THEY SHOULDN'T ALLOW FOLKS LIKE her to own a shop. And allowin’ them women to say such things to you?” Nella scrubbed at the pot in her sink as Kizzie helped Isaac with his math homework. “Ain't nobody should go around advertisin’ their own meanness.”
“But they're right, Nella.” Kizzie turned toward the woman, lowering her voice. “If Charles don't have no mind to marry me, but he keeps me nearby, don't that make me what she says I am?”
“I reckon that depends on what you're doin’ when he comes to see you,” Nella murmured beneath her breath. She gave her head another shake. “Has he paid a visit since you got into the house?”
Nella's answer pinched at Kizzie's conscience, but what else could Kizzie do? Where could she go? She was alone in the world. But … but surely, Charles loved her. After getting her the house and clothes and … the baby! “Not yet. But he sent a wagonload of firewood by way of the Simpkin boys.”
A huff came from the woman. “You've been there a week now.” Another round of mutterings followed, and then Nella placed her palm on the counter and turned, her apron dotted with water. “Well, you might as well come on over here for Sunday lunches from this point on. Ain't no cause for you to stay in that house all by yourself when we're only half a mile away.”
Maybe Kizzie wasn't so alone after all.
Her smile pricked up a little, embracing the sweetness of Nella's request. “I don't want to intrude on your family.”
The woman spun around with one sudsy hand on her hip. “You think I'd ask if it was an intrusion?”
That raised brow of hers forced any argument dead on Kizzie's tongue. “You're in need of company, and I can't thank you enough for being willin’ to help the young'uns and me and Joshua with learnin’ math. Joshua's already started shortening his time on workin’ the books, and we've made a few good decisions on ways we can cut costs to save more money.”
“I wish you lived along the main road, ’cause it would be a good location for a shop. And the property where my house sits near the river would be a fine spot for a gristmill. The nearest one is at least five miles up the way.”
“Joshua worked for nearly ten years before he came to tenant here.” Nella's eyes brimmed with pride. “He learned the work and ain't afraid of startin’ from scratch if it will be his own.”
Owning land brought its own sense of pride with it too. She knew all too well from back home. A family's land was all they had, and it was prized above almost anything else except family … and faith, for those who were churchgoin’ folks.
“Kizzie, I can't remember what I'm supposed to do with an extra one.” Isaac's voice pulled her attention back to his work. “These two numbers make sixteen, and I put the six down, but now I have a five that's just floatin’ around in my head with no place to land.”
Kizzie smothered a chuckle. “I got a place for that number to land right here, Isaac.” She pointed to the spot on his paper. “Remember, we add that extra number to the one in front, even when we multiply.”
“Well, ain't that nice and tidy.” His grin split wide. “Stays the same in addition and multiplication. I'm real glad.” He sighed. “’Cause lots else changes.”
Kizzie grinned and turned back to Nella. “I'd be happy to look over your recent numbers too if you want.” The idea of showing her abilities, in the wake of her visit to town, pushed her forward with more confidence than she perhaps should convey. “I ain't got no big training, but working for Mrs. Cappy on her books really taught me a lot about keeping figures right and budgeting. She told me I had a knack for ’em.”
Nella dried her hands and studied Kizzie for a moment. “I'll talk to Joshua to see what he thinks ’bout it, but if you have some good advice to help us, I'd be real grateful.”
“I think it'd do me more good just to know I'm being useful to somebody.”
One of the woman's hands went to her hip. “Now don't you go listenin’ to ugly thoughts like that, Kizzie McAdams.” The needling brow poked high again. “Ain't no good comes from puttin’ yourself down, and you got a whole lot of good in you. The girl I met at the Morgan House all those months ago was always ready with a smile or a laugh, and it's been a shame to have her missin’ these past few weeks.”
The statement grounded Kizzie because it was true. She'd changed since meeting Charles. Become more nervous and serious. Her silly daydreams had taken a dark turn into reality, leading to actions that broke her own heart and left behind a great deal of regret, if she was honest.
How silly she'd been! To lose herself in the fairy stories.
Well, real life sure was a fast and tough teacher.
“So you'll come to supper from now on then? Sundays?”
“I'm helping because I'm happy to, Nella.” Kizzie's shoulders dropped. “Y'all don't owe me a thing.”
“I know that, but we're friends, ain't we? And friends invite friends to supper now and again, don't they?”
The finality in her voice curbed any further argument. “Thank you.”
The woman dipped her head and returned to the wash pan to attack another pot. “We got church on Sunday, if you want to come along with us there too. It's not far from your house.”
Church? Kizzie's throat closed at the idea. She wasn't likely to attend any church in the state she was in, but their church? Kizzie moved her attention back to Isaac's math scrawling. “I … I ain't too sure that's the right choice for me. Not with … not with all I—”
“You gotta find your people, girl. You ain't meant to live this life alone.”
Oh, how she felt the sting of that truth every night when the house creaked and the fire crackled and only the sound of Charlie's and her own breathing softened the silence of the empty house. She shook her head. “I can't go to your church.”
“Last I heard, church was open to everyone.”
Surely, Nella knew. “But I'm … I'm not like you.” She waved toward herself. “I wouldn't fit into your church.”
“Not fit in my church, girl?” Nella swung around, her hands holding a wet plate. “What on earth do you mean?”
“I'm white.”
Nella's eyes shot wide for a second, and then her lips flickered for the briefest moment. “Last I read, God loves all His people, so He'll take you too.” She shrugged and turned back to the wash pan. “And if anyone at church has something to say agin’ it, they ain't been readin’ the same Bible as me.”
“Nella.”
“You sayin’ God loves some of his children more than others?”
“No, of course not.” Kizzie pinched her eyes closed. “But there's also what I've done. How … how I'm livin’, I ain't the sort for church, Nella.”
She spun back to face Kizzie so fast, even Isaac flinched along with Kizzie. “Don't you know your Bible a'tall, girl?”
Kizzie refused to answer because the answer wouldn't look favorably on her.
“You're the very kind who ought to be in church.”
Kizzie's shoulders slumped a little beneath the weight of that statement. She needed more than church. She needed a way to start over on the right path. To return to the girl she'd been before coming to the Morgans’.
“That can't be so. I've made such a mess of things all around.”
Nella slid down in the chair next to Kizzie and took her hand, the action the most affection the woman had ever shown her. “I could tell you everything's gonna be easy, but you know that ain't so. But if you press into the Lord, you'll get through it, and better than you were before, I'd reckon.”
How could that be true? If her own daddy didn't want her, why would God help her? “The Lord don't want nothing to do with the likes of me, Nella.”
“Well, that just goes to show how little you know about the Lord.
The broken kind's who He's been after from the start.” Nella squeezed Kizzie's hand, drawing Kizzie's attention back to the woman's face. “God ain't got no use for them folks who think they're all right. He came for the ones who know they need more than their own wits or hearts or strength to be able to live right.” Her brow pitched northward again. “And, the secret is, ain't none of us good enough to live life without Him, so just remember that, Kizzie McAdams. Church ain't for the healthy and well. It's for the sick and helpless.”
Kizzie's gaze paused in hers for just a moment before she turned away to meet Isaac's. His big brown eyes asked questions for which Kizzie didn't have answers.
Or didn't want to answer.
“Just think about it.” Nella patted Kizzie's hand and stood. “You got an open invitation anytime you want to come.”
“Thank you.”
“And, girl, the world is gonna call you a whole lot of things.” Nella returned to her work, but her words came strong. “Lots of things. Believe me, I've heard a whole lot.” She peered over her shoulder. “But you get to decide what and who you're gonna believe. What you're gonna stand on. Ain't nobody else can make that decision but you.”
Kizzie swallowed through her tightening throat and moved back to help Isaac just as Charlie started making wakeful noises from his place in a small crate in the corner. Kizzie welcomed the distraction, the closeness of cuddling up with her little one.
A shelter against the loneliness.
She sat in the rocking chair by the fire and cooed over Charlie's little fingers and his perfect lips and the way those blue eyes stared at her with such wonder and interest.
She looked back toward the kitchen where Nella sat next to Isaac, teasing him with a cookie and glancing over his work.
Church is for the sick and helpless? The broken?
But what if some people, some situations, were too broken?
“Is that one of your new dresses?”
Charles sat at the little table holding Charlie as Kizzie worked to get supper set up for them. Their first meal together in the house, just the three of them.
He'd shown up two hours ago, as the sky started waning into dusk, and announced his plans to stay the night to ensure the house kept warm enough for his liking. His arms were ladened with a crate of hearty options. A readied chicken which just needed piecing and coating to fry, some jams, and a loaf of fresh bread. Kizzie already had potatoes and some canned beans.
Kizzie smiled as she readied the plates with the largest supper she'd eaten in the house yet. Feeding one didn't require as much fanfare. Some eggs or beef jerky, or something from Nella's leftovers.
But Charles had brought a few chickens too and housed them safely in a portion of the barn fitted for that purpose, so now Kizzie wouldn't have to wait on his deliveries but manage more herself, something she was beginning to understand as her future.
She nudged the unsettling thought away and embraced the present.
“It is.” She carried their plates to the table, feeling Charles’ gaze on her the whole way. Her body warmed from the missed appreciation. “Do you like it?”
He stood and walked over to her, little Charlie perched on his shoulder. The baby's bright eyes surveyed the room, happy noises bubbling from his cupid mouth. Did he like the idea of his parents eating under the same roof too? As a family?
“Blue is always a nice color on you.” His gaze trailed over her, heating her skin. “I don't recall seeing such simple dresses in Sally Hanes’ window.”
The heat died in her face. “I didn't go to Sally's.” She plucked Charlie out of Charles’ arms, and the baby nuzzled against her neck, rubbing his button nose in a sleepy fashion. “It was easier to just get everything I needed at one place.”
Which wasn't a lie.
Charles nodded, taking the seat across from where she stood. “I hadn't thought about trying to manage the shopping while caring for Charlie.”
Kizzie smiled, swaying a little as the baby's movements started to calm. “The Berrys were real good to help me with Charlie while I shopped.” She looked down at her frock. “And I thank you, kindly, for the clothes. I don't think I've ever had such fine ones before.”
“And these are the simple ones.” Charles shook his head as if her gratitude didn't make sense. “Sometime you'll have to purchase some of the nicer things at Sally's.”
Not as a kept woman, she wouldn't. But as a wife? Maybe.
Charlie calmed even more, his fingers fisting and unfisting the collar of her dress. He'd be asleep soon, and she'd get a chance to actually sit with Charles and share a meal, like they'd never had the chance to do before.
“Where would I wear nicer things, Charles? These clothes are more than fitting for a mama in a little house who goes to town every once in a while.” She smoothed a palm down Charlie's back. “I mean to take my two older dresses and use them as work dresses for when I plant a garden this spring so I can keep the newer ones for special times like when I go to town or …” Her gaze met his. “When you're here.”
Charles slid a palm to her waist, stealing her breath, his hooded look sending her pulse into a skitter.
“Looks like Charlie's asleep,” came his low response, the intention in his voice almost mesmerizing.
She'd felt so lonely.
So unloved.
And here he came, sweeping into her little world as if he belonged right there with them, warming the whole house with his laugh and his talk, giving her little touches on the arm or hand, physical connection to another person she'd missed as she spent hours and days alone with just her and the baby.
“I'll take him to his cradle and be back to sup with you.”
His smile crooked in such a way that her breath shallowed. She'd barely turned the corner back into the kitchen, when Charles swept her into his arms. Without a word, his mouth covered hers, the sensation sending her into a tactile rush of memories … His lips, his caress, the sweet words he promised her over and over again.
And she knew.
She'd give him whatever he wanted if she didn't have to feel the loneliness of his absence or think about the emptiness of being a “kept woman.”
No. She was his. A fiancée, of sorts, because he'd promised he'd marry her.
One day.
And even though she knew he'd be gone in the morning, she'd take right now. A night where her world could look almost perfect.
And she could embrace their little family for one night.
That had to be enough for now because it was all she had.
A chill seeped around the heavy quilt as Kizzie forced her eyes open to the view of her dimly lit bedroom. Quiet permeated the air with the same expansiveness as the unusual chill. She released a long breath and rolled on her side, tugging the quilt closer to her chin. The pillow opposite her lay untouched, a reminder of Charles’ absence. Only two days before, she'd awakened to the warmth of his arms around her, her cheek against his shoulder. The memory arched a deeper cold, which seeped through to her bones.
He'd left the house emptier than it had been before.
Less cheerful.
How was it possible? She'd managed the silence and emptiness well enough the first week, but now … After experiencing one evening as the family she'd dreamed them to be, everything seemed changed.
Loneliness proved an achingly painful bedfellow.
But here she lay. Again. On her own with little Charlie, with her thoughts and the coos of her baby to span the hours.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her pulse skittering at the memory of his touch. His kiss. The strength of his body wrapped around hers, buffering any cold, any sense of accusation from the outside world.
Charles had been so tender, so affectionate with her. Whispering all the wonderful endearments she'd longed to hear from him.
Words of love. Of desire.
Everything she should want.
And yet, the ache pouring through her chest, in his absence, boasted no comfort from the night they'd shared. Why? Shouldn't she be happy for any of his attention? For his provision?
What sorrow touched some deep place inside with a feeling she couldn't quite name? Questions, longing, pressed through the silence as it had the afternoon before, nagging at the corners of her mind as she went about her chores.
How long was this to be her life? This pretending of a family?
His arrival and departure put her heart through the rise and fall of a seesaw in the school play yard. Now her bleary-eyed gaze landed on her mama's Bible, and she looked away. Shame?
She turned away from the sight, swallowing through a gathering of tears. A prayer waited on her lips, at the very tip of her heart. A dusty hope for a childhood faith long left untouched.
But, no.
She was too far gone now.
With a groan, she sat up, pulling the quilt with her as she rose to stave off a shiver. Winter daylight peeked through the drawn curtains but much brighter than she'd expected.
How late was it?
Her body trembled with another convulsive shiver as the warmth from her bed dissipated into the morning air.
Why was it so cold? Her body stiffened. She'd tended the fire at least once in the night. After grabbing her threadbare robe and pulling on another pair of socks, she peered in the cradle to check on Charlie. His breath puffed through his rosebud lips in contented slumber, but his little cheeks were cold to the touch. Kizzie placed another blanket around him, cocooning him a little around his head before she walked into the dark sitting room.
Faded light strained to push through the white curtains, offering a hazy view of the space. Without the firelight, the chill sank deeper, darker.
Kizzie approached the hearth and froze. Not only was the fire completely out, but a pile of dirt lay over the wood. Her attention shot to the chimney.
Had dirt fallen from the roof somehow? Chimney sweeping had been one of the completed tasks on Charles’ list before Kizzie moved into the house. So how could the dirt have gathered so quickly? And after a snow?
Scooping out the surprisingly large amount of dirt would take time, and she needed warmth at once. She rushed to the back porch and gathered an armful of wood, and within a few minutes she started up a little blaze in the kitchen stove.
At least this could knock the chill off.
She'd succeeded in removing half the dirt from the fireplace when noise from the bedroom hinted to Charlie's need, so she fed him, put on her boots, and then made a quick breakfast of bacon, eggs, and leftover biscuits. Her chilled skin welcomed the heat from the stove, the warmth from the tea. And once Charlie had finished his breakfast, she settled him onto his cushion in the little crate she'd moved into the kitchen so he could lie safely near the heat while she finished cleaning the fireplace.
It took another half hour before the sparks of a new fire blinked to life. Her body trembled from the extended cold and exertion, and the thin socks beneath her boots did little to prevent the additional chill.
Did the Berrys carry thick wool socks and robes in their store? On her next trip, she would make sure to find out.
Once the fire took, she cleaned up her breakfast things and poured warm water into her washbasin. The heat of the liquid washed over her skin, removing the dirt and ash caked between her fingernails and smudging her face.
After donning a clean dress, she slipped Charlie into his sling and opened the curtain on the window in the sitting room. Her attention caught on a strange sight in the front yard.
What was it? A scarecrow of sorts? Some wooden semblance of a person, made of sticks and a sack of straw, except wearing a bonnet and dress?
Was this a joke from Charles?
She stepped to the front door and opened it, the chill of the morning air nothing compared to the tremor of her heart. Yes, a scarecrow-like figure stood on a spike in the yard, just by the road for any passerby to see. But its shape and unexpectedness wasn't what cooled her blood.
No.
A wooden sign hanging around the scarecrow's neck proved the darker disturbance.
Etched across the sign in sharp-drawn letters were two words.
FREEZE, WHORE.
All heat fled her body.
She retreated into the house, her palm going to cover Charlie's back.
Her gaze searched the distance for any sign of the person who'd left the warning, but every direction looked as empty as it had after Charles rode away two days before.
An internal shudder, stronger than any she'd felt from the cold, moved through her body.
Who would do this?
Her attention shot to the fireplace.
Had the same person who left the warning also doused her fire?
The chill grew into a tremor from her toes to her head.
She'd known warnings. Seen them back home in the mountains. And if folks in the flatlands kept to any sort of mountain rules, these warnings were never to be taken lightly.
Ever.
She slammed the door and bolted it shut.
What should she do?
Her first instinct was to take the gig to the Morgan house and tell Charles, but … well, he didn't want her to cause trouble with his mother. But surely, when it involved her and Charlie's safety, he'd make an exception?
Doubt crowded out the idea.
Her gaze lifted to the wooden ceiling, the tremble in her body taking on a voice. “Help me? I know I don't deserve it, but … please?”
She paused, thinking. Hoping. Praying, even though she doubted God listened to her. Her breaths pulsed shallow. How would her own mama advise her?
Tell somebody you trust.
Joshua and Nella. They'd be closer.
No, she needed to tell the one person who was supposed to help her, because he'd know what to do.
She wrapped Charlie in a blanket, rushed for her coat, and ran out the back door toward the barn and her buggy.
And, hopefully, she wasn't riding into a bigger problem than the one she was leaving behind.