Читать книгу The Winter Pearl - Molly Bull Noble - Страница 11

Late-afternoon shadows darkened the cream-colored walls of Honor’s bedroom. She barely noticed. Turning on her side to examine Jeth’s face, she struggled to keep the heavy, brown and rose-colored patchwork quilt over her shoulders. The wood-burning stove wasn’t lit, but she felt warm and safe under the covers.

Again, Jeth sat in the chair by her bed. His dark, curly hair looked thick and shiny. Lights flickered in his blue eyes.

Honor owed Jeth and his mother a huge debt of gratitude for finding her on the road when they did. However, she still hoped to leave as soon as possible. Next time she wouldn’t write a letter revealing her plans. Nor did she intend to give any information about her past.

Jeth leaned forward as if he had something important to say. “Are you all right, Miss McCall?”

He placed his hand on her forehead as he’d done before, and she felt his rough fingers.

“You don’t have a fever, ma’am. I sure am glad.”

She thought he looked a little flustered as he removed his hand. Had touching her face embarrassed him?

“Mama said you haven’t been sleeping well—that before you really came to yourself, you tossed and turned a lot. Once she heard you scream like you’d just had a bad dream. As a pastor, I would like to help, if I can. Is something bothering you?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she lied. “But what happened on the stagecoach was frightening. The dreams are probably the result of that, don’t you think?”

“That’s possible, of course.”

He cocked his head, and she wondered if he truly believed her explanations. Or did he know her for the thief and liar she actually was?

“Would you like me to send a message to your uncle so he’ll know what happened to you?” he asked. “I think it might help.”

“My uncle?” Honor stiffened. “No! Don’t write him!”

She thought his steady gaze had a skeptical edge to it, and she immediately regretted her response. It had been too emotional, too strong. She should have spoken more calmly, given logical answers. Forcing a smile, Honor tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I would rather you not tell my uncle about the stage robbery or where I am,” she said softly, at last.

“Why not?”

She quickly searched her mind for an answer, a lie. “We quarreled and shouldn’t see each other for a while.”

“Very well.” Jeth frowned. “But you should know that I disagree with you. I think you should contact your uncle as soon as possible.” A skeptical expression remained on his face. “Nevertheless, I will honor your wishes.”

Her problems with her uncle went far beyond a mere quarrel. Still, it would be too embarrassing if churchgoing people like Jeth and his mother knew the real reasons she never wanted to see Lucas again. Not only would it hurt to admit that Lucas was an evil man, but also Honor didn’t want the Peters to know about her sins.

“Do you have any other relatives who I might contact?” Jeth placed his elbow on the arm of his chair and propped his chin in his hand. “Like a mother and a father?”

“My parents were missionaries living in Mexico when they died of a fever. I was too young to remember them. My two older brothers died when my parents did. My aunt and grandmother were the only relatives I had.”

He grew silent, but an expression that Honor identified as concern seemed to soften his eyes. Had her words affected him, perhaps more deeply than she could comprehend?

“It couldn’t have been easy growing up without parents.”

“No,” she said, “it wasn’t.”

His face looked tight and pinched, and he folded his hands loosely between his knees. “I never knew my father. He died soon after I was born. But at least I have a mother.”

“I had an aunt.” She looked away from Jeth. “Until now.”

In spite of a harsh life at the hands of her uncle, memories of her aunt’s humor and warmth filled her mind. She never knew how Aunt Harriet managed to rise above all her troubles, but she always did.

As more happy memories rose, Honor looked up at Jeth and smiled. “She told me things about my parents I’ll treasure forever.”

All at once, Honor had the desire to share some of those treasures with Jeth. “My aunt said my father called me his little Rose of Sharon, and sometimes Aunt Harriet did, too.”

Jeth had been gazing down at his black boots, but at her words he looked up into Honor’s eyes and smiled. “Rose of Sharon,” he repeated. “Why would they call you that?”

“My mother’s name was Sharon, and my middle name is Rose. For them, it might have seemed right to call me by that name.” She smiled. “The Rose of Sharon part could also have come about because one set of my grandparents was from Scotland. Rose sounds Celtic, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know, but you certainly have a Scottish look about you.”

Honor blinked. “Do I?”

He grinned. “With all that long auburn hair and those honey-brown eyes, I would say so. Rose of Sharon is the name of a flower that grows in Mama’s garden. But did you know the Rose of Sharon is also mentioned in the Bible?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“The term is found in the first verse of the second chapter of Song of Solomon.”

“I don’t know much about the Bible.”

He glanced down at his boots again. “I see.”

“But if it’s there, I guess that explains where the name came from.” She wondered if he was surprised to learn that she wasn’t a Bible scholar? Could it be that he was disturbed to realize she wasn’t a churchgoer, either? He should have guessed how things were at her home by what Lucas had said and done at the cemetery.

“As I said, my parents were missionaries,” she continued. “Aunt Harriet said the Good Book was very important to them.”

The young pastor seemed to have disappeared into another void of silence. Had she revealed more than she should?

At last, Jeth looked up again. He smiled, but to Honor his expression seemed counterfeit.

“Mama and I have been talking,” he said. “We would like to offer you employment.”

Employment? Honor was shocked. Who would want to hire her to do anything? She started to sit up, then remembered the importance of modesty and slipped under the covers once more. “Why me?” she asked.