LEAVE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
She attempted to pinch her heart against the sting, but it flared a little. Another reminder of how her past kept impacting her future. Of course Noah Lewis wanted her out of his house. If his brother felt so strongly about associating with people like her, he wouldn't support his little brother doing the same. Or his mother.
And Noah knew more about her than anyone else in The Hollows.
She shook her head and closed her mind against the worries. One truth she clung to, when the self-doubt and shame screamed accusations, was that she belonged to God. He called her His.
His beloved.
And that truth trumped every other label or slander.
She sighed out the hurt and glanced over the snow-covered countryside as the sleigh moved toward town, a picture straight from heaven to her insecurities. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.
On the horizon, the mountains rose in frosty peaks against the brilliant blue sky, the sunshine almost blinding against the stark white of the wintry world. Almost as if God wanted to get her attention. Remind her of His truth.
Her smile stretched wide, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the chilled air.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Noah tossed her a grin as he steadied the horses’ reins. The sleigh moved with smooth dips and swells across the new snow.
“Everything is just so beautiful.” She drew her attention away from his face, holding on to God's thoughts about her. “I've always loved snow.”
“I would have thought after our harrowing adventure, you might take a dimmer view.”
“I met you and your mama.” She shrugged. “That's been a nice surprise.”
He sent her a look from his periphery, his smile brimming with his nod. “I'm happy to hear that.”
“Besides, the fresh, untouched snow. Well, it reminds me of hope.”
His expression sobered, and he stared ahead, brow furrowing a little. “I'm sorry about my brother. I trust you know Mother and I do not share his views on many things.”
“Though he's louder about his feelings on the subject, his view is the more common one.” Charlie wiggled against Kizzie, trying to pull himself up, so Kizzie placed him on her shoulder closest to Noah and more couched from the wind.
“Common doesn't mean right.”
“And right doesn't mean accepted.”
“True.” He nodded. “So I think it's all the more fitting you're staying at Mrs. Carter's.”
Charlie's capped head wobbled as he looked around, and then when his eyes met Noah's, his little lips spread into a bright, dimpled smile. The dimples Noah's mama had mentioned earlier blinked in response for a half second. Too quick to get a good peek at them, but just enough to increase her curiosity.
What was it about a man having dimples? And only ones that sneaked out on rare occasions? It felt like a little secret only few and special folks got the chance to know.
Not that she was special to the likes of Noah Lewis, but the idea didn't hurt her none. A nice little daydream to think on every once in a while, that some good man in the world didn't think too badly of her, despite knowing her past.
“He's such a happy baby.” Noah's soft voice carried over the thrum of the horses’ hooves.
Emotions gathered in her throat at the tender sentiment. “I used to think what I'd done would make him a sad baby. That my sin would somehow transfer to his disposition as punishment.” She kissed Charlie's head. “I'm glad that's not been true.”
“I think he knows how much you love him.”
She sent Noah a look. His smile was gentle, not holding any of the censure she'd heard from his brother. “I hope that's true. And maybe Jesus’ love in me crosses out the sin that brought little Charlie here, so he can be happy.” She sighed. “Besides, this little man and the Lord are all I got in this world.”
Noah's expressions sobered. “Despite my brother's behavior, please know you have friends in me and my mother.”
She dipped her head in acceptance but didn't hold a lot of confidence in his claim. She didn't doubt his sincerity. He'd already proved to be an honest and kind sort of man, but with a powerful brother and a company to run, his good intentions weaved through the hands of someone else's control.
Besides, Noah and his mama barely knew her.
But the sentiment was nice.
Charlie's little hand reached out, and his fingers snatched a hold of Noah's coat sleeve. Noah's smile brimmed wider, giving a longer view of those dimples. Kizzie's lips couldn't help but respond. It was a real nice secret to know.
“He's happy—and strong, judging from the grip he has on my jacket.”
“I don't reckon you've been around babies very much, since you and your brother aren't married?”
He transferred the reins to one hand and jerked the free hand's glove off with his teeth before raising his fingers toward Charlie. The baby took a double-fisted hold of Noah's large hand, bringing out the man's dimples again. “Quite the grip there, little man.”
Something inside Kizzie's heart melted.
“He's got a good one. Believe me, I've felt it every time he grabs a handful of my hair.”
Noah's attention rose to her hatted head and then lowered to her eyes. “He's strong like his mother, I'd say.”
Those hazel eyes bore into hers as if trying to nudge some confidence her way. She looked down at Charlie, smoothing his little head with her palm. “I'm stronger now, but it took breaking first.”
Noah's sigh released a cloud of cool air. “That's certainly one way to become strong.”
Charlie took that moment to bite down on one of Noah's fingers, enticing a chuckle from Noah. “Strong and feisty.”
Noah's brow rose as his gaze flitted to hers, and she wondered if he didn't pair the latter word with her too. Feisty. Her daddy used to call her his spitfire, an endearment meant just for her. He never used it during a drunk, which made the word even sweeter.
She looked away.
She reckoned she'd need to recall some of that feistiness to make a new start on her own.
The clanging of the horses’ tug straps and buckles made a welcome sound in the special silence only a snow day provided.
“I had a son.”
His declaration pulled her attention from the view to focus back on his profile. A son?
“A little over a year ago, my wife died giving birth to our son. Born a little early.” He worked his jaw, his words coming in halts and stops. “He … he was already gone. She died soon after.”
Kizzie stared at him, a deep ache carving out space inside her chest.
A double-knotted loss. Wife and child. Her palm instinctively tightened on Charlie's back.
Mama birthed one stillborn child. A girl. Born between Isom and Suzie. The irony of such a scene in one's life wounded like nothing else. It carried a strange sort of silent grief. Too silent when the sound of a life should have rung the air.
Seeing her daddy at that moment, his strong, larger-than-life frame bent beneath the loss, his strength and protection insufficient to change the outcome, created a memory that burned into her mind. She'd never seen him cry, except then, and it had been a quiet cry. Two big tears rolling down his careworn face. Eyes wide and lost, he was as helpless as the rest of the people in the room.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispered, watching as Charlie continued holding Noah's hand. A bittersweet picture. “What was your wife's name?”
His Adam's apple bobbed just above his scarf with his hard swallow. “Elinor.”
Elinor. Beautiful. “Sounds like an angel's name.”
His attention flitted to hers for a second before he twisted his hand free from Charlie and tapped the baby's nose. “She liked the snow too.”
He replaced his glove and turned back to the horses.
What sort of man was Noah Lewis? More like her brother, Jeb, she reckoned, than her daddy or Charles. She didn't know a great many men very well, but when pairing the four together, Noah's gentle but sturdy character matched Jeb's the most.
A hard worker and thinker, like Daddy, but with a sweet spirit binding all his strength and compassion together. And he had to be strong to keep his smile after bearing such sorrow.
She couldn't have fully appreciated it until she held a child of her own.
Losing one's reputation was one thing.
Losing one's child was another.
“There's The Hollows.” Noah gestured with his chin, and Kizzie followed his gaze as they crested a hill to reveal a long collection of buildings clustered in the valley below.
The town grew from a large flat land poised between mountains. Three steeples vaulted into the blue sky at various points along some large street. Brick, white-paneled wood, and a few stone buildings of various sizes and shapes created the collection of shops, businesses, and homes large enough to house a few hundred people.
If not a thousand.
She'd never been in a place so big.
Her shoulders relaxed a little. Maybe a bigger place meant an easier spot to start over, to disappear among the crowd.
Yes. Nella had known what she needed.
“Looks like they've tried to clear the snow from Main Street, so we'll have to go around the back way to Mrs. Carter's, since we're in the sleigh.”
“Is her shop on Main Street?”
He nodded. “One of the oldest shops too. A great location, as she's sure to tell you.” Noah offered a grin, a twinkle deepening his hazel eyes. “Mrs. Carter and her late husband bought the shop about twenty years ago. She has a good mind for the people, and he had a good head for business, so they made a fine pair for shopkeeping.”
“Late husband? He passed away?”
“About six months ago.” His frown deepened. “And from what I hear, it's been a difficult transition for her, since she doesn't have as solid a business mind as he did. A few months ago, a woman from church stepped in to help her and then ran off with some of Mrs. Carter's money.”
“How awful.” Why couldn't people just be decent to each other? “Does the boardinghouse do well?”
He hesitated. “I believe she could earn a better income from it if she didn't—” He pinched his lips together. “Mrs. Carter is known for taking in women who need a safe place to start over.” He looked over at her. “She's been in the business of helping them for a long time.”
Mrs. Carter helped women like Kizzie? Had Nella been one of the women she'd helped? Is that why Nella understood grace so well?
“She uses the top floor of the boardinghouse for those women to have a low-cost place to live, but—”
“Rescuing folks like me doesn't lead to a great deal of profit,” Kizzie finished.
“Not of the financial sort, usually.” He guided the horses to the left and bypassed the main street, the snow becoming less smooth the nearer the town became. “But her interest is in a reward of a much higher nature, I believe.”
Noah spoke like a man who talked to God, who understood. It had never occurred to her how sweet such a shared love could be. And Mrs. Carter kept growing more and more interesting. “It sounds like she may have her priorities in the right place.”
“I believe you're right, Kizzie McAdams.” Noah's lips crooked. “She's as unique as she is magnanimous. I think the two of you are going to get along very well.”
Noah promised to deliver her trunks the next day, since he couldn't get the sleigh close enough to the shop entrance due to the snow, so she carried a few items in her small carry sack to get her and Charlie through until then.
She oughtn't to think about Noah's fine face or eyes. Or the way his smile dimpled. Thoughts like that had gotten her into her current predicament, but Noah Lewis proved the easy sort for daydreaming. Too easy. And his heartbreaking history made him take up even more space in her mind.
She pinched her eyes closed against the pull. No! Noah Lewis wasn't the sort to fancy romantic notions about someone like her. Besides, after Charles refused to marry her for so long, she didn't need to set her sights on matrimony for anyone else in her near future. Clearly, she wasn't the sort a good man wanted to marry, and dreaming about the warmth and welcome of a home of her own would only end in heartache.
She walked toward the direction he'd pointed her. The boardinghouse stood behind the general store, trees framing it to give a more secluded feel from the business of Main Street. A fence hedged in a backyard blanketed with untouched snow. Kizzie rounded the two-story clapboard building to find a front porch the length of the house, complete with two rocking chairs poised at one end.
Welcome.
Kizzie smiled. What a generous, kind woman Mrs. Carter must be to create such a nice spot.
A gunshot came from inside the house, startling Kizzie to a stop at the corner of the porch. Someone yelled, and the sound of glass breaking followed.
What on earth was going on? Kizzie pulled Charlie close, stepping back to somewhat hide herself behind the corner of the building. Another shout shook from the other side of the wall, followed by another shot.
Heaven and earth!
Suddenly, the front door crashed open and out ran a young man, shirtless, trying to button his pants as he nearly fell down the front porch steps.
“That's right, Jake Murphy, you come back into my boardinghouse, and I'll do more than scare you, boy!”
Tagging along behind the voice was a small, gray-and-brown-haired woman wearing an apron over a calico dress. In one hand she held a rifle and with the other she pulled a young woman out onto the porch. “As for you, Molly Edwards, you've lost your last chance.” The younger woman's loose red hair hung around the shoulders of her underclothes, a balled-up dress in her hands. “I don't run a brothel, girl. And you knew the rules about menfolk in your rooms.”
“But I didn't mean to, Mrs. Carter,” the woman cried. “He was such a sweet talker. I couldn't help it.”
“If you don't start taking responsibility for your own stupidity, you ain't never gonna get smarter, girl. And I ain't got the patience or time to try and teach you.”
“Please don't cast me out. I ain't got nowhere to go.”
“You should have thought of that before you let him onto my property with plans to give yourself to him.” The older woman pulled Molly to the porch steps. “Jake Murphy ain't no man for any woman.”
“But he promised me he'd marry me this time.” Molly stumbled to the bottom of the steps with the older woman keeping her by the arm and upright.
“Men will promise a great many things when they're thinking with the wrong part of their bodies.”
“Please, Mrs. Carter. Just one more chance.”
At that moment, as both women reached the bottom of the stairs, the older woman's gaze found Kizzie. She looked from Kizzie's face to Charlie, and she released a loud sigh.
“Well, we got a vacancy for you, Miss, if that's what's brought you here.” The woman released her hold on Molly. “Molly's just leaving.”
“Please, Mrs. Carter,” Molly cried out again.
Kizzie stepped forward, reaching into her pocket for Nella's letter. “Mrs. Carter?”
A few wiry sprigs had fallen loose from the woman's bun and poked in various directions around her face, her large gray eyes wide. “I am.”
Kizzie looked over at the teary-faced Molly, who stood at the end of the stairs, hands clasped in front of her, as if waiting for Mrs. Carter to change her mind. An immediate kinship bloomed in Kizzie for the young, misguided woman who was looking for affection in the wrong place and in the wrong way.
“I'm Kizzie McAdams, sent by Nella Chappell.” Kizzie offered the letter.
“Nella Chappell.” The woman's entire face transformed with her smile. The stern lines around her eyes softened. “Ah, a telegram arrived from her just yesterday saying I should expect you soon.” Mrs. Carter gave Kizzie another look from head to boots. “You're a might bit younger than I figured you'd be, but if Nella trusts you, I got no reason not to.”
“Mrs. Carter, please.”
Molly's cry came again, and the older woman turned toward her, pointing the envelope like a finger. “I ain't interested in supporting your sin, girl. If you ain't got the decency to follow my rules, I can't jump inside that thick skull of yours and help.”
“But I've learned my lesson.” Her green gaze flipped from Mrs. Carter to Kizzie and back, the desperation in them reaching out and snatching at Kizzie's heart. “I promise, Mrs. Carter. Please.”
She knew that look, that need. And the realization that even the very best plans failed to change reality.
“What if I take her under my wing, Mrs. Carter?” The words popped out so fast it surprised Kizzie as much as it seemed to surprise both of the other ladies. Well, might as well dig a little deeper. “I know you don't know me yet, but I'm more than willing to give you a hand in helping any of your girls make better choices. I've had to learn the hard way, and maybe God wants me to help other girls learn too.”
Mrs. Carter's gray eyes narrowed for a full five seconds, her steely look prickling the hairs on Kizzie's arms with its scrutiny. Then, with a glance back at Molly, she said, “One more chance, girl. And that's only ’cause Miss McAdams seems to think there's more to you than kisses for brains. But this is your last chance, because my reputation is tied to this place. Do you understand?”
Molly nodded her head so fast it made Kizzie dizzy. “Yes, ma'am. I promise.”
Mrs. Carter rolled her eyes and then shooed her away. “Now go get some clothes on so you don't catch your death.” Then she turned back to Kizzie, one brow sitting high. “Now, Miss McAdams, Nella's telegram mentioned you know shopkeeping business.”
Shopkeeping business? Had Nella intended to provide Kizzie a job as well as a new place to start over? “Shopkeeping business?”
“I'm in need of a person with a business mind to help me get untangled from my current mess, and I mean to interview you for the job.”
Kizzie blinked and riffled through her brain. “I did shopkeeping back home. For a general store in the mountains. Helped with stocking, cleaning, ordering, and bookkeeping.”
“Bookkeeping, eh?” Both brows swung high. “Now that's even better.”
“I've always been decent with numbers. Daddy had me help him some when purchasing things.” Kizzie stepped forward. “And I've worked in service for a year, besides growing up in a house full of young'uns, so I know how to clean and tend house.”
“Good, good.” She nodded, raising a wrinkled finger to touch Charlie's cheek. “You sound like just the right person for the job.”
“You mean … you'd really hire me?” Kizzie gestured with her chin toward Charlie. “Even me being the way I am?”
“I can only take you part-time to start, but I can provide you free lodging above the shop. If you're working for me, sleeping someplace other than the boardinghouse would suit better.” She shrugged, her grin wrinkling her whole face. “I know the value of a second chance. Sometimes the very best folks rise out of a second chance because they know what they've been forgiven of. I believe in humility. Keeps people from putting on airs. I reckon that's why God likes it so much.”
Tension rolled off Kizzie's shoulders in a giant wave, and the emotions scratching at her throat began a steady climb into her eyes. “My mama would like you a whole bunch.”
“ ’Zat so?”
“Yes, ma'am. She used to say that humility was knowing God's place and knowing your own place and not getting the two mixed up.”
“I think I'd like your mama too.” Mrs. Carter chuckled and gestured with the letter toward the brick two-story building across a little path in front of them. “Let's get you and that babe inside by the stove, and we can discuss whether you want to work for me or not.” She shot Kizzie a wink and then showcased the rifle in her hand. “After this introduction, you may just reconsider.”