CHAPTER 9

When she said "good morning" to him the following day, she thought she detected a response. His eyes brightened and there was a definite upward twitch to his lips.

"What would you like for breakfast?" She asked not expecting a reply. He made a grunting sound, which she thought sounded faintly like "eggs".

She repeated the word to him, and he grunted back. Thus on the second day verbal communication was established.

While she fried the eggs, she gave him the plates, he hesitated for a brief moment, before he placed them on the table, as he had the night before.

She smiled, "Thank you, Go ahead and sit down, I'll join you in a minute."

Agitation and bewilderment showed on his face, she had confused him with her simple command. Forcing calmness to her voice, she left the stove long enough to lead him back to the table. She patted the chair. "Sit down." She encouraged him.

He stared at the chair as though it were the first time he'd ever seen it. "Sit." She repeated, finally lowering herself into the chair next to his. "Sit."

He moved cautiously, "Sit." She said again and finally he did.

Nodding, she praised, "Good." She rose to her feet, and he moved to follow her, but she placed a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. "You sit, I'll dish up those eggs and you can start eating."

She had opted for scrambled eggs, hoping to avoid some of the mess from the day before. She placed the platter in front of him and he made an awkward move toward it with his fingers splayed.

"Ummm, no you don't, this morning we're going to work on using a fork." She sat opposite him again and held up the utensil. "This is a fork, now watch me." She put the implement to use and was pleased to see him focus on her actions. "Now, you try," she urged, placing the fork in his hand. His hold on flatware was clumsy and ineffectual and after several attempts he let the fork fall to the floor. She got up from her chair and picked it up, put it in the dry sink and planted another in his grasp. He promptly dropped that one as he did the next three she placed in his hold.

After giving in the night before Matt assumed she would do the same today, when she didn't he became frustrated and showed his first flash of true feelings. "I know this is hard," she soothed him, "but you can do it." Some instinct she couldn't explain told her his venturing into the arena of emotion was a good sign. Holding both his hands in hers she said, "Every time you do something new it will seem difficult, but I promise you the next time will be easier until finally it won't be a chore at all." Over an hour passed before Kitty cleared their plates from the table - both his shirt and the floor showed evidence of his breakfast. She was puzzling over the matter of his dirty clothing when there was a knock at the main entrance. "You stay." She ordered hastily.

The front door was oak and decorated by a large rectangular window. She could make out a form through the lace, covering the glass pane. Closer inspection, showed it to be the gentleman from the night before. She thought hard to remember his name, and it came to her just as she turned the doorknob. "Mr. Davis, this is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

He made a low bow, "Madam, I couldn't help but notice your brother appeared to be in need of hmmm, shall we say civilian clothing." He picked up the brown paper wrapped bundle resting at his feet, "I took the liberty of bringing over some shirts, pants, shoes and other apparel, which I hope he can make use of until you depart for your home. I did speculate on the size, but hopefully he will find them adequate."

She hesitated for a beat, remembering Mr. Wilcox's warning to trust no one, but Mr. Davis's gift seemed an answer to a prayer. Reaching for the bundle she said, "Thank you. I will be happy to reimburse you for the cost."

"Not necessary my dear," he said, sideling past her, "I'll just carry them in for you, shall I?" He walked into the parlor with Kitty following behind, "Among other diversified interests my family owns the Davis Port Emporium, so it was certainly no problem, these items, being somewhat an extraordinary proportion, for the normal male population of our little community, have been on the shelves for years. Now, if there is anything else you might need, please let me know."

His skin was tanned but hadn't acquired the leather of a frontiersman. Sun kissed brown hair; hazel eyes and a dazzling smile were his ready ammunition. Though he was not as tall as Dillon, she nevertheless had to bend her neck to look up at him, "I wish you'd let me pay you."

"My dear, you may repay me with a cup of coffee and a few minutes in your delightful company."

She smiled, "A few minutes is all I can spare, I'm afraid. My brother needs a lot of attention right now. Come into the kitchen, if you don't mind and we'll both have a cup."

She led the way through the dining room into the kitchen forgetting for the moment how untidy the room was after their lesson in the etiquette of proper fork usage. Matt was still at the table just as she'd told him to be. His lips curled up when she entered the room and immediately uncurled when he saw their guest.

"We have company," she told him, in a cheerful voice. "Mr. Davis was kind enough to bring you some clothes. Sit down Mr. Davis, and I'll set the pot on the stove to brew."

The visitor took a chair across from Matt giving him curious perusal, "I'm glad to see you looking so well, Mr. Kent."

She'd moved up behind Matt, placing her hands on his shoulders, "My brother isn't much for talking; you see he suffered a severe injury, the exact cause is unknown. It was only by luck that I found him a patient at St Vincent's; He has no memory, and a great deal of difficulty communicating. I'm hoping that once he has regained his strength his health and memory will improve."

"That's a grand undertaking for a woman alone, especially one as beautiful as you."

"Mr. Davis, looks have nothing to do with intelligence and fortitude, one does what one must for family's sake."

He cocked his head at her in a concerned way, "Are you and your brother only children?"

She ran her tongue over her lips, "Matt is the brother to my departed husband."

He shook his head sadly, "I am sorry. My dear you are far too young to be left a widow."

Wilcox had carefully laid out the details, for the life she was to assume and now she repeated them as though they were fact, "My husband fell at Chickamauga. My own brothers perished at Cold Harbor, Matthew is the only immediate family I have left."

The aroma of the brewing coffee scented the room. Kitty rose from the table to pour them each a cup. She handed one to Beaumont Davis and set the other in front of her chair. Matt reached out for the cup but she caught his hand, "Hot!" she warned him. He reached with his other hand and grabbed the mug; liquid spilled over and burned his hand. "Hot." She repeated, hoping he'd made the connection, as she applied a little butter to his reddened skin.

She sat down and poured a small amount of coffee into her saucer, blew on it and then held the dish to his lips. "He always liked coffee, it seems that hasn't changed."

"I admire your courage my dear. It isn't an easy path you've chosen. You are aware, there are private institutions for those afflicted such as your brother-in-law, with clean pleasant surroundings, unlike what I'm sure you found at St. Vincent's."

"Yes," she replied slowly, "but, I could never leave him in a place like that, not as long as there is a chance he will come back to me, the way he was, before all of this."

Davis nodded slowly, his glance flashed from man to woman, "I think I understand, but, I might be so bold; Mrs. Kent a woman such as you deserves more than a shadow of a man."

Her hand covered Dillon's, "Even like this Mr. Davis, his shadow stands tall."

GS GS GS GS GS

It was work, there were no two ways about it, and by the end of the second day she was exhausted. His agitation set free at the breakfast table, now seemed to resurge at odd moments throughout the day. Other emotions as well seemed to rest just below the surface, he hadn't offered her a true smile, nor did he laugh, but she had the sense once or twice, he'd experienced a lightheartedness of spirit akin to happiness.

His hair was wild - his beard rugged and were it not for his eyes and his height he would be hard for even Kitty to recognize. The clothing Beaumont Davis had brought for him to wear fit poorly to his frame, and she used a rope strung through the belt loops to keep the pants in position at his waist. The sleeves of the shirt, were too short and she rolled them up to give him a more tended look. Still, without his St. Vincent's uniform he looked closer to normal - save for the fact his big feet were bare. He had refused to allow her to put the shoes on him- like a little boy he curled up his toes so there was no way she could push them on. With her hands on her hips and exasperation in her voice, she declared, "Fine, go without shoes, but don't cry to me if you stub your toe or end up with a sliver in your foot." She thought she saw a flicker of light in his eyes, as he counted this success a victory.

As she had the night before she doctored his shoulder wound and helped with his bathing and then tucked him in bed, as she would have a two year old.

Dropping a tender kiss to his forehead, Kitty wished him, "Good night, sleep well."

She had straightened her spine and moved to leave the room when she heard him speak. "Sit," he said, the clarity of the word nearly knocking her off her feet, fulfilling his surprising command. "Sit." He repeated. She blinked back her shock. Smiling at him, she willingly obeyed his order and returned to her chair.

She waited for a moment and saw his gaze travel to the pile of books on the table, "Did you want me to read to you?"

"Sit." He said again, and she realized for tonight that one word would have to serve a multitude of purposes. She picked up the leather bound volume, and began reading some of the same verses she'd read the night before. She was drawn to Lucasta - Going to the Wars, for there was something powerful in the reading and the saying of that last line. Like some final benediction to an evensong, the words brought comfort and understanding, "I could not love thee dear so much, loved I not honor more." His eyes were closed, when she rose from the chair. "Good night Cowboy," She whispered, as a final "amen" to her vespers prayer.

FYI Evensong - an evening worship service - the sixth of the seven canonical hours, also known as vespers.