Beneath the Apple Leaves(70)

Lily passed the lane to the Kisers’, kept her eyes focused on the line of thin maples skirting the other side of the road. A few miles more and she passed the Mueller farm, the smoke rising from the kitchen chimney, the small outcroppings of red buildings bright, nearly crimson in the sunbeams. Her heart grew heavy. Seemed like every farm held a family, told stories around the hearth, kept one another warm even on the coldest days. She had Claire, a woman too trapped in her past and anxiety to expel any comfort.

In the quiet of the road, the horse coming from the south could be heard well before it crested the hill. She moved to the right. When the brown horse came into view, she recognized the man perched on top and grimaced. Dan Simpson.

Dan did more and more odd jobs for Frank. Mr. Simpson, Dan’s father, was a clerk at the bank, had connections with everyone in town and played cards with Frank each week. The three of them made her mouth dry, tasteless and craving to spit.

With the heightening pitch of approaching hooves, Lily’s body constricted protectively, her elbows locking to her sides. She wanted to turn around, beat a pace back to the Sullivan house, but it was too late. Dan had seen her and stopped the horse, dismounted and walked toward her with that smug look upon his face.

“Lily Morton,” he chirped. “Didn’t expect to see such a pretty sight this mornin’.”

“Hello, Dan,” she greeted with reserve. She stood straight, held the basket in front of her as a poor shield.

“Got anything good in there for me?” He nodded at the basket, but his eyes glued to her blouse.

Her fingers gripped the woven handle tighter. Dan was always making advances, not in a way that flattered but in a way that made you feel like dirty hands were playing with your hair. He even did it in front of Frank, who would just laugh. But there was an anger laced to Dan’s flirtations, a sharpness to his eye that didn’t make a woman laugh, made her want to run.

“Just dropping off soup to Mrs. Sullivan.” Her voice unsteadied and she cursed herself. Dan could smell insecurity a mile away and moved closer. The quiet road suddenly seemed deserted for miles in every direction. She was halfway between home and the Muellers’. If she had to run, she wasn’t sure which way to go.

Lily brought forth her strongest posture and strained not to flinch from his wandering eyes. “What are you doing here? A bit out of your territory, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” He stuck out his bottom lip and squinted at the sun. “Makin’ the rounds, you could say.”

His words slurred, didn’t sound right, as if he spoke from an injured throat. He stepped closer and brushed the hair off her shoulder, the sensation raising the nerves along her neck. Her legs tightened for flight.

“Miss Lily,” he announced, “you’re looking at Private Dan Simpson.” The smell of sour whiskey trailed his breath and she scowled.

His eyes turned black. “I just got done tellin’ you I signed up an’ you’re giving me a look like that?”

She had to watch herself now. She had to think. She swallowed. “You just surprised me is all.”

The blackness stayed, but he chuckled, turned around in a stumbling circle and raised his hat in the air. “I’m a soldier, Lily! Gonna teach those Huns what an American looks like.” He was before her again, breathing on her again. “Gonna make sure my face is the last thing they see before I shove the bayonet through their gut.” He thrust out a wobbly arm in an exaggerated sword parry.

As much as she tried not to, as much as she knew she needed to face him, she turned her face away, and her lips curled. He grabbed her chin hard. “A man gets tired of being ignored, Lily. You hear me?” he shouted.

She glared hard at him, clenched her teeth, wouldn’t turn away again.

“You’re always disrespecting me an’ I’m done with it! Teasin’ me like you do, walking by me acting like you don’t want me, makin’ me think I got to beg for it!”

He grabbed the basket from her hand and threw it into the brush, grabbed her arms fiercely. “But you listen to me, Miss Lily. I’m a soldier now. Won’t have you teasin’ your prize at me. Gonna give it to me or I’m takin’ it!”

Thought stopped. A cry left her lips as she struggled to get out of his grip.

“There a problem?” Andrew’s voice approached from the road and she nearly crumpled with relief.

Dan loosened his hold on her arms but did not let go. “Who are you?”

Andrew walked up to them, his figure tall and strong and unwavering. He didn’t remove his eyes from the man. “Take your hands off her.”

Dan dropped his clutches and put his palms up in the air, his body swaying slightly. “Yes, sir,” he said sarcastically.

Andrew turned to her, his eyes grave and stern. “You all right, Lily?”

She nodded, crossed her arms across her chest and rubbed the bruised biceps. He stepped in front of her, blocked her body from Dan’s view. “I expect you’ll be on your way now.” It was not a question.

Recognition seemed to settle slowly in the man’s mind. “You’re one of ’em Kisers, ain’t you?” He laughed as if at a good joke. “Heard about you.”

Lily heard the chiding tone in Dan’s voice and shuddered. She knew his reputation for brawling. “Come on, Andrew,” she whispered, and tugged on his hand. “Let’s go.”