Her Dearly Unintended (7 page)

“He does seem prone to destruction.”

The limbs of the oak tree swished against the roof as the winds pushed them here and there. She wanted Silas to leave, didn't she? Look how much trouble he'd caused. Yet she was loath to see this time with Josiah end. She turned, and he was closer than she thought, gazing at her. No other way to describe it, but his earnest expression narrowed under her scrutiny.

“Go on and say it,” he murmured. “I know you're gonna.”

“What if he comes back? What if I'm here all alone and he doubles back without you? Then I'd be left—”

As if mesmerized, he lifted his index finger and touched her lips. Startled, she swatted his hand down. “Don't shush me, Josiah Huckabee. I have an opinion, too.”

“As everyone from here to Pine Gap is well aware.” He spoke slowly but with an intensity that evidenced the emotion he was holding back. “If something were to happen to me and he comes back alone, then he's truly a man to fear. Lock up the house, get the fireplace poker, the kitchen knife, or something, and hide under the bed.”

“Under the bed? What good would that do? I'd rather—”

“You wanna know what I'd rather do?” A force was building up in him, plain as day. And Josiah had never been one to hold back for long.

She made to bolt, but he caught her around the waist and with a spin, brought her around to face him. Katie Ellen had been here before. The racing heart, the fluttering in her stomach,
the spinning earth—but she was wiser this time. She knew the pain that would follow if she gave him her heart.

But instead of stealing a kiss, he caught her hand and held it against his face. How could his cheek in her palm warm her heart thus? And this time he didn't look frightened by what he was planning—only intent. “I don't want to leave. For a million reasons, I'd rather stay right here, but I'm going to take care of you, and that means doing this one thing first.”

But she didn't want him to go. “If you leave, I'll tell your folks that you ran away and forgot all about me. They'll believe me, because it's just what you did last time.”

“Is that what happened? I forgot you?” He smiled, his dimple forming beneath her palm. He was teasing her, but she was right, wasn't she? As usual?

Katie Ellen chilled as his hand tightened on her back. Josiah, the man who lived by the seat of his pants, had already planned what he was going to do. He bent toward her and, contrary to all she'd resolved, she didn't run. He was so near. The cleft in his chin, the flecks of hazel in his brown eyes. Her hand slid from his cheek to his hair, still wet, and then his lips covered hers. At the first touch she was dragged under surer than if she'd plunged into the swollen river outside. He smelled of woodsmoke, rain, and her own cooking—everything familiar but terrifyingly foreign at the same time. One hand spread flat against his chest felt the solid goodness of him. No longer her playmate of years gone by, he was a man with a man's power and a man's resolve. He was comforting. He was frightening. He was facing death but making her feel more alive than ever.

His kisses slowed. He wrapped her in his arms and held her forehead against his collarbone. His heart hammered beneath her palm.

“You'll hide like I told you?” His voice was raspy. “If anything happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

She gathered her wits. “You'd do fine without me. You always have.” At first she was proud of her answer, but as he looked away, she felt something remotely akin to shame. What was she doing? Why couldn't she admit to him that she'd rather face this danger at his side than be protected and lose him? Why couldn't she admit that this meant more to her than a desperate farewell?

Her own breathing slowed as he stepped away. He stared pointedly at the geodes in the windowsill, each one standing alone, but he didn't touch them. Instead, he started in again with the instructions, the warnings, but they fell on deaf ears. All she could hear was her own conscience begging her to be honest with him while she still had the chance. To confess that she hadn't stopped loving him, no matter the distance he'd put between them. Why couldn't she show him her heart?

Because she'd done it once before, and what followed had hurt her more than she'd ever admit.

The afternoon sun bounced off every drop of moisture bedecking the grass, the leaves, and the spiderwebs. Even the mud slicks sparkled proudly as if they'd accomplished something remarkable in their soggy brown depths. Josiah turned one last time at the edge before the mountain began its sharp descent. The wiry Silas stopped, too, his worried expression visible even from that distance.

Josiah raised his hand to his mouth. She couldn't be certain, but it appeared that he'd blown her a kiss before they disappeared over the ridge.

Keep him safe, Lord
, she prayed as she raised her hand for a last farewell gesture. Funny how she didn't even have to consider what a wife would do in this situation. She followed her heart and found that she knew how to behave after all.

But sometimes her heart led her astray. Sometimes her compulsions weren't for her own good, and she needed to tackle that problem head-on.

Katie Ellen was not a procrastinator. When something needed to be done, she did it. But this was different. She needed to get
her heart straight, but she didn't rightly know how to go about it. She'd been wrong before, although rarely, and had dealt with dread and guilt. So why did she feel the same now? Loving Josiah made her feel guilty, like she'd failed in some way, and she never wanted to admit her failings when she could help it. What she really wanted was to correct the mistake and move on, but fixing her heart would take an invention that couldn't be hammered out by the blacksmith.

She found herself inside the house. Normally she would immediately put her hand to cleaning the watery, milky, smoky mess, but no matter how the scatterment irked her, she let it be. There were things more important than tidiness. She'd always thought that if she could control life on her hill, then nothing bad could happen, but now she realized that the world wouldn't fall apart if mud was tracked inside the cabin. Life wouldn't end just because a bonfire had been lit in the parlor. She walked into her bedroom and smoothed the coverlet. Nothing had hurt her like losing her best friend, and it was her fault that he hadn't come back until now.

Taking a geode in each hand, she set them gently next to each other. This was her flaw. She'd decided to end the relationship with Josiah when it was clear she couldn't control the outcome. Rather than give him any say, she ran, afraid of what his answer would be.

And it wasn't just the big decisions that she'd chosen poorly on. How many dozens of smaller incidents had she mishandled? So he wanted the rocks together. Did it hurt her to comply? So he left a mess in the kitchen. Wasn't his company worth a few nicks in the pottery?

Leaving the geodes, she walked into the parlor. Here sat an outcome a mite more severe than a nick in the pottery, but it
wasn't Josiah's fault. He'd help her clear it when he came back. She didn't have the will to do it alone any longer.

She took down her coat. No more rain fell, but every breeze brought a shower down off the leaves. Throughout this deluge she'd managed to stay dry. No sense in getting mussed up now. Keeping an eye toward the bluff, she hurried through her chores. Eggs collected, cow milked, stock fed.

Should she go back to the house? Truth be told, Silas wasn't as much scary as outright annoying. Hiding under the bed was the most simplistic suggestion she'd ever heard, and while Josiah could make a compelling argument of anything using those persuasive techniques, she had regained her sanity.

Pa's hammer rested atop the milk can. Katie Ellen shook her head. No question who had forgotten to return it to its proper place, but she didn't mind. Warmth spread inside her coat as she recollected the way Josiah had stood behind her holding the boards. She dearly regretted the broken window, but looking back, it'd been fun repairing it. Running her fingers over the hammer, she decided to leave it out just to prove she could.

A shout rang out through the still air—a man's voice. Katie Ellen jumped, and before the echo had time to ricochet off the side of Dewey's Bald, she was running to the door. It had definitely come from the bluff. Was it Silas? She skidded in her tracks. Josiah had warned her. He'd told her what to do, and she'd promised. She wouldn't go crashing through the trees looking for him; she had to hide in case Silas was coming for her.

Grabbing the hammer, she bounded into the feed sling, catching the opposing rope on the way. While she'd never used the double pulley
to raise her own weight—who had time for such shenanigans?—she knew it'd work. Dropping the hammer next to her feet, she yanked that old rope down hand over
hand, wobbling a bit when the sling left the ground. Her arms ached, reminding her of wrestling with Buttercup and the calf the day before. Had it only been a day? One day with Josiah. Was that all she'd get?

Halfway to the rafters. Buttercup looked up with doubtful eyes and lowed.

“Don't look at me,” Katie Ellen said. “You'll lead him right to me.” But no, Silas wouldn't be coming back alone. Josiah was fine. He had to be.

As the sling reached the pinnacle, Katie Ellen ducked, trying to get as close to the top as she could. Holding the tension on the rope so she didn't plummet to the barn floor, she threw the end of it over the beam, caught it, and looped it inside itself. The rope creaked as the weight pulled the knot tighter, but it held.

She ripped through the buttons on her coat and tossed it into the bottom of the sling. Nimble, that's what she needed to be. And armed. She picked up the hammer and tucked it into her waistband, then slowly rose, arms out to her side to keep her balance. The sling rocked. She froze. Afraid to even lift her eyes up, she waited for it to settle before stretching upward and clutching the beam. The square edges dug into her already sore arms. She kicked a foot up into the knotted rope and used that step to throw her leg over the rafter. Wedging her toes into it, she pushed off once again, and this time managed to haul her weight on top of the beam.

Katie Ellen lay flat, head resting on her arms, and she waited for her breathing to slow. She didn't want to be up there. She wanted to be with Josiah, wherever he was. Gradually her fear turned to resolve. She didn't know how, but if Silas returned without him, she'd make him pay.

Cool logic calmed her. Looking down, she assessed the situ
ation. No trace was left of her below, but the sling being suspended was a dead giveaway. Scooting backward on the beam, she reached the knot and untied the rope, letting the sling fall to the ground. The beam wasn't wide enough to hide her skirt, but no one would look for her up there. Her throat squeezed shut. If only she could get to Josiah and see what had happened . . .

Voices came from outside, or was it only one voice? Cautiously, Katie Ellen squirmed the hammer out of her waistband. She held it against her side as she listened.

Singing.

“‘He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword . . .'”

It was Silas. Her eyes burned, but not with tears. With fury. She'd defended the man, gave him the benefit of the doubt. What had he done with Josiah? Her Josiah who was as familiar to her as the sun rising over the mountain every morning. Josiah, whom she expected to stumble across every time she took out from home, and was sorely disappointed when she didn't.

As soon as she could get away, she'd join a posse and hunt Silas down.

The barn door creaked open. Silas ambled inside like he didn't have a care in the world. His loosely jointed legs and arms swung like a chain of sausage links. He headed right to Buttercup. Leaning over the stall, he scratched her on the head. Buttercup, the traitor, leaned closer.

“Where's that little mistress of yours?” he asked.

The silence of the barn rang in Katie Ellen's ears. Surely he could hear it, too. Instead, with a last pat on the cow's head, he turned and headed to the door. As he passed directly beneath her, he paused. Something about the sling had caught
his attention. Katie Ellen's skin crawled. She'd left her coat. Silas scanned the barn, deliberately lingering in places where a person could hide. He turned a full circle, searching. No song on his lips now. Having made a complete scan, he stopped. . . . Then slowly, ever so slowly, he tilted his head back and followed the rope to her hiding place.

By the time he laid eyes on her, the hammer was already becoming acquainted with his forehead.

“Katie Ellen, where are you?” On his knees, Josiah lifted the quilt hanging off the bed for a second look into the shadows. He'd told her to stay in the house, but was he really surprised to find she'd thought of a better idea? “Katie Ellen, come on out! I've got to talk to you!” He waited, listening for any response, but the house was empty. Before he turned to exit the room, something caught his eye.

The floorboards creaked beneath his boots as he reverently eased to the windowsill. Could he believe what he was seeing? Two geodes sat side by side, one rolled up against the other. He hadn't left them like that. No, last he saw, she'd parted them. What did it mean?

He had to find her.

If she wasn't in the house, then surely she'd holed up in the barn. He jogged out the front door, anxious to ask her and maybe pick up where they'd left off. And now that he and Silas understood each other . . .

The barn door was open. He ran through, but her name died on his lips at the sight of Silas sprawled out on the floor
with a bloody face. Where was Katie Ellen? All his misgivings of Silas returned, but no, it couldn't be.

“Josiah!” Her cry filled the barn. He spun on his boot looking all about.

“Where are you?”

“You're alive! When he returned alone I thought . . . I thought . . .”

Josiah followed the sound of her voice up, up, up . . . How in blazes did she get up there?

Silas groaned. His foot rolled to the side and bumped against a hammer.

“What happened to him? Why are you up there? I told you to stay in the house.”

“You think this is my fault? You sent him in here alone. What was I supposed to think?”

Josiah scratched the back of his head. “You did this? How?” But then he followed the line from the hammer, to Silas's bloody forehead, up to her perch. “For crying aloud. . . .” He knelt beside Silas, who wasn't moving at all. “Get down here.”

“Is it safe?”

“Do you think I would've brought him back if I didn't trust him? And now you pert' near killed him.”

“Well, you left fearing for your life and then he comes back alone—”

“If you would've been where I told you to wait—”

“Under a bed? Yeah, no one would think to look there.” Even hugging a beam thirty feet above his head, she still thought she'd won the argument.

“Come down.”

She pulled back a lock of hair that was dangling in her face. “I can't. Not until you lift the sling up to me.”

Her and her blamed contraptions. Silas's chest rose and fell in a somewhat regular pace. Nothing Josiah knew to do for him anyway. Stepping over him, he took ahold of the rope and walked it down until the sling smacked into the brace. He moved to the left, positioning the sling beneath her, but still didn't like the looks of the gap. One off-kilter move and that sling would lurch catawampus, dumping her out.

“I really wish it were me climbing down instead of watching you do it.”

“I got myself up here; I can get myself back down.” Wrapping her arms around the square beam, Katie Ellen slowly slid to one side. White petticoats and pantalets flashed. Now her legs hung down, her brown boots fishing for the sling beneath her. He tensed, trying to pull the sling closer, but it was at its full height.

“I can't find it.” Her words sounded wrung from her lungs.

Josiah's stomach twisted. Helpless. He felt so helpless. But hadn't God worked out everything with Silas? He had to trust that this would work out. “Katie Ellen, you're going to be fine. You can do this.”

“Shut up! You're just saying that because you think I'm fixing to die.”

He wrapped the rope around his forearm again on account of his hands getting sweaty. “You're going to be fine. I've got you. You can let go.” He braced himself as her hands slipped away from the beam.

She fell and landed into the sling without so much as a peep. Josiah lowered that sling a mite faster than was prudent, only remembering at the last moment to move it so Silas wasn't further accosted. She lay on her back, hands gripping the side like a hammock. Her head might have bounced a little, but he
was in a hurry to get to her, so she shouldn't be too particular. He rustled through the canvas until
he found a boot, but she wriggled out of his grasp and crawled out the other end on her hands and knees.

“Is he dead?” She asked.

“You better hope not.”

A red line stretched from Katie Ellen's forehead to jaw, a souvenir from that beam. Noticing his gaze, she rubbed it ruefully. “What do you mean bringing him back?”

“Me and him had a good talk, and you won't believe what he told me.” She looked skeptical. “He's a preacher man, Katie Ellen. A circuit rider. He heard the commotion in the kitchen when you dropped those greens—that's why he came in. When we didn't have our story straight, he thought we were up to no good and tried to get his bluff in on us. That's all.”

With one eyebrow raised, she crossed her arms. “A bluff? Like breaking the window and catching the sofa on fire?”

“Naw, those were accidents. He didn't mean no harm. He helped me, in fact. The hill was all washed out. I lost my footing and nearly fell, but he caught me and saved my neck.”

“What about the gun under his coat?”

“It's a Bible. He let us go on thinking he was armed just in case we meant him trouble.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You didn't tell him, did you?”

“Tell him what?”

“That we aren't married?”

Josiah shrugged. “What's it matter? He'll get a good laugh over it.”

Katie Ellen pressed her hand to her forehead. “You can't tell him, Josiah. We spent the night in the same room. He's a man of God. He's supposed to be opposed to such carryings-on.”

“I'm sure he'll understand.”

She grabbed him by the arm. “Next thing you know we'll be used in a sermon as an example of the depravity of our generation. All over Hart County people will be speculating on who the brazen young woman was who'd shacked up while her parents were trying to find her a decent husband.”

“That's enough, right there. I'm going to make a more than passable husband.”

Releasing him, she took a step back. “Are you proposing to me, Josiah Huckabee?”

“No, I'm not.” His jaw hardened. “I've got a parson that you done clocked in the head with a hammer to attend to. You wait your turn.”

Katie Ellen hurried ahead of Josiah to open the door for him as he made painful progress across the barnyard with Silas's arm thrown over his shoulder. The man seemed to know where he was, but he'd never been extremely coherent, so they couldn't be certain. Either way, without Josiah's support he'd be facedown in a puddle. And it had started to rain again, the brief sunshine only teasing them with what they'd lost.

She bustled into the house, surprised again by the monstrous pile of charred sofa bones. She'd worked so hard to get her parents to let her stay alone. . . . Running to the bedroom, she pulled the quilt off the bed and spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace, wishing she had an oilcloth. Looked like she'd be dabbing bloodstains out of the quilt, but she'd try not to let it bother her. Compared to the mess in the center of the room and the mud the two men tracked in as they made their unsteady way, it wasn't her biggest concern.

Josiah deposited his groaning load onto the floor.

Silas peered up at her with one bewildered eye. “I don't know what happened,” he said, “but there's an angel in heaven who's the spitting image of you. I done saw her flying over me as I walked the valley of the shadow.”

Katie Ellen bit her lip. Josiah propped his hands on his hips. “You took a nasty hit on the forehead, Parson. Your memories are likely muddied.”

“I remember you trying to kill yourself going down that hill,” he said. “Wish you weren't so upset about the sofa. I've already got folks to bury. Don't want to put another under until it's his time.”

Again with the dark talk, but now knowing his vocation, it didn't threaten as it had before. Katie Ellen hurried to fetch a compress dipped in witch hazel. Smoke lingered in the kitchen. She threw open the shutters to clear the air and banish the fog in her mind.

Josiah hadn't died, which created horrendous complications in regards to that kiss. Only because of the circumstances—the unbelievably intense and distressing circumstances—had the event been allowed to transpire. But wasn't she trying to change? That meant giving him another chance. That meant being vulnerable.
That meant living with the consequences, however unintended. But maybe . . . just maybe he wouldn't change his mind this time.

Wringing the rag over the sink, she returned to the men and did what she did best . . . cleaned up the mess.