Moonlight on the Millpond

  Thoughts of Jace filled her mind without warning. She had been planning to live in Tucker Mills forever, happy to do so, happy to wait for Jace to ask that question and then become his wife.

  Maddie shook her head a little and told herself to get to work. There was no point in crying over something she couldn’t have. It was over, and the sooner she realized that, the better it would be.

  Tucker Mills

  Jace was nearing the one-year mark. He’d come to the farm in the midst of the harvest last year, and now he was here to meet the harvest head-on. Woody had lots of tricks up his sleeve to make things more efficient and productive, but there was no getting around the hard work involved. The men put in long hours each day, their backs aching and sore, but satisfaction over the harvest and fruits of their labor dulled their fatigue.

  But what pleased Jace the most was knowing that the mill waited. Repairs to the equipment and even to the building, if needed, to ready the mill for cutting boards in the late winter, would start as soon as the harvest was done. Jace enjoyed the farm work and even the animals, but he loved the mill. The mill had gotten into his blood in a surprising way.

  He didn’t want to wish his life away, but looking forward to working in the mill, even knowing how cold some of those days could be, put some fire back into his blood and gave him something to look forward to, something that had been sadly lacking in his life of late.

  The thought that things might have been different lingered in his mind from time to time. He asked himself what he could have done to make it so but always ended up frustrated or hurting worse. In the end, he tried not to look at the future at all but do his work and get through one day at a time.

  “How is Maddie?” Clara asked Doyle when she was in the store; she was the only person from the farm who didn’t seem afraid to voice the question.

  “She’s settled back in Boston and writes each week.”

  “Does she sound all right?”

  “I’m not sure,” Doyle admitted to the woman who had been shopping in his store for as long as he’d had the doors open. “You can’t always see between the words, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do know what you mean. I miss seeing her.”

  Doyle cleared his throat. “Stop in and see Cathy. She’s missing her something terrible.”

  “I might do that, Doyle,” Clara told him. She thanked him for his time, took her basket, and went out to visit the other shops on her list. Her errands took more time than she expected and she had to get home, but she told herself she would make a point to see Cathy Shephard the next week.

  Clara drove the wagon out of town and down the road, spotting what seemed to be a familiar figure up ahead. As she drew abreast of Eden Randall, she stopped the wagon. She didn’t like Eden and didn’t trust her, but no one had asked her opinion, and she was Jace’s sister, so she deserved at least some respect.

  “Headed to the farm?” Clara asked.

  “I am, yes.”

  “Climb in.”

  Eden did so, glad for the lift. The days were getting cooler, and since she had been too warm on the train, her body temperature was now headed the other way. She was swiftly becoming chilled.

  “How are you?” Eden asked, her voice a little cautious.

  “Fine.”

  “And the farm?”

  “The farm’s fine as well.”

  Eden’s chin came up a bit even though she didn’t speak. She knew that Woody and Clara didn’t like her, but this was Jace’s home now, and she had every right to visit. Until Jace told her to go away and not come back—something she knew would never happen—she would consider herself welcome.

  It was a relief, however, to see the farm come into view. She only hoped that Jace wasn’t so far into the fields that she couldn’t see him. A familiar face would be nice, and somehow Eden was certain that as soon as she saw Jace, she would know for certain, one way or the other, whether Maddie Shephard was still in his life. She had stayed away all this time. She now deserved to know.

  It was midafternoon. Dinner was over, and Eden had retired to the room she stayed in while at the farm to settle a few things on the dresser. She was glad for the time alone. Jace had not been as she expected. His jocular, easygoing manner was gone. He was subdued, thinner, and ill kept. Eden had never seen him like that, and it shook her.

  She had tried to find some of the old Jace, but he was unresponsive and distant, even with Woody and Clara. Eden knew that Maddie was gone. No one had said it, but the sense of it hung around the farmhouse like a cloud. Eden began to doubt herself for the first time. She had been so certain that Maddie was a passing fancy.

  A sudden vision of her mother’s bracelet hanging from Maddie’s wrist came to mind. For a moment she asked herself whether Jace may have truly lost his heart this time.

  A strong shake of her head sent that notion away. Maddie was gone, and Jace would get over whatever infatuation he might have felt. Eden finished in the room and went downstairs. There was nothing else to worry about. She had done the right thing.

  “What are you baking?” Hillary asked of her mother on the last Saturday in September.

  “A few breads, muffins, cookies, and scones.”

  Hillary smiled at the parent whose likeness was so similar to her own.

  “What are you grinning about?” Alison caught the look.

  “Just you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s always so fun when you feel better. The smell of flour made you sick until just recently, and now you’re baking enough to share with all the village.”

  “Which reminds me,” Alison replied, perking up. “I need you to take one of those pies over to Mrs. Carter.”

  “When did you bake pies?” Hillary asked with a laugh, but Alison only smiled.

  Hillary did as she was told, however, and the next person through the kitchen was Peter.

  “I can’t remember which was created first, fish or animals,” he told his mother.

  “Day five for fish and birds, and day six for animals,” Alison answered, stirring all the while. “It’s all in the first chapter of Genesis.”

  “I was going to look it up,” Peter explained, “but Papa’s door is shut.”

  “You were wise not to disturb him. He might be praying.”

  Peter came close and laid his head on his mother’s extended stomach.

  “Have you been kicked today?”

  “A little.”

  “She’s going to be naughty,” Peter predicted, and Alison smiled. They were still all so certain that it was a girl. She couldn’t tell, and in truth thought that another girl would be wonderful, but she didn’t have her heart set one way or the other.

  “Where is Marty?” Alison suddenly asked, and Peter’s eyes grew large.

  “I forget to get him from Ben’s house.”

  “Go,” his mother ordered and shook her head when he made a run for the door. “Some days,” she said quietly to the Lord, “I can’t keep track of four. I’ll certainly need Your help with five.”

  “Have a good trip,” Jace told Eden at the train station on Monday. His voice carried little inflection and even less expression.

  “Thank you. I hope the harvest continues to go well for you.”

  “It should,” Jace said noncommittally, still thinking about the mill work.

  And with that they waited in silence. Eden shot glances from the corner of her eye, taking in Jace’s thin cheeks and unshaved chin but also noticing his eyes.

  Jace had always had an eye for the ladies, but not today. Several attractive women walked by, all looking his way, but he did nothing. His eyes did not meet theirs or follow them when they walked past. He looked straight ahead at the side of the train, seeming dead inside to his sister.

  “I’d better board,” Eden finally said, knowing she couldn’t stand to watch him any longer.

  “Take care,” Jace said with a small wave and moved off the platform.

  Eden found
a seat on the train and stared ahead, willing herself to be in control. She was always in control. It was best that way.

  I got my way, she said to herself. I planned and I worked and I got my way, and I’m happy about it.

  Eden felt herself begin to shake and thought she might be cold, but deep in her heart she knew better. She was a woman who had lied to herself often; she just never admitted it or faced that fact. Right now her heart wouldn’t allow her to do anything else, and that knowledge made her cold all over.

  Boston

  “Maddie, did you pack my light blue cloak?” the missus asked Maddie for the second time.

  “I’m sure I did, but I’ll check,” she had learned to say.

  With plans to be gone for several months, the family was leaving in just one week, quite possibly not returning until after the first of the year.

  Maddie had mixed feelings about this. There was always a small amount of chaos with the missus and Paige at home, but there was also plenty to do, plenty to occupy her mind. When they were out, Maddie would breathe a sigh of relief—as would the rest of the staff—and feel free for a time. But this was early October. The first of the year was weeks and weeks away, and Maddie worried that she would have too much time on her hands.

  In any other year, she would have jumped at the chance to make plans for an extended stay at Doyle and Cathy’s, but not this year. Right now Tucker Mills was the last place she wanted to be. She toyed with the idea of asking them to come to Boston but knew that Cathy would not come without Doyle, and Doyle would not leave the store so soon after returning. If his letters were any indiction, he was still having the time of his life, feeling almost the way he did in the days when he’d first opened.

  “There’s still time,” the missus suddenly said, and Maddie was jolted back to the moment.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Nunley,” Maddie said to her, coming close to touch her arm. “Your wanting me to come means a lot to me, but I need to stay here.”

  The older woman looked into her eyes, not wanting to be separated so soon, but mostly not wanting Maddie to be hurt ever again.

  “Will you ever want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t know,” Maddie said honestly. “I guess I don’t see much point.”

  Mrs. Nunley nodded, but secretly she didn’t agree. She felt that talking about something could be a great help, and in her opinion was the only real help. For now, however, she let the matter drop. The sadness in Maddie’s eyes was almost too much for her, but she wouldn’t press her, not on any subject. Much as she wanted Maddie to join them on the voyage and to talk to her about her pain, she was wise enough to know when to listen to the younger woman’s wishes.

  Tucker Mills

  “How are you, Doyle?” Doc MacKay stopped in at the store to ask. “I see you up and around and assume you’re doing well.”

  “I am feeling well, thank you.”

  “Did you hear about Woody?”

  “Yes,” Doyle replied, his voice sober.

  “I got the news this morning but haven’t heard details on the funeral.”

  “It’s this afternoon,” Doyle answered. The townspeople expected the general store owner to be the keeper of important information.

  Doc MacKay nodded, his mind thoughtful. He’d known Woody for years, but they’d never had a deep discussion of any kind. He knew this day was coming and now wondered how Jace would deal with it. Tucker Mills’ doctor almost mentioned that younger man but then remembered the rumors he’d heard about why Maddie had returned to Boston.

  Beyond asking how Cathy was doing, he didn’t linger in the store but took himself off, making a mental note to be at the funeral in a few hours.

  Jace could hardly believe what he was seeing. The coffin was done; Woody’s body had been prepared and wrapped in a white shroud; and he was lying in the parlor. Jace’s eyes went around that room. How many nights had they sat by the fire in this room in companionable silence or with Woody explaining some aspect of the farm or mill to Jace? And now it was over. Jace could barely take it in. He thought he was prepared for this time but now knew he wasn’t.

  Yesterday morning Woody had not gotten up. The three of them had been through this several times—Jace arriving in the kitchen to find Clara on her own, and then the two of them heading up to check on him only to learn that he just needed more rest or that his chest hurt.

  Yesterday had been different. Yesterday Woody had not answered them or moved. And for the first time since Jace had known her, Clara cried. Her apron had come to her face, and she had sobbed like a child. She had cried the way Jace wanted to, feeling suddenly bereft and utterly alone.

  But when the tears were done, she set to work. Doing as he was told, Jace helped Clara prepare the body. He’d never been involved in something like that before, and even now couldn’t repeat what happened. Everything was in a fog, a fog of unreality that this man, this uncle who had taken him in, was gone.

  And then word had gone out. Clara had been the one to walk to the neighbor’s and ask them to tell Mr. Sullins. Clara told Jace that Mr. Sullins would spread the news and come and read over the body. Jace didn’t know what he would have done without her. He wanted to cry when he looked at her, but just having her nearby was a comfort.

  Amid these musings, the first mourners began to arrive. Jace and Clara sat stiffly side by side in chairs to the right of the coffin as the townsfolk filed through the house. His world became almost artificial. Folks approached and recited rehearsed words to him. Jace answered them, but he remembered little of it. And then Mr. Sullins was speaking, and Jace had to fight away Maddie’s questions concerning death and heaven.

  Before Jace was ready, the coffin was being loaded into the back of a wagon, and they all followed the wagon to the cemetery. Mr. Sullins said a few more words but kept it mercifully brief. As the grave was being filled in, folks began to depart, stopping to see Jace and Clara on their way. To his utter amazement, some of the last ones were the Shephards.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Jace said, and then wished he could take it back.

  “We considered Woody a friend, Jace,” Doyle told him, his tone quiet but also quite formal.

  Jace nodded, unable to miss the fact that Cathy would not even look at him.

  “How’s Maddie?” Jace asked, not sure where this had come from.

  “Now is a fine time to wonder that,” Cathy said. She’d spoken with no heat, but still she turned on her heel and left the men.

  Doyle looked at Jace with sadness, but he wasn’t ready to let him back into his life.

  “Goodbye, Jace,” was all Doyle said, slowly moving after his wife.

  Jace stared after them, asking himself not for the first time how things could have gone so wrong. They had been his friends. Had Maddie’s crimes really been so bad that he had to lose everything?

  “Come on, Jace,” Clara urged him, having heard the exchange. She wasn’t angry with the Shephards for having their say, but she was angry that they chose this day to say it.

  She took Jace home and tried to get him to eat, but Jace was interested in only one thing: drink. By evening he was asleep in the chair by the fire, having consumed enough alcohol to blur the pain.

  Jace did not remember to write Eden for several days. He knew he should have thought of that immediately but made up for lost time by walking the letter to town as soon as it was done. Having done this, he was not surprised to see her the weekend after she should have received it.

  He had enough to do that he’d not been wallowing in self-pity for days, and in truth was glad for her company. He was missing Woody something awful, and having Eden around for the weekend suited him quite well. What he hadn’t expected was the amount of planning Eden had been doing since his letter arrived. She waited to speak of it to Jace until Sunday afternoon when Clara was at home and they had the house to themselves.

  “I’ve been thinking about moving to Tucker Mills,” she began.

  Jace looke
d up from his plate to find her watching him.

  “Sell the boardinghouse?” he asked.

  “Yes. I think it would work.”

  “You like Tucker Mills that much?”

  “I do like it, yes,” Eden answered, trying to gauge what he thought.

  “So would you try to find a house in town to set up as a boardinghouse, or build one?”

  For a moment his question stunned her. It took a moment for her to see the joke and laugh a little.

  “I would live here with you,” she finally said, a pleased smile on her face.

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Of course I would. Don’t be silly, Jace.”

  Jace sat back, his food forgotten for the moment.

  “No, Eden.” Jace’s voice was more than serious. “You’re not living here.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because you’re not,” Jace said, picking up his fork. In his mind, that was the end of it.

  “I want an answer.”

  “I gave you one.”

  “Jace Randall, I think you owe me an explanation.”

  “Fine,” Jace agreed. “Eden, you’re not living here because I don’t want you to.”

  Eden was stunned. This was his idea of an explanation? She decided that he was deliberately being rude and would call him on it.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Only that you’re not happy unless you’re in my business and my life. Why can’t you be happy with your own life in Pine River, or even Tucker Mills, but not in this house?” Jace stared at her, waiting.

  Eden couldn’t speak. To deny what he said would be a bald-faced lie, and Jace would know it. She had never been forced to answer that question before, not to herself or anyone else, and she found her tongue strangely quiet.

  “I think you need more time to think about it,” Eden said at last.