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AWAKE, STARING AT THE beams overhead, Lena suffered wave after wave of painful remorse. If only she could be physically sick and purge herself of this feeling of vileness. Jessie's hair tickling her neck was just another reminder of her shortcomings. Jessie had never made assumptions, or at least hadn't allowed them to dictate her actions.
At least she hadn't given voice to her ugly thoughts. But Ely knew. Somehow, he'd surmised from Lena's behavior what her black heart had held against Evan. And if Ely knew, then Evan might have arrived at the same conclusion. Rolling to her side, she buried her face in her pillow and groaned. All the while he was demonstrating true charity, she was thinking him a brute, capable of casting aside his own child.
“If I have a little girl, I think I'll name her Alena Rowena,” Jessie said softly.
Lena rolled over. Jessie lay there smiling at her, gathering the freckles on her cheeks in a bunch as they so often did. “You're awake!”
“And so are you,” Jessie observed. “I heard you groan just now and you've been tossing like a ship on the sea. That's poetic, isn't it? Guess Ivanhoe is rubbing off on me.”
Lena couldn't help but smile even in the midst of her anguished thoughts.
“What do you think of the name?” Jessie asked.
“Alena Rowena? It does have a nice rhythm to it. I like it. But what if you have a little boy?”
“Well it won't be Ivanhoe. That just sounds silly. Ivanhoe Long. No! Definitely not!”
“You could call him Cedric,” Lena offered.
Jessie rolled onto her back, looking thoughtful. “No. But I think Evan sounds nice. Evan Long.”
“Too short. How will you let him know how much trouble he's in if you call out, 'Evan Long, come here this instant!'“
Jessie laughed and threw herself onto her side, propping her head on one hand. “So, now that Bart and I have made the decision, how about you and Evan? We could make it a double wedding!”
Lena groaned again, pulling the pillow over her face. “You're hopeless.”
“What's wrong? You're acting very strange, Lena.”
Lena pulled the pillow from her face. “Am I a terrible person?” It was a ridiculous question, and she knew it as soon as she'd given voice to it. Who would answer, yes, to such a question, even if it were true?
“Silly, of course not!” Jessie poked her in the arm. “Why would you think that?”
Lena longed to make Jessie into a priest so she could confess her black heart.
“I definitely think that Evan doesn't hold that opinion of you.” Jessie poked her again.
Lena sat up and swung her feet to the cold floor. “I need to cook something!”
“Now?” Jessie sat up, clutching the quilt to her neck. “It's surely after midnight!”
“I'm going to make you a cake for your wedding. We have plenty of flour, sugar and even enough eggs. You go back to bed and dream nice dreams of Bart and Baby Rowena.”
“Baby Alena Rowena.” Jessie corrected, slipping back beneath the covers.
As she entered the darkened kitchen, streams of moonlight flowing through the bank of windows reflected off the polished planks of the dining table. She stood in the dark, looking out upon the shadowed landscape. For the first time, the view did not thrill her as it once had, and the looming presence of the house around her felt less welcoming. She lit two lamps and set them on the wide windowsill, their light magnified by the glass window, pushing back the shadows. Pulling Mrs. Parloa's New Cookbook from the shelf, she began to leaf through it.
It felt good to do something. Doing was always preferable to worrying. But as much as she concentrated on devising a cake she'd never made before, thoughts continued to creep into the corners of her conscious mind. She rehearsed a hundred apologies, imagined his response, and dismissed them all. The problem, she realized, was that she'd never actually accused him of anything. How would she bring up the subject without making things worse? Maybe she could just change her attitude and be kind to him again.
The eastern sky brightened, bringing the forested ridge line into silhouette. Lena had succumbed to fatigue. Evan found her slumped at the table, head resting on her arm. Smiling, he watched her for a few moments, grabbed a biscuit from the tin and slipped out the back door without waking her.
An hour passed before Jessie appeared. Standing with hands on her hips, she kicked Lena's toe, startling her awake.
“What?” Lena blinked hard and wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. She focused on Jessie's face. “What time is it?”
“Time we were making breakfast for the men.” Jessie continued to stare at her with a distinct look of disapproval. “You've been down here all night?”
Lena stretched her back and groaned a little, rubbing her neck. “I have. Look in the pantry.”
Jessie crossed to the pantry, letting out a squeal of joy as she saw the cake, two layers high, sitting on the shelf. “Oh, it's sweet! Lena, you're a dear!”
“I thought we could decorate it today. Together. I found a recipe and instructions for making sugared flowers.” Lena yawned. Shuffling to the stove, she retrieved the kettle.
Looking out the window and seeing the line where sunlight bathed the mountain brought her fully awake. It was later than she'd thought. She threw a quick glance at the wall clock, confirming the lateness of the hour. “Oh my! We need to be quick about breakfast today. The men will be in shortly.”
Jessie began taking pans from the cupboard, “Well, we'll be one less for breakfast. I saw Evan ride out early.”
Lena looked over sharply, started to form a question, then stopped herself. Flour covered her hands as she stood staring down at the snow-like surface of the counter. She did not look forward to a day of rehearsing apologies as she had throughout the night. Waiting only prolonged her anxiety.
For the remainder of the day, Lena busied herself with cleaning the main room to make it spotless for the wedding the next day. Together the women spent the morning decorating the cake, experimenting with the icing recipes and techniques. The laughter and camaraderie helped to quiet Lena’s overactive mind for a while.
After sharing a lunch of cold ham and their dwindling supply of cheese, Lena led Jessie upstairs. Jessie sat on the bed brushing her hair while Lena rummaged through one of her trunks. With a satisfied sigh, she pulled out a lace-trimmed veil. Jessie slapped her hands over her mouth, a little exclamation of surprise slipped out between her fingers.
Lena held it up. “It was my mother's. I'd never have purchased anything so elegant for my own wedding, such as it was to be. Somehow it would have seemed frivolous, but I brought this with me. Sentimental reasons, I suppose.” She looked over at Jessie's youthful face, glowing with hope and promises. “I'd be so pleased if you wear it for your wedding, but only if you wish to.”
Jessie took the veil in her hands and lay it on the bed beside her. With gentle strokes, she traced the delicate weavings of lace along the border. She looked up with glistening eyes, then leaped to her feet, throwing her arms around Lena. “Oh, Lena! I'm going to miss you so much!”
Lena pressed into the girl's embrace, feeling unworthy of her affection. “I'm so happy for you, Jessie.”
Jessie pulled away, reaching for the veil and holding it to her breast. “I'm happy for me too!” She skipped to the dusty mirror and placed the veil over her golden tresses. “Who'd have thought, Jessie Leach would ever find such a match!” There was a tone of pride in her voice as well as awe.
“Bart is a wonderful young man, and it's so clear that he loves you. I think it was very sensible of you to wait and get to know each other first.” Lena perched at the end of the bed, watching Jessie adjust the veil over her brow to allow a curl or two to peek out from beneath the beaded headpiece. “So does this mean you like the veil?”
Jessie turned to Lena, eyes shining. “I love it! Thank you, Lena. Do I look like a bride now?”
“Jessie, I've never seen a more beautiful one in my life!” Lena reached up and pulled the edge of the veil over the girl's shoulder. Her voice softened, and she whispered, “Truly, Jessie.”
By late afternoon, the windows sparkled, the polished floors reflecting all the added sunlight. Lena and Jessie put their heads together and planned a simple meal for the wedding day. Since both, thinking quite practically, knew their efforts would only be to please themselves they'd decided against any fancy recipes from Mrs. Parloa. They planned to enjoy the day somewhere other than in the kitchen. So, they'd invested their time this afternoon in preparing everything for the following day.
All the while Lena busied herself cutting meats and baking fresh bread for tomorrow's sandwich plates, she kept watching the trail leading out from town. As soon as possible, maybe even before Evan had come into the house, she wanted to be rid of this weight on her heart, one way or the other. Nothing would spoil Jessie's wedding day.
Shadows stretched long across the brown grasses. Lena near to the point of biting her nails, a mortal sin where her previous employer was concerned, collapsed on the front porch bench. As anxious as she was to speak with him, her fatigue and loss of sleep from the previous night overtook her. In mere moments, her head sagged onto her chest and her body slumped against the side of the chair.
What awakened her was the squeal emitted from Jessie's lips as she bounded quite noisily out the front door and down the steps. Rubbing sleep from her eyes and attempting to pull them into focus, Lena followed Jessie's trajectory across the lawn to where Evan stood holding a petite mare by her halter.
“Oh, it's the little bay from the livery!” Jessie cried as she ran up to Evan. “She looks so much like my dear little Sugar.”
Evan's grin spread ear to ear. “I know. Bart told me.”
“Is she yours?” With her face buried in the little mare's mane, her words muffled.
“Nope.”
Jessie declared with utmost confidence. “Oh, why forever not! You should buy her straight out! She'd be a good addition to your breeding stock. I feel certain,”
Lena watched from the edge of the porch, noting the suspicious grin on Evan's face.
“Well, I'm not sure the owner would sell her to me, that's why.”
Lena detected the mischievous glint in his eye.
Jessie pouted. “That's a shame. Look how sturdy she is! My grandpa would have invested in her. He knew good horse stock when he saw it.”
“Well, I'm sure you're right. But I still don't think I could convince the owner to part with her. Shame, I guess.”
Evan's poorly restrained grin exploded into an open-mouthed laugh before he offered the reins to Jessie. The girl looked up, a puzzled expression written on every feature.
“She's yours, Jessie! Here, take her for a walk.”
Jessie's eyes went wide. “Mine?”
“She's my wedding gift to you.”
Lena felt oddly isolated in that moment. This was not the first time she'd stood apart from Evan and the recipient of his affections, watching from afar, on the outside looking into the heart of the man. Twice she'd seen his actions for what they were, honest compassion expressed with deeds not words. Once she'd wrongly judged him. Today she couldn't.
“Evan! Are you serious? Mine?” First Jessie threw her arms around Evan's neck in that natural way she had of expressing herself so freely without concern for social propriety. The next she was hugging the mare with equal enthusiasm. “Oh, you dear thing! You dear sweet thing!” She glanced back over her shoulder at Evan. “What's her name?”
“Well, there's one we call her, but I suppose you could name her whatever you want,” Evan drawled.
Jessie took a step back, then looked back at Lena, motioning her to come down the steps. “Come Lena! Come see her. Can you believe it?” She grabbed Evan's arm again, shaking it. “You dear man! Thank you!”
“She's a tiny little mare, isn't she? She seems just perfect for you.” Lena approached the mare and Jessie with slow steps, reluctant of encroaching on Evan's enjoyment of Jessie's delight.
“Oh, she is! What do you think I should name her, Lena?”
“Well,” her eyes shifted for a moment to catch Evan's quiet face. A heartbeat later, she said, “Well, if your first baby girl will be named for Rowena, your little mare could be Becky, I suppose.”
Grabbing Lena's arm, she said, “For both books!” She threw her arms about the mare's neck a second time. “Yes! Becky! I'm going to walk with her a little. We girls need to have a talk.” She led the mare along the creek behind the house, leaving Evan and Lena alone.
“Does Bart know of your gift?” Lena asked, for lack of anything else to say.
Evan kept his eyes on Jessie and her new mare until they disappeared around the house. “Yes. I asked him if he thought she'd like the mare.” He turned back to face her, the smile gone from his face. “He's at the livery, picking out a saddle.”
“I suppose you helped with the purchase of that too?” She recognized the tone of sarcasm in her voice and hated it. Resentment? Was she jealous? Of Jessie for being worthy of the gift or Evan for his generosity to give it?
Evan watched her in that quiet way she was growing to understand as his habit when thinking. She paled at its intensity, the appraisal within it. Or was she simply projecting on him her personal habit of judging people's thoughts and actions so harshly? She felt wretched.
“Yes. Bart and I have been friends for a bit. Gave the saddle to him. Seemed a nice thing to do.”
Of course, it was. The remorse of the past twenty-four hours came rushing back, pulling her conscience back to where Ely had left her last night. Speak to him, he'd said. But how? She opened her mouth but none of the rehearsed words came to her tongue. Her mouth went desert dry, throat constricted.
“Well, I think I should go down and settle up with the livery owner. Seems she's happy with the girl.” He started down the road to town in his natural ambling gait.
“Mr. Hartmann. Evan.” Lena heard her voice as something apart from herself.
Evan turned.
“I've been wanting to talk to you.” She blinked, praying for some measure of intelligibility, her mind so befuddled as it was couldn't possibly form a sentence.
“Okay. I'm listening.” He folded his arms in front of him, looking formidable and unapproachable.
She took a calming breath, shoving her hands into the pockets of her skirt. “I made a thoughtless assumption a few days ago.” She couldn't help herself from studying his eyes, hoping to see some encouragement there. Nothing. She tried again. “The young woman, Vicki. She’s a sweet girl.”
“Yes, she is,” Evan said, his expression still flat.
“Her child seemed a dear thing as well.” Lena knew she was stalling, searching for the right way to express her humiliation.
“She looked a lot like her father,” Evan said steadily.
Lena felt her chest tighten. Was he helping her? It would be like him, she thought. Wasn't that what Ely had said about him? He liked to help those in need. Was he seeing her need just now, to be understood, to confess her lack of charity?
“Evan, I judged you without knowing the truth.” Each word that she uttered seemed to lift weight from her soul, even though she knew he must surely hate her for them. She wanted to be rid of this awful feeling of guilt. The next four words came more easily than she'd expected. “I am so sorry.”
Daring then to meet his gaze, she saw a flicker of expression breaking through the mask. She couldn't read it as much as she tried.
Evan nodded then. “Thought it might be so.”
Oh, how she longed in that moment for him to smile on her, to pour out that compassion she'd seen him spill out so generously on others. “Will you—can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
His gaze shifted, barely imperceptible, to her feet and back to her face, as though taking all of her into account. She felt she'd been weighed and found wanting. The next words he spoke were unexpected and painful beyond what she felt she could bear.
“'. . .a trial moves rapidly on when the judge has determined the sentence beforehand.'“
She recognized the quote at once. It was from Ivanhoe and it was aptly spoken. She was guilty of trying him and she had set herself as judge as though she were Lady Justice herself. And Evan, having studied the law, knew the ugliness of her crime. She had not presumed his innocence as the law would require. She felt her stomach sour.
The compassion in the man must have known the sincerity of her apology. He took a step toward her, his hand reaching out to steady her.
Lena wanted to run, but her feet felt encased in ice. He touched her elbow, his hand supporting her, encouraging her. Was he forgiving her?
He took one step closer, until she could see the small lines at the edges of his lips and the deeper ones around his eyes, testifying to the many smiles that had carved them there. His presence enveloped her. “I can forgive because I've been forgiven. Can you forgive me for my arrogance? The way I bullied you when you first arrived and assumed you hadn't given any thought to your choice to stay here?”
Lena's lips parted, but she was too startled to speak. He was asking her forgiveness?
He continued, “I thought your decision was made thoughtlessly and out of pride. But I was wrong. Ely corrected me on that point, but I never apologized.” He took one step closer until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “Can you forgive me?”
She felt as though something had pushed the air from her lungs.
Misunderstanding her silence, he said, “I'll give you some time to think on it.”
He gave her then the gift she'd envied, his smile of compassion. But there was something subtly different about it, something deeper. The warmth of it made her forget the coolness of the approaching night. And then he turned, the warmth swept away with him as though a shadow had passed in front of the sun, blocking its rays.
As he strode down the hill, he called back over his shoulder, “I'll be back for dinner.” His tone was bright and light. With a sudden revelation, she knew that he'd not only forgiven her, he'd forgotten the offense.
