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  “All right.” Judith prepared herself. “What is it?”

  “At church this Sunday, Asa is going to be thanked publicly for leading the efforts in saving the town from the flood. And I don’t understand why, but I know he will not like that.”

  Judith’s stomach did a roll and a lurch. She swallowed down the reaction. Asa’s reluctance for the limelight could have been responsible for just a part of this reaction. But the announcement also stirred up her own confusion over his true identity.

  “I’ve noticed,” Emma said, glancing down, “that Asa is, as you said, a modest and private man.” Then she looked directly into Judith’s eyes. “What’s wrong between you two?”

  “I don’t know, sister,” Judith confessed at last. Telling the truth released a band inside her. “He holds himself in so tightly. He won’t let me in.” Is that why he altered his name? So no one would come near the truth? But why try to hide who he was? He’d come home from the war without shame.

  Emma reached over and laid her hand over Judith’s, which was gripping the arm of her chair.

  Judith wanted to pour out all her fears and worries.

  But Lily pranced inside with the egg basket. “Here’s the eggs, Mrs. Brant.”

  “Thank you, Lily. Please thank Colton for me,” Judith replied.

  Lily danced outside again singing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” to her doll. The kittens romped at her heels, trying to catch her trailing apron string.

  “So, should you warn Asa of the intended public thanks?” Emma asked.

  Judith gazed into the low fire and then raised her shoulders in a shrug of indecision.

  Emma kept her hand over Judith’s, and the two of them rocked in silence. Judith went over Emma’s question in her mind. Should she tell Asa or just let it happen? And should she confront him? Demand the truth? What if he refused to tell her? What would happen to their tenuous relationship then?

  *

  In the evening, Asa sat at his work table, just holding a piece of leather. The quiet of the barn Asa had sought after supper was disturbed when Judith entered. The chickens in their coop must have heard her, too. They ruffled their feathers noisily. Judith walked over and stroked one of the horses that had swung to look at her. Then she came and sat down beside him, something she had never done here before.

  Startled and wary, Asa hazarded a glance toward Judith and then focused on his leather work. Her nearness flowed over him as usual. He fought it as usual. He felt like he was drowning in his need to pull her close, bury his face in the crook of her soft neck and feel her silken hair against his cheek.

  “Asa, Emma told me that the town is planning to thank you publicly at church for leading the effort to save the town from the flood.”

  Asa sucked in air so sharply he nearly coughed. He should have expected something like this. The past came rushing at him.

  His wife did not look at him but pleated her skirt with her fingers. “Asa, what you did was good. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t stepped forward.”

  He heard Judith’s words as if from a distance. His heart pounded and his ears roared with cannon fire. He tried to push all the past back into its box. It wouldn’t go.

  Then Judith rested a hand on his arm.

  He turned to her. In the low light, her eyes glowed. Amid the mingled smells of horse, cow and leather, her sweet fragrance slipped into his head. He closed his eyes, savoring her sweetness.

  “I know you won’t want to go to church or to be thanked,” Judith said. “But I’ve thought it over.”

  He wanted to disagree, but his reaction to her hand on his arm had caught him around the throat. He couldn’t speak.

  “If you just go to church and accept the thanks with a few words, it will be over and people will put it in the past. If you don’t go, it will just stretch matters out and cause a lot of talk. Bring more attention to you, to us.”

  With his free hand, he rubbed his furrowed forehead. He let out a gust of irritation. “You’re right.” He couldn’t say more because suddenly he yearned to tell her everything, let it all out.

  She gazed at him as if asking something of him. What? He couldn’t guess what she wanted. And he couldn’t dare to ask.

  Wrenching his gaze from her pale face, he painstakingly wrapped up his self-control once more, tucking his words deep inside. He would know better next time. Next time he would just go home and let whatever happened, happen. Or he’d try to.

  *

  Sunday morning came, and Asa dressed himself as if preparing for a firing squad. Judith had the right of it. He would just go and get it over and be done with it. If he didn’t, it would cause a bigger fuss.

  When he’d come home from the war, he’d tried to do the same, just let people talk, but it seemed like the attention would never end. So he’d come here, where nobody knew him. His aggravation with the present situation burned like the low fire they left in the hearth as the four of them set out for church. He had timed their departure to make sure they arrived just as the service would start. Judith had watched him all morning and had uttered no objection to this alteration to their usual Sunday morning routine.

  The spring rains had finished with them, and the ground was drying out. Soon he could till and plant. He concentrated on going over his plans for this year’s corn and hay crops and harvest, trying to keep his dread at bay.

  They entered the schoolroom at the last possible moment and sat in the back in their usual pew. Heads turned, but Lavina Caruthers was starting the first hymn, so everyone rose and began singing.

  Asa forced himself to concentrate on the hymns and then the sermon. Noah preached about becoming a new creation. Asa stared at Noah. Really? Asa felt as old as the mountains, and as burdened. His right leg started acting up, jittering. He planted his heel firmly on the wood floor.

  The sermon finally ended and Noah looked directly at him. “Before our special recognition, I would like to announce that Miss Emma Jones has accepted the teaching position here in Pepin for this coming school year.”

  The rest of his words were drowned by loud approval, most notably by the children. Some shouted, “Hooray!”

  Then Noah held up his hands for quiet and the congregation settled down again, though many snuck glances toward Asa.

  “I don’t have to recount to you the events of this past week. And I know that Asa Brant, who led the efforts to keep our town safe from the river, is a modest man who did not do what he did for thanks. But I’m sure all of us want to thank him for showing us how to protect our town. Asa, would you please stand?”

  Asa rose, his heart thumping his breastbone.

  “Our thanks, Asa,” Noah said, and then he began the applause that surrounded Asa.

  Asa was unable to move or speak. Finally he reached down and took his wife’s hand. She rose to stand beside him.

  Asa managed to nod in reply and then sat back down.

  The applause waned, and then Noah bowed his head and prayed, “Father, thank You for our town coming through the flood safely. Thank You for prompting Asa to take action so decisively. Thank You for the sunshine this week. And bless the planting of our crops. Amen.”

  Asa could finally draw breath again. He allowed people to shake his hand on his way out of the school. He nodded and nodded and then he was finally outside again.

  Mrs. Ashford planted herself in his escape path. “We want you and your family to come to Sunday dinner.”

  He stared at the woman.

  “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Ashford,” Judith said, appearing at his elbow.

  “We want to thank you for taking us in—”

  “That’s not necessary,” Judith said. “You took Emma in.”

  Mrs. Ashford summarily waved the objection away. “Come now. I’ve a roast simmering over the fire, and potatoes and carrots, and I made rhubarb crisp.”

  Judith clasped his hand and tugged. “That sounds delicious, doesn’t it, Asa?”

  He nodded
, wanting to run up the road. But he held himself tight together and went along.

  Judith kept up a light conversation with the storekeeper’s wife. Asa suffered through the visit and meal. He nodded or shook his head whenever a comment was directed to him and tried not to bolt down the food. Or choke on it.

  Finally he ate the last bite of his glossy pink rhubarb crisp with whipped cream. Unable to stop himself, he rolled the tart flavors around in his mouth. Then the old tug to shy away from enjoying life and the feeling of guilt over surviving the war reared up, and he set down his spoon.

  “You cook good,” Lily said, licking her lips.

  Mrs. Ashford chuckled and appeared pleased.

  Finally Judith was saying their thanks and edging toward the door. Asa trailed her down the stairs and waved goodbye over his head, not looking back.

  The four of them walked home. Each step away from town lifted Asa’s spirits. They mounted the last rise to their homestead. He couldn’t wait to reach his barn, go inside and shut the world out.

  When they arrived home, they first went inside and began to shed their Sunday clothes. The “ladies” went into the bedroom, leaving the “men” by the fire. As Colton undressed beside Asa, he stopped and looked up at him. “You and Mrs. Brant are married, right?”

  Asa nodded, his mind already in the barn.

  “Then why do you sleep in the loft and she sleeps in the bedroom?”

  The question rendered Asa mute.

  “My ma and pa always slept in the bed, and Lily and me slept in the loft.” Colton studied him with a confused and slightly put-out expression.

  Asa scrabbled for an answer. “We haven’t been married very long.” It was all Asa could come up with.

  “Oh.” Colton obviously considered this.

  Before Colton could ask him how long a husband and wife had to be married before they slept in the same room, Asa said, “As soon as you’re changed, I need you to bring in water.”

  Colton nodded, sliding on his everyday shirt.

  And for the first time, the fact that Colton never complained about chores struck Asa as odd. As the boy finished hanging his Sunday best over the back of a kitchen chair and began donning his everyday pants, Asa studied him.

  Another thought occurred to Asa. Colton rarely did anything that amounted to real play except when he sat with the kittens. Asa would have to talk to Judith about this. She was a woman. She would know about children.

  “Ready?” Judith asked from behind the curtain.

  Asa quickly did the last of his shirt buttons. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Judith came through the curtain with Lily behind her. Colton opened the door. “Lily, come help me get water.”

  Lily hurried to her brother. “I can’t carry much.”

  “I know, but you gotta help. Children help with the work.”

  “Okay, Colton.”

  Asa watched them go, wondering at Colton’s readiness to do chores. Was he still uncertain of his place here?

  Judith faced him, an odd cast to her face. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re Fitzgerald Brant?”

  Asa felt his tongue slam back against his throat. Where had that come from? He’d dreaded this since the day he’d first seen her. He turned and hurried out the door, heading straight for the barn.

  His wife followed him closely, and then she was in the barn with him.

  He stared at her, watching her lips move as she repeated her question, but he found his throat choked. He could only look at her, a roaring in his ears.

  She spoke some more, but when he didn’t speak, she frowned. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. And she left.

  Slowly Asa’s hearing returned to normal along with his heartbeat. How had Judith recognized him?

  Colton appeared. “I took in the water. What do you want me to do now?”

  Go away. But of course Asa couldn’t, wouldn’t say that. “It’s Sunday. No work on the Sabbath.”

  Colton cocked one eyebrow at him.

  Asa needed to be doing something. Try to keep his reactions to Judith’s words at bay. How had she figured it out? What if she told someone?

  “Play outside,” Asa said, heading toward the house.

  Lily was playing outside the door with the kittens.

  Asa passed her and shut the door behind him.

  With the water dipper in hand at the counter, Judith turned to him.

  “No one must know who I am,” he ordered, pinning her with his intent gaze.

  She put down the dipper. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were? That you were my brother’s captain?”

  “No one must know who I am,” he repeated.

  Judith gazed back at him. For a long time.

  Finally she nodded.

  With relief, he turned away.

  “But sometime,” she said, “and soon, we will talk this out.”

  He ignored her comment and walked out the door. No, we will not, Judith.

  Chapter Nine

  Judith stood, quivering, gazing at the staunch oak door, the door Asa had shut against her. Again.

  She picked up the tin water dipper. She fingered its long handle. Then hurled it at the door. It hit, bounced back and then rattled a bit on the floor before subsiding.

  She had not thrown anything in temper since she was a child. And why had she now? It didn’t solve anything or make her feel any better. In fact, the act mimicked her flimsy attempts to break through to Asa. He was the hard oak door. She was the flimsy tin dipper.

  She walked over, bent and picked up the poor dipper with sympathy for it. What could a tin dipper do to an oak door? Did I make a terrible mistake coming here and marrying Asa?

  In the barn, she’d told him when she’d recognized him. She’d wanted to talk about it, know why he’d kept his war record a secret here. But then the look on his face had wrung her heart. So pained, so lost. She hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d kissed him. But her kiss had no power with him. She pressed a hand over her heart, which was aching for this good man. Maybe if I’d been born pretty…

  Lily opened the door. “Can I have a drink of water?”

  “Please?” Judith prompted automatically.

  “Please?” Lily skipped over to her, dolly on her arm, kittens at her heels.

  Soon Judith held the full dipper out.

  Lily sipped from it. “Thank you!” And the little one skipped outside, singing to her dolly, kittens scampering after her. Lighthearted, unburdened.

  Still holding the dipper, Judith walked to the open door and gazed out. In the yard of coarse, vividly green wild grass, Lily played with the kittens. Colton sat on the ground by the barn door, whittling. A peaceful scene.

  And of course, Asa was holed up in his barn. Tears sat just behind Judith’s eyes. Frustration had caused her to throw the dipper. Frustration and anger at being left out of the one life that had come to mean the most to her.

  On the day of building the sandbag levee, she had finally discovered a clue to why Asa shut her out. Now she’d finally confronted him about his true identity and he’d forbidden her to talk about it.

  Forbidden her. What am I going to do with this stubborn man?

  She glanced over her shoulder at her shiny new Singer sewing machine. Asa had bought it for his bride. He’d brought home kittens. He’d taken in the children. He’d saved the town.

  Nevertheless, he never let her get close to him.

  Would they continue to live separate lives? He in the barn, she in the house? He in the loft, she in the bedroom? Was that how a marriage was supposed to be?

  No, please, no. Asa, you’ve won my loyalty. You’ve gained my respect. Why can’t you let me in? Why can’t you let me love you?

  That last question mentally stopped her in her tracks. I love Asa Brant, Fitzgerald Brant, my husband. But he doesn’t love me.

  No, Asa did not love her. But her husband could not stop her from loving him.

  She blinked away tears that threatened, set down
the dipper, stepped outside and sat on the bench beside the door. She called to Lily, and the little girl came to her. Judith drew her up on her lap and began testing her on her alphabet and talking to her of going to school this fall. And she felt the comfort of God flowing over her. God is a very present help in trouble. Yes, He is. Asa needs to know that.

  *

  The next morning proved to be another one with bright sunshine and cloudless blue sky. After weeks of storms, Judith with Lily at her side walked to the Ashfords’ store to help her sister move into the teacher’s quarters. Judith longed for a few moments alone with her sister. She wanted desperately to talk to someone about Asa and his secret. However, she must not. But perhaps Emma had also recognized Asa.

  At the back of the store, at the foot of her stairs, Gunther Lang, Amanda Ashford’s beau, had positioned a two-wheel cart. He helped load Emma’s trunk and valises onto it. Mrs. Ashford stood, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to miss you. You’ve been such a ray of sunshine in this hard spring.”

  Emma gathered the woman into her arms. “You will not miss me. You will see me every day. I’ll be eating at your table and helping in the store. And I can never thank you enough for your kind hospitality. You took me in like a daughter.”

  Judith watched Emma, who always knew what to say, comfort the woman and move her from tears to laughter.

  “I’d come with you, but we have a shipment of fabric to display,” the storekeeper’s wife said.

  “Judith is here to help me. Lily, too. And I don’t have that much to do. I’m so grateful the teacher’s quarters come furnished. I’ll see you for lunch!” Emma waved, and soon she was walking with Judith toward the schoolhouse. Lily skipped along beside them, her dolly over her arm bobbing with each step.

  Gunther was waiting for them at the teacher’s entrance beside the cart. As soon as Emma unlocked the door, he dragged in her trunk and set it where she wanted. Soon he’d brought in the rest of her belongings, wished Emma well and bid them goodbye.