Promise of Yesterday (15 page)

“Go back to Greencastle and work. You can come visit us sometimes.”

“I get job here.”

Her gaze lifted to some point over his shoulder. “You could. But you don’t need to. I do some work for one of the women in town, and she pays good. Other than splitting wood, I can take care of things. Daniel and Esther and myself …”

The way she said it got his attention. Daniel. Esther. Ruth. A complete family, yet he sensed she left something unsaid. Another name that needed to be added to the list. He followed her out onto the porch. A lone man came up the dirt road. He lifted his hand as way of greeting, and Ruth returned the gesture. Chester faced Ruth and lifted his eyebrows and smiled.

She jutted out her chin. “He’s a good friend.”

He snorted.

She flapped her hand at him. “You get on back to Greencastle.”

“I’ll come visit.”

Ruth’s smile went wide. “We’ll welcome you.”

Marylu set out toward Mercersburg when all else failed. No one had seen hide nor hair of Chester. Several, including Cooper, had told her heading out to Mercersburg would be the place to find him, with him having kin there and all. So, she guided the old horse west on Baltimore Street, at war with herself over not just what she’d say but what to expect should she find him.

Jenny’s admonition stuck in her head. Going after Chester was one thing. Admitting to herself that she was drawn to the man meant letting go of hurts and fears that she’d harbored since Walter’s good-bye broke her heart. Too, her rejection might mean that he had moved on in his heart.

Out on the road and past the cemetery and then the raging Conococheague, she trotted the horse, forcing her mind away from the problems and doing some praying. Wouldn’t do to not let the Lord know her worries and gain the benefit of the peace He wanted her to have. Only when she felt the peace in her soul did she breathe the air into her lungs and realize the good Lord had full control. If she found Chester, she would rejoice. If she didn’t, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

A mile more up the road, with the sun sinking over the Tuscarora ridge in the distance, Marylu saw the outline of a man on the horizon. Walking. Dark skinned. And she knew in her heart who it must be. She pulled back on the reins and slowed the horse. Uncertainty rose, and even though miles separated them, she panicked anew at the idea of seeing him again.

I’m scared, Lord
.

Chester left Mercersburg the same way he got there. On foot. Ruth told him many times to take the horse, but he knew Daniel needed the animal to get back and forth to town, and Ruth needed the animal to help plow the rougher spots.

But he didn’t leave without saying good-bye to his mama. Evening shadows cast scary outlines on the gravesites as Chester stood above his mama’s grave and repented of his youthful foolishness and his cowardly ways. Still, everything felt twisted up inside him. The load of guilt and fear too much for his shoulders. He longed to be at peace again. If going to church meant peace, he would go. The small church he had gone to in the South, sensing his mama’s God so close to him, had failed him somehow. But his mama’s voice, her expression unyielding, would tell her children that God never failed.

He closed his eyes, tired in every sinew and tendon.
Lord, I don’t know how to do this. Don’t even know what I’m supposed to do or if You hear, but I need to know the answer to this here question of mine
.

He moved on in his silent conversation to his mama. He clutched the slightly yellowed kerchief, and when he finished saying a final good-bye, he tucked the square into the little sack his sister had prepared for him and turned his face toward Greencastle.

For better or for worse, he had to go back and explain to Marylu all that had happened with Samuel. He loved her and wanted to believe she would understand his heart and his fight for freedom.

And Zedikiah needed someone. It dawned on him that the burden in his heart had much to do with his belief that God should send someone else to care for the boy. He needed to care for Zedikiah. To guide and help him, and others like him. To be kind, as his mother had taught, gentle, as she had admonished.

Miles down the road, day giving out to darkness, he saw a wagon on the rise coming from Greencastle. He didn’t think much on it. One wagon looked much like another. His feet got to hurting, though, and he stopped to rest, grateful the sun was sinking behind him and hoping for a wagon to come by that was headed either to Greencastle or farther on to Waynesboro. Might be he could hop a ride. He raised his face to the wagon heading his direction and wondered if they might be going into Mercersburg with the intent to head back toward Greencastle in the morning. He could sleep in the fields and wait if they’d agree to take him along. Didn’t seem much like the driver was in a hurry to get anywhere, though.

Chester rubbed his knees to ease the ache. It felt good to lean over and stretch his back. The wood cutting only added to his overall misery now. He grinned at his aches and pains. In his days down south, he’d worked long hours in the smoking hot sun and never thought a thing about it. He’d grown soft. His smile sagged into a frown. Soft and aimless.

He sucked in the mint-cool evening air and raised his face to the beautiful rainbow colors streaking the sky. When he craned his neck and checked behind him toward the Tuscarora ridge, the intensity of pink and orange danced like a fire on the mountain range, as familiar to him as Mama’s corn bread.

Southern sunsets could be as beautiful, but something about this one tonight seemed heavy with promise. He chuckled at the fanciful thought. No different than any other night. Same sun. Same Lord in heaven painting them. Sometimes He let the colors shine through, and other times He let the clouds hide them.

The jangle of wagon wheels crawled toward him as the vehicle got nearer. He turned his head and raised his hand to stop the driver and ask his question, but his gesture froze solid when he recognized the woman behind the reins.

His hand fell to his side, his gaze fixed on Marylu. She didn’t look none too happy to see him. Or was that worry tightening her expression?

“You need a ride?”

Her question hung in the air between them. He hesitated. His eyes scanned over her face and searched for any sign of disgust or pity, softness or warmth. He could discern nothing and took a step closer to the wagon. “Saw sister.” He gestured over his shoulder to the west. “My mama died.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry for her as much as you. I can’t imagine losing a son and not setting eyes on him before breathing my last. It must have been terrible for her. And for you.”

Her words hammered at him, but the last three softened the blow, and he saw a flicker in her expression that promised warmth.

“Seems we’ve a lot of talking to do.” She twirled the reins through her fingers, then pulled them loose and speared him with a look. “You going to get in this here wagon and get on back with me, or you walking?”

His smile came slowly, building as her lips twitched then began their own upward curve. “Feet hurt.” He chuckled.

“Then get up here, and let’s go home.”

Home.

Sounded good to him.

Chester moved as if to vault himself into the wagon’s bed, but Marylu would have none of it and stopped him. “You sit up here with me where we can hear each other. No use hollering back and forth.”

What she wasn’t prepared for was having him so close. The wagon seat seemed to shrink mightily as soon as Chester took his seat. When he grinned down at her, she lifted the reins and pulled on the right one to bring the horse around, as much to get them headed in the right direction as to cover the rush of warmth his smile pulled from her.

She flicked the reins in unison, and the horse plodded along. “You’re headed back to Greencastle?” she blurted, immediately regretting the words. It sounded desperate.

From the corner of her eye, she watched for his reaction, but he didn’t move other than the swaying that came with the rhythm of the wagon. “For Cooper. For boy’s sake. Mine.”

She blinked, unsure what to make of the words. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“No more running.” He swallowed and coughed lightly, and she reasoned his throat must be dry after walking so far. When his gaze met hers again, his eyes were soft. “I been a fool. Samuel my friend. He told master I stole.”

He paused and looked away. His chin trembled, and the muscles in his cheeks rippled. “I stole nothing.”

It came out choked and strained, and Marylu could feel the depth of his emotion. More than that, she understood it. His friend had betrayed him just as Walter had betrayed her heart. She should not be surprised to see the tenderness of Chester’s heart regarding his friend’s betrayal.

Marylu released pent-up breath, relieved that her instincts to trust him had not failed her.

“How’d your tongue come to be …?” The words seemed so harsh, but he picked up on her meaning.

“He make it look like I’d stolen. Like I lied. Try cut out tongue. Samuel held me.”

“You escaped.” Marylu filled in the blank based on Cooper’s version of the story.

Chester nodded. “Pain. I went crazy. So hard. Hurt. When knife make cut, I—”

Marylu studied Chester’s profile silhouetted against the fading brilliance of evening sky. The cocoa of his skin and the curve of his nose. The shadows under his eyes, cast there by the waning light of day. She pulled back on the reins and made short work of twisting them around the hand brake.

He glanced at her, surprised. She touched his hand. His gaze locked with hers, and she saw the pain there, brought back by reliving his past.

“You listen here,” she began. “It wasn’t your fault. If you knocked that man back and he was hurting you, it wasn’t your fault. Just ‘cuz I’ve lived up here with Miss Jenny’s family doesn’t mean I’ve not heard the stories of cruelty. What that man did wasn’t right, and Mr. Lincoln told everyone that. Cooper told me some of your story, but I wanted to hear it from you.” She paused to gather her words and thoughts. “You’re a hero, Chester. More than me because you and all them slaves who suffered and endured were
there
.”

“You helped.”

She shook her head and placed her free hand against his cheek. His warm skin eased the chill in her fingers, and she closed her eyes for an instant to absorb the touch. When she opened her eyes, she gave him a gentle smile. “I helped. But I’ve never known suffering like what I saw and heard about from those we helped. Like what you been through.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and he swallowed.

Her lips trembled. “Don’t you see? It’s one thing to see it and hear about it. It’s another to live through it and to survive.
You’re
a hero, Chester.”

A tear spilled down his face, then another. Slowly he lifted his hand and covered hers where it rested against his face. With infinite tenderness, he pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against her palm.

Chester lowered Marylu’s hand and turned her fingers in toward her palm, cupping the kiss he had just pressed there. His heart rejoiced at this woman. At her bravery and her strength and the beautiful words that made his heart soar and dispersed the dark clouds in his soul.

He’d expressed once before his love for her, and those very words rose to his lips now and demanded release, but he held back. What she offered him was enough.

Marylu ducked her head and messed with the reins, and Chester grinned at her embarrassment. Confidence rose like the sun in his heart. To win this woman, he would need to be a man worthy of her.

As the wagon picked up speed, Chester pursed his lips and wondered about Zedikiah. The boy needed the job at Antrim House much worse than he did. Zedikiah needed to feel a sense of self-worth that came with a job well done. Chester stared down at his hands, at the blister on his middle finger, and he realized that, more than anything, he wanted to work with wood again.

“Furniture maker in town?”

Marylu cast a sideways glance at him. “Furniture?” He nodded.

“A couple. You looking to leave Zedikiah doing your job at the hotel?”