The next morning Ruth woke with a searing headache. She touched the side of her temple and winced at the tender bruise. Thoughts of Josiah assailed her, and she groaned in embarrassment. If she hadn’t been acting like a foolish schoolgirl upon his arrival, she wouldn’t have lost her balance and hit her head like a simpleton. How could she face him in such humiliation? In her weakened state, she would have succumbed to his consolation and wept upon his shoulder like a lovesick fool.
Ruth washed from her basin and dressed. She pulled her hair up in a braided bun and opened the curtains in her room. Having a corner chamber afforded her two windows, one by her bed and the other in front of her writing desk. A fireplace with a simple mantel graced the opposite wall. The bottom half of her walls were taupe, while the upper half were adorned with pictures of various flowers she and Naomi had painted last summer.
Downstairs, the smell of biscuits, frying bacon, and fresh coffee made her mouth water. As she passed through the living room, her parents’ low voices carried from the kitchen. A slight chill made her shiver, and she rubbed her arms. She noticed Caleb’s shirt where she’d carelessly left it on a chair. Thoughts of Josiah had distracted her when she’d mended the unfinished seam.
Ruth lifted the shirt to move it to a table so no one would sit upon the needle that poked out of it. Josiah’s black hat lay discarded beneath. A sentimental wave of affection overflowed her heart and brought tears to her eyes. The back of her throat ached. Her fingers curled around the brim, and she hugged it against her chest. The familiar scent of his musk and soap drifted to her nose. She closed her eyes and basked in it, trying to ignore the nagging thought of never again hugging the real man as she now hugged his hat.
“Ruth, is that you?” her mother called from the kitchen.
Jerking to attention, Ruth tossed Josiah’s hat on the chair. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and straightened her shoulders before entering the kitchen.
“Yes, Mother, it’s me.” She attempted a smile, but the muscles in her jaw and the throbbing at her temples intervened.
Her mother rose and came to her, a concerned expression wrinkling her dark brows. Gentle hands cupped Ruth’s chin as her mother’s brown eyes surveyed hers. “How is thee feeling this morning? Did thee sleep well?”
“Yes, and I had no dreams to interfere with my rest.”
“What about the bump on thy head? Let me have a look.”
Ruth tilted her head for her mother. When her fingers stroked the sore spot, Ruth winced.
“I’m sorry. It’s still swollen.” Elizabeth Payne bit her bottom lip.
Realizing her mother considered calling upon the doctor again, Ruth laid her hands on her shoulders. “I’m fine. Dr. Edwards said there would be swelling for a few days. Right now I’d like some breakfast. I’m starving.”
“I think a hearty appetite is a good sign.” Her father’s soothing and encouraging voice carried across the table, his own plate was half full. “Elizabeth, fix her a plate. Naomi, pour her a cup of coffee.”
“I can do it,” Ruth said, but her mother motioned to her usual chair.
“Ruth, what does thee have planned for the day?” her father asked.
“I found a gingerbread recipe in the old family Bible and thought I’d try it.”
“Is that what thee was doing in the attic yesterday?” Her father sipped his coffee, staring at her over the cup’s rim.
“I was supposed to be cleaning, but the trunk caught my attention. Mother, does thee know who the recipe came from?”
“Indeed.” She nodded. Her brown, silver-streaked hair swayed as she laid down a steaming plate of bacon, eggs, and biscuits in front of Ruth. “It came from my great-great-grandmother and traveled all the way across the sea from England.”
“How interesting!” Naomi set a warm cup of coffee next to Ruth’s plate. “Did thee find anything else?”
“There’s so much history written in the pages of that Bible, generations of our family, with names and dates. It’s a treasure.” Ruth picked up her coffee and sipped the strong brew. The liquid flowed down her throat and settled in her stomach, startling her awake.
“I want to help thee make the gingerbread,” Naomi said.
“That’s a good idea. I don’t think Ruth should be up and about, doing too much today. Dr. Edwards said she should rest.” Their mother glanced from Naomi to Ruth.
The side door opened, and Elijah and Caleb walked in, their shirtsleeves rolled up to their elbows. Elijah carried a pail of milk in each hand, and Caleb, a basket of brown eggs.
“The animals have been fed, and we already washed up outside,” Elijah said. He glanced over at Ruth. “I saw Josiah walking up the driveway.”
Ruth choked on a mouthful of eggs. Her mother rushed over and slapped her back. A tingle raced up her spine as she imagined seeing him in a few moments. She couldn’t. She wasn’t ready.
“Is thee all right, child?” Mother bent over her, but Ruth kept her gaze on her plate and shook her head as she covered her mouth.
“No, my head hurts. I believe I’ll go lie down.” Ruth rushed from the kitchen as a sturdy knock sounded on the front door. She paused on the stairs where Josiah couldn’t see her and leaned against the wall, her hand on her trembling stomach. How was it possible that he could do this to her without even seeing him?
Ruth rested her head back and tried to ignore the pain lashing from her temple across her forehead. Lord, please help me be strong so I can do what is best for Josiah.
Unable to leave, Josiah accepted breakfast and offered to assist the Payne men with their day’s work. They said Ruth had gone to her chamber with a headache. He hated to think of her in pain, and he wanted to be as close to her as possible. His brother had offered to take care of the store, and so he was free. As he and Elijah each swung an ax outside Ruth’s window, he couldn’t help glancing up, hoping for a glimpse of her. A couple of times he thought he saw someone move the curtain aside but then wondered if he’d imagined it.
“It’s exciting to know we’ll soon be incorporated as a real town,” Elijah said as he tossed two pieces of split wood on the pile. “I think it fitting to name the town after General Nathanael Greene. If it wasn’t for him and the Patriots fighting for our freedom years ago, we’d still be under the British Crown. And us Quakers would have forfeited our lives in refusing to bow to a king’s unfair demands.”
“True.” Josiah raised the ax over his shoulder and swung it in an arc, his breath gushing at the effort. A hearty satisfaction raced through his gut as the blade sliced through the oak with a jolting thud. One piece of wood tilted, and the other toppled over the stump, where his ax now lay buried.
“I like the name Greensborough,” Elijah said. “It has an official ring to it.” He paused, staring off into the distance.
“Have they sold all the lots around the courthouse?” Josiah asked, wiping his brow on his arm, his sleeve rolled up at the elbow.
“Yes, that’s why I know it won’t be long now before we’re an official town.” Elijah grinned and set another chunk of wood on the tree stump. “Our little New Garden community will benefit from the new people a town would draw. Folks are calling it New Garden’s Hope. Has thee thought about relocating the store within the town limits?” Elijah raised a dark eyebrow.
“We’ll stay right where we are—and we won’t be building a separate residence in town. I won’t allow all these changes to cloud my judgment on foolhardy decisions. The house I’ve built for thy sister is solid and not too far away when she has need to visit.”
Elijah’s grin faltered, and his eyes flickered before he looked away, rubbing the back of his head.
Josiah paused, recognizing his friend’s hesitation to voice what was on his mind. “What? Thee might as well say it. Does thee think me naive to harbor hope that Ruth will change her mind?”
“I’m no fool, Josiah Wall. I know thee hasn’t been out here helping me finish loading the pumpkin wagon and chopping firewood for fun. Thee hopes to see my sister and speak to her.”
“I won’t deny it. I’ve been worried about her injury, and while I take thy family’s word for her condition, I’d feel better if I could see her.” Josiah shoved his hands on his hips, paced a few feet away, and came back. “I need to talk to her. Help me. Please?” He rubbed his face. “Tell me, is she avoiding me?”
“I don’t know for certain, but perhaps.” Elijah averted his gaze. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
A cool breeze lifted around them. Leaves fell from the trees and blew across the yard. Josiah lifted his face to the welcoming caress, realizing it felt similar to the hot summer day when Ruth had waved a fan in front of him.
The sound of Elijah splitting more wood jarred him to the present. “I figured she might be. If I could get her to talk to me, I’m sure I could convince her to change her mind. We belong together. Everyone knows it. I can’t understand why she’d think differently just because I postponed the wedding.”
“Does thee really think thee can change her mind?” Elijah picked up the wood he’d sliced and tossed it on the growing pile.
“I do.” Josiah nodded. “She only needs to know how much I love her. It’s all a misunderstanding.”
Elijah nodded as he tilted the ax on the stump then leaned on the handle. “Why not stay for supper? I know my sister, and she doesn’t like hiding out in confined spaces. After being in her chamber all day, I daresay she’ll want to emerge for supper tonight.”
“Is thee sure? It could be uncomfortable to the family to have me stay for supper, especially after breakfast. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” Josiah flashed a grin at his friend.
“Thee is my friend as well as Ruth’s. I may invite whomever I please to supper. My parents feel the same way, I assure thee.” Elijah stepped back and lifted his ax. “Now let’s finish splitting this wood before we lose more time. I’m working up a mighty big appetite.”
“Agreed.” Josiah felt the skin on his neck prickle. He had the sensation they were being watched. He glanced up to see a slender hand holding aside the lace curtains. The nerves in his stomach danced in glee. He recognized Ruth’s blue gown but couldn’t see her face. Feeling bold, he lifted a hand and offered a reconciling smile.
The curtain jerked closed, and the figure disappeared, leaving a black hole in the thin space in the middle, much like his aching heart as more pain burrowed deeper and deeper.