Keys
by Rosemarie Hauer
Elizabeth’s gaze wandered over the bowed heads of her students as they sat at their work. She felt a strange calmness settle about her, something she hadn’t experienced in quite a while before coming to this place. She rose from her chair and walked from desk to desk, scanning the children’s writing for errors and correcting them gently by simply indicating the misspelled word with her index finger.
Without looking up she suddenly knew he was there. Although Josiah didn’t make the slightest noise, Elizabeth sensed his eyes on her as she bent over little Matthew’s page. For a second she hesitated to acknowledge Josiah’s presence, simply savoring his silent company. At last she straightened very slowly and turned, once again taken aback by the startling blue of those intense eyes as they met hers.
He smiled and she walked toward him, inclining her head questioningly as to why he was interrupting the lesson. His hand came up and she noticed a key dangling from his fingers. Looking another question at him, she followed as he retreated from the classroom and stepped outside.
"Your new home is finished," he said, and she thought that the pride he took in it was very endearing.
"Thank you," she replied as she held out her hand to receive the key. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he released it into her palm, but didn’t withdraw his fingers immediately. There was a brief contact of skin on skin and his hand jerked away. Their eyes met for a moment and the startled wonderment in his gaze made her heart constrict with joy.
"Please let me know if you need help moving your things from the hotel," he offered quietly.
"I think I’ll be fine, but thank you," she replied.
He glanced past her into the classroom. She wondered what he was thinking as he looked at the children as they sat there writing.
"They seem quite well-behaved," he remarked.
"They are. I think they like what they do."
He smiled, or was it a grin? Making a mental note
to ask him about it as soon as the opportunity presented itself, she allowed
herself to look after him as he left the room. His kindness touched her, and
she caught herself sighing before she returned to the task at hand.
He Cooks
by Terrie Milliman
A large, familiar shadow fell over Elizabeth and the stack of papers she was grading. The coolness provided her a momentary respite from the hot Texas sun beating through the window at her back. Smiling, she turned to greet the man who was fast becoming her friend. "Josiah," she said quietly. "I never even heard you enter."
"That doesn't surprise me. You were so engrossed in your work." He shook his head as he spoke, but she got the impression that he was fighting the urge to wag an admonishing finger at her. "Dedication to one's profession is an admirable thing, Miss Herrington, but I suspect your students would be better served if they didn't arrive in the morning to find their teacher passed out at her desk from exhaustion and hunger."
She rose to face him, hands on her hips. "Are you lecturing me, Josiah?"
Josiah considered this a moment, gauging her mood. "Yes. I am," he said, looking her straight in the eye.
Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, trying her best to look stern. This was interesting. It seemed Josiah Sanchez was a force to be reckoned with.
"And what do you plan on doing about it?" she asked him.
Josiah took a deep breath that expanded his already impressive chest and seemed to grow in stature before her eyes.Elizabeth stepped back, a bit apprehensive.
"I plan . . . " Josiah broke into a huge grin and raised his arms straight out from his sides, ". . . on feeding you."
For the first time, Elizabeth noticed that he held in one hand a cooking pot covered with a piece of toweling, and in the other a small wooden bucket. "You . . . you brought me food?"
"I made you dinner," he corrected. "I get tired of eating at the restaurant, so I have a wood stove in my room out back."He shrugged his shoulders, almost embarrassed at admitting to his unmanly talent.
"You cook," Elizabeth said delightedly, clearing away papers and making room on her desktop. "You will join me?" she asked, fully prepared to insist on it should he decline.
Josiah smiled and placed two bowls on the cloth he had just pulled out of his back pocket. "I was hoping to, Miss Herrington."
She returned his smile and said softly, "Elizabeth, my name is Elizabeth."
The Meal
By Rosemarie Hauer
They ate in silence. For some reason she couldn't understand, Elizabeth felt an unexpected shyness. She kept her eyes lowered to her plate in order to give him privacy and to assure her own. From the corner of her eye she became aware that Josiah had straightened, and stealing a glance at him she saw that he stared off into space.
There was something about him that spoke to her and she marveled at it, wondering what it was that made her feel a kinship to this mysterious man. On the outside there was nothing which would have betrayed any similarities between them, and yet...
"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice soft and husky. She flashed him a smile. "I was going to ask you the same."
Somehow she expected him to return her smile, but he just looked at her enigmatically. "You didn't," he offered, and she realized it was a question.
Suddenly she found it difficult to meet his intent stare and tried to turn her attention back to her plate. "You're a good cook," she remarked, but he didn't react to her attempt at casual conversation.
"What were you thinking of?" he repeated quietly.
Suddenly Elizabeth felt trapped. She looked at him defiantly. "Why?"
A quick and unexpected smile played around the corners of his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't be so curious."
"It's not a secret," she hastened to reassure him. "I was just thinking..."
"Of someone very dear to you," he interrupted seriously, almost wistfully, and she felt her eyes widen with the dawning realization that he was right.
She nodded silently, confused when he quickly averted his eyes as if unwilling to face the truth of her words.
"What made you come to a place like this?" he asked at last, and this time there was no underlying tension to his question, only genuine interest.
"It was a challenge that came when the time was right."
Josiah nodded his understanding. "And?" he asked. "What do you think so far?"
"That there is much work to do and a long way to go, but that the possibilities are endless." She leaned forward a little, searching for his eyes. "What about you, Josiah? I know why you came to this town, but what made you stay?"
He met her gaze silently for a moment before answering. "It's as good a place as any, I suppose. There are plenty of lost souls that pass through here. That's my business . . .lost souls . . .and I can't shake off that feeling that they need me."
"I know that feeling," she replied softly when his voice trailed away, and before she knew it, her palm was covering the back of his hand where it lay on the desk.
Something within her told her to quickly pull away, but then she felt him tremble under her touch, a movement so subtle it seemed to her she was holding some small animal that would scurry away the moment she withdrew.
Afraid to raise her gaze to his, she made a study of their joined hands, and finally gave him a gentle squeeze before releasing him at last. "Whenever I see children who are robbed of their childhood, because the circumstances of their lives dictate they must work like adults, I feel the need to at least give them a future, the chance to learn and grow mentally as well as physically. And you're right, this place is as good a place as any."
She hadn't been aware of moving her head, of finally locking her gaze to his, and now she was overwhelmed by the understanding in his eyes as he studied her attentively.
"If there is anything I can do for you," he rasped in a voice that sent a tremor down her spine, "all you have to do is ask."
"I will," she promised, looking after him as he rose and reached for his jacket.
"Leave the dishes," he said before leaving. "I'll clear it away when I come back."
"Josiah," she called after him and he stopped, turning back to her once more. "Thank you for the meal. You are a good cook."
He cast her a grin that did strange things to her equilibrium and she found herself smiling back at him in kind.
The door had long closed behind him, but she was still standing there, trying to sort out her feelings. Nothing seemed to fit about the man. He was a priest and yet as un-priestlike as anyone could be. He looked rough, almost hard, on the outside, and yet she had encountered a vulnerability and softness inside him that touched her deeply.
His features could not be called commonly handsome, and yet those eyes took her breath away every time she found herself looking into them. And she wished more than anything else she were able to take away the pain she sensed in their silent depths.
Memories
by Rosemarie Hauer
At the sound of Elizabeth’s voice Josiah looked up from his work at the back steps of the church and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. She was standing at the base of the stairs, a basket over her arm, regarding him solemnly.
"I see you're busy, but it’s hot and I thought you might like a drink of water," she offered with a smile.
Josiah rose and wiped dust off his hands. "I’ve just replaced a couple of broken boards. Wouldn't want a repeat of Buck's accident," he said with a grin. "Yes, a drink would taste good, thank you."
He noticed that her gaze lingered at his bare forearms for a moment before she reached into the basket and produced a mug, setting it on the steps. Watching as she retrieved a jug from the basket, he rolled down his sleeves. He was uncertain how to interpret her glance, but straightening his clothes seemed to be the best thing to do at the moment. She handed him the mug and he took it from her. "Would you like to join me?" he asked, gesturing for her to sit with him on the stairs. For a moment he thought there was a trace of hesitation in her, but then she climbed up the steps and took a seat on the top step. He sat down beside her, his arm brushing against her shoulder, and he flinched at the contact.
Instantly she put down her mug and turned to him in concern. "It’s your wound, isn’t it?" she asked, her gaze riveted to his sleeve as if she could see through the fabric.
"It’s all right," he lied. "Just a little tender yet."
"But it’s been almost three weeks," she insisted. "It shouldn’t hurt anymore."
"It hardly does," he replied.
"Please, let me have a look at it," she demanded insistently.
He shot her a doubtful look. "I don’t think it’s appropriate."
She raised her brow at him. "Appropriate?" she echoed. "I’m worried about a friend. How could that be inappropriate?"
"That’s not what I meant," he protested. "I just thought that..."
"That an honorable woman shouldn’t touch the bare arm of a gentleman?" she teased with a smile.
"Well, maybe I’m not exactly a gentleman," he offered, silently cursing the fact that he felt suddenly clumsy and shy.
"And I am not a maiden," she replied, staring up at him defiantly.
Her statement caught him unprepared. He had never given it any thought and it was almost startling that she should talk to him about it.
As if of their own volition his hands went to the collar of his shirt and he started undoing the buttons. Shrugging off his leather vest as he stood up, he pulled his arm free of the sleeve and waited for her judgment.
She rose to examine his arm, her fingers cool on his skin as she probed gently. "The tissue around the wound looks inflamed," she said. "When was the last time Nathan had a look at it?"
"About a week ago," Josiah heard himself reply, surprised that he was capable of shaping an answer at all with her soft palm against his bare arm.
"Please, promise me to have him look at this," she implored him and he nodded, a little dazed by the way she looked up at him from such a close distance. She seized the front of his shirt and held it for him so he could slip his arm back into the sleeve. Donning his vest, he gave her a sidelong glance.
"I didn’t know you had been married," he said quietly, not sure that addressing the issue was the wisest thing to do.
She turned and braced her arms against the rail as she stared off into space. "I was very young," she began. "Far too young. My mother died when I was fourteen, and her last wish was that I live with her best friend and her family. I was barely seventeen when my mother’s friend died as well. The only way to live with her husband and son was to marry the son. We were married for two years, but then he went to fight in the war and..."
Her voice broke off and involuntarily Josiah turned to her, fighting the impulse to put his arm around her shoulder and pull her close. But the need to comfort her in some small way was too great, so he placed a steadying hand on her back."Your husband died," he said quietly.
"He was killed, yes," she replied in a low voice. "I stayed with my father-in-law for as long as I could, but...we simply didn’t get along well. I had to leave and build a life of my own."
Josiah
watched her narrow shoulders rise as she heaved a sigh. "And you became a
teacher," he offered softly.
"Not right away," she replied, half-turning to face him.
A strand of her hair had come loose and fell across her forehead almost down to her cheek. The sight triggered a strange tenderness in him, and he quickly averted his eyes, looking out into the desert. He felt her eyes on him and endured her furtive scrutiny before turning to meet her gaze.
"That must have been hard," he said at last.
"I was fortunate," she continued. "I found a place with a family who needed someone for their three children. I stayed with them for almost ten years, and when I was no longer needed, I decided that working with children was what I wanted to do more than anything else."
He marveled at the way her eyes softened when she talked about children. "How lucky we all are that you came to this place," he murmured.
"How lucky I am that you are here," she replied. He frowned, uncertain what to answer to such a statement. "What I mean is," she hastened to add, "that you give me a feeling of safety, of...belonging. You are someone who cares about people, Josiah, and that warms the heart of everyone who comes near you."
Josiah lowered his head, studying the grain of the wood under his hands where he leaned against the rail. His mind reeled. Why did the thought of her as somebody’s wife stir him in such an unsettling way? It was ridiculous that it should bother him that she had known the love of a man. On second thought it didn’t exactly bother him. It just evoked thoughts in him that had been safely locked away so far. His skin remembered the touch of her palm and he was quick to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.
"Josiah," she called out softly. "Are you all right?" Taking a deep breath, he finally looked at her and nodded. "Promise me to have your arm looked at, will you?" she added, and the concern in her expression warmed his heart.
"I will," he said, glad that his voice sounded more secure than he was feeling.
She gave him a long look before she bent to retrieve her things and started to descend the stairs. It tore at his heart that she was leaving already. He wished he were able to find words for the way she made him feel.
"Elizabeth." Her name had left his lips before he knew it.
She paused and turned. "Yes?"
His mind went blank under her gaze and all he managed was a hoarse, "Thank you."
Her featured brightened as if he had just paid her the most splendid compliment and he couldn’t help but return her smile in kind. She inclined her head, and the way she glanced up at him from under her lashes made his heart skip a beat.
Josiah remained staring at the spot where she had stood long after she had left, wondering how he should survive the hours until he would see her again.
Demons
by Rosemarie Hauer
Shadows were chasing him, pressing in on him, suffocating him. There were voices. He couldn't understand any spoken words, but he knew they were accusing him, condemning him, and tearing him apart with their merciless judgment. He struggled to his feet, lost under the weight of his guilt, and when he finally stood, but he couldn't move, couldn't run as his mind dictated he should. He was rooted to the spot, helplessly watching the crows as they obscured the sky like a huge black cloud. The noise of their wings reminded him of water rushing over steep rocks, and he craned his neck in order to gauge the distance between him and the source of the menacing sound. Suddenly he was pushed to the ground by a force so overwhelming that it drove the air from his lungs. A sharp pain at the back of his head made his awareness shift...
...and he found himself lying on the rough wooden floor by his cot. Startled by his own panting, he tried to move and scan the room, but the pain was still there, throbbing through his head relentlessly. The moonlit sky beyond the small window gave him back some measure of orientation as he struggled to a sitting position, wiping the sweat off his face with the sleeve of his cotton shirt. His heart was still hammering wildly as the door flew open and someone entered the room. A familiar voice called out his name.
"Josiah, are you all right? What happened?"
A feeling of gratitude warred with embarrassment that someone should be witness to his plight. Elizabeth. She of all people...
He tried to rise, but a surge of dizziness forced him to place his head onto his knees, and he fought to regain his breathing and to calm his still racing heart.
A cool hand brushed across his forehead, and he shivered under the touch.
"You're hurt," Elizabeth stated with concern.
"Its...nothing," he managed hoarsely. "It was...only a dream."
He made an effort to raise his head at last, but a wave of nausea washed over him, and he closed his eyes. Suddenly she was very close, and the image of her in her white nightgown, bathed in moonlight, merged with a fragrance so sweet that it brought on a different kind of dizziness. Then there was softness, too, the softness of her touch as she knelt beside him, pulling his head against her breast. Her fingers gently probed the back of his head, and he flinched as she encountered the source of the pain where he must have hit some solid object on his way down. But the pain was easily overpowered by all those sweet sensations she evoked, and for a moment he allowed himself to simply relax in her arms, absorbing the moment of perfection she created. The scent of her, the softness she surrounded him with, the warmth of her concern wove an irresistible spell around his heart, one he was reluctant to break, even though he knew he must.
Slowly, deliberately, he tensed and lifted his head. Immediately she moved into his line of vision, her eyes huge with worry.
He mustered a faint smile. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Was I that noisy when I hit the ground?"
"You cried out," she replied, and he marveled fleetingly at the softness of her palm against his cheek before the realization hit him how intimately she was touching him, how compromising the whole situation must look for anybody who happened by. Carefully he took her hand and dislodged it from his face.
"Thank you for coming," he rasped, shifting his weight in order to get up. Instantly she was on her feet, supporting him, steadying him as his legs threatened to give way under his own weight. She helped him to his bed, and he slumped down gratefully. She sat beside him, and he sensed her eyes on his face, although he kept his own carefully lowered to avoid her gaze.
"Tell me about that dream," she demanded quietly, but he shook his head, regretting it instantly as another stab of pain shot through him. "Josiah," she urged, "don't be stubborn. You know talking about it will help."
"Nothing will help," he replied, dismayed at the hopelessness displayed in his voice.
She remained silent for a while, but her fingers stole around his where they rested on his thigh. He tolerated her touch, trying to ignore the fact that it burned his skin and seared his heart.
"Lie down, Josiah," she ordered softly, and he complied with childlike obedience. He had to admit that it felt good to be lying down again, but when he opened his eyes a moment later, her face was above him as she bent over him, studying him intently. He closed his eyes again, unable to meet that quiet gaze without responding in a most embarrassing way. He heard a rustle of cloth as she moved off the bed, and hoped she would simply leave, believing he had fallen asleep. For a while he still heard her moving about in the room, but gradually the sounds blurred and became muted as he drifted off.
***
Elizabeth put the glass of water she had gotten for Josiah on the makeshift nightstand next to his cot. She felt a rush of tenderness as she looked down into his gaunt face, his features finally relaxed in sleep. She reached out to feather a caress across his hair, but stopped in mid-movement, her hand suspended above his head.
She wondered about the demons that obviously haunted him. It was not hard to guess that his must have been a difficult life so far. In a way he reminded her of a rock, shaped by the forces of nature, the rough surface gradually smoothed by rain, sand and wind.
He stirred in his sleep, and she reached down to pull up his blanket. Making a mental note to talk to Nathan first thing in the morning, she caught herself staring at the collar of his nightshirt where the top buttons had come undone. Her eyes had adjusted so well to the dim light of the moon that she could make out the gentle throbbing of Josiah's pulse at the side of his neck. Droplets of perspiration glistened in the hollow of his throat, and her fingers ached to touch him there, to wipe the moistness away.
She thought how eagerly he had responded to her touch earlier when she had held his head, and how he had fought her at the same time. Wondering how long it had been since he last had been held by a woman, she stroked his cheek unthinkingly.
His eyes fluttered open and he turned his head, looking at her in surprise.
"Yes," she whispered, smiling, "I'm still here."
"How long have I slept?" he asked, glancing toward the window.
"Not long enough," she replied, "but it does seem to have helped. Your eyes are clearer now."
He sat up, and she could see that his movements were steady and secure again.
"Are you still dizzy?" she asked, relieved when he shook his head.
He swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and looked up at her with a frown. "I'm very grateful for your help, Elizabeth," he said, and she thought that she had never liked the sound of her name more than when he spoke it. "But you should go back to sleep now. You look tired."
"Are you sure you will be all right?" she asked, hoping he hadn't detected the regret in her voice.
Rising to his feet, he extended his hand to help her up. "I will be," he said. They stood very close, facing each other, and when she lifted her face to look up at him, his mouth was mere inches away from hers. She could feel his breath on her skin as he sighed softly. They didn't speak, they just exchanged a look of silent understanding. On impulse, Elizabeth rose on tiptoes and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. He turned his head slightly, and she got the corner of his mouth instead. There was a quick intake of breath, his or hers, she wasn't sure, and she cast down her gaze as she turned to leave. Before stepping through the door, she looked back at him once more. There was something in his eyes that made her want to weep, to go back to him and hug him to her, rocking him to soothe the despair she saw reflected in his gaze. Whatever it was that was giving him nightmares, Elizabeth resolved to find out about it and exorcise the demons before they could do even more harm to his soul.
"Good night, Josiah," she said. "Sleep well." Tearing herself away, she turned and closed the door behind her.