[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years (15 page)

Struggling with the grocery sack as she made her way home, Ashley pushed the thoughts aside and tried to regain a more positive spirit. She thought of her aunt’s impending arrival. She hoped the things she’d picked up for meals would be pleasing to the woman. Ashley had become a pretty fair cook over the years, but that didn’t mean it would satisfy her aunt’s particular tastes. Whatever those tastes might be.

Ashley had only seen her aunt once, at least once that she could remember. It had been the summer Ashley was thirteen. Lavelle and her husband had come from California on the train. The trip had been grueling and had stripped them of all energy. Ashley remembered her aunt and uncle being tired the entire time of their visit. She also remembered Lavelle’s beautiful clothes. Dresses with beautiful colors and evening gowns that shimmered in the light.

In spite of their exhaustion, the Guzmans had accompanied Ashley’s parents out every evening, and Ashley remembered how magical it all seemed. Her mother’s own fashion sense was keen, but where her choices were more matronly, Lavelle appeared youthful and exciting. Ashley remembered pining over one particularly lovely green gown.

Best of all, Lavelle surprised everyone by announcing that she’d brought Ashley a present. It turned out to be the most remarkable leather suitcase. The hand etchings had been painted to create a riot of colorful flowers along the upper edge of the case. Her aunt said Mexicans had created the design and that they were very good with leather crafts. Ashley saw this for herself in Winslow. Across the tracks in one of the clusters of Mexican homes, Ashley had witnessed many varying accomplishments among the workers there. The Harvey Company had even allowed the people to come and sell some of their wares to the train passengers. Everything from
purses, to saddlebags, to saddles and belts had been offered to the public.

Ashley had to smile, however, as her memories took her back to Aunt Lavelle and the suitcase. The case had been most beloved to Ashley. In fact, she still had it tucked under her bed upstairs at home. It was full of Natalie’s baby things now—things Ashley hoped to one day give to Natalie for her own children.

Maybe her aunt would still be kind and sweet. Maybe her attitude and reactions toward Grandpa all those years ago had been a one-time occurrence, brought on by the worry of losing the things that were important to her. Of course, there was no way to know until she actually arrived, and by then it would be too late.

Back at home, Ashley began preparing the dinner. She wanted things to be special for Mr. Carson, but at the same time she found herself growing nervous about having a stranger to dinner.

We really know nothing about him,
she thought. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she realized time was getting away from her. Where was Natalie? Why hadn’t she come directly home from school?

Ashley wasn’t really worried, but she couldn’t help wondering, since Natalie had been nearly beside herself at the thought of Mr. Carson coming to dinner. Ashley was going to have to find time to talk to the child before Mr. Carson arrived.

As if drawn there by her mother’s thoughts, Natalie came bounding in through the back screen door.

“Mama, I got an A on my report about the Great War. I told them all about Daddy and all the things he did. Nobody else had any stories like it. Teacher said my stories were special because Daddy was a hero.”

Ashley smiled at her daughter. Pigtails danced down her back as Natalie flitted about the room in unconfined energy.
“I stopped and talked to Mr. Carson. I told him about my A too. He was really happy for me.”

“I’m sure he was. You should have come straight home, however. Look at the time. We still have to set the table and get things ready for supper. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

“I know, that’s why I hurried home,” Natalie said, her eyes lighting up. She washed her hands and dried them on a dish towel before reaching up into the cupboard for the plates. “Can we use Grandma Whitman’s good china?” she asked, even as she reached for the delicate white plates trimmed with posies and gold. “It’s really important that things look nice.”

“Natalie, about Mr. Carson. You really shouldn’t try to . . . well . . . what I mean to say is, you shouldn’t play matchmaker. Mr. Carson and I aren’t interested in each other that way.”

“But you might be,” Natalie said, looking rather perplexed.

Ashley felt sorry for her child. “Natalie, it’s just not right to try to meddle in people’s lives. I’m just suggesting you leave well enough alone. The man probably has no interest in being in the middle of your schemes.”

“Well, I don’t think he minds at all,” Natalie said, balancing the plates as she headed to the table. “He told me he thinks you’re beautiful.”

The words made Ashley’s cheeks grow hot. It also left her speechless. What could she say to make her daughter understand?

Giving up for the moment, Ashley focused her attention on the chicken, sprinkling in just a touch of paprika and cayenne pepper to the flour and salt mixture. She liked the flavor the spices added and hoped Mr. Carson would like them as well. She’d learned the trick from Mrs. Breck, who told her that often the blandest foods could become a feast with a little seasoning.

“Mama, do you think Mr. Carson would like to sit in Grandpa’s chair?”

Ashley gave it little thought. “I’m sure that would be a good place for him to sit. Grandpa’s chair is bigger and very
sturdy.” She plopped a plump chicken breast into the heated lard and watched it sizzle and pop. Putting the rest of the chicken into the cast-iron skillet, Ashley glanced again at the clock. It was time to take out the cobbler.

Reaching for the potholders, Ashley found her hands trembling. Why was she so nervous? This was just a friendly gesture—nothing more. It wasn’t like Todd Morgan, who had asked her out to the picture show. His intention clearly ran along the lines of serious commitment. He’d told her more than once that he was looking for a wife.

The cobbler’s crust was golden brown with blackberry juice oozing out from the sides. Ashley placed it in the warming box and leaned forward for a sniff. Natalie came alongside and did likewise.

“That smells really good. I bet Mr. Carson will like it.”

Ashley nodded and deposited the pan on the cooking rack at the back of the stovetop, then turned to slice a few tomatoes for the table. After this, it was time to turn the chicken, and before she knew it, it was time for E. J. Carson to arrive.

Right on schedule, E. J. knocked on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Natalie declared.

Ashley went to check on Grandpa while Natalie went to the door. The old man slept soundly, the covers pulled up under his chin. Ashley backed out of the room so as not to disturb him. She headed back to the kitchen, pulling off her apron as she went.

“Mama, look what Mr. Carson brought us,” Natalie declared.

Ashley looked up to find Natalie holding a bouquet of daisies. “Oh, they’re very pretty,” she said, patting Natalie on the head. “Why don’t you give them to me and I’ll find a vase.” Natalie quickly complied and turned her attention back to Mr. Carson.

Ashley met E. J.’s steady gaze and smiled. “Thank you.”

He nodded, but Natalie’s animated chatter captured his attention.

“You get to sit in Grandpa’s chair since he’s too sick to join us,” Natalie announced. “It’s a nice chair. Good and strong for grown men. I used to like to sit in it when I was a little girl and pretend that I was all grown-up.”

Ashley caught the conversation from just inside the kitchen door, smiling to herself, for she still considered Natalie a “little girl.”

Ashley reentered the room with the vase of daisies in one hand and a platter of chicken in the other. “Natalie, we need to get the rest of the food on the table.”

“May I help you?” E. J. questioned.

Ashley noted that his brown hair was still damp from washing up. Obviously he’d wanted to make a good impression. His eyes watched her every move from behind gold-rimmed glasses. She thought him a handsome man in spite of his beard and mustache. She’d never really cared for facial hair, but Mr. Carson wore it well.

“No, Natalie and I can finish up. You go ahead and have a seat. Would you like coffee to drink?” She positioned the daisies in the middle of the table, then stood back to wait for E. J.’s answer.

“Yes, thank you, that would be fine.”

Ashley went back into the kitchen and poured coffee into two china cups. The china had belonged to her grandmother, and it was one of the only things Grandpa had held on to, refusing to let his daughters strip it away from him. He had told Ashley on more than one occasion that he would always remember his beloved wife sharing a cup of tea or coffee with him as they sat together over a candlelight dinner. The china was his link to her and to happier days.

They all sat down to the meal and Natalie prayed, asking God to bless the food and to let them enjoy each other’s company. She prayed God would be merciful to Grandpa and not allow him to be in pain, and she prayed that her grandma Murphy and aunt Lavelle would come quickly to see him
before he died. After concluding her prayer, she turned to E. J. and extended a bowl of black beans and squash.

E. J. took helpings from each of the dishes and marveled at the flavors as he sampled everything. “You were right, Natalie. Your mother is a good cook.”

“I know. She makes wonderful food. She learned about cooking from Mrs. Breck and at the Harvey House. She said when she was first married she couldn’t cook at all. She even had trouble making tea. She said they might have starved to death but for the fact that my daddy could boil water.”

E. J. smiled and threw Ashley a glance that made her cheeks grow warm. It was almost as if he knew this to be true for himself.

“I’m sure there is something else we can talk about,” Ashley encouraged. But to her surprise Natalie said very little. She wolfed down her food as if she were starving, then asked if she could take some of the black beans and squash to Grandpa.

“This is his favorite,” she explained to E. J.

Ashley wanted to call her daughter back, but it seemed she could hardly do so without explaining to E. J. Carson that she was suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of being left alone to make conversation with him.

With Natalie gone, the room seemed smaller, and Ashley wondered how she would make it through the rest of the meal without making Mr. Carson bear the brunt of her discomfort.

“So will you return to work at the Harvey House once your grandfather is gone?” E. J. asked, surprising her.

Ashley picked at her chicken and nodded. “I like the work. The new resort promises to be even better. I suppose I’ll work there at least during school days. I’d like to be home for Natalie, since Grandpa won’t be there to keep an eye on her.”

E. J. nodded. “She’s a special girl.”

Ashley nodded, knowing that she had to speak her mind or go on feeling completely out of sorts. “Look,” she said, putting down her fork, “Natalie has it in her mind to play
matchmaker with us. I don’t know why, but she’s now focused on finding herself a father.”

“And that makes it difficult for you, doesn’t it?”

Ashley straightened and looked E. J. in the eye. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, it’s obvious that you are uncomfortable with the idea.”

Ashley folded her hands together. “Mr. Carson . . .”

“Please call me E. J.,” he interrupted softly. “Mr. Carson is much too formal.”

But formal was how Ashley wished to keep things. Wasn’t it? “E. J., my daughter doesn’t understand how love works. My heart is forever taken. I loved my husband and will love no other. It would hardly be fair to put that off on another man. Although, I must admit, I have considered it. I know I’ll be lonely when Grandpa is gone. I know Natalie needs a father. All of these things rush through my mind but refuse to be settled.” She couldn’t believe she was telling him all of this. She calmly picked up her fork and began eating again, hoping he’d put the topic behind them.

“It’s all right. I’m not looking for another wife.”

She looked up to see the sorrow in his expression. “Natalie said your wife died in the influenza epidemic. I’m very sorry.”

“I wasn’t with her when it happened. I’d been severely wounded in battle and by the time I made it back to the United States, the war was over and so many people at home and abroad were dead from the influenza. I caught it myself and lingered in a horrible state for weeks, but I guess I’m too tough to kill off. Just rest assured that, like you, I have no mind to marry again. I loved my wife completely and seek no other.”

His tone sounded so sad to Ashley that she immediately thought to change the subject. “Are you ready for the blackberry cobbler?”

“Sounds good.”

Ashley quickly put aside her fork and napkin and went to retrieve the cobbler. She felt a trembling inside at the turn
of events this evening. Who would have ever thought she’d have the boldness to clearly state her position to E. J. Carson? Moreover, she was amazed to realize her heart in the matter of remarriage. For once she saw clearly that she could never marry another man. He would forever live in Ethan’s shadow. Even Natalie would constantly compare the two, although she might not understand that now. It would be hard to explain to the child, and Ashley felt guilty for putting her own needs ahead of Natalie’s.
She’ll understand one day,
Ashley thought.
When she falls in love and marries, she’ll understand why I can’t have another man taking hold of my heart.

E. J. waited in silence while Ashley moved about in the kitchen. He thought of her openness with him and how her love for her husband warmed him through and through.
She still loves me,
he thought. But then he chided himself.
No, she loves Ethan Reynolds, the happy-go-lucky architectural student who was set to change the world with his passion for building great beauty. She loves Ethan Reynolds, the man who took her away from her unfeeling mother and preoccupied father. I’m not that man anymore, and I can’t pretend that I can go back to being him.