Heart Appearances (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 560) (11 page)

Joel raised his chin. “My father never needed Jesus. So why should I?”

“And where is your father now?”

Joel’s expression grew even more belligerent. “You know where he is. But he’s only in jail ’cause someone double-crossed him!”

Brent paused before responding, not wanting to alienate the boy further. He knew Joel held his father in high regard, despite the man’s lengthy criminal record. He was the boy’s father, after all.

“The bad things we do have consequences, Joel; remember that. If you allow God into your life, He’ll teach you a better way, a way without sin. Sin leads to prison. If not an actual prison with bars that you can see, then a prison of the heart that you can’t see. People can have invisible bars across their heart without even realizing it. And that prison door keeps God out. They have to
choose
to let Jesus use the key and open the door to set them free. Yet many don’t.”

“That’s silly.” Joel scowled. “Why would anyone want to stay in some ole prison?”

“Perhaps due to fear of change?” Brent shrugged. “I really don’t know if there’s one particular answer to that question. There are probably many. Yet the most important question you need to consider, Joel, is this: What is your reason for staying in your heart prison?”

Joel’s gaze lowered. The whir of insects seemed to grow louder as the quiet intensified between them. From across the pasture, a cow lowed. The boy continued to stare at the dead leaves, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

After minutes of silence, Brent stood, knowing he should return to the study and his unfinished work. He hoped he’d made some sort of impact but doubted it from the glower on Joel’s face. He turned to go.

“Mr. Thomas?”

Brent looked back. The boy’s eyes were again forlorn.

“I didn’t mean to make Herbert go blind.” Tears strained Joel’s voice. “He shouldn’t have squealed—but I never meant to hurt him. Not really.”

“I realize that, Joel. We won’t know if there’s permanent damage to Herbert’s vision until the doctor removes the bandages. Actually, Dr. Sanderson was quite optimistic of Herbert’s prognosis, due to the eye rinses and salves that were administered.”

Joel stared down at his shoes. “Do you think Herbert will ever talk to me again?” His lower teeth slid along his upper lip. “I mean, do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Joel looked up in surprise. “You mean ask him?”

“Yes.”

“But what if he don’t want nothin’ to do with me no more? What if he hates me now?”

Brent regarded the boy. “Would you like to know what I really think?” At his slight nod, Brent continued. “I think the combination of the words
what
and
if
never should have been introduced to the English language. Those two words hold people back and often produce unnecessary fear. The past can’t be altered, Joel, but the future can.”

The boy pursed his lips in thought. “Meaning I should go and find out for myself, huh?”

“That would be a wise choice. I’ll accompany you, if you’d prefer.”

Joel hesitated another few seconds, then shook his head. “Thanks all the same, Mr. Thomas, but I best do this alone.”

❧

Darcy sat in a chair next to the sofa and read to Herbert, who lay snug underneath a blanket. A long strip of cotton padding was wrapped around his head, over his eyes. For three days, the helpless patient had been pampered, read to, and waited on hand and foot.

Irma also felt sorry for the lad, worried he might be blinded for life, and constantly baked him goodies. From her room upstairs, Charleigh had ordered that Herbert not be moved from the parlor; and the sofa was loaded with blankets to make a comfortable bed, a fire ever-present in the grate to warm him.

A few of the boys had visited the patient, and Tommy gave Herbert half his winnings from the contest—a second blackberry pie Darcy had made. Though Tommy’s walk was hampered because of his clubfoot, he made up for any lack with his strong arms, which had worked rapidly to paint the fence.

Darcy finished the third chapter from
Robinson Crusoe
and closed the book. “That’s enough for today.”

“Awww, don’t quit. Read more, Miss Darcy.”

“One chapter is enough. My voice is tired.”

“But you left off right at the good part!”

Darcy ignored his plea, since he said that about every chapter she read. “How about some cider?” She rose and set the book on the table.

“Don’t want no cider.” Herbert pouted and crossed his arms. “Want
Robinson Crusoe
.”

“Herbert,” she said in warning, her hands going to her hips. A movement near the entryway caught her eye, and Joel walked into the room. Brent stood behind him, next to the wall.

The boy’s eyes were uncertain as he stared at Herbert. At the hesitant shushing of footsteps on carpet, Herbert’s head lifted higher. “Who’s there, Miss Darcy?”

Darcy opened her mouth to answer but stopped when Brent shook his head and put a forefinger to his lips. He crooked his finger for her to join him and disappeared around the corner.

She turned to Herbert. “I’ll be back with some tea and cheese sandwiches later.”

“Don’t want no cheese. Want thick slices of ham.”

Darcy grimaced at Herbert’s pigheadedness. She refused to explain to Herbert for the fifth time that they had run out of those items and needed to replenish the larder. He was set on being obstinate today, and the constant pampering he received did him no good, in her opinion. Yet she’d been just as much at fault.

Darcy strode from the room, watching curiously as Joel moved toward the sofa. When she came alongside Brent, Darcy turned in the direction of the kitchen. Surprise shot through her when he grasped her elbow to stop her. He gave a short shake of his head, pulling her awkwardly to stand in front of him. Her shoulder blades brushed his chest.

“I know it’s wrong to eavesdrop,” he whispered near her ear, “but in this case I’m making an exception. I’ll explain later.”

Darcy’s heart somersaulted at the feel of his warm breath on her neck, stirring her hair. Afraid to move—even to breathe—for fear he would remove his hand from her arm and step away, she remained as motionless as a wooden hat tree while they peeked around the corner.

“Who’s there, I said?” Herbert pushed himself to a sitting position on the couch.

“It’s me. Joel.”

Herbert didn’t say a word.

“I, uh, just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Whadda you care?” Herbert sneered.

Brent tensed and his hold on Darcy’s elbow tightened. He pressed closer to hear, his chest now flat against her back. She swallowed over a dry throat.

Joel seemed stymied for words. “I. . .uh. . .”

“Just get out.” Herbert turned his bandaged head away.

Instead of being cowed by the harsh words, Joel stood taller. “You shoulda never double-crossed me, Herbert. I don’t like squealers. That’s why I painted your face. But I sure never meant to hurt your eyes none. I was just trying to shut up your mouth.” His arms crossed in defiance. “And that’s all I’m ever gonna say about it. So if it ain’t good enough—well, that’s just too bad!”

Darcy felt Brent’s chest rise and fall and heard a weary sigh escape. Again his warm breath fanned her neck, sending her heart into another spasm. The steady crackle of fire in the grate filled the eternal moment of silence in the room.

Herbert’s head turned Joel’s way. “Ever read
Robinson Crusoe?
”

“No.” Joel walked the few feet to the chair Darcy had vacated and picked up the book from the table, eyeing the cover. “Is it one of them sissified books of Miss Charleigh’s?”

“Naw—I wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with them kinds of books—you know that. It’s about a man who gets shipwrecked on a desert island,” Herbert said, excitement tingeing his voice. “Miss Darcy’s reading it to me, though she’s sure takin’ her sweet time about doin’ it!”

Darcy heard Brent quietly chuckle, his chest vibrating with the motion.

“No foolin’? A desert island? With pirates and buried treasure and wild animals eating people?”

“Not exactly. Leastways nothin’ like that’s happened yet. But he’s all alone, and it’s an adventure just the same.”

Brent moved away, gently pulling Darcy with him. He headed toward the kitchen, and she fell into step beside him. “What was that all about?” Darcy still felt a bit topsy-turvy from his recent closeness, and her voice came out funny.

“A successful lesson on the importance of contrition and forgiveness. Though the apology left much to be desired,” Brent added wryly. “Still, I think it achieved its purpose.”

He turned his head, smiling. “This calls for a victory celebration. Assuming they’re still there, would you care to join me in partaking of the last two pieces of blackberry pie and coffee—or tea if you prefer?”

Darcy nodded, knowing she would join him for a trip around the world in a hot air balloon had he asked.

“Together, Miss Evans, I think we can do this.” His words came out confident.

Her breath caught in her throat at the word
together
. “Do what, Guv’ner?”

“Steer the boys in Stewart and Charleigh’s absence. I believe we finally have reached an understanding and will begin to see some positive results for all our hard labor.” He paused. “Perhaps the time has come to present the plan.”

“Plan?”

“The carnival. It might be just the incentive the boys need to continue along the road to improvement. The outing would be a desirable goal, one that will help them strive to succeed and recognize that life can bring rewards for making correct choices. . . .”

Darcy smiled as she listened to Brent talk as though he’d always approved of her plan.

There just might be hope for him yet.

❧

“How are you feeling? Better?” Darcy plunked down on the chenille spread at the end of Charleigh’s bed.

“Merely bored,” Charleigh said. “You have no idea how difficult it is to stay in bed! And I still have two months to go.”

Her gaze turned to the sepia photo of her husband in its silver frame. “But I’m thankful I’ve carried the baby this long, and I certainly don’t mean to sound as if I’m complaining. Still, I wish I’d get another letter. I think he’s avoiding me. His letters have been so impersonal lately. Though at least he’s writing, so that’s something. He never was much of a letter-writer, both during my last two years at Turreney Farm and during the war.”

“Have you written him about the baby?”

Charleigh lowered her gaze to the blanket and shook her head.

“Honestly! Don’t you think he might begin to wonder when he comes home and finds you with a child in your arms? Assuming he stays away that long, of course.”

“It’s not exactly something you can dash off in a letter, Darcy. ‘Dear Stewart, everyone’s fine. The school is running smoothly, the progress reports are in order—oh, and by the way, I’m seven months with child.’ I just couldn’t do it. Especially in something as impersonal as a letter. Besides, I don’t want to get his hopes up if. . .if something should happen.”

“Now, I’ll hear no more of that kind of talk!”

Charleigh sobered. Penitent for her harsh words, Darcy leaned over to lay her hand on Charleigh’s. “You have to hold on, Luv. Even Doc Sanderson is optimistic with the way things are going.”

“He did seem positive during his last visit, didn’t he?” Charleigh asked, hope in her eyes.

“Yes, he did. And never you mind about Stewart. More the surprise for him—and another thing you can look forward to seeing. The look on his face when he finds out. Ought to be about as good as when Brent’s mouth drops open after I say something shocking. Though I certainly don’t do such a thing on purpose.” Darcy winked, eliciting a giggle from Charleigh.

A short knock at the door was followed by Alice Larkin. “Hope I’m not intruding,” she said uncertainly. Her salt-and-pepper hair had been swept under a kerchief. Obviously she’d been doing housework. A pair of silver-rimmed spectacles perched at the end of her thin nose. Darcy knew that Alice used to be Michael’s housekeeper before they discovered a mutual respect and liking for one another, though Charleigh once mentioned that she suspected Alice had always loved her father.

Charleigh smiled at her stepmother. “Come in. We were just discussing how surprised Stewart will be when he learns he’s a father.”

Alice set a canvas bag on the foot of the bed. “That he will, make no mistake about it. I still can’t understand why you didn’t tell him before he left. Though it’s none of my business, I suppose,” she muttered. Her thin lips stretched into a smile. “And have you given any thought as to what the child will be wearing when he makes his entrance into the world?”

Charleigh’s forehead creased. “Wearing?”

Alice shook her head. “If it wasn’t for me, that poor babe would likely be stark naked throughout his entire infancy.” She pulled a large skein of ivory-colored yarn from her bag, followed by a pair of bone knitting needles.