The Hollow

4

He did not come at breakfast or by dinner. It was after sunset that he arrived on the front step of Hiner Home, Adam answering the door and motioning Captain Walker into the house. Mahala had seen him from her attic window, slipping on her gloves and biting into her lower lip as she regarded herself in her small dressing mirror.

Her father was clapping the Captain on the shoulder as she descended the narrow stairs into the entryway. Her father was much shorter than Captain Walker. In the light of the lamps, Mahala took time to compare what she saw in Adam's memory to the man himself. His face was clean shaven now, and there was some lines around his eyes that were from the sun rather than age. His cheeks were pale, but his eyes and forehead were darker. He had had the beard for some time.

"Mahala, will you see if Jenny is ready for our supper?" her father asked, turning to her as she stepped onto the rug in the entryway, her feet bare under the skirts.

Captain Walker's black eyes did not move from her. He was studying her intently, eyes moving from her toes to her skirts, a simple dress of gray linen. He looked to her gloves, worn and tight over her small hands and forearms. Then he looked at her hair, the curls loose down her back, but pinned up from her face tastefully. Those dark eyes then moved over the square neck of her dress, to her decolletage and then her mouth. When their eyes met, Mahala felt that strange thrill course through her again.

"Miss Hiner," Captain Walker said finally, taking a step toward her, his hand out.

Mahala swallowed thickly, taking in the Captain's civilian brown coat and darker brown corduroy trousers and heavy boots. He wore a neck cloth, a brown silken cravat that made him look fine. Yet, when she took his hand, she did not need to touch his skin to know he was uncomfortable in such clothes. Either the uniform or shirtsleeves.

Captain Walker's hand was very large, larger than Adam's, and extremely warm even through the worn kid leather of her gloves. Raising her hand, he moved to kiss her knuckles, but seemed to remember the glove when he tore his eyes from hers and simply used his other hand to pat the back of hers.

"Captain, it is good to see you again," she said, surprised that her voice was so even and calm while her insides seemed to flutter and jolt.

His dark brows rose in surprise, and he opened his mouth slightly in question.

Adam made a noise, and began gesturing, catching Mahala's attention. Captain Walker released her hand and stepped back.

"Yes, brother, I will see to supper," Mahala sighed, forcing a smile.

The men went into the front room where her father kept a warmth hearth, comfortable furnishings, and books, hundred of books. It was where guests were entertained, as few as they were. Mahala took the back hall to the detached kitchen, finding the family's cook, a large woman with an immortal face, Jenny Gregory. She was a freedwoman who had lived with the family since her father and mother had married. Jenny Gregory was like a large jovial aunt, not so much the 'cook' as a member of the family whose skills were cooking. Jenny Gregory was in fact, Harrison's aunt, and lived in a house along the road near Warm Springs.

Jenny found Mahala to be a pitiful thing, with no prospects, and so Jenny treated Mahala with cool distance. Supper would be set out while the men talked. Mahala sighed and helped Jenny prepare.

Supper was pleasant around the table Wilhelm had fashioned before Mahala and Adam were born. It was a round table with turned chairs with wicker seating. Supper was always an intimate affair at Hiner Home. There was always, until months before, Wilhelm Hiner and his three children around the table. Captain Walker sat in Emilia's seat, directly across from Mahala.