Читать книгу Rocky Mountain Match - Pamela Nissen - Страница 12

Unadulterated fear had shown like gaping holes in Mr. Drake’s stony wall of composure. From five years of experience working with the blind, Katie had learned to recognize the sure signs. And she’d never seen such desperation. All morning she’d witnessed it in his tensing jaw, tight fists and grim expression. She was worn out just watching him work so hard to fortify himself against the fear.

She stood for several moments on his porch, her legs weak as she clutched her books to her chest. He’d said that he’d lost his appetite. That he needed some time to think. And she knew when to let up a little. After all, this was all so very new and painful for him.

Breathing deep, she welcomed the soothing west wind filtering through her skirts, cooling her skin. For over three hours she’d remained stalwart in spite of his unyielding behavior, though she’d nearly bit her tongue in two when Miss Julia Cranston had shown up. It wasn’t Katie’s business who that woman was to Mr. Drake, but whatever her relationship, Miss Cranston wasn’t taking into account his vulnerable state. And for that Katie felt fiercely protective.

Compassion for him tugged at her heart. It was clear that this man of strength and self-sufficiency had been dealt a very difficult hand in life. Things were horribly unfamiliar to him. Maybe for now, anyway, he felt like a shell of what he had been.

Still, Katie could see an iron will there—and a fortitude that perhaps he didn’t even realize existed. He was unlike anyone she’d worked with. Decidedly stoic, yet beneath that stony exterior, a vulnerable man, scared to death. And she wanted to do everything she could to give him back his life.

Squaring her shoulders, she struggled to gather her wits before walking the distance back to Uncle Sven and Aunt Marta’s. She’d never hidden her feelings well. No doubt they’d worry if she showed up looking as distraught as she felt.

Brushing wisps of hair from her face, she started down the three steps, but came to an abrupt halt when Mr. Drake’s voice penetrated the solid walnut barrier.

“Why? Why me?” he choked out, his halting footsteps shuffling from the area of the kitchen where she’d left him, toward the front room. “How could you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?” Mr. Drake’s voice rose in volume, twisting her heart with its mournful, almost terrorized sound. “Why, God? Why me? You have to let me see again!”

His deep, raw cry sent shivers down her spine and a piercing sword to her heart. When she heard him knock something over, her breath caught in her chest.

“Oh, God! You—promised!” Heaving sobs broke his words.

A heavy object slammed against the door.

Swallowing hard, she blinked back hot tears stinging her eyes. She could try to comfort him right now, but he’d reject it. She could do everything she knew to aid him in gaining physical freedom, but only God could heal his wounded heart.

Lifting a trembling finger to her face, she swiped a tear sliding down her cheek as she remembered his awkwardness this noon when he’d prayed. She didn’t need eyes to see that his relationship with God was being sorely tested. How well she knew that reality—her own trust in God had been pulled up painfully short in the past year.

“God, please help him,” she whispered. “Help me.”

From behind the door, Mr. Drake’s breathing came in audible gasps. “God, You pr-promised you wouldn’t forsake Your own!”

“Go ahead, Joe-boy. Hit me as hard as you can,” Aaron provoked, his words sounding more like he was offering to loan Joseph his boots, rather than his face.

“Hit all three of us till you can’t pull another punch if it makes you feel better,” Ben added in complete earnestness. “You need to do something. You’re about ready to explode.”

Joseph balled his fists and sucked in a slow breath, trying to hold his mounting frustration at bay. Since yesterday he’d felt like a tightly coiled spring begging for release. The reality of his inadequacy had hit him full force, and since then he’d been fighting just to stay clear of the bitter rage that nipped at his heels. In the past if he were angry, he might’ve laid a well-aimed ax to logs, splitting wood till he dropped, but now he couldn’t even seem to make it around his house without knocking something over or bumping into a wall.

Last night he’d successfully warded off his brothers when they’d shown up on his doorstep. But this morning they wouldn’t be put off. For the past thirty minutes Ben, Aaron and Zach had been trying to get him to talk about yesterday. They’d said that Miss Ellickson wouldn’t divulge a thing, but that Julia had given away plenty. She’d been loose-lipped all over town.

If he needed a reason to be mad, that definitely could’ve been it, but for some reason he didn’t really give a coyote’s hide. Whatever she’d said was probably true. He could hardly blame her for spouting off. Had he insisted that he be left alone to eat his meal, then she wouldn’t have had a thing to talk about.

Julia’s stories were to his benefit anyway. His blessed privacy would be ensured this way. No one would brave visiting if they knew how uncomfortable they’d be.

“Come on, Joe-boy, swing at one of us,” Aaron urged. “We’re standing right in front of you.”

“This is your chance, big brother,” came Zach’s low voice. At twenty, he was the youngest of the Drake brothers and had been striving to sow something other than wild oats. “I reckon you’ve probably been wantin’ to do this to me more than a time or two.”

“Ha! Are you giving us the opportunity, too?” Aaron guffawed. “Line on up, boys! Maybe we could knock some sense into Zach—keep him from making any more dirt-poor choices.”

Joseph could hear a scuffle in front of him and figured that Aaron was probably ruffling Zach’s hair or faking a punch. Like a couple of playful bear cubs, they were always messing around, but he knew it wouldn’t amount to much. Zach had made some bad decisions—decisions that had almost landed him in jail. They were just glad he was finally holding down a job as a ranch hand, and hadn’t gone the way of the third brother, Max, who’d taken off eight years ago with his inheritance and then some, and was living on the run.

“You two yahoos cut the bantering! We’re not here about Zach, we’re here about Joseph,” came Ben’s firm warning. “Come on, Joseph. We’re not kidding. Let loose—it’ll do you good.”

Joseph gave a low growl. “Would you three knock it off?”

Shaking his head, he pushed between them and with hands outstretched and clumsy, shuffling steps made his way to the dining table. He grasped the top rung of a chair, leaning heavily into it. “You might as well stop this charade. I’m not going to hit any of you. Never have, never will.”

Aaron came to stand beside him. “Maybe you need to haul out and hit us. We know you enough to see that you’re about ready to blow. I’ve never seen you so dog-gone angry.”

“I’m not allowed to be angry?” His jaw muscles tensed.

“No. It’s not that,” Aaron answered. “We can’t blame you at all for being angry. Can we, Ben?”

“Absolutely not.” Ben’s long strides brought him to flank Joseph’s other side, followed by Zach. “You’ve been calm and collected since your accident—handling things better than most people would. Believe me, I’ve seen folks go through far less, only with a mountain of ill-tempered attitude. I’m just glad to see you finally showing some kind of emotion.”

Pushing up to his full height, Joseph raked his fingers through his hair. “Well, then, what is it? Would you do me a favor and clue me in on what you’re getting at here, because so far you’re not making a lick of sense.”

After a long moment of silence Aaron spoke up. “Flat out, Joseph…we’re worried.”

“Worried? About what?” Shoving his hands on his hips, he shook his head. “If anyone should be worried here, it’s me. The three of you are acting like you just got kicked in the head by a horse.” Waving his hand in the air, he yelled, “Quick! Get a doctor!” Then he knocked the side of his head with his hand. “Oh wait! You are the doctor.”

“Don’t try to dodge the attention like you always do,” Ben retorted, clearing his throat. “Now listen, we’re here, in part, because we’re worried about Miss Ellickson.”

He jammed his hands on his hips and furrowed his brow. “Miss Ellickson?”

Just thinking about the mess he’d made of dinner yesterday sent shame, thick as mud, coursing through his veins. But then like a flag of warning, concern for Miss Ellickson rose inside him. “What about Miss Ellickson? Has something happened?”

“She’ll be here any minute now. And Ben, Zach and I—we’re here to make sure you plan on being civil to her.”

He gave a short harrumph. “You don’t think I will?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” Ben answered in a no-nonsense tone. “Like I said yesterday, you’ve always been a gentleman in the past, but as angry as you are, we don’t want you scaring her off. She’s come a long way to work with you.”

Another day with her definitely didn’t sit well with him. Not at all. Last night he’d barely gotten a wink of sleep thinking about her. He’d been bracing himself for her return and now here his brothers were, showing more concern for her than loyalty to him.

He felt trapped. Trapped in his home. Trapped in his body. Trapped in a fear so unfamiliar.

Taunting disorientation blanketed him and he struggled to steady himself against the unnerving effects. “What would make you think that I’m going to scare her off, anyway?”

Ben slid a chair over the hardwood floor and sat down with a weighted thud, Zach and Aaron following his move. “Oh, you wouldn’t intentionally do that—I don’t think, anyway. But believe me, you can be intimidating even when you’re not angry.”

“Yeah. It’s like the Red Sea parting every time you walk through a crowd,” Aaron quipped with a chuckle. “Wish I had that effect.”

Joseph tightened his grip on the chair. “I’m not the one who invited her here. When you mentioned the idea in the first place, I made it clear how I felt. But then you showed up with her in tow, pushing me into this whole thing. I went through with it yesterday and I’ll do the same again today, but I’m telling you, I’m just going through the motions.”

When Aaron reached over and grabbed Joseph’s arm, Joseph flinched at the unexpected touch. His brothers meant well—Ben had gone above and beyond in his care of Joseph. Aaron had been carrying twice his usual load in the shop, and Zach had risked losing his tenuous position as a ranch hand to help out. They were doing so much, but nothing they could do right now would make him feel better. True, he could batter them bloody, but somehow he knew it wouldn’t touch the strange bitterness and pain that had settled deep in his heart.

Ben squeezed Joseph’s forearm. “You don’t have to like the training and you don’t even have to like Miss Ellickson. All we’re asking is that you be civil to her and give her a chance.”

Oh, he’d give her a chance all right. He’d suffer through two more weeks of this. She might even show him something that could make the time bearable. But if he had his way, she’d be gone after he returned from Denver to see the doctor. It didn’t matter where she went—she could even stay in Boulder for all he cared—he just didn’t want to need her.

Joseph lowered himself to a chair, set on hiding his raw emotions from his brothers. “All I can say is that I hope she’s not disappointed when I don’t need her after all. Seems like an awful long way to travel to work for only a couple of weeks.”

When he heard Ben clear his throat, his pulse began a rapid beat in his ears. He could imagine what Ben would say next, so he quickly added, “And you can breathe easy. You have my word…I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll be a veritable welcome wagon from here on out.”

Mr. Drake stood in front of Katie, his tall, tightly muscled frame filling the doorway. “Come in.”

Come in? Katie silently mouthed as she peered up at him to see one of his hands hooked over the top of the door, the other gesturing for her to enter. Since yesterday she’d prepared for a goodbye fare-thee-well, sure that he would refuse further training, but now he’d invited her to—to come in?

She’d prayed all night long that he wouldn’t give up, and if he did, she’d try to persuade him otherwise. Terrified of going home, she needed a reason to stay here in Colorado. But also, after meeting Mr. Drake yesterday, she wanted desperately to help him find freedom again.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

With an armload of books, she squeezed by him, acutely aware of his solid form so near hers. When she removed her pale straw bonnet and hung it on a coat hook, her attention was drawn to the floor where a Bible lay sprawled open. Her breath caught as she remembered hearing something crash against the door yesterday. She tenderly scooped up the Bible, its cover worn with the passage of time and its pages yellowed and frayed from use. Carefully cradling it against her chest with the other books, Katie steadied her wavering emotions. “Your Bible. You must have dropped it.”

Without a word, he quietly latched the door.

“I’ll just put it over here on the mantel for you.” After she’d laid it on the beautifully crafted mantel, she turned and noticed Boone lying beside one of the wingback chairs. “Well, good morning, Boone. How are you this fine morning?” Kneeling beside his massive head, she held out her hand to him.

Katie smiled as he pressed his big, wet nose into her palm and stared up at her with expressive brown eyes. After giving her a wet kiss, he flopped his head down on the wood floor with a dull thud. She smoothed the unruly hair on top of his head. “I certainly hope this means we’re on friendly terms.”

Still smiling, she rose and returned to where she’d left Mr. Drake standing. She nervously fingered the row of silver buttons trailing down her high-necked white blouse. “And how are you today, Mr. Drake? Are we on friendly terms, too?”

He pushed away from the door, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “I suppose you were wondering if I’d call it off?”

“To be perfectly candid, the thought had crossed my mind.” Threading her fingers together in front of her, she added, “I was very much hoping you would continue with the training.”

He jammed his hands into his pockets, his jaw muscle ticking. “I don’t quit things that easily, but even if I did, I have three brothers holding my feet to the fire.”

“They must care a great deal.”

When he just nodded, she walked to the kitchen where the bold scent of fresh coffee met her squarely. Setting her books on the table, she smoothed her pale yellow cotton skirt. “Smells like you made coffee. Do you mind if I help myself?”

“Go right ahead.” He shuffled to the table, his hands splayed in front of him. “My brothers were over earlier this morning and Ben made a pot.” Reaching for a chair, he added, “I’m warning you, he makes it strong enough to wake the dead.”

“Perfect. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I must not be used to my new surroundings yet,” she half lied. In truth she’d lain awake thinking of how she could best help him.

And how she could keep this job.

She couldn’t bear the thought of going home already—too many dark clouds threatened on the horizon there. Here, she had hope that the sun’s warmth would shine on her face again. With or without a job her aunt and uncle would welcome her to stay, but Katie would never think to impose on their goodness overly long, especially if she wasn’t earning her keep.

“Mr. Drake, could I get you a cup, too?”

He shifted nervously, then reached out to his adorable dog who sauntered up beside him, his big, furry feet sweeping across the wood floor as though he wore heavy boots. “Sure. Thanks.”

As she scanned the cupboard shelves for two mugs, she wondered what had come over Mr. Drake. The contempt he’d readily shown yesterday was barely visible today—in fact, she might even go so far as to say that he was congenial.

Spotting a row of mugs on the third shelf, she said, “They’re a little out of reach.”

He stood, quirking one brow. “What?”

“The mugs… I’m not tall enough to reach them.”

Lifting his head in silent recognition, he moved toward her, his movements jerky and uncertain. When he’d pulled them from the shelf, he turned, almost knocking into her.

“Here you are,” he said, holding the mugs out to her.

Katie squeezed back against the counter as he towered over her. An eerie chill crept up her spine as she struggled to block out the haunting memories that assaulted her. But the way Mr. Drake stood over her, trapping her and closing her in like he was, she wanted to scream and escape from the suffocating confinement.

Gulping back the bile that rose in her throat, she snatched the mugs from him with trembling hands. “Thank you.”

She slipped around him and crossed to the stove. As she steadied her hands enough to pour the steaming liquid, she willed her heart to stop pounding. Setting the pot back on the burner, her brow beaded with a cold sweat and her vision narrowed. She fought to even out her short gasping breaths, clutching the stove handle as though it were some lifeline.

Katie reminded herself over and over that he was not Frank Fowler, the man who’d set into motion a year of turmoil that she could share with no one. She’d had to carry the burden alone and at times it threatened to shatter her under its weight.

Frantically grasping for some thread of hope, she struggled to drag herself away from the edge of despair. Like a faint, saving call, she could hear a comforting voice, reminding herself that she was safe now. Hundreds of miles away from Fowler and from the wicked sneer that would stretch across his face each time he’d see her.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the images, she felt her stomach tense. She’d thought that putting distance between herself and home would eliminate moments like this, but the miles had done nothing. The memories were stronger than ever. The fear, consuming. The images had struck with the force of a landslide, unearthing every raw emotion she’d attempted to bury.

“Miss Ellickson?” Mr. Drake’s tentative voice broke through her swirling thoughts.

Rising above the fray of images barraging her mind, Katie slowly spun back around. “Here you are.” Her voice was thin and strained. Her hands still quivered as she set down the cups of coffee. “Here’s your coffee—be careful, it’s hot.”

She lightly grasped his hands and directed them to the stone mug. His hands, large and work-worn in hers, felt strong enough to ward off any enemy, yet gentle enough to soothe a baby.

And brought an immediate, tangible calm to Katie.

The fear that had mounted so quickly, rocking her off kilter, dispelled just as fast. A shaky sigh escaped her lips.

“Miss Ellickson?” His brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”

Sinking into a seat across from him, she took a slow sip of coffee. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I’d get you something to eat,” he said, gesturing toward the cupboards, “but I’m not sure of what’s here anymore. If you can find something…”

“Thank you, but Aunt Marta made sure I ate this morning,” she managed, cupping her hands around the warm mug and staring at him from over the rim. She noticed, for the first time, how his deep chestnut hair hung in playful waves across the white bandages on his forehead, and the way a stubborn cowlick kicked a thick clutch of hair to the side, giving him an innocent look.

Something about him was so captivating, intriguing, almost demanding of her attention. Was it the confidence he exuded in spite of his fear? Was it the way he filled the room with his strong, quiet presence? Or was it his undeniable good looks?

Eager to distract her thoughts, she looked away, noticing a long cane leaning in the corner. She hadn’t seen it there yesterday, but then with all of the commotion she easily could have missed it. “I see you have a cane?”

When he paused, she couldn’t miss the way he turned his head away from the object as though it were an offending image in his home. “Ben brought it by this morning.”

Her heart pulled tight. “Well, if you’re up to it, maybe the best use of our time today would be to help you get more comfortable around your home. We’ll count out steps between rooms and furniture—that sort of thing.”

Bowing his head, he fingered the edge of the mug. “So the walls and furniture don’t find me first?”

“Exactly.”

He raised his chin. “We might as well get it over with.”

Although resignation hung heavy in his voice, Katie could hardly believe he’d so readily agreed. She stared for a long moment, not quite sure how to take his cooperative agreement.

“You’re awfully quiet. Are you still there?” He traced his fingertips slowly over the table’s smooth surface.

Katie shook off her surprise, then pushed up from the table. “I’m sorry. I apologize if my mind is elsewhere this morning.”

Nodding, he rose from the table.

“We’ll begin at your front door, counting steps from there first. You can use the cane for—”

“For firewood, maybe.” He threw a scowl her way, then shuffled toward the door.

“Well, now, that’s not a very agreeable thing to say,” she threw back at him.

“That’s because I’m not feeling overly compliant, Miss Ellickson.” He leaned a shoulder against the door. “At least not as far as that thing goes.”

“Using that thing might prevent you from a mishap.” She perched her hands on her hips, surprised and strangely relieved at his show of stubbornness. “Back at the school we liken a cane to eyes. It will help you see where you’re going.”

He gave a sarcastic laugh. “Well, we’re not at the school and I don’t plan on being this way forever, thank you.”

Crossing her arms at her chest, she eyed him. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

Her heart squeezed at his insistence that things were going to change for him. She hoped, for his sake, they would.

He raised his chin the slightest bit. “So I’ve been told.”

“Then you can take my elbow, like we did yesterday. It’s the preferred way to navigate as opposed to holding one’s hand or being pushed along. But if you use the cane, as well,” she added, hoping to appeal to his greater sense of reason, “you’ll be able to tell what might be lying in your path.”

“No, thanks.” His curt response and the way his jaw tensed left her void of any argument.

“Why don’t you tell me about the layout of your home? Don’t be vague about where your furniture is located, so that you’ll have a clear picture in your mind.”

With a slow exhale, he made a detailed description, his tone reminiscent at times as he described his home to a T.

“Perfect. Now, try to relax and walk at a normal pace and I’ll match your stride.” When she gently guided his hand to her arm, a tingling warmed her skin. She fought to ignore the sensation, resolute in her desire to remain professional. “I’ll do the counting and make sure you don’t run into anything.”

He tensed beside her, his grip tightening slightly. “All right. But I’ll warn you that I’m a little shaky on this.”

“You’ll do fine. Trust your instincts. If you’re aware, you should be able to sense when something is in your way.”

Cautiously he took a step while she began counting. Then with each step following, his grip tightened as though she alone kept him from falling off a steep precipice. His hand trembled. His breathing grew shallow.

At eighteen steps and just inches from the back door, she stopped. “Now, use your hand that is outstretched to see how close you are.”

Perspiration beaded above his full lips. With one hand he clutched her arm, with the other he tentatively reached out, groping for the unseen. When his trembling fingers brushed against the wall, he exhaled a broken sigh.

Covering his hand at her elbow, her heart squeezed at seeing how much this had cost him. She peered up at Mr. Drake, taking in the stark change in his demeanor from just moments ago, when stubbornness waved like a proud battalion flag, to now, when raw fear weighed his shoulders and head down low.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Very well done. Your pace was just fine.”

He slid quivering fingers over his lips, then raised a fist to his bandaged eyes. “You’d think I could make it across the room without breaking a sweat,” he ground out. “I may as well have been scaling a mountain.”

“Don’t be discouraged.” She squeezed his hand. “It takes time getting used to all of this.”

“It’s my own home. I should be able to walk across the room without trembling in my boots.”

“You’re doing just fine—especially since you’ve only been up for a couple of days.” She turned to face him. “Taking everything into account, you’re doing very well.”

His face softened some, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. “You’re Little Miss Sunshine, aren’t you?”

A warm blush crept up her cheeks. She smiled at his comment, surprised once again by his congeniality. “Better that than gloomy.”

“Far as I can tell, you could never be accused of that,” he replied, his hands still trembling some.

“There’s a bright side to everything.”

“What could be positive about this?” He gestured to his bandaged eyes.

Hugging her arms to her chest, she stared at him, the way he wore frustration like an unwanted old coat, and desperation like an acquaintance of ill repute. “You’re right, Mr. Drake. Your injury is not something easily reckoned with. Not having your sight is certainly nothing short of difficult, and I’m sure you wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Even an enemy.” Katie tried to steady the quiver in her voice. “But even as uncertain as things are right now, you can focus on where you’ve been or on where you’re going.”

His lips formed a tight, distressed line. “I wish I could. But taking a step forward when I can’t see where I’m going…it scares me to death.”

At his admission, sadness rose within Katie. She was shocked at the tiniest crack he’d allowed into himself, an opening that gave a glimpse into his silent battle.

Threading her fingers together in front of her, she searched for the right words. “I know this isn’t easy. In fact, I’m not sure how I could face such a thing. If you don’t regain your sight, there’ll be challenges. It won’t be easy, but I promise you it will be rewarding.” Katie gathered a bit more boldness, then added, “And if you’ll allow me, I’ll be here beside you to help you find your way to the other side.”