Circle of Love(2)

She slid a little closer to Johnny on the wagon seat, glancing at his broad shoulders, at the way his sun-bleached hair curled under the snug leather band of his hat, and at his hands firm on the reins.

Frances had met Johnny on the day the Cummingses had brought her to Kansas. The Mueller family, along with other near neighbors, had come to share the Cummingses’ joy at having adopted two orphan train children. That night, while she thought the other children were sleeping—all of them on pallets in front of the fireplace—Frances had given in to a desperate loneliness for her mother and brothers and sisters and cried.

Johnny had been awake and had heard her, but he hadn’t teased. Keeping his voice low so as not to wake the others, he’d whispered, “Ma said you had to leave your other brothers and sisters. If I had to leave Matt and Karl and even old froggy Fred over there, I’d cry, too.” Maybe—just maybe, Frances thought, she had begun to fall in love with Johnny’s good humor and kindness and understanding at that moment.

Aware of her gaze, Johnny looked down at Frances. Their eyes met.

“I see that the Readings have finished their new house,” Frances said. “They’ve moved out of the soddy.”

Johnny looked back at the road without answering, but Frances plunged on. “Elvira worked on that house along with her husband. She could pound a nail and use a saw as well as Harry could. Elvira told me that—”

“Harry didn’t serve in the army,” Johnny said. “He wasn’t in a Confederate prison.”

“What has that got to do with—?”

“He wasn’t injured. He wasn’t starved. He’s perfectly fit for a man’s work, yet he chooses to accept a woman’s help. It’s not something I would do.”

Frances choked down the anger that rose in her throat and slid a little farther away from Johnny. “Perhaps Harry sees a husband and wife as a team, willing to work together at whatever job needs to be done. Perhaps he isn’t as … as … stubborn as you.” The word was out before she could stop it.

“You think I’m stubborn, do you?” Johnny gave a quick flick to the reins, and the plodding horses picked up their pace. “Oh, Frances, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but it was that stubbornness—as you put it—that kept me alive in the Confederate prison. I refused to give in to the maggots crawling through the food, to the freezing rain that soaked to the bone, and to the stench of illness and death around me. I refused to give up and die with so many members of my company.” He hesitated. “Although I …”

“You have to stop feeling guilty about their deaths,” Frances said. “You were not to blame. Your company was outnumbered and captured.”

“But my friends died, and I was spared. Why? Tell me why.” Before she could speak he shook his head and said, “I have searched for an answer, and there is none.”

Frances took a long, steadying breath. “I know it was hard, Johnny. I prayed for you. I ached for you. I cried for you. And when you came home to your parents, I did everything I could to help you.”

“I know, and I’m grateful,” Johnny said. He took Frances’s hand and held it gently. “I understood that I couldn’t have survived without you.”

Frances was determined to continue. “But that horrible time in your life is over now, Johnny. Your body is healing, yet you refuse to put your year in prison out of mind.” Tears burned her eyes as she remembered Johnny’s ready smile and eager laughter, which she’d rarely seen or heard since his return.

“It’s impossible to put it out of mind. I’ll never forget. Never.”

“Please don’t dwell on the past,” Frances said. “Look forward. Think of the happiness that lies ahead. Think of the happiness we can share.”

Johnny sighed, and for a moment his broad shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, Frances. I don’t want to talk about marriage. It’s not time to even think of marriage.”

Her spine stiffened, and she flung her words at him. “Why? Because you didn’t come back from the war the same as when you left home? Do you think that would make me love you any the less?”

Rising on the horizon ahead of them Frances could see the row of one- and two-story wooden buildings that made up the town of Maxville. Could she convince Johnny before they arrived?

“You don’t understand,” Johnny mumbled.

“I do understand.”

For just a moment Johnny’s face softened as he turned to her. “Frances, someday you and I … and our children …”