Mary Connealy (64 page)

G
race had married a crazy man, and that was that.

“How can you see to build this thing in the dark? Come down from there, Daniel.” The noises from on top of the house sped up. What was the man thinking?

The boys were all asleep, collapsed from exhaustion. They ate more and yelled more and, in general, just lived life as they always had—only more since they’d been building this house.

“I’ll be down as soon as I lash these logs into place. Don’t want them collapsing in a high wind.”

“Daniel, this is the most sheltered spot on the face of the earth, let alone on the 6R. And you’ve built this house solid as a rock. The wind is not going to blow the house down.”

“Until the roof is on, I’ll worry. But lashing the top of the walls to the crosspieces of the roof will brace her up.”

“Daniel Reeves, you get down here, or by all that’s holy, I will drag you off that wall by your ear.” She used her schoolmarm voice. “Now quit risking your fool neck by working in the pitch dark when you’re so tired.”

“It’s not that dark. The moon is high and the stars—”

“Daniel,” she barked. She really did bark. She was starting to sound like the coyotes that wandered these hills and howled at the moon. Since he was acting like a stubborn child and she was treating him like a stubborn child, she went ahead and added, “Don’t make me come up there.”

Her schoolteacher voice had made many a tough young man mind. True, it had never worked with the Reeves boys, but some almost as wild. She wondered if her tone would work on the biggest and, right now, wildest Reeves boy of all.

She heard Daniel grumbling as he climbed down. She had to force herself not to grin. He might see it and become mulish again and climb back on that roof. There was, after all, considerable moonlight.

She picked her way across what would one day be her front yard to meet him. Chunks of wood from Daniel’s notching and limbs from a thousand sword fights and shoot-outs lay scattered around the yard.

Daniel scampered down the corner of the house where the ends of the notched logs stuck out like interwoven fingers. He had to be worn to a nub from his hard work, and yet he seemed as strong and energetic as ever.

When he got to the bottom of the wall, she was waiting. “The house is—”

Daniel yelped like a scalded cat. He whirled to face her. “What are you doing here?” His eyes practically burned her skin.

“I just talked to you. Of course I’m here.” Grace crossed her arms over her chest. She chanted to herself,
Be brave
. She could handle anything with God at her side. She thought about reciting the Twentythird Psalm, but really, a cranky husband wasn’t exactly “the valley of the shadow of death.” Surely that wasn’t called for.

“Get to bed. I’ll be in after a bit.” He turned away from her.

She grabbed his elbow and pulled him around to face her. She was surprised she could stop him. He was, after all, huge. Over six feet to her five feet six, he outweighed her by sixty or seventy pounds, and his muscles felt like iron. She could feel the corded strength of him just by gripping his arm. His shining white hair caught the moonlight and glowed almost as if a halo had settled on his head. But Daniel was no angel. She could see the fire in his blue eyes even in the moonlight.

“Why are you so mad at me? What is wrong this time?”

“I’m not mad at you.” Daniel jerked free of her grip. She expected him to storm away, but he didn’t. He stood facing her, his shoulders heaving with temper and exertion and who knew what else.

“Well, that is just so obviously a lie that I can’t even believe you said it.” Grace stepped right up under his nose. “Are you mad because I wanted a house? Are you mad because John likes me a little?”

He probably was.
Be brave
. She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “Maybe you’re just mad because I’m
here
. I didn’t plan it, but I’m here now. I’m sorry if my presence inconveniences you. I’m sorry if I couldn’t be polite enough to die in the avalanche. I’m sorry if you’re stuck with me, but I’m stuck with you, too.” She poked him again.

“Stop that.” Daniel shoved her finger aside.

Her temper flared. He should stand there and take his poking like a man. “I’ll do exactly as I want. That’s what
you
do. You storm around and work yourself and the boys to death and ignore me or yell at me.” Poke.

It occurred to her that this might be her only chance to talk to Daniel about the way he worked the boys. But somehow that didn’t interest her at all. She dug her fingernail in a little the next time she poked him.

Daniel shoved her hand again. “Don’t touch me, Grace. Get out of here. Go to bed.”

“Not without you, Danny boy.” Poke. That really bothered him. Good.

His breath heaved faster, and he moved closer.

She could see the flushed cheeks and the narrow eyes that had locked onto hers. She felt a thrill of satisfaction that she could goad him like this. Now, she thought with a surge of power, she was being brave.

“You’re coming in, Daniel Reeves.”

He leaned down closer. “Get away from me. I’m not some tame dog to be kept on a chain.”

He was upset about the house. He blamed her for all his hard work. But they needed it, and that was the truth. She had no intention of letting him make her feel like this was her fault.

“I may have been the first one to talk about this house, but you know it had to be built. You don’t need to take your temper out on me.” She really needled him with her finger with the next poke.

Daniel’s huge, work-roughened fingers closed around her wrist. His voice sounded husky. “I told you to stop touching me, woman.”

“Why are you angry at me?” She jerked her hand loose and poked him again, even though she had the strangest feeling that he wasn’t angry anymore, and she wasn’t exactly angry anymore, either.

“I’m warning you.” He caught her hand again. This time when she pulled against him, he didn’t let go. He tugged her by her forearm until she bumped up against him.

“Answer me, then.” She poked him with her free left hand. “What is the matter with you?”

He caught her left hand. He pulled her closer. He leaned over her. “Why are women like this? Why do they torture a man? Dear God, why?”

Grace had a second to think Daniel didn’t sound angry at all. He sounded confused and desperate, and his question to God was a genuine prayer.

Then he lowered his head, and the stars and moon blinked out, hidden behind his burning eyes and his glowing halo of white hair.

She opened her mouth to demand he be nicer to her.

And he kissed her and pulled her hard against him and lowered her to the cold ground.

It was the nicest thing he’d ever done.

Grace awoke when she felt Daniel stir then stand and walk away from her. “Daniel?”

“Get out of here, Grace.” He strode into a shadowed corner of the house.

The moon had set, and clouds must have come in, because the stars were blotted out. She couldn’t see him in the dark interior of the roofless cabin. She saw him sink to the ground in a far corner and lean against the house’s log wall.

“Come back here, Daniel.” Slipping into her clothes, she wanted him to hold her again. She wanted to tell him she loved him. She wanted him to say it back.

“No.”

She saw barely visible motion from the corner, and she could make him out as he stood.

“No, I won’t come over there. Leave me alone.”

Grace’s heart clenched at the cruel rejection she heard in Daniel’s voice. Earlier he’d been gentle, loving as he helped her understand what it meant to be truly man and wife. Now all that tenderness had vanished in the dark.

As an orphan abandoned by her parents, then as the adopted daughter of a man who made a mockery of the word
father
, she’d had plenty of practice being rejected. She expected it. She hadn’t ever known much else. And now she found there were more ways to hurt. The pain of Daniel’s rejection sliced through her not-so-tough-after-all heart until she wondered if when she looked down at her chest, she’d be bleeding.

“Daniel, what’s the matter?” But she knew what the matter was. It was her. Something was missing in her. She wasn’t a woman anyone could love. Why hadn’t she realized that before and protected herself better?

“Get out of here, Grace.”

Her real parents, her adoptive father, her husband, her children—none of them wanted her.

Except John.

“Be brave.”

She didn’t think it. She wasn’t strong enough to think that right now. It had been a whisper on the wind that flowed inside her and all around.

John loved her. And Ike was a little nicer these days. She got an occasional smile out of Luke. And one night the cat had sat on her lap.

She turned to her husband in the open doorway of their half-built house. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to cut him as deeply as he’d cut her.

“Be brave.”

Again the still, small voice. Not her own. Not her thoughts.

God.

She didn’t hurl at him the awful words that came to her. True bravery wasn’t spiteful and petty. God wanted her to be brave. She knew the brave thing she’d say to him if she could: “Daniel, I love you.”

But she wasn’t that brave. And it might not even be true, because she hated him right now just as much as she loved him.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”
Now that verse seemed appropriate, because she felt as if she were dying inside.

The bravest thing she had the power to do right now was say, “I won’t bother you again. I’m sorry.”

She turned and left the cabin.

From behind her, Daniel’s anguished voice said softly, like a prayer, “I’m sorry, too. Dear God, I’m so sorry.”

Beth hung her cloak on the nail where it always went. Feeling just a touch shy, she waited while Mandy set down the lunch pail so they could go inside together. Miss Calhoun had been prickly, though kind underneath. Beth wanted to get off on the right foot with the new schoolmaster. She’d never had a man teacher before, but Ma had said it was normal enough.

She exchanged a glance with Mandy, and it helped to know her big sister had some jitters, too. They went through the little entry area into the classroom and headed straight for their seats. Her eyes widened at the old man who stood up front slapping a ruler in his hand. Wrinkles cut deep at the corners of his down-turned mouth in a way that told her Mr. Parrish spent far more time scowling than smiling.

Nervous, Beth settled silently in her desk and noticed Sally whispering to one of the two other students in her grade, a boy.

“Sally.” Beth kept her voice to a whisper even though several children were talking in normal voices.

“What?” Clutched against Sally’s chest was the slate that Ma always sent from home.

“Sit down and be quiet,” Beth hissed then glanced up at Mr. Parrish. He was staring straight at Sally, and his scowl had deepened.

Sally looked at the new teacher. A furrow appeared between Sally’s brows at Parrish’s glare. She fell silent and settled into her seat. The other children were soon settled and silent.

“My name is Master Parrish. You will remember that.” He slapped the ruler against his hand. Beth’s spine straightened almost instinctively. Her feet flattened on the floor. Her eyes were fixed on the teacher.

“My rules are behave, be quiet, be warned.” He slapped the ruler with each rule. “No second chance will be given. Behave—I expect my rules to be followed instantly and completely or you will be punished. Be quiet—you are silent from the moment you’re called back into class unless called on. That means the silence begins on the playground when I ring the bell. Be warned—this is your first and only warning. You will be punished for disobedience immediately. I assure you I have discussed my rules with your parents, and they assure me that they want order as much as I do. This school was run in complete disorder with your last teacher.”

Beth had to admit that was the truth, but only when the Reeves boys were here. No one could make them behave. With a flash of loyalty to poor Miss Calhoun, Beth remembered how well the school had run before the Reeves. She wanted to defend her former teacher, but one look into Mr. Parrish’s eyes scared her out of any thought of speaking up.