Rekindled (31 page)

He nodded and turned his attention back to Patrick, a slight smile touching his lips. In the ambiguity of that moment, with Jacob looking away, Kathryn found herself staring at him. One side of his mouth remained relatively unscathed by the flames, while the other was drawn tight and sloped gently to one side.

“I’d heard of Him before then, but because of them, and what happened to me . . .” He shook his head. “Well, now I guess you could say that I’ve seen Him with my own eyes.”

Patrick squinted as though trying to recall something. “Oh . . . wait . . . Job chapter forty-two . . . verse five?”

Jacob laughed. “I don’t know what verse it is, but you’ve got the chapter right.”

Patrick turned to Hannah, his eyes gleaming. “Jacob and I were quizzing each other on Scripture while we sawed. I think I’ve met my match.”

“Nah, I just got lucky before. But you and Isaiah, the man who found me, would get along real well, I think. He’s hidden a bunch of the Word in here.” He covered the place over his heart. “And Abby is as fine a woman as I’ve ever met. I wish I’d met them earlier in my life.”

As Jacob talked, he looked to the side and Kathryn caught a glimpse of the scarring surrounding his left eye. Coupled with listening to him talk about the man and woman who apparently meant so much to him, her own eyes burned in response.

“Uh-oh . . .” Hannah suddenly whispered, glancing over Jacob’s shoulder. Smiling, she winked at her husband. “Here comes Lilly.”

“Jacob, you’d better prepare yourself.” Patrick’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Looks like you’re about to be ambushed.”

Kathryn watched as a breathtakingly beautiful child sneaked up behind Jacob. She couldn’t help but smile at the pure mischief lighting the girl’s face. Jacob casually laid his plate aside right before Lilly let out a scream and pounced on his shoulders. Jacob caught the girl’s arms about his neck and stood with some effort.

“Wait! I thought I heard something,” he said, turning from side to side and flinging Lilly with each turn. “Preacher, did you hear something? Mrs. Carlson, did you?”

Lilly’s high-pitched giggles only spurred Jacob on, and Kathryn watched, amazed at the transformation in this soft-spoken man. She soon found herself laughing along with everyone else.

“It’s . . . me . . . Lilly,” the child finally said between breaths.

“Oh, Lilly, I didn’t see you back there,” Jacob answered, securing her tiny hands in his. Lilly laid her head on the back of Jacob’s shoulder and let her legs dangle. He reached up and tugged a long black curl hanging over his shoulder before lowering her to the ground.

Jacob laughed softly, more like a chuckle really, and the sound of it caused Kathryn’s own laughter to thin. It sounded so like Larson’s. Jacob and Lilly blurred in her vision, and she blinked her eyes quickly to stave off the unexpected emotion. Oh, how she missed hearing Larson’s laughter. But even before he’d left that Christmas morning, it had been a long time since she had heard it.

The afternoon slipped into evening, and Kathryn was glad when everyone started packing to leave. Placing Miss Maudie’s last empty dish in the wagon, she saw Gabe walking toward her.

“Where have you been, Gabe?” she chided playfully, hands on her hips. “I’ve been searching for you all afternoon.”

He looked at her as though she’d sprouted horns. “I’ve been workin’. I helped with the schoolhouse, then I had to run into town. Besides, the last time I looked, you weren’t searching for me too hard.” He shot her a look that drew a smile. “Is Jacob still around?”

Kathryn accepted his help up to the bench seat. “Yes, he’s over there talking with the pastor.”

“Maybe he wants to ride back with us. I’ll ask him,” he said before Kathryn could suggest otherwise.

Jacob had worked hard that day. He’d grown quiet through the afternoon, and Kathryn sensed he was tired and might prefer his solitude. But to her surprise, Jacob nodded and walked toward them. The longer the day had gone, the worse his limp had gotten. She determined to ask Miss Maudie for one of her liniments that might help him.

Jacob tied his horse to the back and climbed into the wagon bed. Gabe sang on the way home. Jacob didn’t join in, and Kathryn felt hesitant to for some reason.

Finally Gabe nudged her arm playfully. “Come on, sing that one you sang this mornin’, Miss Kathryn. That one’s real pretty.”

Reluctantly, Kathryn sang the first verse, then looked west to appreciate the burnt-orange afterglow of daylight slipping behind the highest snowcapped peaks.

They rode in silence for a moment, accompanied only by the sound of horses’ hooves on hard-packed earth and the constant whine of wagon wheels.

“Will you sing some more?”

Barely able to hear Jacob’s request, Kathryn looked back at him but found him facing west, watching the sunset. She sang the rest of the song and then three others, one of them Larson’s favorite. Strangely, singing that song brought her peace instead of sadness. Maybe that was a good sign. Perhaps she was coming to accept the loss of Larson and their life together.

But if that were true, why did she still feel as though he were with her even now?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

G
OOD EVENING, Mrs. Jennings.” Larson spoke quietly as he approached, not wanting to frighten her as she walked from the main house to her darkened cottage. Following dinner, he’d been sitting outside the stable enjoying the uncustomarily cool July breeze and hoping to see her before she retired for the evening.

He’d spoken with her twice since last Saturday’s schoolhouse raising, and Kathryn had seemed preoccupied to him, quieter than usual. He wondered if she was all right. Having heard the purity and clarity of her voice again that night, the songs she sang, somehow they had woven a furtive path through his defenses and were undermining his doubts even as he watched her now.

“Jacob.” A smile lit her face that made him think she was glad to see him. “How are you tonight?”

“Fine, ma’am.” She wore another black dress, one he hadn’t seen before. No matter the sameness of the color she wore from day to day, Larson was glad his glasses masked his eyes so he could appreciate her beauty without fear of offending her. “I thought I’d let you know that another calf dropped early this morning, just in case you wanted to come see it sometime. The mother won’t have anything to do with it, so the calf ’s here in the upper stable. Gabe said you might be interested in seeing it. You can come whenever you like. I’ll make sure Gabe’ll be there.”

Kathryn eyed him thoughtfully. “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you, Jacob.”

Nodding, he turned to leave.

“H-how about right now? Tonight . . . if you have time?”

He looked back, surprised at the hesitance in her voice. “Now would be good.” He smiled. “Let me make sure Gabe’s still there.”

“What if I bring some dessert with me? I made a pecan pie earlier. If you like that kind,” she added, her voice going soft.

It was his favorite. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Larson stood outside the stall, enjoying watching Kathryn and Gabe with the baby calf. He doubted he’d ever get used to Gabe’s childlike innocence. His personality was such a contrast to what Larson had expected when first seeing the man. Gabe was a hard worker, and his strength helped on many occasions when the job demanded more than Larson could give. Larson’s body was growing stronger, and Miss Maudie’s steady diet of hearty beef was building his muscle. His arms and chest were filling out again.

“She likes it right back here, behind her ears.” Gabe took hold of Kathryn’s hand and guided her as she stroked the orphaned calf. Larson waited for her to tell Gabe she already knew that, but she didn’t. She just smiled and followed his instructions. “She reminds me of ones you used to have, Miss Kathryn. Back at your ranch.”

“Yes, she does.” Her voice sounded oddly reminiscent, and Larson watched as she drew her hand back and stood. She walked out of the stall and over to where he stood. She glanced around. “It’s getting dark in here.”

Larson hadn’t noticed. He’d grown accustomed to the dark tint of his glasses and to living by the sun’s schedule, except for when he snuck off to borrow the glow of a lamp from the bunkhouse. He hadn’t handled a flame since before the fire, and the thought of doing so now sent a shiver through him. He looked up to find Kathryn watching him.

“Do you have a lantern in here, Jacob?” she asked quietly, a smile in her voice.

“There’s one in the back, I think,” Gabe offered, closing the stall door behind him. “I’ll go find it.”

Larson panicked when he saw Gabe return with it unlit. Gabe placed it on a workbench beside him and Larson stared down, unable to move. He closed his eyes, heart pounding, hands trembling. He clenched his fists at his sides, having dreaded this inevitable moment for the past few months.

A grown man, afraid of the flame.

“Would you like for me to light it?”

Larson felt a touch on his arm and opened his eyes. Kathryn stood close to him. He hadn’t heard her move. He nodded, the silent admission slicing his pride as she lit the wick.

In the soft glow from the lantern, Larson saw her tender smile, her unspoken understanding, and shame filled him at her having seen this side of him. He moved to a hay bale and sat down.

“Well, I hope you men are hungry. I cut big pieces.” She handed them each a slice of pie and set the basket back on the workbench. Gabe finished his piece quickly, then walked back to the stall to check on the calf.

“May I?”

Larson looked up to see Kathryn eyeing his Bible on a shelf above the workbench where he’d left it that morning. He gave a nod. “This is delicious pie, ma’am.”

Considering everything that had happened in the past seven months, it amazed him to be sitting here with his wife, enjoying her company and eating her pecan pie. He was hard-pressed to take it all in. Probably because Kathryn wasn’t really his wife anymore. Maybe on paper, officially, but not in her mind. She didn’t even recognize him. But did he really want her to know him? Hadn’t he taken extra precautions so she wouldn’t?

Larson watched her turning the pages of his Bible. He wished he could walk over and put his arms around her like he’d once done—to have the freedom, the right, to touch her again. Briefly, he let himself imagine that she might respond in a way that would tell him she still wanted him. Then he caught a glimpse of his misshapen fingers awkwardly gripping the fork. He let his attention wander the stable.

This was where he lived. His blanket lay on a bed of hay. He couldn’t even offer Kathryn a decent bed, much less a home. Larson set aside his half-eaten piece of pie.

William Cummings had been right. Kathryn deserved better. She always had.

“This Bible belonged to the couple you were telling us about.” Her voice drew him back. She had opened the Bible to the front, and her fingers were moving over a page. “Isaiah and Abby. But it doesn’t give their last name.”

Larson smiled, not having thought of it before now. “You know, I can’t even tell you their last name. I never asked.”

She stared at him for a second. “But they mean a great deal to you, don’t they? They sound like very special people. I wish I could meet them.”

Her voice sounded so sincere. He nodded, wishing she could meet them too, wishing she could see him like she used to. “You’d really like them, Ka—”

Larson stilled instantly. He’d almost called her Kat. A lifetime had passed since he’d used that name with her. He forced a cough to cover his near misstep. “ ’Cause you and Abby have a lot in common. You’d get along well with each other.”

Kathryn smiled, appearing unaware of his near slip. She opened to his marked page and lifted the stem of dried prairie grass. “Is this where you’re reading right now?” At his nod, she began. “‘Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? . . .’ ”

Larson’s heart tightened as he watched her lips move. He listened to the rise and fall of her voice. She read the Scripture with conviction, then glanced at him with a look of pure pleasure. “This is one of my favorite passages. ‘For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ ”

The gradual tightening in Larson’s chest twisted to an ache. “Do you believe that?”

“Yes.” Her answer came quick, followed by a shake of her head. “But I don’t always live like I do. Sometimes I look at my life, at decisions I’ve made.” She gave her shoulders a slight shrug. “I think about the things that have happened to me and feel like maybe God has lost track of me, or maybe that He just doesn’t love me very much anymore.” She smoothed her right hand over the child in her belly and sighed. “Then at other times, I feel His presence so close beside me that I can almost feel His breath on my face.” She laughed softly, her expression growing suddenly shy. “I know that must sound silly.”

“No . . . it doesn’t sound silly at all.” Larson saw her eyes glistening, and something inside him responded. She’d worn her hair down, and it fell in a thick swoop over one shoulder. How many years had he wasted living with this woman, day after day, sleeping beside her at night, and yet completely missing who she really was? Not sharing this part of her? This part that would never fade or die. What a fool he’d been.

“Well, it’s getting late.” She laid the Bible aside. “I’d better be getting home.”

Larson walked her back to the cottage, drinking in the sound of her voice as she talked about the day they’d spent at the schoolhouse-raising. She went on about the preacher, his wife, and their children. The night air smelled especially sweet to him, and he was certain it had more to do with the woman walking beside him than the summer breeze.

They stopped at her porch, and he watched her hands move in cadence as she spoke. And in that moment, he knew that no matter what Kathryn had done, no matter what choices she’d made or promises she’d broken, he would love her for the rest of his life. Time suddenly stopped, and an awareness moved over him.
Is this the way you love me, Lord? No matter what I do . . . you’ll keep on loving me?