That Healing Touch (Cutter's Creek, Book 1) Page 4

  “Would you like some more?” Mary offered.

  “Yes, please – thank you,” he said.

  Mary moved to give him more potatoes, but Howard lifted a hand to stop her, shook his head and nodded at Willow. She nodded back and dished the man up a second helping. “There you are,” she said. “More carrots and chicken?”

  Jack turned to the sound of her voice. “Please,” he said, his tone a little flatter than before.

  Willow pressed her lips together. He obviously didn’t mind Mary serving him, but when it came to her, he had a different attitude altogether. Perhaps it was because she was a stranger and he didn’t like anyone seeing him like this. Well, he’d just have to get used to it. She gave him what he wanted, then returned her attention to her own plate.

  “I plan to write a sermon on forgiveness,” Howard announced. “I’d like you to help me with it, Jack.”

  Jack, a forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth, froze. “I don’t think I’m very knowledgeable on that subject. Perhaps Miss Bennett could help instead.”

  Willow flinched at the use of her name. Well, if he wanted to be combative, she was happy to oblige. “I have no one in my life that needs forgiving.”

  “Perhaps not a single person, Miss Bennett,” Jack retorted, “but didn’t you say you lost family in the war? Tell me, were they Union?”

  “Yes, they were.”

  “Then perhaps you should forgive the Union Army, seeing as how they took your family members from you.”

  “My brother and father made the decision to join,” she said without hesitation. “Though I would wish the outcome of that decision otherwise, it was still their choice. They knew the risks involved.” She leaned toward him across the table, trying to emphasize her next statement even if the man couldn’t see it. “As did you.”

  He set his fork down and sat back. “Now there’s where you’re wrong, Miss Bennett. I was drafted.”

  She glanced at Howard and Mary for confirmation before facing him again. “Have you forgiven the Union Army?”

  “The Confederates took my sight, Miss Bennett. Not my own men.”

  “Very well – have you forgiven the Confederates?”

  He closed his eyes as his jaw tightened. Mary’s mouth dropped open and she quickly looked at her husband. He raised a hand to still her, his eyes intent on Jack.

  “My feelings on the matter, Miss Bennett, are private. Do not bring the subject up again,” he said sternly.

  She turned to Howard. “You see, Reverend, Mr. Carlson is obviously a better candidate to help you write your sermon on forgiveness, since he hasn’t given any to those he deems to have wronged him.”

  Jack pushed back from the table so fast he knocked his chair over – and himself with it. He struggled to his feet, his face flaming in rage. “I’ll hear no more of this from you, Miss Bennett. Stay out of things you know nothing about!”

  Willow and Mary sat stunned. “Jack,” Howard said, “calm down. She didn’t mean anything by it. She was simply trying to make a point, the same point I would’ve made if she hadn’t. You need to do this whether you want to or not.”

  Jack’s head moved back and forth a few times. He was disoriented, Willow could tell, and probably didn’t know which direction to go in. “Would you like to go up to your room?” she asked calmly.

  “No, no,” he said as he reached for the chair. But it was turned over on the floor – if he moved wrong he’d trip right over it.

  Willow shook her head, got up and went around the table to help him. “Here, let me get that for you,” she said as she picked the chair up. She took his hand and placed it on it. His arm stiffened as if he was going to resist, but he didn’t.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Miss Bennett. Howard, Mary, I’m sorry.”

  “Sit down, Jack,” Mary said, her voice trembling. “Finish your supper. We’ll talk no more of it tonight.” She gave her husband a warning glare.

  Howard closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he glared back at his wife, then nodded solemnly. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Jack. I think you’ve had enough for one day.”

  Willow glanced between the three of them. Enough of what?

  The next day Willow helped Mary prepare breakfast. Howard came downstairs, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table. “I’m afraid I owe you a greater apology than I anticipated, Miss Bennett.”

  Mary dished him up a plate of fried eggs, bacon and potatoes, then returned to the stove and prepared two more plates. “I told you this wouldn’t turn out well.”

  “It will,” Howard insisted. “With prayer and patience, everything will be fine.”

  “What if Miss Bennett doesn’t have the patience? Or want to?” Mary turned to Willow. “You don’t have to do this, not unless you wish. But I have to say … Jack needs someone like you right now. He feels the whole world turned against him when he lost his sight – his friends, what few family members we have left. No one would take him in but us.”

  Willow sat as Mary set the plates on the table. “What happened to his family?” she asked.

  “Several were killed in the war,” Mary explained. “His mother disappeared for a while. Jack heard about her death shortly after the war ended. No one’s heard from or seen his sister Emma in years – she’s either dead or came out West, but none of us know.”

  “That’s part of his problem,” Howard commented. “He can’t go looking for her.”

  A cold lump settled in Willow’s stomach. She remembered Emma, who was only a year older than Willow herself. What on Earth could have happened to her? She knew Jack had always been fiercely loyal to and protective of his family. Now his parents were gone, his sister missing … no wonder he had so much pent-up frustration. “I’m sorry to hear he’s lost so much.”

  “We all lost loved ones because of the war, Miss Bennett. Some of us more than others.”

  “But to not know if his sister is dead or alive, and to be unable to find out … no wonder he’s angry.”

  “Angry, frustrated, feeling betrayed by the world – and don’t even get him started on God,” Howard said.

  “He has to forgive,” Willow said. “He’ll never find happiness or peace otherwise.”

  “There are some who never forgive,” Mary said. “Some for whom unforgiveness has been the death of them. That’s my worry for Jack. You have to help him, Miss Bennett.”

  Howard looked at her. “Now you want her to help. A little while ago you sounded like you wanted to send her off on the next stage.”

  Mary tensed. “I want her to have a choice, Howard,” she said evenly before turning back to Willow. “Forgive me, Miss Bennett. It’s just that this hasn’t been easy for us and there’s only so much we can do. I feel that my husband went to the extreme by bringing you here. Especially since he didn’t tell Jack.”

  “Speaking of which,” Willow said, “where is he?”

  “Probably still in bed,” Howard informed her. “He stays up late some nights, pacing in his room. He doesn’t sleep well. Nightmares.”

  “Poor man,” Willow said. “How can I help him?”

  “Teach him Braille,” Mary said. “I’ve been able to get him started, but he gets angry when he doesn’t learn fast enough. He’s a highly intelligent man, but this is all so new to him.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said, then added silently for as long as I can. But after that, if nothing’s changed, I need to leave. This was not the Jack Carlson she knew and loved, and she wasn’t sure how long she could stare her crushed dreams in the face.

  “I’ll make him a plate and put it in the warming oven,” Mary said. “He’ll be up in a few hours. After he eats you can give him a lesson.”

  “I don’t know anything about Braille. How can I teach him?”

  “I’ll show you the books after breakfast. You’ll see everything he needs to do – you just guide him, mostly.”

  Willow nodded, sighed and began to eat. This,
she suspected, was going to be a long day.

  6

  Jack sat dourly next to Willow at the dining room table, a Braille book open before him. Mary was right – Willow could figure out the symbols and their meanings with surprising ease. She just had to tell Jack which symbol was which as he learned to feel them. “You’re doing fine,” she told him after about a half-hour had passed.

  “That’s because I’ve already learned these,” he said. “It’s the next half-dozen I need to memorize. Then another half-dozen after that.”

  “You don’t need to learn the entire book in a day, you know.”

  “The sooner the better, Miss Bennett. What’s next?”

  Willow bit her bottom lip. He’d been snappish the entire lesson. The reverend said that Jack had always been good at anything he tried, and he was determined to be good at this too. That in itself wasn’t a bad thing, but his attitude wasn’t making things any easier, for either of them. She guided his hands to the next line of the book. “You’re learning a new system, Mr. Carlson. I’ve heard that many people had an even harder time learning the old one.”

  “None of it’s easy, Miss Bennett, be it this New York Point system or whatever they call it, or something else. I just want to be done with it.”

  She placed a hand over his. “Have patience, and it will come more smoothly.”

  He turned his head toward her. “Patience is not one of my more prominent virtues, I’m afraid. I think you saw that last night.” He turned his head further. He was now facing her. “I’m sorry. You must think me a beast.”

  She placed her other hand over his free one. “No, I just think you’re hurt like the rest of us. Maybe because you lost more. I was angry when I found out about my father and brother. I remember a moment where I wanted the world to end, just so that I wouldn’t have to feel the pain anymore.”

  He pulled his hand out and covered hers with it. “That’s how I feel right now, just so you know. Tell me, Miss Bennett, how did you get past it?”

  “We live in a fallen world, you and I. This war wasn’t the first time people have suffered and it won’t be the last. But I realized I still had the Lord on my side. And so do you, Mr. Carlson. Through my pain and suffering, I realized I wasn’t alone, any more than you are.”

  Jack withdrew his hands from hers and faced forward. “What are the symbols? Place my hands on the line.”

  Willow shivered as a chill went up her spine. She guessed her words had hit their mark in his heart. They certainly had in hers. No matter what happened concerning Jack, she’d reminded herself that she was not alone, that she could get through this, be it as a mail-order bride or not. She would find a way to survive.

  She just hoped and prayed he would too. But he wasn’t going to without her help, she knew. Howard and Mary had put enough time into him, and they were exhausted. Even if she was Jack’s teacher rather than his bride, it lifted a heavy load off their shoulders and gave her a purpose. Perhaps the Lord above had orchestrated things to turn out this way. Perhaps she was never meant to be a mail-order bride at all …

  “Miss Bennett?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she placed his fingers on the next line of Braille.

  They worked several hours that day, and by the time they were done Willow was drained. Jack would learn a few symbols, jump to the ones he’d learned with Mary, then back to the new ones. His memory was good, but he pushed himself hard – if he made a mistake, he’d grumble at himself under his breath, his brow furrowed in frustration. Once he hit the table with a fist, making Willow almost jump out of her chair.

  “Would you like to go up to your room and rest?” she asked when she felt she couldn’t continue.

  “No.” He carefully pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m hungry.”

  “Sit back down and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  “No, I want to get it myself.” He ran his hand along the table as he walked toward the kitchen. His other hand reached out for the wall to guide him to the door.

  Willow got up and followed him. “I could make you a sandwich.”

  “Mary?” he called out, ignoring her offer.

  “Mary’s in the backyard, doing laundry.”

  Jack stopped, turning his head as if he could look over his shoulder at her. “Oh.”

  “It’s no trouble for me to fix you something, Mr. Carlson. You can sit at the kitchen table if you like.”

  He turned his head the opposite direction. He obviously knew how the kitchen was laid out – he took several steps to the left with one hand extended, reached a chair and sat. “I want to learn.”

  Mary had baked several loaves of bread earlier and set them on the worktable to cool. Willow took one, picked up a nearby knife and began to cut a few slices. “What do you want to learn, Mr. Carlson?”

  Jack waved a hand in the air. “This. I can’t even make myself a sandwich. Do you know how pathetic that makes me feel, Miss Bennett?”

  She thought a moment. “That’s why your cousins thought you needed my help. You’ll learn in time …” She swallowed hard. “ … Jack. But you have to be patient with yourself. You can’t learn everything in a day.”

  “I know this house. I know it well. But then Mary moves things and I can’t find them. I heard you slicing bread. Where was the knife?”

  “On the worktable, next to the loaves she put there this morning.”

  “Where it should be. But sometimes it’s in a cupboard, or the hutch, or a drawer. I need things in order so I can find them. She forgets that.”

  “She forgets because it’s her house, her home,” she said gently. “And because she’s been trying to take care of you instead of letting you take care of yourself.”

  He sat a moment, pondering. “You used my first name a moment ago. Why?”

  Willow stuck her hands in her apron pockets as she shivered. “Because if we’ll be working together, perhaps we should be on a first-name basis. Howard and Mary have already insisted I call them by their first names. Why not you?” She swallowed hard and waited for his answer. If he knew her first name, would he remember who she was? But so what if he did? It’s not like she was there to marry him anymore.

  “Are you sure you want to put yourself through that?” he asked. “You saw what I did last night.”

  “You were angry. You’re still angry, if my guess is right.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m angry because I don’t know how to forgive, Miss … what is your first name?”

  She swallowed again. This was it. “Willow. My name is Willow Bennett.”

  Jack froze. Willow Bennett? Why was that name familiar? “Willow,” he said aloud. She didn’t respond. “Willow Bennett …” Then he remembered. “I knew a girl named Willow once.”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “You did.”

  Jack felt his blood turned to ice. “Samuel Bennett’s sister?”

  He heard her take a few steps to his left. “Yes, Jack, that Willow Bennett.”

  He sat, stunned. “So you know who I am.”

  He heard her breath catch. “You … you were my brother’s friend.”

  Jack smiled. “Yes, I was. You were just a little thing, as I recall. You must not remember me. But I remember you.”

  He heard her sit next to him. “Oh, I remember you.”

  He leaned his body away from her. “You knew who I was … when you came here?”

  “Yes. But what did it matter? I didn’t think you’d remember me. As you said, I was just a little girl back then.”

  He was about to comment when another realization struck. “Then your father and Sam … are dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She didn’t take it well. She became very ill. After the war ended we had to leave Connecticut and go live with my aunt. My mother died there, and then a year later so did my aunt.”

  “And what of you? How did you survive?” He leaned in her direction again.

&nbs
p; She laughed once. “I came here.”

  He straightened in his chair. “Little Willow Bennett, here. And now you’re helping me.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for your loss, now more than ever. Sam was a good friend, and your father was a good man.”

  “As was your family.”

  He sat back and chuckled. “Not so good as you think. My uncle would have nothing to do with me – he didn’t want to have to look after a blind man. Nor did my aunt. Howard and Mary were the only ones willing.”

  A rustle of skirts. He sensed her draw closer to him. “Then help them by helping yourself, Jack. You can do that by letting me help you.”

  He drew in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “What sort of fate brought you here, Willow? Especially after we’ve both lost so much?”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways. Maybe He thought we could bring each other comfort. Who knows?”

  He turned his face toward the sound of her voice. What he wouldn’t give to be able to see her all grown up now. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. It was thin, delicate. He moved his hand up to her neck, then her face, feeling the high cheekbones, the curves and contours. He touched her hair. “Willow,” he whispered, bringing his other hand up to cup her chin. “You’re all grown up.” And beautiful, he almost said, but caught himself just in time.

  Her hand came up to cover the one he had at her face. “Yes,” she said shakily. “So have you. But then, you were always grown up to me.”

  His fingers roamed her hair. It was soft, silky and he couldn’t bring himself to draw his hand away. He pulled at some of the curls, loosening the pins. They tinkled to the floor, startling him back to reality, and he lowered his hands. “I’m … I’m glad you’re here. The least I could do for my fallen friend is to look after his little sister.”