Hope like wildflowers, p.18
Hope Like Wildflowers, page 18
Noah grounded himself, readying for another attack from his brother.
Long before his father's death two years ago, Noah had stepped into the role of defender. Not of his business ventures, per se, but of the weak and the right. Sometimes it had been the workers. At times, the business dealings. A few times, his own mother. But his father's forceful personality and his brother's desire to emulate him thrust the innate peacemaker within Noah onto the battlefield.
Three years ago, he would have attempted gentle responses to his brother's irrational accusations. Acquiesced to the demands of his father. Three years ago, he may have cowered a little.
But losing Elinor, their sister, and their father forced Noah to take a stand, over and over again. To raise a voice of reason and compassion.
True compassion cared with a steel spine.
His brother's tyranny had only gotten worse since his engagement to Beatrice Malone, belle of The Hollows and daughter of one of the richest men in town. More outrageous. With an apparent need to prove to the Malones and the entire town that he deserved such a social advancement.
Charlie's cry suddenly sliced into the argument. Heat fled Noah's body, and three things happened at once.
George's eyes grew wide, Mother exchanged a look with Noah, and Kizzie dashed from the hallway toward the stairs.
“Have you brought one of those vagabond children to stay in this house?” George dodged Noah's approach and started for the stairs, only to run directly into Kizzie blocking his path. She stood one step above him, placing her almost at eye level.
“There are no vagabonds here, Mr. Lewis.” She raised her chin, her eyes as cool as steel. “Only strangers who got lost in the storm last night, so if you'll kindly control yourself and stop scaring my young'un, I'll go quiet him.”
George froze, eyes growing wider as he stared.
Noah moved closer, ready to rise to Kizzie's defense, but his brother didn't move, barely seeming to breathe. Merely stood there in a stare-off with a woman half a foot shorter than him. Though, from her current stance and the fire in her eyes, Noah wondered if Kizzie would be a force to reckon with.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs… .”
“Kizzie McAdams, sir.” And with another withering look, she dashed up the stairs.
George's attention followed her until she disappeared from sight, and then he turned, blinking. “Who is she, and why is she here?”
“As she said, George,” Mother interjected before Noah could respond, her tones low. “She met Noah on the main road after his carriage overturned last night in the storm, and she helped him and Martin home. There was no making it to town once they arrived here, so I invited her and her son to stay.”
“The carriage?” George's gaze switched to Noah. “What were you doing out on the road in the middle of the storm?” His expression dawned with awareness. “You weren't taking workers home from the mill, were you? Do you realize the waste of resources you've created in damaging the carriage? Have you no care for our situation, brother?”
Noah braced himself for another assault, but Mother stepped between them again.
“That is enough.” Her whisper was harsh.
“Not nearly,” George seethed, holding Noah's attention. “But I will forgo the conversation until later for the sake of Mrs. McAdams.”
The creak of stair and shush of a gown brought their attention to the stairs, where Kizzie slowly descended, Charlie in her arms. Her gaze flipped from George to Noah and then back again as she pulled a sniffling Charlie up against her shoulder. Noah stepped forward, but George bypassed him, reaching the bottom of the stairs at the same time Kizzie did.
“I apologize, Mrs. McAdams, for my previous behavior.” He sent a glare to Noah. “I had no idea there were guests in the house.”
A curl of nausea rose in Noah's stomach at his brother's saccharine response. His charm worked on so many women, especially the young ones. How many lives had he ruined with a compliment and the promise of something he'd never give?
Kizzie's eyes narrowed for only a moment before she offered a reserved smile that was nothing like the one she'd given him before George stormed into the house. “My mama says that our true self rises to the top when we're mad or when no one's looking. I certainly hope what I just witnessed doesn't prove true in your case.”
Noah had been on the verge of coming to Kizzie's defense, but in the wake of her response to his brother, he almost grinned.
Kizzie McAdams wasn't in danger of cowering to his brother. Something twinged inside his mind, an awareness he couldn't quite place.
His brother appeared in similar shock, but instead of being affronted, a look of pure fascination brightened his expression, and the nausea in Noah's stomach took an aggravated turn. “I intend on proving that it doesn't, if for no other reason than to replace whatever unpleasant thoughts are whirring in your pretty little mind about me.”
“I hope your motivation for improvement is a whole lot deeper than my thoughts about you, Mr. Lewis.”
Noah nearly laughed. His mother met his gaze with a hint of humored surprise.
George's smile dimmed only a moment and then flickered wide again. “One motivation could certainly spur another.” He gestured toward the sitting room. “May we start over?”
“Actually, I believe we've overstayed our most kind welcome, and I feel Charlie and I should get on with our plans.” She turned to Noah. “Could we ride with you into town on your way to fetch the doctor?”
A twin blend of disappointment and relief flooded through him. Getting her away from George, especially with the sudden shift in his behavior, was a good idea, but despite all inner warnings, he wanted to know her better. Understand the fire in those eyes, the confidence that spurred her to a new life, to a different future.
He wanted to know more about the strength that sent her fleeing the man who used his power to his advantage over her. Kizzie McAdams was no wallflower.
His Elinor had been a gentle, quiet soul, weaving in and out of his world like a whisper. Dying in the same quiet way. But Kizzie bloomed with a passion and resilience, capturing his attention as much with her confidence as her beauty.
His heart twinged again, as if working through emotions to find the right one, but his head knew the best course of action. Get her away from George.
“Of course. I'd be happy to,” he heard himself say. Yes. Good choice. Best one.
Safer for everyone.
“The doctor?” George spun to face Noah, his attention shifting to Mother and back. “Why do we need the doctor?”
“For Martin,” Mother answered as Noah stepped toward Kizzie. “He was seriously injured in the carriage accident, and his leg requires a set.”
“I'll let Taylor know of your plans.” Noah lowered his voice. “He'll have your things loaded into the sleigh, and we can leave as soon as you're ready.”
She searched his face with those large, curious eyes. Charlie's head wobbled as he turned to look Noah's way too. Same eyes. “Thank you. I reckon we can be ready in half an hour.”
“And perhaps it would be good for you to return to your house, George,” Mother added, gesturing toward the door. “I'm sure you have things to work on there in preparation for your wedding?”
George stepped back, his smile tight. “Excellent idea. And I'll go by way of the mill to have my own little investigation about the fire yesterday.” His attention swept over Kizzie. “I look forward to our next meeting, Mrs. McAdams.” With another glare in Noah's direction, he crammed his hat on his head and marched from the room.
“I'm sorry you had to witness such a spectacle, Kizzie.” Mother placed her palm on Kizzie's arm, her attention resting on Charlie. “What a horrible way to wake up from a kip.”
“It ain't the first time he's been startled awake by a loud noise.” Kizzie sighed as she gave Charlie a little bounce. “By some folks with the same thinking as your son.” Kizzie raised a brow and looked at Noah. “Not that son. I can already tell he's the good sort.”
The compliment caught him off guard. “At least fumbling toward good, I hope.”
She offered him the smile he'd seen a few times before, the one he felt all the way through him. The feeling in his heart grew, like someone opened a window inside his chest and flooded its shadowed recesses with light.
And he couldn't look away. Didn't really want to.
What was happening? Surely it was just a response to her wit, her vibrance. But no. The ache pooled deeper, soul deep, reaching beyond the shattered pieces of his grief toward the surface. Her honest faith interrupted his world, his planned path. His heart wanted whatever hope and strength she held within those eyes. Wanted … her?
His brain paused on the thought. Her?
A single mother with a child barely two months old? A woman running from a past he didn't fully comprehend? After all these months, why did his heart suddenly respond to Kizzie McAdams?
His gaze fell to Charlie, the baby offering a smile as if he somehow recognized Noah's internal bewilderment.
“Ain't we all fumbling, some days finding our feet a little better than others, but all holding on to hope that God is making each step stronger and better than the one before?” Her gaze held his, some deeper understanding passing between them. “I sure hope so, because I don't want to go back to where I was.”
Words failed him. His mind still struggled with the very real awareness of wanting to win her. At the mental admission, his pulse took off on a race, like a windup toy set free.
He was completely crazy!
“You really don't have to leave,” his mother urged, drawing Kizzie's attention away and releasing him from whatever hold she had. “We'd be happy to have you stay with us another night.”
Which sent him back to seeing her in her robe, hair long and wild. His throat tightened at the memory. Beautiful.
He was completely useless at the moment.
“That's kind of you, but if I'm going to start over in this new life of mine, I better go ahead and begin. Besides, once Mr. Lewis figures out I'm not a ‘Mrs.,’ he may not be too pleased I stayed here at all.”
Noah drew in a breath and stepped back, Kizzie's words sending an unintended reminder of his precarious place in the family and his brother's unpredictable behavior. The interest on George's face for Kizzie had little to do with her marital status. How the man could portray an upright life for the small social circles of The Hollows and live in complete opposition in private kept the two of them at odds, especially when it came to the young women at the mill.
They proved easy prey for George's roving eye.
But once Noah gained his inheritance, he'd change things. Protect the workers. Maybe even start his own mill where the employees wouldn't have to worry about people like George in power.
Now his situation trapped him.
The women needed incomes to serve their physical needs, but the job placed them in danger of George's anger and insatiable interests.
And Noah had no financial means to make a difference.
Someday, but not now.
Oh God, please help me know what to do! Sooner rather than later.
His attention landed back on Kizzie. He had to protect her too.
“I think considering everything …” He waved toward her. “It's best for you to leave as soon as possible.”
“Yes. Of course.” The glow left her eyes, somehow deflating his chest a little. “That's probably best.”
“I'll bring Daisy to you once the snow clears,” he continued. “It will give you time to sort her lodgings. I don't recall whether Mrs. Carter keeps a horse or not.”
Did she want to stay?
“I don't want to cause any trouble with her being kept here.”
“No trouble at all.” He searched her face, attempting to bring back the light in her eyes.
Kizzie looked from him to his mother. “Thank you for your kindness to me and Charlie. But it's time for me to step into whatever's next in my life … to start over.”
Chapter 15
LEAVE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
She attempted to pinch her heart against the sting, but it flared a little. Another reminder of how her past kept impacting her future. Of course Noah Lewis wanted her out of his house. If his brother felt so strongly about associating with people like her, he wouldn't support his little brother doing the same. Or his mother.
And Noah knew more about her than anyone else in The Hollows.
She shook her head and closed her mind against the worries. One truth she clung to, when the self-doubt and shame screamed accusations, was that she belonged to God. He called her His.
His beloved.
And that truth trumped every other label or slander.
She sighed out the hurt and glanced over the snow-covered countryside as the sleigh moved toward town, a picture straight from heaven to her insecurities. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.
On the horizon, the mountains rose in frosty peaks against the brilliant blue sky, the sunshine almost blinding against the stark white of the wintry world. Almost as if God wanted to get her attention. Remind her of His truth.
Her smile stretched wide, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the chilled air.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Noah tossed her a grin as he steadied the horses’ reins. The sleigh moved with smooth dips and swells across the new snow.
“Everything is just so beautiful.” She drew her attention away from his face, holding on to God's thoughts about her. “I've always loved snow.”
“I would have thought after our harrowing adventure, you might take a dimmer view.”
“I met you and your mama.” She shrugged. “That's been a nice surprise.”
He sent her a look from his periphery, his smile brimming with his nod. “I'm happy to hear that.”
“Besides, the fresh, untouched snow. Well, it reminds me of hope.”
His expression sobered, and he stared ahead, brow furrowing a little. “I'm sorry about my brother. I trust you know Mother and I do not share his views on many things.”
“Though he's louder about his feelings on the subject, his view is the more common one.” Charlie wiggled against Kizzie, trying to pull himself up, so Kizzie placed him on her shoulder closest to Noah and more couched from the wind.
“Common doesn't mean right.”
“And right doesn't mean accepted.”
“True.” He nodded. “So I think it's all the more fitting you're staying at Mrs. Carter's.”
Charlie's capped head wobbled as he looked around, and then when his eyes met Noah's, his little lips spread into a bright, dimpled smile. The dimples Noah's mama had mentioned earlier blinked in response for a half second. Too quick to get a good peek at them, but just enough to increase her curiosity.
What was it about a man having dimples? And only ones that sneaked out on rare occasions? It felt like a little secret only few and special folks got the chance to know.
Not that she was special to the likes of Noah Lewis, but the idea didn't hurt her none. A nice little daydream to think on every once in a while, that some good man in the world didn't think too badly of her, despite knowing her past.
“He's such a happy baby.” Noah's soft voice carried over the thrum of the horses’ hooves.
Emotions gathered in her throat at the tender sentiment. “I used to think what I'd done would make him a sad baby. That my sin would somehow transfer to his disposition as punishment.” She kissed Charlie's head. “I'm glad that's not been true.”
“I think he knows how much you love him.”
She sent Noah a look. His smile was gentle, not holding any of the censure she'd heard from his brother. “I hope that's true. And maybe Jesus’ love in me crosses out the sin that brought little Charlie here, so he can be happy.” She sighed. “Besides, this little man and the Lord are all I got in this world.”
Noah's expressions sobered. “Despite my brother's behavior, please know you have friends in me and my mother.”
She dipped her head in acceptance but didn't hold a lot of confidence in his claim. She didn't doubt his sincerity. He'd already proved to be an honest and kind sort of man, but with a powerful brother and a company to run, his good intentions weaved through the hands of someone else's control.
Besides, Noah and his mama barely knew her.
But the sentiment was nice.
Charlie's little hand reached out, and his fingers snatched a hold of Noah's coat sleeve. Noah's smile brimmed wider, giving a longer view of those dimples. Kizzie's lips couldn't help but respond. It was a real nice secret to know.
“He's happy—and strong, judging from the grip he has on my jacket.”
“I don't reckon you've been around babies very much, since you and your brother aren't married?”
He transferred the reins to one hand and jerked the free hand's glove off with his teeth before raising his fingers toward Charlie. The baby took a double-fisted hold of Noah's large hand, bringing out the man's dimples again. “Quite the grip there, little man.”
Something inside Kizzie's heart melted.
“He's got a good one. Believe me, I've felt it every time he grabs a handful of my hair.”
Noah's attention rose to her hatted head and then lowered to her eyes. “He's strong like his mother, I'd say.”
Those hazel eyes bore into hers as if trying to nudge some confidence her way. She looked down at Charlie, smoothing his little head with her palm. “I'm stronger now, but it took breaking first.”
Noah's sigh released a cloud of cool air. “That's certainly one way to become strong.”
Charlie took that moment to bite down on one of Noah's fingers, enticing a chuckle from Noah. “Strong and feisty.”
Noah's brow rose as his gaze flitted to hers, and she wondered if he didn't pair the latter word with her too. Feisty. Her daddy used to call her his spitfire, an endearment meant just for her. He never used it during a drunk, which made the word even sweeter.
She looked away.
