“I’m not him, if you’re pining for Tom,” Kelly murmurs. “Hell, he’snot even him at present. The boy you loved is gone.”
Anger pulses through me as I pull away and reach for myluggage. Tom may be a troubled, dissolute rogue, but I won’t hear himdisparaged.
“That’s what he is, you know—a boy. Whether you realize it nowor not, Craddock was never your equal.”
My spine goes ramrod straight. Watch what you say.
“You mistake my candor, madam. I mean no offense to yourfriend—rather, I think so highly of you that I deem most men your inferiors.”Kelly exhales and steps back. “Forgive me, Hester. For pressing you withanother proposal at such a difficult time.”
Cursing myself, I realize I’ve done what I hoped never to do.
I’ve hurt Noah Kelly.
33
Aequat omnes cinis.
Ashes make everyone equal—Seneca
Jupiteris eating oats when I arrive at the house on St. David’s Street. I hear thehorse blowing softly into his feedbag as he chews. Resident handyman and newtenant, Willard has converted the old shed behind the garden plot into achicken coop, but the hens are outside scratching dirt, searching for feed. Ipurchased quite a few birds from Hollister’s and plan to sell the excess eggsback to them. In addition to the chickens, I have a young milk cow. A gentlebovine, Molly is near the fence, working her cud with her teeth.
These common sounds are a symphony to my ears. I hope to leavethe day-to-day management of the animals in Little Hawk’s capable hands, but Ithink I will enjoy having the creatures about.
“Here we are, Hester,” Kelly says. He climbs from the wagon andhelps me down. “Would you like to open the front door or shall I?”
Me.
My newest cane swishes back and forth just ahead of my feet. Itcame from the dusty lost-and-found collection in Kelly’s office on Black Swan.The handle is carved with oak leaves and acorns and there are nicks in severalplaces at the tip. Seems rather adventurous, like the cane of an alpine hiker,and I feel the shocking urge to purchase lederhosen.
Kelly and I take the short pathway to the house. Inside, thescent of polished wood and fresh paint lifts my spirits. All thanks to CordeliaCollins! Her parents, a cousin, and a couple of aunts live a block from me, andshe enlisted their help. They opened the stale-smelling house and prepared itfor my arrival—going above-and-beyond the call. What have I to give in return?Fresh milk and eggs, I suppose.
I cross the parlor to the kitchen. The table is made of roughpine, and I touch the corner carefully, afraid of splinters. What is thatsmell? Freshly baked bread? I discover a warm loaf sitting near me on thetable, covered with a tea towel. What a lovely surprise. Upon furtherinspection, I also find a crock of butter, preserves of some kind, a cornedbeef, and an apple pie. Kelly reads the names from the tags attached to eachgift. I don’t recognize even one.
Last December, I considered St. David’s to be the slum ofStonehenge. Was I really so ignorant and callow?
“Miss Collins left a note,” Kelly says and reads it for me.“She fixed your room herself. For old time’s sake.”
He leaves me in the kitchen and looks over my main floorbedroom. “Nice,” he calls out. “Dresser, curtains, a pitcher and basin.” I hearKelly circle the space. “Rather impersonal as yet, but you’ll have a cozy homegiven time.”
After putting my suitcase down, he returns to the kitchen. “You’re sure about this?”
Yes, I sign. Sure.
“That’s what you told me when I left you at The Revels. Can Itrust your judgment?”
No choice. Not my boss.
Kelly laughs. “Well, legally I am your husband. I could alwaysthrow you over my shoulder and lock you in the attic at home.”
He says this in good humor and to most people it would havebeen funny. But I was locked up too long in Ironwood. I can’t even pretend tosmile. No. You wouldn’t do that.
He sobers instantly. “You’re right, sweetheart, I wouldn’t.”The doctor coughs, and turns toward the kitchen door. “I’ll have a word withLittle Hawk. He’s in the garden, I believe.”
We stroll outside together and find Willard planting potatoes.I rather like their starchy, home-cooked meal smell. Kelly reminds the handymanto check on me from time to time during the day.
“Let me know,” he says, “if she needs anything.”
The doctor wipes his feet on the mat at the door, and I followhim back inside. “All right then. Good luck, Hester.”
He doesn’t want to leave. I sense his distress, smell thesharpness of worry. He’ll miss me. I’ll miss him, too.
I take off my spectacles and put them on the kitchen table.Then I reach over and hug Kelly. We pull apart when Willard enters the room. Hetakes some food from the table and goes back outside to eat.
Thank you, Kelly, I sign. For saving me, for seeing whoI am, for loving me.
The doctor is quiet for a moment. “Perhaps we can resume our lessons,Hester. After you’ve had time to settle into your new home, of course. ThoseBraille manuals are still on my desk, just waiting to be read.”
Dear man, ever the taskmaster.
Wouldn’t miss it.
I smile and walk with Kelly to the door. Once he’s gone, Idecide to explore the garden out back. Willard comes out of theshed-turned-coop, carrying something in his arms. “Make yourself useful,Silver Eyes,” he mutters and shoves a basket at me. “Feed the chickens.”
The corn is hard and dry and has a dusty fragrance. I take asmall handful and throw it into the dirt and gravel. A group of birds come overand peck around my feet, clucking and cooing. I listen to the intermittentpatter of falling corn and flapping wings. A sense of correctness expandswithin me, and I know I’ve found my place. I can belong here.
Kelly’s right. I will have a cozy home, given time.
Willard and I share a quiet meal. He tells me to expect avisit from Mary Arden and resumes eating, saying nothing more. At all. Evenwhen I write questions on my
