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  Once again she recalled him riding to the Smiths’ and bringing home kittens. Would she ever understand the silent man she’d married who usually did the right thing but remained a closed book to her?

  *

  On Sunday morning, Asa sat in church, feeling the attention of everyone present on him. His collar tightened from their scrutiny. He’d felt the same scrutiny on the first Sunday after he’d wed Judith and now again with the two Farrier children and his wife beside him. How had this happened? He’d been alone for so long.

  “As you have noticed,” Noah said from the front at the teacher’s lectern, “the Brants have taken in the Farrier children.” At this, every gaze would have turned to them—if everyone hadn’t already been staring or trying not to.

  Asa sat straight and focused on Noah. How had he gotten himself into this position? He felt aggrieved, but at himself.

  “The Brants found the children living in a cave,” Noah continued.

  A horrified gasp swept through the church.

  Noah continued the story of the missing pie and onward.

  From the corner of his eye, Asa glimpsed Lily burying her face in Judith’s arm. So he wasn’t the only one who didn’t like being on display. He glanced down at Colton, who sat straight just like Asa and was staring darts at Noah. Plainly Colton did not forgive easily.

  For two years, Asa had lived here alone, kept to himself, minded his own business. Then, when the solitude had become unbearable, he’d married Judith, and now these two children had come. One thing led to another. Where would this take him? He collected himself, making sure nothing of his inner turmoil showed outwardly.

  But he couldn’t quell the shifting emotions within. Faces from that day at Gettysburg flashed through his mind. His heartbeat pounded as if he were running. He gripped his self-control tighter.

  “Peace. Be still.” The words Noah had just spoken startled Asa from his inner turmoil. They were words he’d heard many times in the past and now they whispered through him. He looked forward, realizing that Noah had begun reading from the Gospel of Mark, the story of Jesus sleeping through the storm on the Sea of Galilee.

  “‘And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish?

  “‘And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.

  “‘And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith? And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”

  Asa had heard this passage spoken aloud before and had read it many times himself. But today he found himself longing for this peace with a physical yearning. The war had been over for eight years, and he still had no peace. He still hadn’t truly come home. He resisted the urge to rest his head in his hands, but holding up his head had become hard labor.

  Noah’s voice repeated in his mind. “‘Why are ye so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith?’”

  Fear. He’d never known real fear—teeth-chattering and nauseating fear—till he’d faced his first battle. He glanced around the schoolroom, picking out others like Noah who truly understood fear. Yet the fear in battle was nothing like the horror afterward.

  Again, black powder–darkened faces of men who died that day at Gettysburg streamed in his mind, and he watched them die again. Battle sounds—gunfire, cannons, the Rebel yells, screams—bombarded him. So many had died, yet he’d lived.

  Noah’s firm voice continued. The word peace penetrated the din within Asa’s mind.

  Still, he sat without moving as guilt rolled over him like a river at flood, drowning him, burying him alive. He tried to breathe normally, calm his heart.

  Lord, I want to be free of it. I want peace. Please.

  He’d never prayed that before. He panted silently, secretly. Then he felt it—Judith’s hand on his arm. Just a touch. So light. Gentle. Caring. She deserved him to be free of it. Could he finally shed the past and be the man he wanted to be again?

  *

  After the service ended, people crowded around them, offering sympathy to the children, offering help.

  Colton shoved his way outside.

  People looked shocked and affronted.

  “Colton has been through a lot,” Judith murmured with Lily huddled close to her side.

  Asa headed out after Colton. He saw that the boy was hot-footing it to their wagon. Through the people milling around outside, Asa hurried after him. He caught up with him at the wagon. “Colton?”

  The boy turned to him, his expression fierce, angry.

  Asa tried to come up with words, but instead he just rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “He left us with Smith,” Colton said, resentment in each syllable.

  “I did, too,” Asa said. “Didn’t think about you till you came to our door.”

  Colton looked up, arrested. “He’s the preacher.”

  Asa let this wash over him. Noah was the leader here, and Colton held him responsible. In the war, Asa had been the one in charge, the one in command, too. He looked heavenward as if he could find the answer in the sky, the rain sky, thick with gray clouds. “No one makes the right choice every time, boy. Not even preachers.” Not even captains.

  Judith and Lily reached them. “Shall we try to get home before the rain starts?” Judith suggested.

  “Yes.” Asa helped her up onto the wagon bench. Then he lifted Lily to sit between them.

  Colton hurried to the rear and climbed up into the wagon bed.

  Asa walked around, and as he passed the boy, he touched his shoulder, but said nothing. Colton would have to work this out for himself. Peace. Be still. The words were what Colton needed. But since Asa had not been able to heed them before, how could he offer them?

  “Asa, we need to make one stop on the way home. My sister has received a letter from the neighbor I wrote back home.” Judith’s voice was low and unhappy. “We need to stop at the Ashfords’ so I can read it with her. She hasn’t opened it.”

  Asa just wanted to get home, but he had no choice. He drove the team the short distance toward the store. Now he’d have to face Mrs. Ashford’s constant barrage of words, and behind him Colton, stony-faced, sat bubbling like a closed pot about to burst. What next?

  *

  Throughout the worship service, Judith had sensed Asa’s struggle with something. She knew that after the service, he’d want to go directly home. But how could she wait till tomorrow to read the letter from home? It had been a month since she’d first written her father and then, at Asa’s suggestion, a close neighbor.

  The Ashfords had walked to church, and Emma was leading them toward Judith and her family. That term startled Judith. A family? Were they a family? She didn’t know if Asa would let the four of them become a family.

  I can’t think of that right now. “I’m sorry, Asa. I know you don’t want to stop,” she murmured.

  “I understand.” He halted the team and immediately, without grumbling, left his seat and walked around to help her down as usual. His constant courtesy spoke to her. He’d been raised to be thoughtful, but something—probably the war—had closed him up, robbed him of… She tried to come up with the word. The closest she came was ease. Asa was never at ease somehow.

  “Judith!” Emma called. “The letter’s in my bedroom!”

  Her thoughts switched to her sister. Asa’s strong hands clasped her waist and swung her down. “Sorry,” she whispered again.

  “Go on—”

  “I want to come,” Lily said, rising, holding out her arms to Asa. “Please.”

  Asa lifted her down, too.

  “I’m staying here,” Colton announced with obvious rancor.

  “You two go on in,” Asa said, waving them on. “The boy and I will stay with the horses.” He looked up at the rain clouds as if silently urging her not to tarry too long
.

  Judith ran after her sister up the stairs and into the Ashfords’ quarters. Then down the narrow hall to Emma’s small bedroom, Lily right behind her.

  Emma tossed her bonnet on the bed and lifted the letter from her bedside table. “It has nearly killed me not to open it, but I couldn’t do that without you.”

  “Why did she write to you and not me?” Judith asked, sitting down beside Emma on the coverlet. “I was the one who wrote her.” Lily climbed up beside her.

  “I don’t know.” Without waiting another moment, Emma slit open the diamond-shaped paper protecting the letter and unfolded the one page.

  Dear Emma and Judith,

  I lost Judith’s letter, so am sending this to the general store at Pepin since that’s where Judith said Emma was living for now. You asked me how matters are at your house. All I can say is that sister-in-law of yours doesn’t know how to get along with people. Who raised her? Such dreadful manners, and that awful Southern twang. I’ve seen your father at church, but your brother is not in attendance regularly.

  I’m afraid people are talking. I’m not adding to the gossip but I don’t know why Mabel Joy married your brother if she didn’t want to live with us Yankees. And she is no joy to anybody that I can see. Again, this is just for your ears. I know why you two left. And that has not gone over well here, either. A Southerner forcing two lovely girls out of their own home—dreadful. I have braved her “Southern hospitality” to visit your father. He is not better than he was. He spends most days sitting on your porch. No doubt to escape that woman. Well, I wish I had better news for you. But my husband and I are watching matters over there, and if your father needs a place to go, we’ll let him come here. Such doings.

  Your friend always,

  Anne Forthright

  “What does it say?” Lily asked, leaning over Judith.

  Judith exchanged a look with Emma. Judith was certain that Emma, like she, had heard Anne’s familiar voice coming through clearly in this letter. She was a good woman but very direct.

  Lily tugged on Judith’s sleeve. “Please?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Judith fibbed. “Our father is fine.”

  Emma rose abruptly and walked to the small window, her back to Judith.

  Judith followed and hugged her from behind. “I can’t stay longer. Asa is waiting, and it looks like rain.”

  Emma turned and hugged her in return. “You take the letter or I’ll have to read it to Mrs. Ashford.” She smiled ruefully.

  Judith nodded and tucked the letter into her pocket. She kissed her sister’s cheek and hurried out to the parlor. Mrs. Ashford tried to waylay her, but she was saved.

  “Rain’s starting,” Mr. Ashford said, nodding toward the window.

  “We must go! Thanks!” Judith led Lily down the stairs in the moist air. Rain sprinkled down on them. They ran to the wagon. Asa lifted both of them onto the wagon bench, and then he was urging the team to take them home.

  Judith tucked Lily underneath her arm, protecting her from the rain. The urge to weep over her father’s predicament choked her. She raised her face to heaven and let the rain weep for her.

  *

  After letting the females off at the door, Asa and Colton drove the wagon into the barn and unhitched the horses, listening to the rain on the roof. Asa glanced around at his haven, the neat, snug barn with the stock, his faithful but silent companions of two years. The kittens came to him, mewing from their favorite spots in the hayloft. Then he turned toward the open doors and the cabin across the yard. The thought of Judith inside laying the table for Sunday dinner pulled at him like a fishing line. But even he could see that she’d gotten bad news in that letter. I’m no good to her in a time like this.

  But he was her husband.

  “We going in?” Colton asked petulantly.

  Asa inhaled, patted the rump of the horse nearest him and then led the boy to the barn door and outside. He stowed the kittens into his pockets so they wouldn’t get wet feet. Under cover of an oilcloth Asa kept hanging by the barn door, he and Colton ran across the yard.

  Stepping inside, Asa turned, shook the oilcloth outside and then hung it to drip-dry on a peg by the door, along with their coats and hats. Colton lifted the kittens out of Asa’s pockets and set them on the floor. They leaped around each other happily. Delicious smells drew him toward the table. Soon the four of them sat around the table to a dinner of baked chicken, seasoned with dried sage, and potatoes that had simmered over the fire all morning.

  “You cook good,” Colton said.

  “Thank you,” Judith said.

  Asa seconded it, observing her downcast face. The news from home must have been really bad. He ate, savoring each bite for its flavor but also because he knew that after dinner, Colton would go back to the barn and convalescing Lily would lie down for a nap, leaving him and his wife alone. This was the calm before the storm of female emotions. He would have to face whatever news had come in that letter.

  And his prediction proved accurate.

  Soon just the two of them sat alone by the fire. He wanted to join Colton in the barn, but women liked to talk over things—that much he knew. He could at least listen.

  “I’m not going to make a fuss,” Judith said, glancing at him sideways. She closed her eyes as if drawing up her composure. “The neighbor you suggested I write to—” She paused to touch his sleeve for only a moment.

  The touch ignited a spark of warmth within him. It flickered and died. But he’d felt it.

  “She wrote to us that our sister-in-law is not…not being kind to my father.”

  “You said she was a contentious woman.”

  Judith nodded, as if holding herself in. “There is little I can do. I don’t understand my brother. He is a good man. But…after the war—” she frowned “—he has not been himself.”

  Asa wondered if any of them had come back “themselves.” He tried to think of something comforting to say and failed.

  Judith sat with her head bowed. “I am going to pray and write back to the neighbor. Asa?” She looked up hesitantly. “I was wondering if I could invite my father to visit us this summer. I think he’s well enough, especially since the riverboat is such a comfortable way to travel.”

  He tried to reply and found his throat dry. He cleared it. “Course. Your father’s welcome.” He did not want to say the words, but they came anyway. Surely if Judith hadn’t recognized his connection to her brother, her father wouldn’t, either. But the worry hitched his breath. Nonetheless, he couldn’t take the invitation back now.

  “You’re so good to me.” She gazed at him.

  He did not believe what she said. She deserved better. And was he supposed to do something else? Say more?

  A shriek rent the quiet cabin.

  Judith jumped up. “Lily!”

  Asa sprang up, too. What would make the child safe in their bedroom cry out?

  Chapter Seven

  Judith flew through the curtain into the bedroom, leaving Asa standing at the parted curtain.

  On the bed, Lily thrashed, clearly in the grips of a nightmare. “Mama! Papa!”

  Judith sat on the bed and drew the little girl into her arms. Lily struggled, but Judith held her tightly, murmuring, “You’re safe. You’re here with me and Mr. Brant. You’re safe.” She repeated this chant over and over. Her own dear mother’s face, undiminished by time, flickered in her mind.

  Judith recalled how heartbroken and lost she’d felt the day her mother had been carried away by death. But they’d still had their father. Lily had lost both parents. A ball of emotion lodged in Judith’s throat. She refused, refused, to give in to tears for the orphans or for herself or for her father’s sad situation. Lily didn’t need to see her in tears. Judith tightened her face and held the struggling child close, stroking the soft cotton back of her dress.

  With a start, Lily woke and blinked. She sobbed a few more times, rubbed her eyes and then gained control. “I had…a bad dream.”
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br />   “I know. We all have bad dreams sometimes.” Judith smoothed the little girl’s hair away from her face and wiped her tears with her hankie. “But I’m here. You’re safe here.”

  Swallowing a final sob, Lily nodded and pressed closer to Judith. “You won’t let anybody take us away?”

  Poor child. Judith allowed herself to glance toward her husband. His face turned down in grim lines. What was he thinking? When he said nothing, she said, “The preacher is trying to find your family. But Mr. Brant has said that he will not let anybody—not even kin—that should not have charge of children take you and your brother. He is a man who keeps his promises.” This final phrase, meant to comfort Lily, both comforted and pained Judith.

  Her husband had proved to be a trustworthy man. Mrs. Ashford had been right about that. Yet though Judith could count on him, could she ever penetrate the fortress he’d constructed around his thoughts and heart?

  She clasped Lily close, giving her one more encouraging embrace. One of the kittens hopped up onto the quilt, and Judith called to it to come closer, another comfort for the child.

  Asa let the curtain fall, and she heard him heading to the door, escaping to the barn again, though Colton would be there with him.

  Judith sighed silently. God had given her both a wounded husband and these orphans. He must think she measured up to these twin challenges, but right now she did not feel adequate to meet them. God would have to provide what she lacked.

  *

  Under a fiercely slate-gray overcast sky, Asa once again found himself in town in the midst of everyone waiting for the big Regional Spelling Bee. Of course, since his wife’s sister, Emma, was the schoolteacher, he and Judith and the children could not miss it. And people from the surrounding counties had flocked by water and by boat to see their students compete.

  In fact, another school had joined the contest this year. He estimated around fifty people had gathered in the street in front of Ashford’s General Store. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Would the spelling bee finish before the next storm arrived?