Just Above a Whisper (25 page)

“Where to, Reese?” he asked, managing to be heard when he shifted to glance at her.

Reese gave instructions, trying to keep her knee straight, and in what felt like an eternity later, they were pulling up outside of Mrs. Greenlowe’s white house.

That lady had come outside as soon as she spotted the carriage. “Why, Reese, what happened?”

“I wrenched my knee,” Reese told her, feeling as though she could actually cry.

“Well, let me help you,” Mrs. Greenlowe offered, but Conner was already there, lifting her and taking her up the steps into the open house door. He didn’t wait for instructions but found the parlor and set Reese on the sofa. Still bent over her, he spoke.

“Come back to work when you’re ready.”

Conner then nodded to Mrs. Greenlowe, said goodbye, and exited, leaving those women to stare after him and then at each other.

“All set?” Troy asked Conner when he joined him at the bank.

“Yes. She was most upset about losing her job.”

“I can see how she would be. What did you tell her?”

“To return when she’s ready.”

“And in the meantime, you’ll have to eat my cooking,” Troy offered.

“There’s always the tavern,” Conner teased before they got down to serious work.

“Have more tea,” Mrs. Greenlowe ordered as she refilled Reese’s cup with the drink she believed would cure all.

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Greenlowe had done everything Reese would allow in order to make her comfortable. The knee was wrapped in cool cloths, but not wanting it to bend, Reese refused a pillow at first. Mrs. Greenlowe finally put it under Reese’s foot. Reese also denied the poultice Mrs. Greenlowe wanted to try, not believing in such things when the skin wasn’t broken.

“Did you have dinner?” Mrs. Greenlowe finally asked, always eager to feed someone.

“I don’t think I did. I didn’t get dinner cleaned up at the big house either.”

“Well, if Mr. Kingsley can haul you around like you were a feather, he can lift a dish and take it to the kitchen.”

For the first time in two hours Reese felt like laughing. She chuckled while Mrs. Greenlowe went to the kitchen to prepare a plate. All the time she worked, she shouted out to Reese.

“You didn’t tell me he’s the size of a small mountain. I don’t know why you don’t mention these things. And with that soft voice. I could barely hear him. And polite. I like a man who doesn’t talk your ear off.

“That was a nice coach too. How many do they have? I thought they came by train. Has that been here all these years, or did it just come? I’ll bet that was the horse he rides. It was a big one.”

Reese only half listened. When she thought about being carried around so far off the ground, she lost her breath again. And Mr. Kingsley had been nice, even Reese had to admit that. He’d talked to her and not just given orders, and everything had gone very swiftly.

But most of all, he’d been right. She couldn’t stand on her feet right now, and working had not been an option. She planned to be back on the job in the morning, but right now her knee was too swollen.

“I won’t be able to climb stairs,” Reese told Mrs. Greenlowe when she brought her a plate of food. “I’ll need to camp out down here.”

“You don’t fit on that sofa, but we’ll make you comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

“I picked these up just in time,” Mrs. Greenlowe said, pulling a table close and setting out the fabric swatches. “Since you can’t jump up and clean anything, you can look at the swatches I picked out.”

“Is that red?” Reese asked with a frown, and Mrs. Greenlowe whipped that piece of fabric away.

“For an apron,” the woman defended herself. “I look right snappy in red.”

It was happening again. Even with the pain of her knee, Reese wanted to laugh.

Eleven

Troy was the one to hear the knock. He wasn’t expecting anyone at this time of the morning, and curiosity more than anything else drove him swiftly to the front door. He found Reese.

“Reese!” Troy said with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to come to the front,” she said, thinking that’s what he meant.

“But what about your knee?”

“I can work today if I don’t have to climb stairs, so I can still get your meals and work on the rooms on this level.”

“Have you been using the side door all this time?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I thought it was best.”

Troy stood aside, realizing he had left her on the stoop. He could certainly see why she felt that way after the way she’d been treated, but it was still very hard on his heart.

“Are you certain you’re up to this?”

Before Reese could answer, Conner had spotted them by the front door and was coming their way.

“Reese?” he questioned, echoing Troy. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to make breakfast,” she said, even managing to get her chin up a little; lately she felt safer if she allowed herself to become a bit defiant. While this was certainly not her normal personality, right now it felt like survival.

“I don’t think you should do that,” Conner said.

“You have to eat,” Reese countered quietly, never dreaming they would object. Mr. Zantow hadn’t cared how she felt.

The men only stared at her, and Reese, not knowing what to do with their expressions, backed toward the door, all defiance deserting her.

“I’ll go,” she said, trying to push away the thought of not being paid for a whole day, added to yesterday’s half-day.

“We’ll take you back,” Troy offered.

“I can walk, thank you,” Reese said and slipped out the door again.

Troy rarely saw Conner frustrated, but this was one of those times.

“What should we have done?” the younger man asked, his hands up in defeat.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why she felt so desperate to come.”

Conner walked to a parlor window that let him see down the street. Reese was making her way methodically along, but not walking with her normal stride.

“How will she know when to come back?” Troy asked, but then he spotted something. “She’s not going home.”

“I see that.” Conner followed her progress.

“She’s headed into Shephard Store,” Troy said, looking at Conner. The two men began to smile.

“I think she meant it. We should have let her stay.”

“Will she come back tomorrow?’

“I hope so.” Troy’s look made Conner laugh. “Otherwise you’re stuck with my cooking for more than one day.”

“Well, Reese,” Doyle greeted her with a smile. “What brings you out in the middle of the week?”

“I’m shopping for dress fabric, and then I want to look at shoes. Just look,” she emphasized, not willing to touch her money in the bank unless she was desperate.

“Right over here,” Doyle indicated with pleasure, not noticing that Reese was not having a very good time. Her knee did hurt, but more than that, she worried about the money she was losing. She had to have a new dress—there was no getting around it—but shoes would have to wait. Today she would just price them and plan.

If she’d only kept her head at the big house and not backed away, she might have been able to work. But she couldn’t tell what Conner was thinking, and she had to be feeling very brave to cross that man. Trying not to dwell on it anymore, Reese brought out the swatches she’d stuffed into her pocket at the last minute and put Doyle to work.

“How are you feeling?” Alison asked of Maddie, who had stopped in soon after dinner with a recipe that Alison wanted to try. Maddie felt comfortable enough to stay while the pastor’s wife started her baking.

“A little donsie now and then, but most days I’m good until evening. Then I fall asleep in the parlor each night.”

“It’s nice that you don’t feel sick all the time.”

“I’m not crazy about the taste of chicken right now, but nothing else has changed.”

A baby’s cry came from the stairway just then, and both women looked to see Peter coming from the back stairs, Jeffrey in his arms.

“He tipped over and bumped his head,” Peter explained.

Tears of self-pity rolled down the baby’s round cheeks, intensifying when he spotted his mother. Alison took Jeffrey in her arms, cuddled him close, and told him all would be well. She smiled at a delighted-looking Maddie as the cries turned to sniffles and shudders.