Promise of Yesterday Read online

  Marylu didn’t even bother molding her tongue around a reply.

  “I’m sure you did,” Mrs. Burns answered her own question. “He’s a quiet one to be sure, but I guess that’s because of his tongue being cut. Not all of it from what I hear, but enough to make it impossible for him to form most letters. A shame, I’m sure, but right punishment for a murderer, don’t you think?”

  four

  “It can’t be true.” Miss Jenny’s mouth pursed. She gave the scissors a snip into the air to punctuate the statement. “He doesn’t look the type.”

  “Since when are you one to judge on looks?” Marylu unfolded the large section of material her employer was set to begin cutting.

  “Oh, I don’t. He just seems so”—she bent over the table, her brows creased—”gentle.”

  Marylu didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, truth be told, because it was the exact word she would have used to describe Chester Jones’s appearance. Sure, he got sassy with her, but his eyes held a quietness that seemed to show an inner strength. Her skin tightened, and gooseflesh rose along her arms. But that description could fit a lot of men. And she had been wrong before. Maybe Chester wasn’t gentle. Those red-rimmed eyes might hide a deeper problem, and she herself had felt he looked tormented at least once during their morning exchange.

  She sighed. No use fussin’ around with thoughts of him anyhow. What with Miss Jenny pinning on the pattern, there was work to be done. Marylu smoothed her hand over the fabric, and she recalled the impulsive touch of her hand upon his hair earlier.

  “You’re blushing, Marylu.” Jenny’s eyes sparkled with pure mischief.

  Miffed at having been caught woolgathering about the man, again, she opened her mouth then closed it with a snap.

  “You look like a fish!” Jenny’s laughter tinkled across the table that separated them.

  Heat rose up Marylu’s neck and fanned into her cheeks. She pressed her hands to the warmth and averted her face.

  Jenny’s mirth stuttered to a stop. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t ever get to see you so flustered, and I, well, I couldn’t resist.”

  Marylu felt her friend’s light touch on her shoulder and raised her head.

  “There’s something about him, isn’t there?” Her friend’s eyes were serious now.

  Marylu didn’t respond. Didn’t want to. Days ago she would have called herself or anyone else four kinds of fool for thinking there would ever be another man to pique her interest. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  But Chester, a murderer? If nothing else, she wanted to know his story. Mrs. Burns’s wagging tongue did little to convince her that Chester was indeed guilty of taking someone else’s life. Besides, she had long ago learned it best not to believe something until she heard it straight from the source.

  Jenny picked up the edge of the material and poised to make the first cut. “You know that Mrs. Burns sometimes gets things wrong.”

  It was as if Jenny had read her mind. Though her friend’s words were a much kinder explanation of Mrs. Burns’s motive than she would have offered up. “I’ll be making sure of the story. You can count on it.”

  Cooper opened his big trap as soon as Marylu stepped through the door and into the kitchen.

  “Heard you’ve got yourself some butchering to do tonight.”

  She raised a brow and spun a circle at her ear with an index finger. “You finally gone plumb crazy. What butchering?”

  Cooper ran a hand over his close-cropped, more-scalp-than-anything hair. “Hair butchering. Chester was wide-eyed over the idea of coming here this evening. If that boy could talk proper, he’d have been spilling words all afternoon.”

  She paused to absorb this, secretly pleased but not for a moment going to let it show. She moved aside as Miss Jenny rustled through the door behind her.

  Cooper creaked himself vertical and reached out to take Miss Jenny’s packages.

  “Why thank you, Cooper.”

  “Why sure. Can’t let a pretty gal like yourself tote around heavy things.”

  Marylu snorted. “You let me do it often enough.”

  Cooper slapped the package down onto the table. “I said ‘pretty gal.’ You needin’ your hearing checked?”

  It only took her a second to yank up the heavy iron skillet and wave it threateningly.

  Jenny stepped between them.

  “Don’t you get in the way, Miss Jenny. I’m going to give him what he has coming.”

  “Marylu, really. A fine example of Christianity you are.”

  “I am. The good Lord expects us to fight the devil. Now let me at him.”

  Cooper doubled up and slapped a hand to his thigh.

  Jenny shook her head, but the smile broke through. “What would I do without you two to keep me on my toes?”

  Marylu lowered the skillet. “I can think of a few things I could do without him around.”

  Cooper folded himself onto the bench and started up coughing.

  Jenny sat beside him, a hand on his shoulder. “You need me to call the doctor?”

  “I’ve got some good strong medicine for him,” Marylu inserted. “Cure him of every bit of meanness ailing him. ‘Course, it would cure him stiff and cold.”

  “How can you be so mean to me?” Cooper raised his watery eyes to meet hers.

  Marylu huffed, admitted that he didn’t look too good, and then relented. “I’ll get you some tea.”

  He coughed real hard. “Lots of honey.”

  “I’ve made you hundreds of cups of tea in your life, and you’re going to sit there and act like I don’t know how you like it?” Marylu suspected Miss Jenny would coo over him a bit longer. She had a soft spot for the old man. Marylu set about cutting up roast and chopping vegetables for a stew. When the water for the tea came to a boil, Marylu got down the honey and began fixing three cups.

  For all the drama Cooper could drum up, their little ritual of taking tea, and reading the Bible at the end of the workday, never failed to bring its own brand of comfort. They were a mismatched family, to be sure, but they loved each other.

  She loved Cooper even more when he was quiet, though she had to admit that cough had her worried. The sound seemed raw, and she pondered the idea of putting some crushed garlic into his tea to ward off any further sickness.

  When she set the teacups out, a thick silence settled around the room, disturbed only by the vague crackling of the wood fire fueling the stove. Cooper seemed content to warm his hands around the hot cup, his gaze distant. Jenny stirred her tea absently, as if Marylu hadn’t quite worked the sugar into the amber liquid, but she guessed the woman had her mind on business, or a dress or bonnet.

  Marylu slipped down on the bench, not realizing until she got still how much her body needed the rest. Muscles seemed to unbunch, and her knee protested being bent after so many hours. She inhaled the steam and wished she’d put a pinch of cinnamon into her cup, but the prospect of rising didn’t appeal in the least, so she contented herself with sipping the tea plain.

  “Guess we’d best be reading before the night gets away from us.” Marylu grunted and reached toward the Bible sitting in its usual place at the end of the table. No dust collecting on this Bible. Not with Cooper to keep in line, a task made all the lighter since he almost always deferred to her and Miss Jenny to do the reading.

  The leather cover of the Bible had begun to crack from the years of wear. Marylu ran a finger down the fracture and wondered if the local bookbinder could do something to mend the tear. The Bible had been a gift to them from Jenny’s mama and daddy, and she sure and certain wanted to keep it in good repair.

  “You gonna read or start to bawling?” Cooper frowned, though his eyes held a mischievous gleam. A cough choked him up, followed by another.

  “You just worry about sucking down that tea. You hear?”

  Miss Jenny put a hand to Cooper’s shoulder. “I really think I should fetch the doctor.”

  “I’m an old man,” he barked, the words pu
nctuated with another cough. “If I gotta go, no doctor’s gonna prevent it.”

  Marylu flipped the pages to Samuel. “And we’re surely not going to stand in the way, either.”

  “Honestly!” Jenny sent Marylu a stern look. “The two of you are just terrible.”

  Cooper balled a fist and pressed it to his lips as if to stifle another cough. Marylu saw the gesture for what it was worth, a ploy to cover his amusement. The man’s dark, watery eyes met hers long enough to deliver a wink, before another cough yanked at his chest.

  Jenny didn’t notice the exchange, unconsciously patting the man on the back as the coughing fit continued.

  Such a straying of attention made Marylu hold her finger underneath the verse she’d been about to read and frown. Miss Jenny’s stare wasn’t directed at the cookstove in an I-need-to-get-a-new-one kind of way. No, her eyes were focused on something Marylu couldn’t see, and she had a feeling she knew what had her employer and friend so distracted. What man had her so distracted, to be exact.

  Marylu ran her finger down the Bible passage they were to read that evening and wondered how best to approach the subject of Aaron Walck. The man had captured Miss Jenny’s fancy soon after the death of his wife, and it seemed, to Marylu’s mind, that Jenny’s interest hadn’t waned a bit.

  “Are you going to begin, Marylu?” Miss Jenny asked.

  “Got it right here. First Samuel 18.” As she read out loud, the verses became mere words, so caught up was she in trying to make sense of Miss Jenny’s preoccupation.

  “This is such a sad story. Saul started out with such promise and slid away into such bitterness,” Jenny murmured.

  Marylu gave an absent nod. “Spirit gets hold of a person and don’t let go.”

  “He made bad choices,” Jenny added.

  “Reminds me of that young Zedikiah. He best be getting some sense in that head of his before his brains shrink up.” Marylu opened her mouth to add something more to the statement but closed it.

  Miss Jenny’s gaze had sought out Cooper’s and something passed between them. Cooper wasted no time in starting up a coughing fit, but Marylu knew she’d missed some silent message. A message that looked much like a gentle rebuke.

  five

  For the next hour they ate and talked about Saul. Miss Jenny seemed inclined to have her say about the man’s change of heart and his ability to sire a young man like Jonathan, who had a soft heart despite his father. And all the while, Marylu listened to Miss Jenny’s soliloquy with rising suspicion.

  Cooper seemed bent on studying the ingredients of the stew and the rim of his bowl. She wanted to stop her friend and ask what was going on but thought it best to hold her tongue.

  It wasn’t long after Cooper had shuffled his empty bowl to the counter that Miss Jenny seemed satisfied and closed the subject.

  When Jenny left to work on some mending for Cooper, Marylu whirled on him. “What was that all about? I saw her giving you messages with her eyes.”

  “To know me is to love me.”

  “That’s not the kind of eyeballing she was giving you, and you know it.”

  Cooper’s shoulders slumped, and a sigh further deflated his frame. “It’s an old problem.”

  “I’m listening.”

  The old man didn’t raise his face or even twitch. Marylu’s stomach twisted. She could remember only a handful of times ever seeing Cooper cry, and they were always like this. He’d get real quiet and still and then haul the handkerchief from his back pocket and take a swipe at his eyes and snort into the cloth. All the signs tears were there.

  He crammed the kerchief back into his pocket and finally raised his face to her. “You think you know all ‘bout me, but you don’t. Sometimes a body’s done too many wrongs and ain’t nothing no one can do to help.”

  Whatever it was, it had to be bad. She twisted it over in her head how it was that Jenny knew something about old Cooper she didn’t. The revelation seemed a recent one, making it all the more mysterious. Cooper hardly ever went anywhere or did anything out of his routine.

  She turned her back on the man and set to work on the dishes. A light knock on the door broke the rhythm of swishing her rag around the plate. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Cooper would break from his doldrums to open the door.

  “Good to have some man-company for a change,” she heard Cooper greet their visitor.

  Marylu set aside the clean dish. “I’ll get my shears out in a minute. Let me finish up these dishes. You had yourself some supper, Chester?”

  Not only did she not expect an answer, she didn’t wait for one. Plucking a bowl from the open cabinet, she ladled stew into it. No bachelor she knew would cook for himself unless held at gunpoint.

  When she turned, bowl in hand, she met Chester’s gaze. He stood at the closed door as if afraid to enter the room, or unsure of himself, though his eyes held the light of a man full of sass.

  Marylu’s hair prickled along her scalp. She slid the bowl down the table, careful not to spill any, and motioned Chester to take his seat. “Got more where that came from if you’ve a mind for it.”

  Chester took a hesitant step toward the bench, then stopped and lifted an eyebrow first to Cooper then to her.

  “We already ate.” She pointed at the open Bible. “We were spending some time in the Word. You be sure not to splash on the pages.”

  She didn’t stay to watch him eat, afraid the sight might be more than she could handle. Mrs. Burns’s words came back to her. Yet Chester’s soft eyes that held such fascination for her seemed incapable of hatred. She might as well just admit that he had a way about him that she found appealing.

  Marylu stretched upward and retrieved the scissors she used to cut cloth and snip hair off Cooper when she couldn’t stand looking at the bush on his head a minute longer. Though hair on that man’s head hadn’t been a problem for the last ten years or so. It fell out faster than it grew.

  When she returned to the table, Cooper sat chatting in a low voice to Chester, telling him of life in the area since the great battle at Gettysburg. Chester listened with interest, his bowl not nearly as empty as she expected. She forced herself to watch him spoon some into his mouth. Nothing drooled out the sides. He seemed to take a bit longer to chew and work things around, but other than that, nothing out of the ordinary. She almost sighed her relief then wondered why it mattered so much.

  She worked the scissors in her right hand, the sharp snap gaining the attention of both men. Smile lines appeared beside Chester’s eyes as he chewed.

  “You sharpen these like I asked you?” She directed the question at Cooper.

  “Sure did. Sharpened them real good.”

  She nodded, and with nothing left to do but wait, she sat herself down across from the two men and pulled the Bible close to read more about Saul. And to give herself some time to gather her wits before putting her fingers in the hair of the man who had captured her interest so easily.

  Chester did his best to keep his eyes on his stew or on Cooper’s face, but every time Marylu moved from one place to another, he knew he must be giving himself away. Cooper didn’t seem inclined to tease him none, but Chester didn’t want to let down his guard.

  She captivated him. He imagined he could see the nobility of her character in the fine shape of her nose and the squareness of her jaw. Tendrils of hair popped out from beneath the kerchief she wore on her head and got him to wondering what it would be like to see her without the covering. Was her hair tinged with gray? Would it be curly and short or longer and pulled back?

  He didn’t miss the fine stitching of the dress she wore or the little details that spoke of a woman good with a needle and with access to fine materials. At least finer than most of the women he knew.

  He dipped his spoon and stirred the savory stew, inhaling deeply of the rich scent of beef and potatoes. The woman could cook, though he’d never doubted it for a minute with all the stories of her he’d heard.

  When she snippe
d the scissors and questioned Cooper, he allowed himself the opportunity to savor every bit of her appearance without the worry of Cooper seeing his admiration. He swallowed the bite of potato he’d been working on and wondered what she thought of him. Did she see a strong man or a coward?

  He fastened his attention on spooning up another morsel of stew. It didn’t matter what she saw. He knew the truth. A woman like Marylu could never admire a man like him, and probably the rumors of his past had reached her by now, swollen with speculation and rife with inconsistencies, but the basic truth was there.

  The very thought clenched his stomach, and he knew the tremors would prevent him from taking another bite. He fisted his hands and dug them into his lap, willing the trembling to stop before it started.

  He stabbed a quick glance across the table at Marylu, relieved to see her attention on the Bible in front of her. But Cooper noticed, the old eyes probing deeply into his. They sat, gazes clenched, for minutes before Cooper moved his head in a slow nod. Chester didn’t know what the gesture meant, but the old man braced his hand and rose slowly from the table.

  “I think Chester’s ready for those scissors.”

  Marylu’s head snapped up. “You stay put, and I’ll work you over, too.”

  Cooper shook his head. “Not me. I’ve got myself a project to work on.” He ran a hand over his grizzled hair and favored Chester with a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Don’t let her get too much of your scalp.”

  “You get out of here,” Marylu spat. “I’ve shorn more old goats like you than sheep. Chester at least won’t give me any lip.”

  Cooper’s dry chuckle was punctuated by a stale cough as he opened the door.

  “You shouldn’t be out in that night air with that cough.”

  Cooper didn’t reply. The door shut, leaving only a cold draft of air to wash over Chester.

  Marylu shivered. “Don’t know why that man can’t listen to me for once.” She stood in profile to him, lost in thought, gaze on the door that Cooper had disappeared through, unconsciously opening and closing the scissors she held.