Spirit of the Valley (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

Lizzie swatted at an insect that buzzed near her ear and then went back to pruning the vines. She'd walked the children over to Cessie and April May's this morning, determined to begin reclaiming the vines, and she'd been at it all day. The books on wine making stated fall was the time to plant. “It'd be nice if you'd guide me,” she murmured. “Don't let me tear out anything I shouldn't.”

Not only was it easy to imagine Lionel with her, it was a comfort. Today he would have brought a chair, two glasses, and a bottle of wine. He would have worn a big-brimmed hat and supervised in his witty, almost cavalier manner. He'd possessed wisdom and humor, intelligence and humility. She knew this. She also knew that he was pleased she was there. How, exactly, she had come to possess this knowledge, she didn't fully understand, but she knew it in her heart.

She couldn't dally too much longer, because she needed to get cleaned up and join the others for dinner. Jeremy had sent a note to let her know he was taking a young friend from the mine to dinner and that he would be coming over later. She couldn't wait to see him. In fact, her senses suddenly and overwhelmingly flooded. She blew out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest, aching with desire. Never had she experienced anything like what he made her feel. Many years ago, Ethan had seemed a good man and a sensible choice, and her father had approved of him, but her husband had never made her feel special or sensual or beautiful, the way Jeremy did.

As it turned out, Ethan had not proved to be either a good man or a sensible choice, but she'd made her bed by marrying him. It would have probably remained that way, despite her fantasies of escaping, except that he'd hit Jake. That one blow meant that he could no longer be trusted not to hurt their children.

She would never forget the memory of that night and the way Jake had cowered on the floor after being knocked down. Horrified, she'd rushed toward him as Ethan reared back to hit her. For some reason, he'd refrained that time. Instead, he'd spewed vile words and stormed from the house. She'd pulled Jake into her arms, rocked him, and cried. Hating Ethan. Hating herself. Rebecca had joined them on the floor, the three of them hurting. Frightened. Crying.

When the tears finally stopped and the self-hatred abated, a cold, bitter finality set in. She put the children to bed and went to her hiding place, a loose floorboard in the keeping room. She withdrew and counted the money she'd secretly squirreled away for the last seven-and-a-half years. Ethan was so tight-fisted; she'd borne many blows because of occasionally overspending. Of course, never once had she actually overspent. She'd simply claimed she had in order to save. Kneeling in the keeping room, she'd felt sick to her stomach, wondering how they'd be able to begin a new life with just over seventy dollars to their names.

But you did it
, she imagined Lionel saying as he raised his glass to her.

I couldn't have without you
, she thought.

She stood and stretched. “It still seems like a dream sometimes.”

But it's not,
he reminded her. The thought made her smile as she started back for the house, removing her work gloves as she went.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jeremy and Timmy Wayne walked together back to Jeremy's two-room shack amidst the other cheaply constructed, wooden, tin-roofed shacks rented to miners and their families. Company-owned housing for miners was known as a patch and, in this patch, the rows of houses looked pretty much alike. Most had two bedrooms and a kitchen. In the backyard were privies, sheds, and clotheslines. Inside was as stark and plain as the outside. The floors were wooden, the walls unadorned. The kitchens had a small table with crudely made chairs or benches, a coal stove, and a cupboard. They were lit by oil lamps and there was no running water.

Jeremy's house was on the outer row, the last row built. Most houses lined a dirt road and faced other homes, but his row faced outward, toward the mine. Their small backyards abutted other backyards. The separateness hadn't bothered Jeremy, but, looking around, Timmy Wayne found it strange. “But at least,” the boy said, “you got it all to yourself. We sleep four to a bed.”

While Jeremy washed up and changed his clothes, Timmy Wayne hurried home to do the same. When he returned, a three-legged dog trailed behind. “Stay, Tripod,” Timmy commanded.

“I didn't know you had a dog,” Jeremy commented.

“Ain't my dog. He just likes me. It ain't nobody's dog, poor thing. Look how skinny it is.”

Which was true, although the light brown mutt had a sweet face. He'd wanted to find a dog for Jake, but this wasn't what he'd had in mind. Still, the dog had obeyed Timmy's command. Jeremy squatted and called to the dog and he came, although more reticent than exuberant.

“He's kind of skittish,” Timmy Wayne said, bending down to pet the dog on the opposite side. “He's had some rough treatment. You can tell.”

“Doesn't belong to anybody, huh?”

“No. You should take him. He's a good dog, 'cept he don't never bark.”

That was two strikes against the mutt, except that Jeremy already felt a fondness for the pathetic pooch with the adorable face. Maybe it was the attachment of one stray to another, or maybe it was that he loathed the thought of anyone mistreating a helpless animal. He didn't know how Tripod had lost the leg, but he'd been hurt by another dog. He could see scars from teeth on his muzzle and there was some bad scarring on his head and the back of his neck. “Who named him Tripod?”

“That's just what I call him on account of him having three legs.”

Jeremy stood. “I know a little boy who might like him.”

Timmy Wayne stood, too. “It would be good for Tripod to have a home and regular food to eat. I ain't been able to give him much.”

Jeremy nodded and then shrugged. “We'll see if he'll follow. Then we'll just see.”

“Oh, he'll follow.”

After dinner at Wiley's, a meal that Timmy Wayne had proclaimed to be the best he'd ever “et,” Timmy went back home, while Jeremy started toward the livery for his horse. The dog seemed torn, but stayed with Jeremy when beckoned. Of course, he'd been fed plenty of scraps from the restaurant, probably the best meal the dog had ever “et.” Jeremy hoped Jake and Rebecca would take to him, because, one way or the other, he couldn't very well turn his back on the creature now.

He passed the Blue farm, which glowed from lights within. The smoke curling from the chimney was a cozy sight that made Jeremy anxious to reach the cottage. At the sound of barking, he looked and saw the Blues' dogs tearing toward them. Tripod heard too, and cowered. “Some watchdog,” Jeremy muttered. He stopped the horse, poised to get down if he needed to. However, the Blues' dogs got close, and barked a stern warning but didn't do more than that. “Come on,” Jeremy called to Tripod, who hopped along, glancing back nervously.

It wasn't late when he reached the cottage, not even nine o'clock, but the house was quiet when he stepped in the back door. There was a glass of wine poured and the light of the fire caught in the glass. He walked down the hall, noticing Lizzie's bedroom door was standing open. He cleared his throat before reaching it so he wouldn't startle her, but when he stopped in the doorway, it was apparent she'd been expecting him. Dressed in her robe, she was sitting in bed with her knees drawn up and a book on her lap. Her hair was loose and a glass of wine was on the bedside table. In the glow of the firelight, the room looked mighty inviting. More than inviting, it looked like a haven. “Hello,” she said.

“It was so quiet, I didn't know if you'd be sleeping.”

She shook her head. “Reading. Waiting for you.”

The words made him smile. “I'll get cleaned up.”

“I poured you a glass of wine, if you want it.”

“I saw. Thanks. I'll just set my stuff down,” he said before walking to his room and setting his bag down. “Um,” he said upon stopping back in her doorway. It didn't look like she'd moved a muscle. “I found a dog. A stray.”

“Oh?”

“He's not perfect, but the kids might like him. I guess we'll see in the morning.” He thought about mentioning the three legs, but that could be left until tomorrow.

“All right.”

He drank the glass of wine in the kitchen, then filled a bowl of water for Tripod. The dog jumped up to see him, but looked wary. Jeremy petted his head. “It'll be all right,” he said soothingly. He set the bowl down. “Go to sleep. You'll meet everybody in the morning.”

 

 

Lizzie leaned forward and hugged her legs. It had been an enlightening evening, starting with an after-dinner discussion as the ladies cleaned and put away dinner dishes. Cessie had broached the subject of school and Lizzie knew right away that Rebecca had put her up to it.

Between Cessie's gentle, prodding way and April May's straightforward manner, they had got her to face the truth—that the only reason she hadn't started Rebecca in school here was fear, and not a reasonable fear at that. To have Rebecca gone for much of the day and away from her protection was frightening.

“But, honey,” Cessie said, “she'll be at the schoolhouse. It's perfectly safe.”

“I planned on letting her start soon.”

“Well, that's good,” April May said. “What about Monday?”

Lizzie concentrated on the platter she was drying. As ridiculous as it was, she felt tears prick the backs of her eyes.

“Here's what I think,” April May said as she pulled out a chair and sat. “When you know fear is stopping you from doing something that you should do or you really want to do, deep down, you just look the devil in the eye and you say, ‘I am not going to let this damn fear stop me.'”

Cessie nodded. “She's right, although the curse words aren't necessary. If you can just see that it's nothing but worry—”

“And, Lordy, Lizzie,” April May interrupted. “Rebecca is tough as nails. I fear for anyone who gets in her way.”

Lizzie had laughed and turned to them. “Next week then,” she said. “I'll get her started next week.”

The decision felt right. She'd privately acknowledged how much she'd allowed fear to imprison the woman she had been. Elizabeth Greenway Carter was not going to follow that same path. Whether it was proper or not, she was so, so glad that Jeremy was here. She wanted him in ways she hadn't known were possible. She wanted his touch, his kiss, his concern, his counsel, and his passion. She wanted him inside her. She wanted him to hold her afterwards. She wanted their softly spoken conversations. She wanted to tell him about her day and she wanted to know about his.

No more fear
, she thought as she settled back against the pillows.

 

 

Jeremy dried off after his bath and slipped on the waiting bathrobe. The robe that had belonged to the hermit. It didn't feel as odd as he'd thought it would. As he hurried back to the house, the air felt colder than before and the paving stones beneath his feet were cold and slippery. He let the dog onto the screened-in porch and propped the door open with a broom. “See you in the morning,” he said before going inside.

Lizzie had gone back to reading, but she set her book aside as he slipped off the robe and got into bed. He turned on his side to face her and she scooted close. “How was dinner?”

Jeremy smiled. “Timmy liked it a lot. He'd never been to a restaurant.”

She cocked her head. “Never?”

“Never. People in the patch are poor. Really poor.”

“The patch?”

“The mining camp. Part of how people are paid is in script. Most people, anyway. That's one thing I stood firm on. Only cash for pay.”

“What's script?”

“It's good for the company store or rent, only the rent is too high, especially for the places they live in, and the company charges twice what everything is worth at the store. Miners and their families have no choice about it, though, since that's all script is good for.”

“Why don't they all demand cash for pay, too?”

“Not everybody can. When I signed on, they needed miners. But the man I work with, Liam, is a laborer, like a helper. He helps load the coal I dig out. He didn't have a choice.” He paused before adding, “Problem is, no one is paid enough, especially not men like Liam, so they have to buy on credit. Only place you can do that is the company store, which charges even more when it's on credit.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “How old is Timmy?”

“Just turned fourteen.”

She sighed quietly and then reached over to press a kiss to his lips. “I'm glad you're here.”

“I'm glad I'm here, too.”

The fire crackled in the hearth. “Rebecca's going to start school next week.”

“That's good. She'll like that.”

“I know.”

He suddenly grew serious. “I want you to know something. I see your face all the time. When I'm in the dark and I'm working, my hands are doing what they do, but in my mind I see you, and it gets me through the day.”

Her eyes glistened. “I'll be so glad when you're done with that place.”

“Me too. Six weeks.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Why—”

“Liam's due for a pension in six weeks. I gotta stick it out.”

She leaned in and kissed his lips. “You're a good man,” she whispered when she pulled back.

 

 

He woke a few hours later. They'd made love with hunger and vigor and fallen asleep tangled up in each other's arms. Now he had to relieve himself, so he got up. She moaned softly as he did, a good sound, and muttered something unintelligible. He got up and went outside to pass his water, and the dog woke and watched him with curiosity.

Going back inside, he opted to go to his room. As tired as he was, he might sleep until morning, and he didn't want to put her in an awkward position if the children woke first. The bed felt cold to climb into and he had second thoughts, but he curled up, warmed up slowly, and drifted back into a deep sleep.