A Heartbeat Away: Quilts of Love Series (23 page)

When the bright morning light spilled onto the bed and warmed his face, Beth appeared. She approached him and touched his forehead and cheeks. “Mother said she thought the fever broke.”

He caught her hand before she could withdraw. “God has answered my prayers.”

Her face flushed and she tried to tug her hand fingers free from his grasp. “That’s good news.”

“I want to go for a walk.”

“I’ll get Jim.”

“I want to go with you.” He paused, not knowing how much strength he would have or how much distance he would be able to go before being forced to return to bed. But if he never tried, his strength would be reluctant to return, and he wanted to heal. For her. He stroked his thumb over the smooth back of her hand. “Tell me what has upset you.” He’d debated the question most of the night. Her reluctance to talk of her limp, her embarrassment, all served to tell him something, and he thought he might know the problem. “Do you think it matters to me that you aren’t graceful?”

Her lip quivered, then her jaw clenched. “It mattered to Riley.”

His heart ached at the torn whisper of emotion in her voice. He kept his voice low. “Have you considered my arm? I’ll never be the same. A very wise woman once told me that I had much to offer—love, life . . . Do you think she was wrong?”

The moment she raised her gaze to his, he knew she felt the gentle nudge of his words. “It’s not the same.”

“You’re right. It’s not. But it has left us both less than perfect in the eyes of others. Meredith wouldn’t want me now and I’m glad of it. She was shallow and silly and I was a fool to think she wanted me for anything more than to rile her father.”

Her eyes flew to his, her mouth opening, then closing.

His smile came slow, sure. “I think it shows a greater depth when someone can look beyond a body’s weakness and see the beauty within, don’t you, Bethie?”

She knew the answer. Wanted to believe that what he said was true. But Meredith aside, he was still leaving. He’d said so himself. How could she believe all that he said when words came easy but actions revealed those deeper recesses of the heart.

“Do you love me, Beth?”

She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip, frozen with fear. The answer sprang to her lips. So simple, but committing it to a single word weighed her with terror. She tugged her hand away and he released it. “I must go. Mother needs me. They are filling more wagons this morning.”

She avoided looking into his face. There would be hurt there, but it would fade, just as her hurt had faded over Riley’s rejection.

When she limped into the kitchen, her mother was alone working dough, perspiration beading along her forehead in the heat of the morning. Already she had done so much work. “What do you need me to do?”

Anya turned to her and smudged a hand over her cheek. “You could take over the kneading.” She rubbed a hand over her shoulder and Beth knew her shoulder was stiffening up. They’d worked harder in the last few days and even their provisions were showing the sacrifice. But everyone was contributing and her parents would not do less. They were good-hearted people. Kind. Loving.

“Have you finished sewing your blocks?” Anya asked.

“I’m too tired to work on it in the evenings, and it seems such a selfish thing to indulge in something I enjoy doing when the soldiers need relief.” Beth tried a smile. “No matter how hard I try, I fear I’ll never forget how terrible it was.”

Anya’s flurry of activity stilled. She wiped her hand and turned, opening her arms. Beth went into them.

“You are whole and well, my daughter. God is in control even when it feels like the earth is shaking beneath us. You have begun to trust again. Don’t let your trust be shaken because of things you cannot change.”

She could not change the war, her limp, Leo’s death, but, oh, how she wanted to. Yet through all of those circumstances Joe had come to her. If she’d married Riley, she would not have gone to be a nurse and met Joe.

Anya pulled back and studied her close. “How is your head this morning?”

“Fine.”

“And your leg?”

“Stiff. Sore.”

“Jim said Joe saw you, that you were upset by it.”

She released a sigh and new tears burned her throat.

“He must care for you very much.”

“Mother, please.”

“Beth.” Her mother’s voice was firm and brooked no denial. “You cannot let Riley’s rejection, Leo’s death, your injury, rule your future.”

She stiffened. “I have accepted God’s hope.”

“His hope for others, but for yourself?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Anya wiped her hands down the skirt of her apron. “God’s hope is not just for eternity, but for here on Earth. For you and for me. Leo was granted the ultimate hope. Riley received his when he married Ava. But you have taken Leo’s death and your injury more as a punishment than a path.

“We have watched you, and I committed to being silent on the matter, content to let God show you His will. But when I started seeing you drift farther and farther away I knew you had hardened your heart.” She touched Beth’s cheek. “You are
so beautiful, yet you have allowed every bit of hope to be stolen from you for happiness here on Earth. Joe loves you.”

She gasped.

“I have seen it in the way he watches you or perks up whenever your name is mentioned.”

“But he’s leaving.”

“Do you love him?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Then learn your heart but don’t turn away from the hope.”

Anya took a step back and pushed the trough of dough toward her. “If you’ll finish this batch, Pearl should be back in time to do the next one. Perhaps you and Joe could spend some time talking.”

She caught the little glance her mother shot her way and felt a lightening in her step as she set the trough on the table and sat down to work the dough. A sudden longing gripped her to work on the blocks, to see the richness of the colors of the triangles that led to that center point. Riley had moved on. Leo was content in heaven. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the room penetrate the cold places of her heart as she worked the dough over and over. God was working her over just as she worked the dough, and the end result—that golden loaf of bread—would bring such comfort and nourishment to all who partook.

When Pearl and two neighbor ladies arrived in a wagon, she shared a glance with her mother, took off her apron, and slipped up the stairs. She reached the landing and rubbed her protesting leg just as the women swirled in on a stream of muted chatter and a rush of warm air.

She hesitated at Joe’s door but continued down the hall. The blocks were spread on her bed, the bottom two rows almost complete, sewn as well as she could manage. Four
more blocks remained to be attached, then the border. She drew her chair close to the window amazed at the thought that her mother thought Joe needed her. Loved her. She traced the outline of the bright golden square and smiled. She needed him too.

You have a plan to get me across?”

“We are close to the Potomac. It is deeper here, but there are ways.”

Through the window and the thick leaves of sycamore and an occasional evergreen, he’d seen the sparkle of the river. From the house, the land sloped steeply down to the river in the distance. If he listened carefully, he could hear the water splashing over submerged rocks.

He didn’t doubt Jim. Not at all. Only himself and his strength. If he overestimated what he was capable of and the current was more than he could handle. He shuddered.

“You will be safe. We will make sure of that for Miss Beth’s sake.”

He grinned. “For hers, but not for mine?”

“You are a Rebel.” But Jim’s shrug and shrewd smile showed how he teased.

“That makes me feel safe.”

“We can always take you back into Sharpsburg,” Jim said with verve.

Despite the lighthearted banter, he could not help but think of the fate of those men, his friends, left in the town now overrun
with Union toops. God’s mercy on him seemed unfair when he thought of what they would suffer. Yet he could not question God. He used different methods for different people, and Joe still had quite a few of his own obstacles to clear before he could leave, let alone come back.

He braced his leg against the crutch and closed his eyes against the sunshine. And how could he leave Beth?

“Walk back to me. Then we work on squeezing the ball.”

Joe grimaced at the man. “I’ve already made three trips over there.”

“You want to walk with Miss Beth?”

He did. They’d already talked of walking in the semidarkness, Jim nearby to help should he run into trouble and to keep an eye out for Union pickets patrolling the Potomac. All that the black man, that the family had done to keep him safe and well, amazed him. He froze up inside thinking about Beth. Leaving her would be hard, but he could never truly commit unless he left to set things straight.

The backs of his legs touched the mattress and he lowered himself to the soft comfort with a muffled groan as a knock came on the door. Jim opened it to a smiling Beth. She swept in, a dark bundle under her arm. Her eyes wavered between Joe and Jim, settling on Joe. She neither smiled nor frowned, but the sight of her choked his breath. “How could you, for one minute, think yourself inferior because of your leg?” His heart broke for her and for the self-deception that would work such a terrible trick in her mind.

He leaned forward and rose, ignored the jelly feel of his legs and used the crutch to close the distance between them. Jim scooted out the door, leaving the door open, as Beth’s hand settled on his arm. “Maybe you should sit down. You look pale.”

It took very little for him to see through her charade. “You never answered my question.”

Her mouth opened. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I want to come back to you. But I have to do it the right way. For my conscience. For Ben.”

“What if you don’t find out what happened to him?” She stared at the buttons on his shirt.

“Then I will rest in the knowledge that I tried.” He let the silence grow. “Who hurt you, Beth? Your injury doesn’t bother me.”

“You’ve not seen me walk. I . . .”

He touched her jaw, raised her chin. “But I have. I still love you.”

She lowered her eyes and tried to turn her face away but he kept gentle hold on her chin.

“If you don’t love me, Bethie, then I’m going to come back and make you love me. You can’t get rid of me so easily.”

He meant it. Yet, she’d seen sincerity before, in Riley’s eyes, and it had morphed into something else entirely when he had realized her leg would never heal.

Joe released her chin and took a wobbly step backward. He turned, using the crutch in an awkward pivot that nearly sent him to the floor. “I’ll never get used to using this thing.”

“It will only be for a while.”

He was letting the subject drop and she felt grateful that he did not press her for an answer. Still, she could not deny the warmth that spilled through her at hearing those three words, at his assurance that she would be enough for him despite her leg.

“What do you have there?”

It took her a minute to understand what he meant. His amused nod toward the bundle beneath her arm made her laugh. She shook out the blocks, careful to set aside the last three that needed to be sewn. He fingered the material.

“When we’re married, I want this for our room.”

Her face went hot. She dared to glance at him and her face flushed even hotter when she caught his mischievous grin.

“You’re lovely when you blush.”

“Joe . . . this isn’t appropriate.”

The bed squeaked as he shifted forward. “You’re right. We’ll save it for another time.”

Despite herself, a wave of pleasure rolled through her at the thought that he could even find her attractive enough to make such an intimate tease.