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It was not a good day for William. The cold and an approaching storm together made his joints scream in agony and caused him to keep to his bed. Nathaniel thought to stay inside with him, but his father shooed him out, ordered him to the orphanage to better repair the hole in their roof before the weather turned vicious.
Emma came in again to cook breakfast. Flapjacks today, with warm buttered honey laced with cinnamon poured over them. Nathaniel ate a goodly portion while Emma prepared a tray to take in to his father. When he offered to take it to him, she smiled but still refused his help. It was her job to help, she reminded him, and Miss Mellie would be disappointed in her if she let someone else do it for her.
He remembered Melanie telling him it was good for the children to help his father. The lessons of responsibility, compassion, sharing and caring for their fellow man were important to instill in them. She raised them, he realized, as if they were her own, and the thought caused that queer feeling to stir in his chest again. He started trying to put a name to it.
Respect? Admiration?
If he were honest with himself, a bit of jealousy, too. She had found a need, a mission for her life and worked to fill it. These children were her family as surely as William was his. He could understand her despair at the possibility her family could be broken up when they had to leave the orphanage. And wished he had something around which to center his own life.
For now, he supposed, the orphanage and its needed repair would have to do.
Before he left, Nathaniel went to see his father.
“You’re off to help them, now?” William asked.
“Yes, sir. I wanted to know, though...” At William’s questioning glance, Nathaniel went on. “They have nothing to use to make the repair, otherwise I would have done more yesterday. Is there anything in the tin that I could take to get supplies?” he asked, referring to the can on the shelf above the stove that held what meager cash the Walker family was able to secret away.
“I wish there was, boy. I’d tell you take it, and gladly. Truth is, the tin has been nearly empty for months now. I’ve been living on what the farm produces itself, saving the last coin in case of emergency. Thank God for those boys. No telling what would become of me without them working it.”
Nathaniel’s first thought was that his father shared too much of his produce with the orphans, but hard on the heels of that came the realization that William would have probably starved to death without them working the farm and harvesting the food for him. Sharing potatoes and milk and eggs was little enough to trade for a life. “They’re good children,” he said, thinking to placate his father for the loss of his ability to help them.
And yet, he spoke the truth. Melanie Treymont was raising children any parent could be proud of.
He wished the orphans’ parents could see their children. Know the kind of people they would turn out to be, for he knew beyond doubt they would be good people, and his respect for her grew another notch.
“I’ll see what I can work out,” he told William. “There’s got to be something.”
Something, indeed. He needed wood, not oilskin to mend that roof. He went around to the back of the barn. They always had odd pieces of things knocking around there. Old furniture that had outlived its usefulness or was damaged beyond repair. Leftover cutaways from other jobs. There had to be something.
He rounded the corner to see – nothing. Everything that had been out there before he left was gone. Picked clean as the bones from a Sunday roast chicken. He swore once, damning the soldiers who operated so opportunistically, even as he understood their need to do so. Kicking at the ground, his foot struck something. He poked a bit, eventually toed up a piece of wood planking, black with age and damp, splintered at one uneven end, and he bit back a bitter laugh.
One piece. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?
He picked it up, examined it and was about to toss it aside when the thought came. If he had one piece, could other neighbors have one piece, also? If enough of them had one, could he do it?
Nathaniel put the plank in their wagon, hitched the horse and set out. He’d cajole, bargain (with what, he had no idea), beg if he had to. But he would find the materials to make the repair.
*****
It took the whole morning, but he visited every neighbor he could. When they found out it was for Miss Treymont and the orphans, every one was able to find something, from a stray hunk of lumber to a handful of nails, some of which weren’t even rusty. He loaded up his wagon, one piece at a time while fielding concerned questions. Yes, the children were all right. Yes, they were still staying in the building, but not for long. No, he didn’t know where they were going to go, but he needed to fix their roof anyway.
Besides the building materials, he soon found himself laden with more. A spare loaf of bread, an outgrown pair of shoes, a half-basket of sweet potatoes, a precious yard of calico.
Nathaniel headed for the orphanage feeling...useful, he realized. Useful for the first time in a long while. He caught himself nearly smiling as he pulled into their yard.
*****
Melanie heard the rumble of wagon wheels. Moving to the window, she glanced out while giving the children an arithmetic problem to work on. She was going to have to start making the work harder, she thought idly. Even little Jeb was solving them as quickly as the older children. And who would be coming here now, just before lunchtime?
She saw the wagon, recognized the familiar figure driving it and her heart skipped a beat. Staring, she watched Nathaniel approach, unaware of how long she’d stood there in silence appreciating the view until she heard giggling behind her.
“Miz Mellie, are you going to give us more problems to work on?” Jeb asked, grinning. Clearly, he’d seen the direction of her gaze.
Before he could make any more comments, Melanie turned back to the class. “One more,” she said and rattled off a string of seven four-digit numbers for them to add up, making sure that four of them ended in eight or nine so they’d have to practice their new skill of ‘carrying’ the sum to the next column.
The children finished their arithmetic and Melanie dismissed them for lunch. Grabbing her shawl from the peg by the door, she went outside just as Colonel Walker pulled his wagon to a stop.
“Colonel. What can I do for you?” she asked, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart.
“I came to finish the repairs,” he answered, hopping down from the seat. “Oilskin won’t do much to keep out rain or snow, and it certainly won’t do anything to keep out the cold.”
“But we can’t afford—”
“Nothing to afford. Everything here’s been donated.”
“Donated? From who...whom?”
He smiled when she corrected herself. It made her breath catch. His smile transformed his face into a thing of pure, masculine beauty.
“Your neighbors,” he stated, going around to the back of the wagon and starting to draw out odd pieces of wood, sacks of...something. Nails, maybe? They made noise like nails.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He came back around to the front, reached under the seat and began pulling out parcels. “These are for you and the children.”
Melanie took the packages, peeking into each one as he handed it to her, feeling the tears building at the back of her throat. “How? Why?” she croaked, barely able to speak past her constricted throat.
“They want to help,” he said simply.
The children came out, all full of questions. Melanie still couldn’t speak much and Nathaniel answered their queries between directing the boys to unload the supplies, and the girls to take the foodstuffs into the house. She could see the officer in him, and how good he must have been at leading men. Things got done quickly and no one quarreled about who did what job. They just did it. She wondered if he would teach her his technique.
Mr. and Mrs. Grinkov came out and Nathaniel’s smooth style of command had them busy as well. Melanie could only shake her head and smile.
He and Mr. Grinkov set up the ladder again and Nathaniel laid out his supplies and the few tools they had between them. The memory of him up on the roof yesterday made it too much for Melanie to bear to watch again and she stole into the house.
*****
Nathaniel could feel the cold biting into him again and wondered how the children had been able to sleep last night. Even doubling up in their beds, they must have froze. And Melanie, he thought. Who would have doubled up with her to help keep her warm while she slept? She probably hadn’t, if the circles under her eyes were any indication.
Mr. Grinkov steadied the ladder, and Nathaniel began to climb.
“Need any help?” little Jeb called from below.
Nathaniel looked down past his feet. “Not up here, son. But stick around in case Mr. Grinkov needs you to fetch something.”
“Yes, Sir!” Jeb said and Nathaniel was sure the boy would have snapped a salute had he known how. He smiled at the boy and continued up.
The wind was picking up again and the cold was even more bitter at the top. Nathaniel wished he’d put on one his father’s old sweaters under his jacket. The wind tried once more to make him airborne, and again he tucked the bottom of his jacket into his pants.
He was about to call down to Mr. Grinkov to bring up the first plank when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
A wagon turned the corner onto the property. Nathaniel squinted against the wind. The wagon was full of people. A couple of women sat in the middle of it and men at the back edge, legs dangling off as the vehicle lumbered forward. He watched as Melanie came scurrying out of the house to greet the three couples as they climbed down from the wagon. The women each carried a basket and the men had hammers hanging from their belts and saws swung in rhythm to their gait. One of the men reached down to ruffle little Jeb’s hair, nodded to Mr. Grinkov.
“Colonel Walker, need a hand up there?” a man called.
Before Nathaniel could answer, the back of the wagon produced a ladder. Like bringing birds out of a wizard’s hat, it seemed the magical wagon had no end of resources hidden inside it. Nathaniel wondered if it held the much-needed cash Melanie hoped for.
“Would be obliged,” he called back.
Within minutes, the second ladder was up and the man climbed up even to Nathaniel. “Where are we startin’?”
Nathaniel glanced over his makeshift repair from yesterday and shrugged. “Any suggestions?”
The two discussed the situation and decided on a course of action, began tearing off the oilskin. The other two men stayed on the ground, handing up whatever was needed.
Partway through the repair, Nathaniel finally had to ask, “Why did you come?”
His helper chuckled. “Wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
Nathaniel couldn’t hide his confusion.
“Not married, are you, son?”
“No.” What did that have to do with anything? And who would want to marry him in the first place?
“The missus, she said the children and Miss Treymont needed help. Came out to the shed to get me, said it was important. That there was this fella, you, I’m supposin’, going to try to repair their roof by himself. She said I’d better get myself over here and help you. Even the most newly married fella knows better than to say no to something like that. Not that I would anyway, especially when she said what needed doing. But I knew saying no meant sleeping in the barn. I like my cow,” he added, grinning, “but not that much.”
“So, you came to help Miss Treymont.”
The man’s gaze went right and left. “I don’t see Miss Treymont up here, do you? Only seeing you.”
“But I was an officer in the war.”
“And I’m grateful to you for doing that.”
“I ordered men into battle. Men who died.”
His helper looked him square in the eye. “You didn’t start that war, son. You only helped bring it to an end. Nothing there to be ashamed of. Now, you want to steady this here wood while I put in a few nails?”
Nathaniel reached out, did as he was bid. “By the way, I’m Nathaniel. Nathaniel Walker.”
“William’s boy? Course you are. I can see it now. Thomas Evertt,” he said around a mouthful of nails. “How is your father? Haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”
“All right I suppose. Kept to his bed today, the rheumatism and all hit him pretty hard this morning.”
Thomas nodded. “Weather’s going to turn nasty. My knees say so, and they never lie,” he chuckled. “That’s why it’s good you’re doin’ this today.”
Nathaniel hammered in a couple of nails on his end of the plank while Thomas held it in place. “You know, they’re all going to have to find someplace new to go. Owner’s selling the place for some kind of factory. Plow blades according to Emma.”
“No. Hadn’t heard that. They’d put children out in the cold? Bastards,” he spat. “Shame to be putting any work into the place at all. Except for keeping the children warm.”
Nathaniel nodded. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to get money for them, so they could match the offer, keep the place.” He looked around at the old building, the weathered wood sides and for the first time, noticed a broken window at the back that had been repaired by stuffing a wad of cloth into the hole. “Maybe they’re doing them a favor,” he muttered.
Thomas reached down for another piece of wood being handed up. “Money’s hard to come by in these parts. Leastways right now. You’ll have to find yourself a millionaire or something,” he laughed, swinging another board up and into place.
Nathaniel steadied the new board. This was the second time someone mentioned finding a millionaire. He waited while Thomas secured his end of the wood, all the while wondering where in the hell could he find a millionaire in these parts?
The men all worked together, the two on the roof, and the two on the ground. Amid the cold and the wind wove the sounds of hammering, sawing, calling back and forth, the occasional curse and more often, good-natured male ribbing.
Nathaniel felt part of something with these men. Something good and whole. His arms ached and sometimes his legs trembled a bit when he balanced himself awkwardly, but it was a good ache, a rewarding tremble.
When they got to the top of the hole, Nathaniel again hung over the peak to place the new lumber. Thomas watched, worry clearly etched on his face. “You sure you’re solid up there?” he asked, the wind throwing the words back at him.
“Solid as I can be,” Nathaniel answered. “Better than yesterday, anyway. Yesterday, that wind nearly turned the oilskin into a sail, with me on the end of it.”
“Damn fool,” Thomas muttered. “You’re not immortal, you know.”
“I know,” Nathaniel answered. Yet how many times in these past weeks had he wished for proof of that. How many times had he wanted to change places with a dying comrade? Men he knew were husbands and fathers. Men who deserved to live.
They finished the repair and Nathaniel slowly slid back down to his ladder, his jacket riding up enough that he scraped his belly on the wood. He uttered a curse on the way down as he felt a splinter jab and his skin burn raw. He and Thomas took down their ladders and Ed and Henry, the other two men helping, packed up everything into the wagon before going in the back door of the orphanage.
The women were all in the kitchen, pots of delicious smelling food simmering away.
“That should take care of you,” Nathaniel announced. “At least for as long as you’ll be staying here.”
Melanie stood before him, her smile all the more poignant for the hint of sadness he detected underlying it. “Thank you.”
“Colonel Walker!” Little Jeb ran up, threw his arms around Nathaniel’s middle to hug him. “Thanks for helping us.”
Nathaniel winced and pulled away a bit, the boy’s exuberant thanks pushing that damned splinter deeper and brushing against his raw skin.
“Are you hurt?” Melanie asked, moving closer to him.
“A splinter, I think. I can take care of it later.”
“Nonsense,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him to a chair while the other men washed up. “Let me see.”
“You’re acting like a mother again,” he said.
“You need one. Sit still,” she commanded when he squirmed away from her fingers unbuttoning his jacket.
He watched warily as she lifted his shirt, and then clucked in concern. “Lorna, get my sewing kit, please.”
“It doesn’t need stitching,” he protested, more than a little wary now.
“Of course not. But I see that splinter and I need a needle or something to dig it out with.”
She reached to probe at the edge of the injury and Nathaniel caught her hand. “I can deal with it later.”
“And let it get infected? You’ve seen what infection can do. It must be attended to now.”
Yes, he’d seen what infection could do. Hadn’t he nursed three men through it? Unsuccessfully? He sighed in resignation, for by now all the women had gathered around, each of them expressing the exact same opinion. Lorna returned with the sewing basket and Melanie took out a new needle. He watched her wipe it with a soapy cloth then hold it in a candle flame for a few seconds.
“Here, now, let that cool a bit, huh?” he said, pressing his spine against the chair back.
“It’ll be all right, Colonel,” Jeb said, materializing from behind his chair. “Miz Mellie is real good at this. I can hold your hand if you like,” the child offered, following his words with the action, as Melanie went to her knees in front of him.
Nathaniel prepared to grit his teeth, determined the boy would not see him flinch while Melanie probed his tender midsection. He felt a flutter of butterfly wings, a tiny prick and a drawing sensation as she withdrew the splinter cleanly by grabbing it with the tip of her pointy scissors. Before he could clench his jaw, she straightened up, holding the offending wood aloft in triumph.
Staring in wonder from her hand to the tiny spot of blood on his belly, and back again, he finally found his voice. “Thanks,” he said, and made to rise.
“Sit,” she ordered, and returned with the soapy cloth and some clean strips to fashion a bandage for him. “You’ll be more comfortable with something to keep your shirt from rubbing against your skin.”
She began to wrap him and he obligingly sat forward some to allow her to settle the bandage around his middle. The movement brought his face close to her bosom, a bosom scented with lilac and woman.
“You’re real brave, Colonel,” Jeb said, still holding his hand. “You didn’t cry or nothing.”
This time. “It didn’t really hurt,” Nathaniel said, trying to keep his gaze averted from her bosom.
She finished her bandaging, thank the Lord, and stood back. “How about dinner now?”
“Oh, thanks, but my father...”
“Emma already took food over to him,” Melanie relayed. “She’ll be back any moment now. And Rosalind and Maria brought over so much extra, even with the children, we’d be hard pressed to finish everything.”
“It would be a sin to waste it,” one of the women said, nodding.
Without thought, they seated themselves at the table with adults at the ends and two pairs of them at the middle, so that the youngest of the children were sandwiched between either neighbors or the older orphans. He sat next to Melanie and listened to her prayer of thanksgiving for their meager food, but mostly for their friends and neighbors. He was amazed to hear his name said in the same breath as a special thanks for all he did. That mention curled in his chest, spreading a warmth he was unprepared for and didn’t know what to do with.
And so, in another of those instances where he never quite understood how it came to be, Nathaniel found himself at the long table filled with food, laughter, orphans and neighbors.
And Melanie.