Just Above a Whisper (24 page)

“Maddie?” Jace softly spoke his wife’s name, bending over her on the settee. “Time for bed.”

Jace smiled when she didn’t answer. He didn’t know why he tried. She did this every night and never had an answer for him. During the day she was hale and hearty, but after tea, she could not stay awake. Even on days when Clara was there to help, Maddie’s day ended in the parlor, sleeping where she sat.

Jace lifted her, and she felt as boneless as a sleeping cat in his arms. Making sure her head and arms would not bump the walls on the stairs, he bore her off to bed. It occurred to him that by the time she delivered, he might have to get her awake in order to put her to bed.

“Jace?” Tonight she woke when the cool air from the bedroom hit her skin.

“Right here,” he said, still helping her into a nightgown.

“I’m sleepy.”

“Okay.”

He knew she wouldn’t remember a thing. In fact, she tended to frown at him in the morning, and he knew she was trying to remember getting from the parlor to their bed. She never remembered turning in.

Finally Jace crawled into bed beside her, trying to pray and not be frustrated with how tired she had been each night for the last few weeks. Before the baby, their evenings had been spent in a much different manner. They were not even to their first anniversary, but life had certainly changed.

He knew he was being selfish, but a little part of him wanted the old life back. He tried to remember if Clara was scheduled to come in the morning and then wondered if his chores could be done a little late.

Reese took several deep breaths, making herself concentrate. The men were already at the table having breakfast, and she’d been putting it off since she arrived. If she put it off any longer, she’d miss her chance. At last she made herself step to the doorway and speak.

“Mr. Betz.”

Both men looked at her, but Reese’s eyes were on Conner.

“What’s that now?” he asked.

“Mr. Betz is a carpenter.”

“Thank you, Reese,” Conner said gravely, but his eyes just barely hid a twinkle.

Reese nodded and slipped out of sight. Conner looked to Troy to find him smiling.

“Progress?” the older man asked softly.

“Maybe,” Conner replied, his heart hopeful, glancing toward the kitchen before going back to his meal.

“Gerald?” his mother tried for the second morning in a row. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said, but Lillie knew it was a lie. Always a good eater, Gerald had barely touched his food for several days, and Lillie feared that her husband’s absence was starting to wear on him.

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know.” This was also his standard answer.

Lillie didn’t worry that he would get in trouble—he wasn’t that kind of boy—but she knew he was lonely, spending most days lying around the house or walking around town on his own. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, and Lillie had never been willing to push him. Victor had always bowed to her wishes on the subject.

Still worrying over a cup of tea after Gerald left the table, she determined to put on a wonderful dinner, hoping he would have an appetite by then.

“How many documents have we read?” Troy asked midmorning. He was at the desk this time.

“Maybe half.”

“There’s nothing here. Every account is in order.”

“I noticed that.” Conner’s voice and face were thoughtful, but he wasn’t coming up with any answers.

“So why did he rush off and say that he was ill? A man doesn’t do that unless he has something to hide.”

“Or so we assume?”

“What do you mean, Conner?”

“Just that, Troy. We assume it means guilt, but what if we’re missing something? What if it’s not about that?”

“What would it be?”

“I don’t know, but clearly we’re missing something.”

Conner sat back a little, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the papers on the desk ignored. He was going to figure out Victor Jenness; Conner had no plans to leave Tucker Mills until he did.

“Do you have everything you need?” Reese asked when the men were a few minutes into their dinner.

“Yes, Reese, thank you.”

“Everything is very good.”

“Thank you. I’m going to work on the flower beds at the back of the house. I’ll be out there if you need me.”

The men thanked her again, and Reese nearly skipped through the wide hallway with her plan. Why it had never occurred to her, she didn’t know. She was getting better concerning her fear, but if Mr. Kingsley was in the house, she was tense. She’d stepped out into the yard while they ate dinner the day before; she was going to try it again today.

Now Reese slipped quietly out the back door, trowel in hand, with plans to attack beds that had long needed weeding. Some flowers had survived well on their own, going to seed and even spreading, but it was plain to anyone who looked that they had been given no care in many years. Reese went the few steps down the back porch, her eyes already on the flowers.

When she missed the last step and stumbled, she braced herself for a twisted ankle. Her knee wrenched painfully in one direction, and a startled gasp escaped her. There was no railing to grab, so she landed on the ground, her twisted knee slamming painfully into the dirt.

Reese stared at the dirt just past her nose, still not sure how she got there. Her knee already throbbed, so she rolled painfully and tried to sit up. That required bending her knee, and even though she accomplished it, it left her panting with the pain.

“Oh, this is bad,” she said softly, her breath coming in gasps. “I can’t be hurt. I’ll lose my job.”

With this reminder, Reese knew she couldn’t let this get the best of her. There was no railing to use, but Reese spotted the door handle and decided she could pull herself up the steps and to a standing position using that. Careful not to bend her knee, she twisted her body slowly that direction, not thinking about what she might be doing to her dress.

Using just her arms, she gained the bottom step. Had it not hurt so much, she would have laughed when she remembered that she still had one good leg. She made the next step by using her arms and one leg to push, concentrating with all her might not to bend that other leg.

She had just geared up to try for the landing when the door opened. Reese looked up from her awkward position, her heart thudding painfully, and saw Conner’s face looming above her.

“Reese?”

That woman said nothing but turned her body so that it looked like she was simply sitting on the step.

Conner looked down at her hair, seeing it full of dried leaves and even some twigs. He didn’t need to be a detective to know that something had gone wrong. He didn’t try to speak but neatly stepped around her on the landing and went to stand on the ground, so that they faced each other. Reese glanced to make sure her legs were covered and then watched him with clear distrust.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Conner asked, taking in her flushed face.

“No.”

Conner should have seen that coming.

“I want you to,” he tried.

“I’m all right.”

“I think that might be open for debate.”

At the moment Reese was defensive enough to raise her chin, her eyes defiant not just with her employer but with the pain.

“Can you stand?” Conner tried.

“I’m sure I can.”

“Have you tried?”

“You opened the door before I could reach the handle.” She made it sound as though it was all his fault.

“Is your ankle hurt?”

“My knee.”

“We need the small coach,” Conner suddenly said, and Reese realized that Troy was in the house behind her.

“No,” Reese began, but she was roundly ignored.

“Okay,” the older man agreed. “It’s been sitting a while and might take a little doing.”

“No, really,” Reese started again. “I think I can stand.”

“Do you want me to help you to your feet?” Conner offered; Troy had gone to the stables.

“No!” Reese nearly shouted the word, panic filling her.

“All right,” Conner agreed, thinking it was too bad that he scared her. “I’ll go help with the coach, and maybe you’ll be on your feet by the time I get back. Shall I shut this door?”

“Thank you,” Reese said, humbled by his willingness to let her try. She sat very still until the door shut and then began to work her way to the landing again. Fear drove her, and she managed to reach the door handle swiftly. That was the last thing that went well. Try as she might, she could not pull herself up while only using one leg. Each time she tried, her other leg bent of its own volition, and she ended up gasping with the hurt. A few tries and she was more frustrated and crushed than she’d been in many long months, and so winded she didn’t think she could go again. Conner found her like this.

“It didn’t work,” Reese volunteered, hands to her face in distress. “I’m going to lose my job.”

“Why would you lose your job?”

Alarmed to see that Conner was coming her way, Reese could not force out an answer. Without apology or word, he lifted her into his arms. Reese’s hands were still on her cheeks and she trembled with more than pain.

Conner didn’t delay but walked swiftly toward the waiting carriage around the house in the stable yard, and placed Reese inside. He climbed into the seat, took the reins from Troy, and put the horse into motion.