A Basket Brigade Christmas (42 page)

“You pushed them into it.”

“So their behavior is also my fault?”

“Without your lies to them and to Mr. Folson …”

“I didn’t lie outright, it was more a sin of omission.”

“Zona.”

The glory of the day’s success dimmed. “What do you want me to do?”

“What
should
you do?”

One word sped front and center into her thoughts:
apologize.

She wanted to ignore it.

So she left the room.

“You hate when I’m right,” Mary Lou called after her.

Not as much as I hate when I’m wrong.

Zona lay on the bed, fully dressed. The room was dark but for the moonlight. She was disappointed Mary Lou hadn’t come to check on her. Didn’t
she
deserve an apology?

Do you?

Zona wrapped a pillow around her ears, trying to drown out the inner voice.

Suddenly she remembered another time she’d used a pillow in such a way, in another darkened room, in another town. Cardiff had left her behind. He hadn’t married her, hadn’t accepted her father’s offer to rise up in the printing company, hadn’t—

Given in to your wishes?

The fifteen years between the first childish reaction to disappointment and today’s forced her to sit up and toss the pillow across the room. “What’s wrong with me? Why do I always push to get my own way?”

Why do you always think your way is the best and only way?

Thoughts of Cardiff superseded the events of the day. She retrieved their old daguerreotype from the dressing table and took it to the window seat. The moon provided a gentle light, allowing her to study him—study them. What would have happened if she hadn’t been so willful and demanding? Would Cardiff still be with her? Would they be happily married in Chicago, with umpteen children underfoot?

A drastic thought burst forward and demanded a voice. “Did I upset God’s plan for us by insisting on my will over His?”

The notion that she’d upset some divine balance overwhelmed her, and tears fell. “I’m sorry for being so stubborn and spoiled. It’s my fault he left. If I’d been reasonable and allowed him to have a say in our future, we could have compromised. Losing Cardiff is the consequence I deserve.” She looked at the picture again. “I accept the life
I
have. It’s a good enough life. But Cardiff deserves the best. Please make sure he’s happy and well.”

Her thoughts turned to Johnny, Mr. Folson, Mrs. Collins, Seth, and all the other singers. “Thank You for Your mercy today. My humiliation could have been much worse if not for Pastor Davidson. Thank You for letting Johnny’s talent outshine the drama of my methods. Help me make amends.” She asked God the same question she’d asked Mary Lou. “What do You want me to do?”

The same answer entered her mind.
Apologize.

But this time, instead of running away from the directive, Zona embraced it. It was the least she could do.

C
ardiff was up with the dawn. After checking on Corporal Statler and renting a horse for the day, he began his journey into the past. His stomach was unsettled, though he wasn’t certain if the cause was excitement or trepidation. Today
could
change his life. To have such a possibility within his grasp was almost too heady to handle.

And so he decided to ease himself into the journey by riding past the house where he’d grown up. It wasn’t his family’s house but the house belonging to the family friends who’d taken him in when his parents died. It had looked old and tired then, but now seemed on its deathbed. The trees around it were overgrown and forlorn, yet people lived there, for a pair of boots sat on the front porch. It must have been freezing inside, as a large chunk was missing out of the small attic window.

The attic that used to be his.

He paused and let his memories rush back to that life that had been thrust upon him. The boy he was then and the man he was now seemed unrelated, like mere acquaintances. Yet if he let his thoughts return to the days before he was twelve, when his parents were alive, he found few memories at all—only fleeting images of being tucked in by his ma or poking the fire with his pa. The most vivid memories were of the fever that had killed them both, when he hid behind a dresser and listened to them fight for each breath.

He shucked that remembrance away and looked back at the attic. More substantial images came to mind. The Thompsons had five other children and made it known that keeping him was an imposition. That’s why he’d taken odd jobs during the day and cleaned the school after classes ended. He’d read the borrowed books by candlelight before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Alone as a child, alone as a man.

One situation was thrust upon him, the other created by choice. He chose to run away from Zona and marriage. That he soon had second thoughts and attempted to reconnect with her was pitiful and obviously too late. He should not have been surprised that her broken heart could not be mended by a few letters.

Then why are you trying to find her now?
The wounds of the past had scabbed over. If Cardiff persisted, the wounds could reopen and the pain could be awakened.

Unable to dissect the right course on his own, he bowed his head, aching for God’s direction.
Help me. Lead me.

Suddenly, his horse began to walk, past the house, down the street. Was this God’s answer?

He chose to believe it was, and as he made the acknowledgment, the burden in his heart lightened.

“To Zona’s?” he asked the air. “Stop me if it’s not what You want.”

But as Cardiff came to each intersection that led him closer and closer to Zona’s family home, he felt no pull to turn back or go another way. As the distance shortened, his confidence grew, and he actually found himself smiling. To see Zona again, whether she was married or not, filled him with a long-dormant anticipation. And hope.

When was the last time he’d felt either?

Turning into her neighborhood, he was glad to see the houses had been kept in good condition. Other than the trees being taller and grander, the essence of the stately neighborhood was intact.

And there it was. The house where Zona lived.

Lived now, or once lived?

That was the question whose answer would change everything. As Cardiff rode close, doubt returned, and he found himself gripping the reins as if the horse was at a full gallop rather than a slow walk. He wasn’t even certain how he wanted this day to play out. What if Zona came to the door with three children bouncing around her skirt? That’s what he expected.

But what if she came to the door with her elderly mother or father calling to her from the parlor, “Who is it, Zona?” What if she’d continued her life in this house where he’d left her, living year after year as a daughter and never a wife or mother? The thought of it stirred his innards while it also made him sad. For if she had never married, was he to blame? He remembered how important marriage and family were to her.

He stopped his horse in front of the house, trying to find the courage to dismount and knock on the door. Another prayer burst forward.
Please help me. Make this turn out as it should, as You have planned.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw the front curtain pulled to the side. A woman peered out then let it drop.

Zona?

If it was Zona, would she come out to greet him? Images of a romantic reunion slid through his thoughts, with Zona running into his arms, her words of timeless love muffled against the wool of his coat. He would hold her close, kiss her hair, call her darling, and all the years would fall away.

But no one came outside. The house remained as it was when he first saw it. Was she inside, panicked at his sudden appearance? Was she arguing with her husband either for or against speaking with Cardiff? Or had she gone on with her day, letting the wall that separated them grow thicker and taller, an impenetrable fortress keeping them apart?

Suddenly the door opened and a middle-aged man came out of the house. Cardiff’s horse shied at his approach, but Cardiff held his ground.

“What business have you here, sir? My wife noticed you peering at the house.”

“I apologize for causing you concern. My name is Dr. Kensington. I used to know the lady of the house.”

The man’s brows leaned toward the middle. “You know my wife?”

Cardiff knew he had to tread lightly. He didn’t want to cause Zona any domestic trouble. “I knew Zona fifteen years ago. I worked at her father’s printing company.”

The man expelled a breath, and his brows regained their usual position. “You speak of Zona Evans.”

“I do. I assure you my intentions are honorable. I am in the city working at the military hospital and wanted to pay my respects to an old friend. If you will express my greetings to your wife, then I’ll be on my way.”

“You are mistaken if you think my wife is Miss Evans. Her family moved away years ago. We’ve lived here over fourteen years.”

Relief collided with more questions. “Do you know where they went?”

“South, I believe. There was some relative who was ill?”

Cardiff remembered some grandparents in central Illinois but could not remember the name of the town. “What of the printing company?”

“It was sold, too, but I don’t know the details. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

The man turned toward the door as the wife came outside, a shawl around her shoulders. She stood on the front step.

“Morning, ma’am. Sorry if I spooked you.”

She nodded, and Cardiff knew it was time to go. But then he thought of one more question. “Do you remember if Zona was married when they sold and moved away?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” the man said.

“I remember,” said the wife. “I spoke to Mrs. Evans and the daughter while the men were negotiating the sale of the house. Zona was unmarried, and was in fact rather upset about some beau who’d left her.” She blinked once then stepped off the stoop. “Are you the man who broke her heart?”

“Maddie!” the husband said. “’Tis none of our business.”

“But he asked …” She gazed at Cardiff, awaiting his answer.

“I am that man.” He didn’t expand. “I never meant to hurt her.”

“Men never do.”

The husband took his wife’s arm and moved toward the door. She called out over her shoulder as he led her inside. “I hope you find her. It’s never too late for love.”

Her last word was spoken as the front door swung shut, leaving
love
hovering in the air between them.

But then confusion wrapped around the word. What about all the letters he’d sent to Zona, admitting how wrong he’d been, telling her he loved her? If she had a broken heart, it meant that
she
had still loved
him.

Could it be that the family moved before she received those letters? Could it be that fifteen years had come between them through a fluke of miscommunication?

Cardiff shivered at the thought and only then realized he was cold. A soft snow began to fall, and he could feel the muscles of his horse shift and tremble in an attempt to stay warm. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you home.”

Wherever that was.