her hands. Violet was right. She was throwing away her future, her only chance for happiness and, for the life of her, she didn't know why.

* * *

The long, uncomfortable meal in the kitchen was drawing to a welcomed conclusion. Violet was just getting ready to ask if everyone was ready for dessert when she heard the door to Hannah's bedroom opening. As if frozen in place, everybody waited as footsteps came determinedly down the hall.

As Hannah stepped into the doorway, Henry Lee immediately rose to his feet. His good manners prompted
Will
and the preacher to quickly do the same.

The couple stood at opposite ends of the table,
drinking in
the sight of each other. It felt so good just to see, just to know, just to remember.

Hannah was wearing the silver-leafed blue calico that Henry Lee had given her, the one she had worn on her glorious Cinderella night in
Muskogee
. Her hair was loosed from its stiff confining braid and worked into a gentle topknot that softened her features. Her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes softened with love, she had never looked more beautiful.

"What a delicious dress!" Myrtie exclaimed. "I've never seen you wear that before."

"It's my favorite," Hannah answered her sister, as her eyes remained on her husband. "I saved it for a special occasion."

The silence lengthened, until Violet broke it abruptly. "Sit, Hannah, I'll get you a plate. Henry Lee, you want more of those potatoes?"

The food was passed around another time and everybody at the table took another portion as if the meal that had gone on before had never existed.

She had changed her mind!
The reality screamed through Henry Lee's brain as he ate now with a vengeance, not tasting a thing and not taking his eyes off her for a moment. He was almost as ill at ease now as he had been when she was in her room. What did this mean? Was he to be accepted, forgiven, or simply offered another chance? The anxiety almost overwhelmed him. But it felt so good just to look at her. He had forgotten how desirable she really was.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, giving her a polite alibi.

"I have never felt better in my life," she answered, wanting him to have no doubt that she had stayed away because of him, and now she was here because of him.

"You do look very well," Henry Lee said, thinking that she was even prettier in reality than his memory had been able to render.

"Thank you. You look well yourself," she responded both truthfully and with concern. He was as handsome and vital as ever, but she found herself thinking that he looked tired. He'd lost weight and there were new lines of worry in his face.

Farnam Bunch was nearly choking on the couple's strained politeness and the undercurrents that seemed to
be
shifting across the room.

"Henry Lee brought me the blackberries that you put up," her father said, hoping to shore up a sinking conversation. "He said that he'd never cared for them, but he was sure if you made them, they were bound to be good and he wanted someone to be able to enjoy them."

"That's nice," Hannah said, but never allowed her glance to stray from her husband.

"I remembered that you said they were your father's favorite," Henry Lee told her.

"I'm surprised that you remembered that."

Henry Lee's eyes were dark and fathomless, and his voice was breathy with emotion.

"I remember everything."

Hannah felt the words shiver through her in pleasure. She also remembered and although she didn't speak a word, her hot look conveyed that fact to Henry Lee.

When Violet decided that surely they had lingered at the table long enough, she rose. "You don't need to bother with the dishes, Hannah. I'll take care of them."

In truth, Violet would have been hard pressed to get Hannah to help. For once in her life, she seemed unconcerned about the necessary household chores. She was totally wrapped up in Henry Lee.

As her father seated himself in a rocking chair on the front porch, it was only natural that the young people "walk out," the traditional way for courting couples to be alone while still under the watchful eye of a chaperone.

Hannah walked calmly next to Henry Lee. They were not touching in any way, but they were close enough to touch and Hannah didn't seem either shy or ill at ease about that. It surprised him a little, but pleased him a great deal. They followed Will and Myrtie as they sauntered around the yard whispering and laughing in front of them.

Henry Lee found that the amusing small talk that always came so easily to him in his business failed him as he walked with the woman he loved. Not one diverting tale came to his mind, and had it not been for Hannah, filling him in on the doings at the church, there would have been no conversation at all.

Will and Myrtie made an abrupt detour in their route and Henry Lee would have followed, except for Hannah's hand on his arm.

"I'm sure they are headed for the arbor swing," Hannah told him. "That's their private place on Saturday nights."

Henry Lee nodded and, gently placing his hand on the back of her waist, diverged from the direction of the swing. The night was not yet cool, but a breeze made it comfortable and the hefty slice of moon in the sky lighted their path and gave silvery highlights to their faces.

"We didn't have a private, Saturday night place," he commented, matter-of-factly. "This is the first time we have ever walked out."

Hannah nodded. "It does seem strange, doesn't it?" After a moment she added, "It
might
have helped if we had."

Henry Lee thought about that.