He sat looking out the window, feeling the gradually cooling breeze on his face, enjoying the end of yet another painfully boring day. Five days he'd been trapped in this room, watching the day come and go and unable to do anything for himself. At least he could now walk down the hall with the help of either Silas or Nick and use the necessary.
He smiled slightly at that; it was in the house with a big tub that water just flowed into from pipes. He thought of all the marvels he'd seen since coming to Stockton; this maybe even trumped Audra. He'd known men had sisters. He'd never known men could have a necessary in their house with water coming into a bath tub any time you wanted it so. Not just any kind of water, but hot water,. Well, he guessed maybe the bathtub and Audra were different kinds of marvels, wasn't really fair to compare them. Then he smiled to himself. He would tell Audra that later when she came to play checkers. She would see the humor in that, in him thinking she was as marvelous as a bathtub.
He guessed he truly did love his sister. He'd imagined brothers all the time; he was growing up so by the time he met Nick and Jarrod, he pretty much knew what he wanted a big brother to be like. He'd never thought about a sister. Seemed every time Audra opened her mouth, she surprised him. She wasn't gnat brained, or at least she wasn't always gnat brained, although as fond of her as he'd become, he had to admit she had some very strange notions.
Still, she was clever to talk to. Knew a lot of stuff and shared it without his asking or making him feel his lack of education. She especially seemed to think about clothes an awful lot, but he guessed probably all girls did, not knowing any besides Audra and his mama, Miss Rachel and Aunt Hannah, none of whom had ever had any money for thinking about clothes. So maybe when men were thinking about horses or cattle or vineyards, well maybe then women were thinking about clothes. Audra sure was.
He heard someone fooling at the door and knew they'd be in with his lunch in a minute. He sighed slightly. Not doing anything all day didn't seem to make much of an appetite. He guessed he'd wasted more food in the last three days than he'd eaten in the last three months.
Mrs. Barkley came in the room, a tray balanced in her hands and wearing a beautiful long dress a rich royal blue with a dark pattern all in the fabric. The dress had a cotton chemisette he noted and almost laughed, thought if he laid here much longer Audra would have him tatting lace.
"I see you're looking more cheerful this afternoon," Mrs. Barkley said, returning his smile. She put the tray on the table, sat down beside him on the edge of the bed and handed him the glass of orange juice she seemed to bring every time she came to his room. He nodded his thanks and took the glass, drinking the liquid, slowly enjoying this glass as much as that first one Silas had given him what seemed an age ago.
Mrs. Barkley took the empty glass and put her hand on his forehead. He sat very still with his eyes downcast; he knew he was blushing and silently cursed his fair skin for showing his embarrassment to the world.
"Still a little feverish but you're doing much better. "
He glanced up quickly and saw her smiling at him, her eyes almost twinkling with humor. This woman was a puzzle to him. He couldn't understand, how she could be so kind to him, knowing what he was?
"I'm glad you're feeling better because I need to speak to you for a few minutes. I've been waiting for you to start mending before I explain a few things to you." Her voice sounded much sterner now and he risked a second glance. Yeah, the humor was gone from her voice and now, her eyes were drawn down into a frown.
This was what he had been expecting. He didn't know where all that smiling and kindness had come from or gone, but this face he knew. This was the face of the ladies in the store, Mrs. Nelson when he brought her rig out from the livery for her and Mrs. Dendel when he delivered her laundry and she asked, "Had he touched any of it?" This look he knew only too well. He wondered was he strong enough to ride?
She took his hand as she had that first day in this room and held it in both of hers. He kept his eyes downcast, studying her slender fingers as they twined themselves around his much larger ones.
"He was an imperfect man, my husband... and in so many ways that could hurt. But he never destroyed, only built and gave life. For he knew that what he brought was a changing way, a revolution of its own that said, 'You are a free man. No one- not the railroad, nor Jordan nor Thomas Barkley - can own you.' And he knew it was something you won only with courage, pride and leadership. That's what he tried to instill in his sons." She stopped speaking, reached up with one hand and gently lifted his face so he was looking at her.
"It's not a battle that can be won in a day… a year, or even ten. And then one day he made a terrible, wretched mistake. He died... before anyone really understood. And so, if you were my son, I would say to you, 'Be proud.' Because any son of my husband has a right to be proud. Live as he would live, fight as he would fight, and no one- no one… can deny you his birthright. That's what I would say to you... if you were my son."
He tried to pull his head away from her hand, his eyes away from hers. He didn't think he could possibly have understood her correctly. What was she trying to tell him?
"Ma'am, all the time I was growing up…" he didn't know how to tell this story to this lady, "people called my mama…" He finally reached up his hand, took a hold of her wrist and moved her hand from his face so he could look away. "They called me and my mama some awful names… I don't want that for you, for Audra. The names, the looks, the shame…" He couldn't bring such shame and sorrow on another family; he'd done his mama such harm, surely this lady would understand he couldn't do the same to her and his beautiful sister. He kept his head down so he couldn't see her face, afraid of what he might see there.
"Mrs. Caulfield told Jarrod that you were raised on love and joy. That your mother loved you more than life itself." She was stroking his hair now very gently. "You're not a sin, Heath, you're a gift. I think you're a gift to this family from your mother and my husband. That you're a gift of love and joy if you will allow us to love you and share in that joy."
He glanced up at her, not sure what to say, what to do, even what to think. Of all the things this woman could have said to him, this he had never thought possible. "I'm a bastard," he said.
"You're my husband's son. Like all of his children you are my child too, my family too. Please don't allow your pride to deny us a chance to share your life. Don't let things that were said and done to you as a child deny you a chance of being part of this family." She was almost pleading with him now. When he looked over at her, she had tears in her eyes.
He turned his hand over in hers and gently took a hold of her hand, marveling at how small and soft it was, her grip so strong. He sat silently, holding her hand, looking off out the window at the bright daylight. Trying to understand a woman who could love her husband's bastard, love him.
"It would be very easy for you to ride away from here. I'm asking you to stay, to build a life here in this family, to share our love." She again used her free hand to turn his face so he was looking at her, forcing him to see her face. "Do I really seem like the kind of woman who cares what a few bigots think?"
He had to give a small smile at that. No, he guessed she didn't much care what anyone thought once she made up her mind."No, ma'am."
"Alright then, I have some chicken soup here for your lunch." Then as if she hadn't started his world spinning in a whole new direction, she handed him a big cup full of chicken soup and waited while he drank it, talking about how Nick had turned his little mare back out in the remuda and how Audra had ridden out to check on her, how she was in fine fettle.