20

“I’m sorry. I never should have asked you to remember that.” Hannah wasn’t sure what he had remembered, but she’d seen enough torment written on his face to understand why he couldn’t seem to voice it. Joseph didn’t need to tell her anything more for his agony to crack her heart open. It bled for him.

He combed his wet hair with his fingers and pushed his hat back onto his head. “You need to get out of this rain before you catch your death.”

And he wouldn’t? Joseph had stood out here longer. But his eyes hadn’t focused on her yet. He still hadn’t completely returned from wherever she’d sent him.

Hannah remained mute as she followed his determined stride to the cold shack where they’d left their things. Not much more than four walls and a roof. No lamp, but she took a minute to dig out Joseph’s flint and steel and light a fire.

Joseph didn’t move from where he stood near the door, the muscles in his jaw rigid.

“Come.” She took his hat and set it on the saddle with her soaked shawl, and then drew the coat from his arms.

He watched her now, a ridge forming on his brow.

“Your shirt is wet too. You won’t get warm with it on.”

Gaze still on her, he tugged on the single button securing his collar. “You’re just as soaked as I.”

And yet at the moment she didn’t feel cold at all, not as she touched the ties of the simple gown. They were married, and it was not wrong to remove the wet frock, but still… “Turn your back.”

The corner of his lip extended slightly, and he rotated away. “Then wrap up in one of those blankets before you chill.”

She started loosening the thin cloth ties binding the bodice to her, but her hands faltered as Joseph raised his arms over his head, his shirt following their motion. She’d seen him without his shirt in the confines of his cabin, but never had she been so affected by those broad shoulders and tapered waist.

He found a peg near the door to hang his shirt to dry. “Are you finished?”

“No.” Her voice squeaked, and she deepened it. “Not yet.” Almost normal.

Joseph rubbed his arms. “I could use one of those blankets.”

“Oh.” He was probably freezing. And she was still modest. Hannah grabbed one of the quilts and draped it over his shoulders.

“Thank you.” He took the corners and pulled the blanket around this torso.

She still couldn’t move.

Joseph glanced at her. “You’re still in your wet gown.”

And he still had a strand of hair plastered to his brow releasing droplets down his cheek. Eyes like a clear day stared into hers. And then looked away. He stepped past her and reached for one of the bedrolls to unravel it. With his own blanket hooked over his arms, he raised the new one to form a wall and block his view of her. “Go ahead.”

Though he stood closer now, it was somehow easier to undress without seeing him. She quickly loosened her ties and slipped from the gown. The shift was moist, but she left it on and grabbed the last blanket from the bed.

Across the room she found another peg and hung up her gown. More warmth enveloped her shoulders and body as Joseph wrapped the other quilt around her.

“Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” Again his mouth stretched but this time with a downward turn. “I forgot to ask how your hands and ankles feel.”

“They’re fine.” The deeper cuts still stung a little, but not enough to distract her from him. Did he have any idea how his closeness twisted her in knots?

Concern marked his expression and kept his eyes soft. At least, she wanted to believe it was concern she saw. Perhaps he hadn’t yet recovered from the memories of battle.

“What about your arm? Does it hurt?” Joseph’s hand settled above where the ball had ripped her flesh.

“Not much.” Only a scab remained. She’d hardly thought of it today. But there had been so much else to think about.

Like Joseph Garnet.

Her husband.

Hannah’s pulse hammered. She gave him a quick smile and retreated. “You haven’t told me anything yet. Any word of my brothers?”

“Oh.” Joseph’s chest expanded, and he straightened the blanket around his arms. “They knew nothing, but Colonel Willett, who has taken command of the area, has set Fort Rensselaer as his headquarters. As soon as this rain stops, we’ll continue down river and ask if he or anyone has records of your brothers. If not, I still believe Albany is our best course.”

Hannah nodded and tried not to be disappointed. She hadn’t expected to hear anything yet. But hopefully soon.

“Try not to worry about them right now.”

Not easily done. Hannah sat on the thin straw mattress, and Joseph moved to do the same. There wasn’t anywhere else.

“Nothing we can do right now but pray this storm passes.” He spoke of prayer as though it were the natural thing to do.

“I don’t know how to pray.” And she didn’t know who to pray to. The Great Creator? Joseph’s God?

Under his studious gaze, she cinched the blankets tighter around her. Those blue eyes were much too penetrating.

“Can I show you?”

Hannah forced her shoulder into a shrug. It couldn’t harm anything.

“Here.” Joseph took her hands. Then frowned. “Does this hurt?”

“No.” Hardly at all.

“Good.” His head bowed.

The rain pelted the roof above them, filling in the lull of his words.

“Dear Lord. We come before Thee as Thy children…”

Hannah couldn’t close her eyes or look away as he continued, his voice rumbling, his words contrite. He asked for her wounds to continue healing. Then he spoke of her brothers by name. Asking for God’s mercy to protect them wherever they were. “Help us find them.”

“Lord…” Joseph paused for so long Hannah almost wondered if he were finished, but he never opened his eyes. His hold on her hands strengthened, and she fought to contain a wince. “Lord, I acknowledge that all things—all Thy creations—are in Thy hands. We are in Thy hands.” His head dropped a degree lower and he sniffed. “In Jesus’s name…amen.”

Joseph’s lashes flickered. He stared at their hands, not letting go. His thumb smoothed over her knuckles only marred by a few thin red lines. He swallowed hard.

“You didn’t pray for the storm to pass,” she whispered, not really wanting to break whatever trance held him.

He smiled a little. “The crops need the moisture.”

Always a farmer. Which made his sacrifice all the more pronounced. He’d left before all his fields had been planted. For her.

“Thank you.”

Joseph nodded. “I only wish my faith were stronger.”

After hearing him pray with such earnestness, as though speaking to Someone there with them, Hannah could not imagine how a soul could have more faith. Unless she misunderstood. “Stronger?”

~*~

Joseph released her—something much more difficult than it should be—and dragged both hands over his face. If only he could hide there. Pressure built behind his eyes and he pressed two fingers along the arch of his brows. If he were stronger, he could pretend to not be breaking inside. But returning to Oriskany, even though just in his mind, had scraped him raw. Especially being here with Hannah. How could her presence both smooth a balm over the wound Fannie had left, and rip the hole wider?

Joseph pushed to his feet and started pacing. Not that the small shack afforded him much distance. The blanket sagged off his shoulders, and he jerked it back up.

“Joseph, what’s wrong?” Hannah sounded afraid.

Had he done that to her? He forced himself to face her. And immediately regretted the action. She looked too vulnerable sitting there wrapped in blankets, her moist stockings peeking from beneath, her braid all but undone. The need to protect her overwhelmed him. And he would protect her. From himself. Not remembering what he had planned to say to her, Joseph turned to where he’d hung his drenched shirt and discarded the blanket. The shirt felt like ice as it met his skin, but he suppressed a shiver and donned his coat as well.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t look back this time. “To hunt down more firewood. And maybe a kettle.” Hopefully the by time he got back he’d be able to think clearer and have gained more willpower. Because it would be too easy to throw logic aside for a taste of her lips. Maybe he’d find some more blankets, as well. Lying beside her with not so much as an inch between them would only borrow trouble.