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With that, he left, securing the door quietly behind him, leaving Hannah alone to gasp through the confusion that beat against her like waves on the sea.
Hannah let her shoulders slump and her hands drop to her sides. Stunned to near numbness by such an honest admission, she breathed slowly, unable to move her eyes from the place where the floor met the wall. She shut her eyes, bemoaning the fate she faced. How could she abide him day after day? Especially when he was so kind. He had always been kind.
Shuffling back to her chair, she sat and faced the dressing table, pulling on the round handle until the contents of the drawer smiled up at her. There atop a folded neckerchief rested the white booties. Lifting them in her hands, Hannah marveled—as she did every time—how tiny they were, how delicate and soft. He must not ever know. Not that she wished to keep secrets, but…
Hannah lowered the booties to the table and stared into the drawer at what now stared back. The small iron nail Joseph had curled and made to fit perfectly around her finger seemed to cry out for her touch. How could she not? Picking up the cold, smooth metal, Hannah’s familiar room melted away, and that night so many years ago lived and breathed around her like a visit to the past. The cool air of the barn, the quiet chirp of the crickets. The scent of earth and hay. The wild pulse of her heart and the knowledge that this night would change her from girl to woman.
A sound from belowstairs stirred her from the shadows and she gasped, the rising flood of memories having nearly filled her lungs. She dropped the ring back into place and covered it with the knitted treasure she could never bear to relinquish no matter how it pained, knowing that such a thing still lived in the quiet dark, day in and day out.
Was she brave? Nay. Desperate. Determined to find a way to keep living despite the wailings that still roared behind the thick walls of acceptance.
She must stay the course. There were far bigger matters now that required her strength and energy.
If her future was not to include that of husband and child, she must endeavor at least to secure it for Caroline and others like her. She must do it for Ensign—for the vow she made to him. This grand cause of freedom must be championed.
Glancing toward the ceiling, she imagined God peering down at her, and she smiled. She had sinned, aye. But the years she had spent begging His forgiveness had proved His love. She had what she deserved, what she wished.
Now all that remained was to go forward in it.
Chapter Eleven
Up and dressed before the rising of the sun, Joseph descended the stairs, the alluring aromas of bread and coffee tempting him to the kitchen. ’Twould seem he was not the only one already beginning the day.
Reprimanding the thought before it shaped in full, he stayed the course. Not allowing himself to linger on the tensions that grew ever stronger between him and Hannah must be his soul’s purpose. However, his mind would not relent. The display of wishes and wants in Hannah’s eyes last evening when he spoke with her in her room were too perplexing to ignore. Was it fear that made her breath hush and cheeks pink, or the forgotten longing of him?
A self-serving thought. She didn’t feel for him at all. She believed he had abandoned her—used her and thrown her away. Dear Lord, why hadn’t he the strength to tear open the roughly mended parts of him and bare all that wished to be spoken? A swelling pain billowed as it did every time he allowed the winds of thought to blow. ’Twas in the past, and there it should stay.
Belowstairs the parlor was empty, but the fire blazed. He moved to the kitchen and found Hannah crouched by the embers.
He paused. Had she not heard him enter? She poked at the fire with a tong, jostling coals around a pot. Hair neatly pinned behind her head, those few rebel strands floated free at her neck and around her ears. The dark morning still clung to the corners of the room, but the umber glow of the fire highlighted her frame, shadowing all the perfect curves of her body and face.
The
temptation to linger and enjoy the sweet domestic view lured his clouded thoughts, but he cleared his throat. “Good morning.”
“Oh!” Hannah flung her hand to her chest as a scarlet hue blew over her cheeks. “Joseph, I didn’t hear you come in.” Pushing against her knees, she rose and went to the table, giving him only a slight smile before darting her eyes away, focusing intently on moving a batch of biscuits to a waiting platter. “The others are already gone, I suppose. I haven’t seen or heard them since yesterday.”
“Hmm.” Joseph glanced around for any sign they’d already been back and gone, but the dim light of the fire and two oil lamps did little to illuminate the space. If they were to be so elusive, perhaps their job of covert activities would be simpler than he thought.
He turned back to Hannah, her attention still intent upon the spread of bounty. Dishes of all kinds dotted the table. Cakes, bacon, bread, and eggs. How long had she been up?
Gnawing the inside of his cheek, he rebutted his instinct to tease her. The straightness of her shoulders and back preached of tension and angst. Better to not induce unneeded embarrassment if she weren’t to catch his meaning. Then again…
She twisted her mouth in thought, and that dimple he loved seemed to wink at him, weakening the last bastion of his resistance.
Joseph rested his hands on the back of the kitchen chair, unable to keep the dry hint of humor from his tone. “Generous of you to go to so much work for me. I’m touched.”
Her head popped up, and her ears reddened, almost begging him to continue.
A genuine half smile found freedom on his lips. “I’m famished to be sure, but I fear you may have overestimated my appetite.”
Eyes never leaving his, the slight dip of Hannah’s chin and twist of her mouth made the second half of his smile join the first. She bobbed a shoulder, then turned back to the skillet. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“Did you not?”
She looked up again, and a slight spark in her eye made his face rise in full before he immediately frowned. “But where are the turnovers? Surely you haven’t forgotten my favorite breakfast? For shame.”
Her skin flushed, and she batted a curl away from her ear in such a huff he couldn’t tell if she was jostled by his comment or merely attempting to beat him at his own game.
