Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (39 page)
“I’m sure He has a good plan.
Hic
. But I keep messing it up!”
“Philippians says, ‘He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”’
“It’ll take me
hic
at least that long
hic
before I’m not a disaster.”
“You don’t have to be perfect for God to love you.” He paused, then added softly, “I love you just as you are, too.”
“I know I’ve been
hic
a big bother.”
“You’ve been a bigger blessing.” He squeezed her hand. “Ruthie, do you get the hiccups when you’re especially nervous?”
She nodded.
“Then you can stop it, because there’s no reason for you to ever be nervous around me. Now I’m going to pray with you before you run off upstairs.”
Hic
. She groaned.
He chuckled and bowed his head. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’m lifting Ruth up to you right now. You created her in your image and she holds a special place in your heart. Father, touch her heart and soften the ache of her grief. Grant Ruth the reassurance that her mother cherished her exactly as she was. Show her what your will is for her future and teach her to be more patient with herself. Lord, she’s been so patient with Laney. Hold up a mirror to her and let her be equally patient as you continue your work in her life. We praise you and thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Ruth lifted her head. Her hairpins slipped free, and her golden hair spilled down. Tears streaked her flushed face, but her lips bowed upward. She’d never looked more beautiful.
“Thank you, Josh. No one has ever done that.”
“Get used to it.” He smiled and rose. “Good night, Ruthie.”
“Good night, Josh.”
It wasn’t until the door banged shut behind her that Josh realized she’d stopped hiccupping.
He sat in the parlor long after the girls went to bed. Toledo’s question kept nagging at him. What if Ruth wasn’t as clumsy as she seemed to be? Was it possible Laney’s assailant mistook her for Ruth? If that was the case, then Ruth’s mishaps might not be accidents. Someone could have planted that burr under her horse’s saddle. The outhouse door shouldn’t have fallen off the hinges. He’d personally reinforced the latch on the pigsty before the sow had her litter; someone had tampered with it.
“Can’t sleep?” Dad asked as he came outside.
“Hadn’t bothered to turn in yet. Suppose I ought to.”
“Thought I’d sit out here and enjoy a cigar. Hilda is finishing up in the kitchen. I reckon just about the time I’m done with my smoke, I’ll end the evening with a wedge of cherry pie.”
“You had two tarts this morning and pie after supper. I’ll have to send Hilda and the girls over to the O’Sullivans’ tomorrow in order to replace everything you’ve eaten.”
“No need. With me here, Laney is safe as can be.”
Laney might be, but I’m not sure Ruth is
. “Kelly O’Sullivan is teaching the girls how to make a braided rag rug. Since Ruth needs one for her room—” “She can buy a carpet. A fine Turkish one.”
“Dad, Ruth needs to be happy here, or she might take a mind to leave. She has her heart set on having that rug so it’ll match Laney’s. You know how they’ve started doing things together and want to be alike—sewing those matching riding skirts, for instance.”
Is it my imagination, or did Dad just go pale? Just before we went to help
Bayside foal, he said Ruth was a complication. There were a couple of times he
went into the other side of the stable. He could have been the one who hit Laney.
The way he was so shaken and drank all that whiskey could point toward his
feeling guilty
.
Rolling the cigar between his hands, Dad said, “I don’t want my women working.”
Exasperated by his father’s possessive manner, Josh said, “Dad, everyone knows the girls don’t have to work; they’re choosing to be productive instead of idle. Folks will consider that virtuous.”
“I’ll think on it.”
“Good night.” Josh went to his room. After reading the Bible, he prayed safety for Ruth and wisdom on how to handle the tangled mess with his father. As he placed his Bible back on the shelf, Alan’s old cigarette case caught his eye.
Alan enjoyed smoking—especially in the evening. And though Josh never smoked, Alan had bequeathed the case to him. Alan treasured the silver cigarette case, but Josh never knew why until Alan passed away. Inside the monogrammed case were etched,
To
Alan, all my love, Leticia
. Alan never mentioned Leticia, but the letter from Ruth’s mother made all of the pieces fall into place. He’d sent her away, but he never stopped loving her.
Josh opened the case. Half a dozen cigarettes rested inside, both ends twisted shut. The paper had yellowed, but the cigarettes brought back memories of Alan sitting in a chair by the window, smoke rising above him as he stared out at the land and listened as Josh read to him from the Scriptures each night before they retired. The last week of his life, Alan suddenly collapsed and went comatose, but Josh still read to him in hopes that he’d find spiritual comfort.
Josh touched one of the cigarettes. The paper crumbled, and finely chopped brown tobacco tumbled free. Mixed with it was another substance: a dull gray powder.
G
ood morning, good morning.” McCain entered the dining room and bent to kiss Laney on the cheek. He always did so, and Ruth found it charming. He turned and pressed one on her own cheek, and she let out a gasp.
Hilda set a bowl of scrambled eggs and a platter of ham on the table. “What got into you?”
“I got up on the right side of the bed,” McCain announced as he sat down and put his napkin in his lap. “Obviously, you got up on the wrong side.”
Hic
. Ruth grabbed for her teacup.
If I hurry up and drink, maybe—
HIC!
“Laney, it’s Ruth’s turn to ask the blessing.” Josh’s voice sounded too civilized. The gold shards in his eyes glittered. “Maybe you could take over.”
Laney immediately obliged. As soon as the prayer ended, McCain turned to Ruth. “My arm is bothering me today. Could I trouble you to serve me?”
“Here, Dad. Take my plate.” Josh hastily spooned a huge pile of scrambled eggs onto his own plate and exchanged it for his father’s.
Ruth took another gulp of tea.
“Josh tells me you admire Laney’s rag rug.”
“Mrs. O’Sullivan is teaching us how to make one, Daddy.” Laney took a dab of eggs and passed them to Ruth.
“That’s charming. Why don’t I ride over there today with you so you can show me what you’ve been doing?”
Thump
. The bowl of eggs landed on the table as Ruth let out another loud hiccup. She sprang to her feet. “Please excuse me.”
“Ruth—” McCain half rose and reached for her.
She evaded him and raced into the kitchen. As she made her exit, she could hear Josh saying, “Let her go.”
Yes, let me go!
Ruth practically collided with Hilda. Hilda promptly grabbed her by the arms and whisked her into the pantry.
“Girl,” Hilda whispered, “that old man is up to no good.”
Hic
“I was afraid of that,” Ruth said in a miserable tone.
“I got me an idea.”
“What?”
“How’s about you and me move out?”
“Where to?”
“Your daddy’s old place, that’s where. After breakfast, I’ll show it to you.”
Ruth threw her arms around Hilda. “Oh, thank you!”
“Now you go on back in there and pretend everything’s okay.”
“Ruth?” McCain had come into the kitchen.
Hic!
Ruth closed her eyes in horror.
So much for trying to hide or
get away from him
.
“I’ve got her in the pantry,” Hilda called out as she reached for a canister. “Once I put a spoonful of sugar on her tongue, she’ll be cured of these hiccups.”
“We have sugar on the table.” McCain stood in the doorway.
“I didn’t know
hic
about this cure.”
Hilda patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry. If the sugar doesn’t work, I’ll have you hang your head over the sink and drink out of the far rim of a china cup.”
“Thank you. Please, Mr. McCain,
hic
. Don’t let me keep you from your breakfast. I’ll feel
hic
dreadful, knowing I spoiled the meal.”
“I’ll just have her stay with me here in the kitchen.” Hilda steered Ruth past him. “I’ll pull a chair right beside the stove. Could be that you need to breathe warmer air. I’ll still see to it she has a bite to eat. Don’t you fret, Mr. McCain.”
“I’ve never in my life fretted.”
“Good, then.” Hilda turned her back on him and grinned at Ruth. “You, young lady, hold your breath as long as you can.”
McCain groused under his breath and went back into the dining room.
Hilda grimaced. “That man’s harder to shake than a deadly fever.”
“Can we send him to town to get something to treat my hiccups?”
Hilda perked up. “You bet! Let me think … we’ve got plenty of sugar here.” A sly smile tilted the housekeeper’s mouth. “Marmalade. Orange marmalade. He won’t go if I ask him, though.”
Ruth took a moment to gather up her nerve, then went to the doorway and timed opening the door just before her next hiccup. “Excuse me.”
Josh and his father both rose.
Ruth hiccupped again. Raising her hand to her mouth, she said, “I’m so sorry. Nothing’s stopping these. Hilda said may—
hic
—be orange marmalade would work.”
Josh grimaced. “After going to town yesterday, I’m overloaded today.”
Hic
. She slumped against the doorjamb and tried her hardest to look pitiful.
Hic
.
“Don’t you worry your pretty head, Ruthie. I’ll go.” McCain quickly shoveled in one last bite, then headed for the door.
An hour later, Ruth, Laney, and Hilda stood on the doorstep of a nearby cottage. “I noticed this place, but I thought it was another bunkhouse or something,” Ruth said.
Hilda opened the door. It creaked loudly. “The hinges need oil.”
Laney peeked inside. “That’s not all this place needs. It’s filthy!”
“A little dirt never killed nobody.” Hilda trundled on in.
Ruth walked around and nodded. “All cleaned up, this will work beautifully. Hilda, which room would you like?”
“That one on the east side’ll be good for me. Early mornin’ sun helps me wake up so’s I get breakfast on the stove. You take the bigger one.”
“Wait a minute!” Laney wheeled around and grabbed Ruth’s hand. “You can’t move!”
Ruth forced out a laugh. “Why do you think we came out here? Laney, I’ll be a stone’s throw away from you, and I’ll still come to the big house for meals.”
“You can’t. Why, look!” She swung her arm in a wide arc. “You don’t have a stick of furniture in the place.”
“You heard Mr. Farnsworth. My things should be arriving any day.” Ruth squeezed Laney’s hand. “Just think how much fun we’ll have decorating the place! I’ll expect you to come be my guest every other day.”
Laney’s lower lip trembled as she repeated, “Every other day?”
“Of course, silly! On the other days, I’ll come see you, or we’ll go visit the O’Sullivans!”
“I don’t think Josh or Daddy are going to approve of this.”
Hilda stood akimbo and gave Laney an exasperated look. “Child, if women waited for men to approve everything they did, the world would stop turning.”
Ruth sneezed. “The dust is thick as sin in here. I think tomorrow, after church, I’m going to ask Mrs. O’Sullivan if Colin and one of his friends can come douse it ceiling-to-floor with buckets of water. After it dries, they can whitewash the whole place, inside and out.”
“Now, that’s good thinkin’.” Hilda pursed her lips. “I confess, I always fancied yella houses. Think we could get tint for the paint so’s the outside looks cheery?”
“Oh, yes!” Laney swept her hand toward the windows. “Imagine sunny yellow or green gingham curtains over there. The place will be bright and welcoming.”
Getting Laney’s support proved easy; Ruth figured Josh would understand how she needed to get away from his father. She’d need his support trying to convince McCain, though. Supper was going to be a trial.