Читать книгу Rocky Mountain Match - Pamela Nissen - Страница 11

Was she friend or foe?

That question reverberated through Joseph’s mind as he sank deeper into the chair across from where Miss Ellickson sat on the sofa. The faintest scent of lilies, pleasing and natural, drifted from her direction and he took a long, measured breath.

Since meeting her this morning, he’d been cross. He didn’t want her here, but felt trapped because his brother had set things up in such a clever way that Joseph wouldn’t have a choice but to slap his jaws shut and suffer through.

He’d entertained illusions of the woman taking off like a scared rabbit. Instead, she’d seemingly marked her territory and called him to climb this uphill battle—and he never backed down from a challenge.

He could hardly blame her if she’d chosen to leave because he wasn’t exactly Boulder’s idea of a welcoming committee. He was sour, indifferent and unfriendly, and he knew it.

Reaching down next to his chair, he found Boone’s head, soft and furry beneath his touch. He gently stroked the dog’s thick coat, acutely aware of Miss Ellickson’s presence.

Rivers of wounded pride coursed through his veins at his predicament. This woman may have come highly recommended and be competent, but she couldn’t give him what he wanted most… His vision.

Slumping deeper into the cushioned chair, he pressed the pads of his fingers over his bandaged eyes, something he often did hoping the pressure would somehow produce a change. He’d do most anything if it meant regaining his sight, but nothing seemed to make a difference. Strong will and hard work had always been his friends, but now it was as if they were bound on the sidelines while he stood alone in the midst of a raging battle.

Joseph held out hope that in two weeks, when he’d travel to see the doctor in Denver, he’d find more encouraging news. If so, he’d never take another day of blessed sight for granted.

Raking his fingers through his thick hair, he shifted uncomfortably in the chair, knowing that until then, this woman would witness each humiliating attempt to do things right.

Would she laugh? Turn away in embarrassment? Pity him?

He loathed not seeing! And was determined not to be a burden. But remembering how meager tasks such as dressing or walking through his own house took every bit of concentration he could amass, he wondered if things would ever come easy.

“Yoo-hoo…Joseph?” Julia Cranston’s high-pitched voice jerked him from his thoughts as the front door creaked open. “Are you home?”

Joseph briefly recalled the day of his accident when Aaron had found another love note from Julia at the door. She’d sealed it with red wax.

“Kinda bold, don’t ya think?” Aaron had jibed.

Joseph had glanced warily at the heart-shaped seal. He’d gone on a few innocent outings with Julia, but had no plans to go running down the aisle yet.

“Whatcha’ waitin’ for?” Aaron had asked. “If you’re holdin’ off till all your ducks are lined up, you’d better get movin’ fast or they’re gonna go line up in somebody else’s pond.”

At the time he’d thought little of Aaron’s prodding, figuring he had plenty of time to set in place that part of his life. But just minutes later his whole life had changed. A single moment, a careless movement on a ladder, had altered his entire life. Now he could only hope that God would answer the barrage of petitions he’d made for healing.

Hearing the door rattle again, he realized that Julia hadn’t visited for a week. Now that he was up from bed rest, he felt acutely aware of his inadequacy because a woman like Julia, delicately beautiful and refined, was used to being pampered. She’d sat by his bedside a few days since his accident, spending most of her time relating the latest news of Boulder’s upper crust, rarely inquiring about his injury.

“Come on in.” He stood and struggled for balance.

“Oh, there you are! I’m so glad to see you up,” Julia crooned as she beelined toward him, her skirts swishing and heels clicking across the wood floor.

The overwhelming powdery perfume she wore preceded her in a thick cloud, triggering the sudden need to sneeze. He raised a hand to his nose and warded it off as her light footsteps came to an abrupt stop in front of him.

“I—I thought you were going to be through with those silly old bandages,” she bleated, her excitement suddenly deflated.

He could almost feel her piercing hazel gaze bearing down on him. “Ben put new ones on to give my eyes more time.”

“More time? Whatever for? You said that you were going to be as good as new when those awful wraps came off.”

He swallowed hard. “My eyes need more time to heal.”

Julia gave an exaggerated whimper. “Well, that ruins positively everything! I had a very special surprise for you today, but now you won’t even be able to see it.”

“What was the surprise?” he asked, his jaw clenched tight.

“My dress, of course.” Stiff fabric rustled at her touch. “I just came from the dressmaker’s and I was going to surprise you. Daddy insisted I have a new dress made for the Glory Days celebration in a few weeks. It’s simply the most beautiful cobalt-blue taffeta you’ve ever seen,” she announced. After another long whimper she added, “Now you can’t even see it to tell me how stunning I look.”

Miss Ellickson cleared her throat from the sofa.

“Why, Joseph!” Julia perched a hand on his forearm. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Julia Cranston, this is Miss Ellickson.” He felt Julia stiffen, as though some invisible rod just shot up her back.

“Good morning, Miss Cranston,” his teacher said.

Julia threaded an arm through his. “Miss Ellickson, you say? I don’t recall the name from around here.”

He could only imagine the confused look on her face. Even though her family had arrived just months ago from Boston, she was already familiar with everyone within twenty square miles.

“You must be new to the area,” Julia finally conceded.

“I arrived just Saturday,” Miss Ellickson answered stiffly.

“Miss Ellickson is here from Iowa. Ben sent for her to—to carry out some training I may need.” The admission needled him.

“Whatever would you need training for, Joseph?” Julia sidled closer, her voice rising in pitch. “Uncle Edward says you’re the finest craftsman this side of the Rockies.”

He sighed. “Not training in carpentry. Training in case my sight doesn’t return—right away.” Or at all, he thought, the very prospect making his stomach churn.

“This certainly is a shock!” She hesitated, then patted his hand. “Well, you poor thing, Joseph, looking pitiful in those wraps the way you do. Maybe you should be back in bed?”

He winced at her choice of words. He didn’t want to be pitied. “I’m fine. Really. What brings you here, anyway?”

“I stopped by the shop thinking, of course, that you’d be there working your little heart out after being in bed for so long.” Her voice was loud enough to call in cattle. “You can imagine my surprise when Aaron said you were still at home.”

“My eyes are bandaged, not my ears.” He dug his fingers into the chair’s thick stuffing. “I can hear you just fine.”

“Of course. As I was saying,” she continued, the pitch of her voice showing no noticeable change. “I brought you a most wonderful meal. I’m quite certain you’ll be very pleased.”

A tantalizing aroma wafted to his senses, penetrating the cloud of perfume. He tried not to show his surprise at her sudden display of domestic prowess. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Well, I…not exactly. But I gave Cook very specific instructions. She absolutely puts me to shame, Joseph,” she simpered, then whisked out of the front room toward the kitchen. “I am simply dreadful in the kitchen.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You probably do a fine job,” he called after her, but remembering the sawdust taste of the cookies she’d made last week, he was pretty sure that wasn’t true.

“You’re a dear to say so. But I dare say that I won’t be winning any first-place ribbons in the pie-baking contest at the town celebration.” Julia’s high-pitched laughter shot through his house like bolts of lightning. “Come and eat, Joseph.”

Vile fear wrapped around him when the almost twenty feet he had to go suddenly felt more like a mile. Perspiration beaded his forehead and a slow trembling coursed through his body like deadly venom. His pulse pounded in his head, throwing off his concentration. He gritted his teeth. Drew in a shuddering breath. Just as he started forward with his hands outstretched, he felt a light touch on his arm.

“Mr. Drake,” Miss Ellickson whispered beside him as she gently guided his hand to her elbow. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to the table?”

He jerked his head down to her, ready to refuse. But the overwhelming relief he felt as she led him with steady measured steps to the kitchen brought his protest up short.

“You must be positively famished,” Julia gushed.

When Miss Ellickson placed his hand on the back of a dining chair, he whispered, “Thanks.”

Bracing his hands on the chair, he willed the trembling to stop. “So, what do we have here?”

Over a deep sigh, he could hear Boone’s lumbering gait coming toward him. Joseph could just see the dog throwing his tail lazily from side to side as he swaggered across the room.

“Oh no, Joseph! Are you going to let that horrid animal sit here while you eat? God only knows where she’s been.” No doubt Julia’s pink lips were pursed tight, her small nose wrinkled in disgust. She never did like Boone and wasn’t shy about saying so. “I don’t see how you can stand having Bongo in your house like you do.”

“Boone,” he corrected, irritated that she could never seem to get his dog’s name right. “And ‘she’s’ a ‘he.’”

“Boone, Bongo, he, she…it matters not to me. The beast is just so uncouth. Mother would surely faint if she could see it in your house. Why, that creature is nearly a horse.”

“He’s a dog, and he’s fine. He minds his manners.”

Lowering himself to the long trestle table, he trailed his fingers along the sturdy walnut’s smooth finish, remembering when he’d crafted the piece. He’d built it, eager for the day when his wife and children would be seated here with him.

Julia clanged silverware against a plate, jerking him out of his reverie and invoking a fast-building sense of dread. That anxiety multiplied by ten as he realized that this would be the first time since his accident that he’d sat down for a meal.

“Everything is all set for you, Joseph. You can eat now.”

He swallowed hard. Clenching his fists in his lap, he wondered what everything was…pork and beans, soup, chicken? He had no idea what she’d laid out or where it was located on the table. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow, his pulse pounded a deafening rhythm in his head.

“I wasn’t planning on joining you, but maybe—”

“No, that’s not necessary,” he quickly cut in.

“Honestly, I did have plans to have tea with Colleen Teller, the senator’s daughter,” she twittered. “Of course, I’d have to go home and change. It would simply be unacceptable if she were to see me wearing my new dress today and then again for the celebration. Don’t you think?”

He offered a hearty nod, thankful she had other plans.

“Well, then, by all means let me see you out, Miss Cranston. You won’t want to be late,” Miss Ellickson clipped off.

“That’s completely unnecessary. I can see myself out.” Julia clutched his hand and leaned closer, her perfume nearly choking him. “Maybe I should stay. What do you think, Joseph?” A whine of regret laced her whispered words. “I suppose I could reschedule with Colleen. Her agenda is busy, but I’m sure—”

“Please, go. Have your lunch with Colleen. I’d rather eat alone.” He braced his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Miss Ellickson, you can take a dinner break, too. There’s a good diner just down the road—have them put your bill on my tab.”

“I’ll be joining you here. Thank you all the same,” she responded quietly.

Julia’s sharp intake of breath wasn’t lost on Joseph. She grasped his shoulder. “Miss…Miss Ellington—”

“Ellickson.” Joseph shook his head.

Her nails bit into his flesh. “Miss Ellickson, perhaps you didn’t hear Joseph. He said he’d rather dine alone. If you—”

“Julia, I can handle this,” he ground out, disgusted at her steely tone. Although he’d taken her on a few outings in the past two months, he didn’t fancy being treated like some possession of hers. “Miss Ellickson, you’re probably in need of a break. I’m sure I can handle it on my own.”

“I can understand your hesitance, Mr. Drake. Believe me, I do.” Her voice trembled.

Tension chorded his body as he wondered why everyone couldn’t just let him make his own decisions. If he wanted to eat alone, shouldn’t he be afforded that one small courtesy?

“I’m sorry.” Miss Ellickson’s voice was soft and even, coming from the chair to his left. “But I’m here to—to teach you. Not to coddle you.”

Julia withdrew her hand from his shoulder, mumbling as her booted heels clicked loudly across the floor. When she slammed a plate down on the table, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He swallowed hard, trying to control his mounting frustration. “I didn’t ask you to coddle me, Miss Ellickson.”

With a harrumph, Julia plopped down in a chair across the table from him. “Oh for goodness’s—”

“You’ve made that quite clear,” Miss Ellickson continued as if oblivious to Julia’s presence. “But as with all my students, I’m here to instruct you in how to get along on your own, and that’s what I’m going to do—starting with dinner.”

“Joseph has been eating dinner for twenty-seven years, Miss Eberhard,” Julia informed on a nervous laugh. He could hear her dishing something onto her plate. “He can get along just fine. Can’t you, Joseph?”

“Just drop the subject.” He grasped at his fading calm.

“Fine, I see the way of things.” Julia gave her napkin a swift snap and a puff of air fluffed over to him. “You have never had a problem doing things on your own,” she reminded him, the shrill sound of her voice contrasting sharply with the delicate chorus of birds outside. “I realize that when you were laid up flat on your back you needed assistance. But now—”

“But now, with these bandages on, I still can’t see.” Raising his focus to where she sat directly across from him, he wished he could see, but he couldn’t even open his eyes through the thick bandages. “And there’s a slim chance that my vision might not be what it was.”

He swallowed against the admission. If his sight didn’t fully return, he’d have to find independence as soon as possible or he’d never be able to stomach himself.

“Oh, Joseph, don’t be silly. You’re going to be fine,” Julia dismissed, then took a bite of something that crunched.

Awkwardness flooded his resolve. He could hear Miss Ellickson arranging things on the table, even dishing items onto his plate while he sat rigid as a board, every muscle in his body stiff and unyielding to the internal cry to relax. All he wanted was to be left alone, but Julia was being unusually possessive and Miss Ellickson was intent on doing her job.

A job he didn’t even hire her to do!

“Your plate is in front of you,” Miss Ellickson began, her voice low and measured. “Now, like numbers on a clock face, there’s a thick wheat roll at nine o’clock, mashed potatoes at twelve o’clock, cooked carrots at three o’clock and roast at six o’clock. If you’ll raise your hands to feel for your plate,” she directed, pausing as if waiting for him to follow her lead, but he couldn’t seem to move his hands from where they were tightly fisted in his lap. “You’ll find your fork to the left of your plate, spoon and knife on your napkin to the right. And your glass of grape juice is about three inches to the right of your plate, at two o’clock.”

From across the table, Julia’s sharp scrutiny bore down on him like a locomotive. He tried to ignore it. The aroma rising from the food normally would’ve made his mouth water, but instead his stomach churned. His discomfort could reach a swift end if he insisted they leave, but at this point he was too stubborn to give in.

“Shall we give thanks?” Miss Ellickson asked.

The distinct air of vulnerability in her voice pricked Joseph’s heart, but he quickly brushed it aside as though it were a pesky bug. In spite of his surging anger, he bowed his head as Julia’s utensils clanked to silence against her plate. Truth be told, over the past weeks he’d spent more time telling God what to do than talking with Him or thanking Him. Had God heard his plea for healing? Or had He passed him by for good?

On a long sigh, he began to pray. “Lord, thank You for this meal. Bless the hands that prepared it.” Remembering his sister-in-law’s tenuous health and the certain stress Aaron had to be under, he added, “And be with Ellie and the baby. Keep them safe.”

“Amen,” Miss Ellickson whispered after a long pause.

With a curt nod, he sat in the offending darkness, trying to ignore the daunting insecurity as he struggled for self-control. Pulling his sagging shoulders back, he braced himself, unwilling to look like a helpless excuse for a man—especially in front of Julia.

Crisp, metallic sounds from her silverware sounded against her plate. She hadn’t uttered one word in the past moments, but he knew she must be closely monitoring his every move. Her sharp inspection pierced like tiny shards of glass.

Could he do this? With his head bowed, Joseph tried to picture the things set before him. He slowly slid his hands up to the table, probing for his knife and fork. Once he’d located his utensils, he raised them to the plate.

“Now, when you’ve located your fork and knife—”

“I’ve eaten without help in the past, Miss Ellickson,” he cut in, knowing even as the words formed on his lips that he should just swallow his pride. “And I can do it now.”

Joseph fought to still his trembling hands. As he made a stab for the meat to cut it, the supple chunk seemed to dodge his effort, sliding away from him. His fork fell from his grasp, clanking loudly against his plate.

He couldn’t miss the small gasp Julia gave. “Oh, no, Joseph, you dropped your fork,” she announced loudly.

“Really?” Fumbling for his fork, he put it to the plate again while inside tremors of fury thundered. When he couldn’t locate the piece of meat with his utensils, his agitation increased.

“Here you are, Mr. Drake. The roast is back on your plate,” his teacher spoke evenly.

The roast had flown off his plate?

Steeling himself, he struggled to gather his composure as he repositioned his fork toward the carrots. With intense focus, he tried to recall where she’d said they were—three o’clock or ten o’clock? Framing one side of the plate with a hand, he set his fork to the plate, succinctly stabbing one long spear and cutting it in two. A small sigh of relief passed his lips as he opened wide and directed the carrot in. It brushed his lips, tumbled down his shirt, then fell to the floor with a moist thud.

He gritted his teeth as Boone immediately shifted across the floor and sniffed at the vegetable. Joseph’s breathing came heavy, labored. The loud rushing in his ears grew almost deafening.

“It’s all right.” Miss Ellickson’s tone was low and even.

He slammed his fist on the table to ward her off. He would do this alone or drown in a pool of humiliation.

“If you’ll put your fork to the plate,” she offered, forced patience lacing her words, “and first gauge where the food—”

“I will do it!” Joseph interrupted angrily, acutely aware that not one morsel of food had made it to his mouth yet.

Humiliation ricocheted in his mind like a shotgun blast in an underground cavern. Groping for his knife, his hand careened into his glass of grape juice. It tipped, the glass clinking on the solid wood.

“Oh, my new dress!” Julia yowled, her chair scraping away from the table. “My beautiful new dress! It’s ruined!”

Joseph sucked in a shaky breath. He stood, knocking his chair over with the back of his legs and sending Boone scurrying away, toenails scratching across the floor as the loud crash reverberated throughout the house.

Hearing the frantic sound of Julia wiping at her garment, Joseph brought his hands to his head, threading trembling fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he forced on a broken breath.

“Please don’t worry, Mr. Drake. Accidents happen,” Miss Ellickson responded quietly as she rose and crossed to the sink. “I’ll get it cleaned up.”

He drew quivering fingertips over the bandages covering his eyes, failure’s evil taunt screaming through his thoughts. He was sickened at his stubborn pride. Balling his fists firmly at his sides, he clenched his teeth tight. Even if he couldn’t see, he should be able to make it through a meal.

Simple things were now difficult. Difficult things, seemingly impossible. When he’d been released from bed rest, he thought he’d feel more comfortable, more capable. Instead, he felt more like a prisoner than a free man.

He jerked suddenly at Miss Ellickson’s light touch on his arm. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wondered what you’d like for me to do?”

Julia huffed. “Isn’t it obvious that you’ve already done quite enough? Just look at the mess he’s made,” she hissed. “Poor Joseph obviously isn’t ready for this. I’m certain that you can’t be doing him a bit of good by pushing—”

“Stop!” he growled. “Just leave, now.”

A moment of crushing silence was followed by the whoosh of Julia’s skirts as she walked toward the front door. “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” she spat, her voice laden with unveiled disgust as she stormed out, slamming the front door behind her.

“Mr. Drake? I’m terribly sorry about all of that.” Miss Ellickson slid her hand off his arm. “I’ll understand if you want to call it a day.”

Tilting his head down toward her, he wished he could see her. He just wanted one glimpse. From the moment they’d met this morning, she’d seen him at his worst, with behavior he didn’t even know he was capable of. She’d taken his rude, unyielding responses with a stiff upper lip. Why? Who was this woman who would sacrifice her own comfort and willingly endure the ugliest part of him?