Chapter 146
He reached out and tweaked her nose. "I'm sure you're quite capable of writing something that will appeal to my female readers."
"Then you'll do it? Start a newspaper?"
His expression sobered. "I'll do some thinking on it. See how it goes with David over the next days."
"Wonderful! I hope you give the school a free subscription. Perusing the newspaper may appeal to some of the students who aren't very interested in reading books."
Ant wanted nothing more than to saddle up Shadow and head the horse toward New York and his familiar life. Yet he'd given up that life two years ago to find David.
Harriet gave him an understanding smile.
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "Thanks for being my wise counselor."
She looked away, and then slowly pulled her hand back, an adorable look of confusion on her face.
There might be some benefits of staying in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs, after all.
"Anytime, Ant. Anytime."
She tucked her shawl tighter around her. "I'd better go say good-night to David and thank Mrs. Murphy for dinner."
As Ant escorted Harriet back into the house, he couldn't help wondering if he was considering staying in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs because of David or because of one attractive schoolteacher?
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
Ant awoke with a sharpness that took him from sleep to fully alert. David! He rolled over to check on his nephew, who slept between him and the wall. Last night David had scooted as far away from him as possible, resisting sleep to watch Ant with wide, wary eyes.
Ant had pretended to read a book by the lamplight, hoping that David would relax if he thought his uncle's attention was elsewhere. But it didn't work. The boy had fought to stay awake. His battle revealed as much to Ant as if David had begun talking and told him the whole story. Ant knew David hadn't slept in safety since his mother died, and, knowing how Lewis abused Emily when in a drunken rage, perhaps not even then.
Ant could only pray that Lewis had only used his hands on the boy. Just the thought of anything worse turned his stomach.
He raised himself on his elbow to better see David's face in the faint light of dawn. David was still tucked into the corner, his arms and legs tight together. His sleeping posture had changed from the little boy sprawl he remembered. Even while asleep, David had to protect himself. The ache in Ant's gut hardened.
David's face, relaxed in sleep, was still the one Ant remembered, although not as childish. The plump cheeks and rounded jaw of a seven-year-old had been replaced by that of a narrow high-cheekboned youth, even though David was only nine. Aged before his time. He wanted to brush the hair out of the boy's eyes, but didn't dare risk waking him.
Ant was so d.a.m.ned grateful he had found the boy and didn't have to murder Lewis. At the same time, he felt as if a huge burden had settled on his shoulders. Far greater than he'd expected.
Ant rolled to his back and stared at the beams of the ceiling, wondering what in the h.e.l.l he was going to do now. Should he start a paper, as Harriet had suggested? He had the funds from the inheritance from his grandfather. Not the fortune it had been in his grandfather's day--thanks to his stepfather getting his greedy paws on some of it--but it was more than enough to establish himself in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs. Although he would have to make the paper a going concern because the money wouldn't last forever.
His mind raced, puzzling out how to make it work, where they'd live. Dozens of important decisions.
Weighty decisions. Time to seek the advice of someone who must know this town inside and out--Reverend Norton. Ant had never been one for church-going, although he'd trailed Isabella to Ma.s.s because it made her happy. But, in Ant's opinion, that didn't count. A service in Latin, with the sermon in an unintelligible foreign language, wasn't the same as one in English--providing, of course, the sermon was a good one.
In spite of the Reverend Norton's Calvinist preacher looks, Ant suspected the minister wasn't the fire and brimstone type. At least that's what he hoped. He and David would be sitting in a pew every Sunday, regardless of how Ant felt about it. His nephew had to wash off the taint of his father. He wanted David to grow up to be a solid citizen. Religion should help that. Plus, social life in a small town often revolved around the church. He needed to be part of it all...for David's sake.
With an unhappy exhale, Ant inched back the covers and eased out of bed. David still slept like the proverbial log, no doubt worn out from yesterday, and would probably do so for several hours. He hoped Harriet also found comfort in sleep and wasn't tormented by nightmares.
Dressing in silence, except for his boots, Ant tiptoed out of the room, slowly closing the door behind him. He would have liked to leave a note saying where he was going and that he'd be back soon. David had learned to read a bit before his kidnapping, but how much the boy had retained was a mystery he'd solve later.
Ant tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. Although he wished he could linger in the quiet kitchen, boiling some coffee and toasting some bread, he wanted to be back before David woke up.
Yesterday in a brief after supper-visit, Reverend Norton had a.s.sured Ant that he was an early riser and had welcomed him to drop by whenever he felt the need. As Ant hiked down the street, he saw the town start to stir to life. A few people waved, and he realized how many names he already knew. Not that that was uncommon. He got acquainted right quick when he was turning a place upside down in his hunt for David. But in this town, he felt more of a connection to the people he'd met, probably because this was where he'd found David, or because he thought the two of them might put roots down here.
Because you're sweet on a little schoolmarm, whispered a chiding voice in his head.
I'm not sweet on her, he argued. Then he reconsidered, well, maybe I am. But that doesn't mean anything. I've been attracted to women before.
You're sweet on her.
Maybe a bit, he conceded. But I'm not making a decision to stay here because of a kitten of a woman with fine gray eyes. I have to think about what's best for David.
The argument had carried him down the street and around and behind the church to the tiny parsonage. With relief, he saw Mrs. Norton sweeping the front porch.
She noticed him coming and set aside her broom, wiping her hands down the ap.r.o.n covering most of her dark blue dress.
"Good morning, Mrs. Norton. I hope I'm not too early to call."
"Not at all, my dear Mr. Gordon." She beamed at him, making the wrinkles on her face crinkle. "I've been thinking of you and David. Woke me up early. Apparently Reverend Norton felt the same. We'd welcome a chance to talk to you further. Won't you come in?"
Ant stepped into a shallow hall.
"Come into the kitchen, Mr. Gordon." She waved a hand to the door on the right. "Mr. Norton is praying in his study. Let's just give him a couple more minutes."
"Of course."
"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Gordon?"
"I think that's an answer to my prayer, Mrs. Norton."
She swatted his arm. "I'm sure having your nephew safe is the answer to your prayer."
"Most definitely. Perhaps, I should say that coffee is the answer to the wish I made when I tiptoed through the kitchen this morning."
"A wish I am able to command."
They entered the small kitchen, dominated by the big black cast iron stove and a plank table. Ant didn't pay attention to his surroundings. His nose drew him to the scent of coffee and baking, and his stomach rumbled. He'd been too unsettled last night to do justice to Widow Murphy's stew. Embarra.s.sed, he pretended he didn't have a drum beating in his middle.
"Would you like some hot biscuits to go with your coffee?" Mrs. Norton chirped.
"I think my stomach's given you the answer to that question, ma'am."
She looked amused, then deftly took the tin coffee pot and poured some coffee into a cup. She reached into a pie safe and took out a plate of biscuits. "Good thing I made an extra batch this morning. I had a feeling we'd need them. A man of your size will take some filling up."
"Don't worry about the fillin' up part, ma'am. Mrs. Murphy will have breakfast for me. Just something to take the edge off will be mighty fine."
Mrs. Norton handed him the cup and saucer, then motioned him to take a seat at the table. With deft motions, she slid the biscuits into a round Indian basket with a napkin inside, handed him a plate, utensils, and another napkin, and then set the basket in front of him, followed by a tiny crock of b.u.t.ter and a jar of some purple preserves.
"They're still warm. Eat up, Mr. Gordon."
He did just that. The preserves turned out to be saskatoon, and the light rolls, dripping with b.u.t.ter and preserves, went down with as much speed as was polite. He spared a thought for David and how the boy would probably like a similar breakfast, although, judging from the last few days, it would be porridge--filling, but not like this. He made a mental note to see if the mercantile carried honey. If not, he'd bring the widow some brown sugar.
He heard the sound of the study door opening, and then Reverend Norton walked into the kitchen. Clad in a worn gray sack coat and vest over a white s.h.i.+rt and black trousers, he seemed more approachable without his old frock coat on.
"Mr. Gordon." He shook hands with Ant. "I'm particularly glad to see you. You and your nephew have just figured into my prayers."
In spite of not being a church-going man, Ant couldn't help but feel a warmth in his gut at the preacher's words. For so long, he had been the only one concerned about David. And there was no family left who'd care about him either. He'd cut his ties with his friends and colleagues... not really cut so much as left them behind, a.s.suming he would pick them up again when he returned to New York. Yet the genuine caring in the minister's voice unfurled a heart root that planted itself in the soil of Sweet.w.a.ter Springs. Ant almost snorted at the fancy a.n.a.logy. Shades of Kathleen Pickering, the societal columnist. I never could abide the woman, and now I sound like her.
"When you finish eating, why don't you come into my study, Mr. Gordon?"
Ant swallowed another bite. "Have you had anything to eat yet?"
The reverend gave his wife a loving smile. "My helpmate encouraged me to break my fast before my prayers. As always, I followed her wisdom."
Mrs. Norton's withered cheeks turned pink. She made a shooing motion. "Get along, you two. I'm sure Mr. Gordon is anxious to return to his nephew."
Reverend Norton nodded. "You finish your food, Mr. Gordon. I'll be in my study."
Ant swallowed the last few wonderful bites and thanked Mrs. Norton, then left the room. Inside the book-filled study, Ant found Reverend Norton sitting at a big wooden desk that took up much of the room, loose papers and some tracts scattered around him. He perused a paper that looked like a letter.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Reverend."
"Not at all." He folded the paper and set it under a book on his desk. "I was just reading a letter from my son. Until a few months ago, Joshua was a missionary in Cameroon. Then his wife died, and he and his son left to come back to America. They are presently visiting for a while with his wife's family in Nebraska, and then they will continue on to Sweet.w.a.ter Springs."
"You must be excited."
"Most certainly. We've never met our grandson, Micah. He's David's age."
"After Cameroon, Sweet.w.a.ter Springs will be quite different. Perhaps he and David can adjust together."
"They will both have their challenges."
Will your son and grandson live with you?"
The minister gave a rueful glance around the small room. "Yes." He shrugged. "Somehow the Lord will provide. But enough of my family." He gestured to a chair, laden with books. "Just set them on the floor and tell me how things are going with David."
"On the surface, well." Ant ticked off his fingers. "He's safe. He's clean. He's fed. He's clothed."
"Those are things that must be taken care of before you can see to his healing."
"The doc says he's malnourished, but otherwise he's well."
"I mean to his inner healing."
"That's why I'm here. Originally, I'd planned to take David back with me to New York. But he's in no condition to travel, to be thrust into city life."
"Why don't you two stay here in town?"
"I'm considering it."
"I think you'll be welcomed. It's a good community. I think both you and David will be able to put down roots."
Ant remembered the fanciful image he'd thought of earlier. "Perhaps," he said in a noncommittal manner.
"The town, like the people who reside in it, has its faults. I think you may have already encountered some of them."
"If you mean Widow Murphy and the Cobbs, I'll say yes."
Reverend Norton's expression didn't change, but his blue eyes twinkled. "In any town there are people who are our crosses to bear. But what we do have in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs..."
"Even with your crosses?"
"Even with our crosses.... What we do have is grit and heart. Two things you and that boy of yours are going to need in full measure."
Ant let out a discouraged sigh and dropped into the chair. "I don't know that I have enough of either."
"Son, I don't know that anyone thinks they have enough. Both are qualities that take patience and persistence, especially during times of great difficulty."
"This seems like one of those times." Ant rose from his chair and paced the room. Four steps could take him from end to end. "Yet that notion also seems ridiculous. I have David. He's safe... Great difficulty was when I found my murdered sister's body and realized that David was gone. Great difficulty was times I had to endure in my two-year search for my nephew. This shouldn't be a time of great difficulty."
"But it is," the minister said, compa.s.sion in his voice. He waited a beat. "I'm sorry to hear about your sister. When a loved one is murdered, we feel a grave sense of injustice and anger.... Sometimes that anger can interfere with our mourning."
Ant felt himself close up. "The murderer, David's father, is dead. It's time to focus on the future, not the past."
Like a snowy owl, Reverend Norton watched him with wise eyes.
Ant almost came close to pouring out everything, but he settled for a brief statement. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. "I'm thinking of staying here. I'm just not sure that's the best thing."
Reverend Norton held up one bony hand. "Let me get my helpmate in here. When it comes to children, I value her advice." He paused. "When it comes to anything, I value her advice. Although, I'm told I frequently cut her off in my enthusiasm to voice my opinion." He shook his head, as if thinking. "We'll talk about it, then we'll pray about it. Hopefully, both will help you find your answers."
David awoke slowly, half conscious of the softness of the bed and the warmth of the coverings. In a moment his mother would come and urge him to get up but for now, he'd snuggle into... He went under again, and only later did he gradually float into wakefulness. Then a sharp feeling of fear propelled him into alertness, and he bolted upright, fists raised in protection, looking for his pa, prepared for the blow that would knock him off the pallet if he hadn't scrambled off beforehand.
The unfamiliar room made him dizzy, and he glanced wildly around before the events of yesterday caught up with him. He wasn't on a hard pallet on the floor of the shack, but in a real bed.
Since he was alone in the room, David relaxed his fists and leaned a shoulder against the wall covered in little flowers. Tears choked his throat, and he tried to hold onto them. For a long time now, he'd manage to keep from crying, no matter what his pa did to him. But yesterday unsettled him somehow. That bath...remembering made him burn with embarra.s.sment.
The tears now were different. They wanted to come from a place deep inside himself. He thought if he let them up, he'd never stop crying. Be a big baby. He had himself two choices. He could drift away, or he could run.
Today, feeling stronger than he had yesterday...than he had in a long time...he chose to run.