After the Storm (27 page)

“But you said the children were happy here.”

“They are. Most of the time.” He sighed. “He was very hurt and very angry when he first arrived in Haven. Pretending they're unchanged by what happened to them is a waste of time. You saw how protective Megan was of Lottie when you arrived here. Megan tried to act as Lottie's surrogate mother. She's no longer doing that, because she's relinquished that role back to you. Brendan is having a harder time. I've handled this before. Let me handle it now.”

“All right. We can talk to him—”

“Let
me
handle it. I warned him before what the consequences would be if he got into another fight. This is something that's better said between a man and a boy.”

Cailin clenched her hands in her lap. “You're asking me to relinquish my place as his mother.”

“I'm asking you to trust me enough—just once, Cailin—to do what's right for him.”

She searched his face and saw his sincere concern for Brendan. Wanting to tell him she had always trusted that his love for the children was genuine, she nodded.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“If there's something—”

“I'll call for you.” He glanced toward the hall as footsteps sounded heavily on the landing upstairs. “Why don't you get some supper started for us while I speak with Brendan?”

Slowly she stood. “Samuel—”

“Trust me.”

The plea pierced her right to the heart, and she nodded. “I do trust you to do what's right for Brendan.”

“I guess that's a start.” He reached toward her, but she put up her hand to halt him.

She was unsure what her heart might persuade her to do when her emotions were as unsteady as Brendan had been on his feet. He caught her fingers and drew her to him. In the glow of the sunshine through the windows, his eyes shimmered like green fire. His fingers grazed her jaw.

“Promise me one thing,” he whispered.

Or at least she thought he whispered. Her pounding heart smothered all other sounds.

“What?” she asked as softly, wanting to lose herself in his bewitching fire.

“You'll consider trusting me in other ways.”

“I'm trying to trust you more.”

“I know.”

“And are you willing to trust me, too?” she asked.

“I do trust you.”

“Do you? Do you really?”

As he had done too many times, he looked away.

Putting her hand against his cheek, she tipped his face toward her and whispered, “Don't ask of me what you aren't willing to ask of yourself.”

She hoped he would say something, but he turned toward the door in a silent command. Knowing the conversation was over and she would get no more from him, she walked with him as far as the stairs. He looked at her for a long moment, then called up to Brendan.

Cailin went into the kitchen, not pausing when she heard her son come down the stairs. While she made a meal of cold meat and fresh vegetables, Samuel took Brendan into the back parlor and closed the door. She hoped she had done the right thing, agreeing that this discussion would be best handled by him. She had been ready to argue until Samuel mentioned that this was not the first time Brendan had gotten into a fight. Now he must face the consequences Samuel had set.

The food was ready, and the door to the back parlor remained closed. She fed the girls and sent them out to play, and the door remained closed. She washed the dishes and called the girls back inside to get ready for bed, and the door remained closed.

It finally opened a few minutes later. Brendan sat at the dining room table. The bruise on his cheek was already swelling, but he kept his eyes downcast. She set a plate and a glass of milk in front of him. He began eating without a word.

Looking from the boy to the door, she was not surprised to see Samuel there. She picked up the plate she had waiting for him, but he motioned for her to put it down and stay where she was. When he came into the kitchen and closed the door that had always been open since she had arrived here, she was astonished.

He picked up the plate she had prepared for him and sat at the kitchen table. “Brendan understands what he did was wrong. He'll think twice before hitting someone else again.”

“He looks so chastised,” she answered.

“I told him that if he's so foolish again, he won't be taking his cow to the fair to be judged. He needs a calm head for that, and, if he got upset over some criticisms to his cow, he'd lose everyone's respect and cost himself any chance for a ribbon.” He reached for the jug and poured some milk into a glass. “The very thought of losing that privilege punched a hole in his bravado.” Taking a drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tell me something.”

“If I can.” She handed him a napkin and smiled.

His expression remained somber. “Did their father get into fisticuffs often?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Brendan said his father wasn't reluctant to settle an argument with his fists.” His voice lowered in anger. “You've told me he wasn't reluctant to hit you. Did he get into fights with others?”

She wrung out the cloth and tossed the dishwater out the back door. “What does it matter, Samuel? That's in the past.”

“But if Brendan thinks it's permissible to settle his differences that way, he needs to learn better ways.”

“You make it sound so simple. It was different in Ireland. We didn't have lawyers to handle disagreements.”

“There's no need for you to drag me into this argument just to give his father an excuse for his actions.”

Cailin looked at him. “Do you think that's what I'm doing?”

“It sure sounds that way.”

“That wasn't what I meant. I want my children to have the opportunity to be better than we had the chance to be in Ireland.”

He stood and spat a curse, shocking her. “But your husband wasn't from Ireland. He had, from what you and the children have told me, every possible advantage. One thing keeps puzzling me. Why did he go to Ireland in the first place, and stay as long as he did?”

“I don't know.” She searched her mind for an answer to that and found nothing, astounding herself. “Samuel, I honestly don't know.”

“You could contact your mother-in-law—”

“No! I won't ask anything of that woman who told my children I'd died. She'd just lie to me, too. I won't ask anything of her, not even the truth about why Abban came to Ireland.”

“You never asked him?”

“No, and I'm not sure why I didn't.”

“Because you trusted him.” He paused, then added, “As I want you to trust me.”

“A blind trust?”

“No, a trust that doesn't have to be asked for every day.”

“I'm trying, Samuel.”

“I know you are, and I'll try as well.”

He held out his arms, and she rushed to him, pressing her face to his shoulder. His arms surrounded her with a comfort she wanted to savor forever.

“Are you going to be all right about Brendan?” he whispered. “I saw how upset you were.”

“Yes. I can accept that my sweet son has been in fist-fights before, so I'm going to be all right here.” She put her finger against her temple, then touched the center of her chest. “But I'm not so sure I'm all right here.”

“I think you're all right here.” His wide finger covered hers.

She gasped as the brush of his hand against her breast sent a quiver into her very depths. When his lips covered hers, the flame of longing burst to life, melting her to him. Only when the long-case clock in the hallway chimed the hour did he release her. She gazed up into the fathomless pools of his eyes.

When he said something about getting ready for the library committee meeting that had been postponed when he did not arrive last night, she tried to force her mind to focus on his words. All it wanted to do was imagine Samuel kissing her again … and not stopping. Last night had not been enough. Tonight would not be enough. She wanted a lifetime of nights with him, but she wondered if he wanted more than the arrangement they had now.

Fifteen

Samuel tapped his fingers on the desk in the schoolroom. After being put off another night, the library committee was finally meeting, but he could think of only Cailin. In the three days since he had first brought her to his bed, he had looked forward to each evening and the game of asking her for one more night. Tonight, by the time he returned to his farm, she might already be asleep.

A smile pulled at his lips. Waking her with kisses would be fun. When her eyes were heavy with sleep, he would let her make one of his favorite dreams come true.

“Samuel?” asked Reverend Faulkner. “Are you with us?”

He shook himself and smiled. “Sorry. It's been a long day.”

The minister nodded. “I understand. I'm sorry, too, that it's taken us this long to make this decision. It should have been done long before the harvest.”

“What were you asking me when my mind drifted away?”

“Do you think we should turn down Lord Thanington's offer?”

Samuel looked down at the papers before him. The offer had been outlined by a competent attorney. In exchange for Thanington's donation, the library would be named in his honor. That was no problem. However, the rest of the restrictions put on the donation were. The village green would be turned into a garden, which, although it said nothing in this letter, would have as its centerpiece a statue of the benevolent Thanington. If that was not bad enough, Thanington stipulated that no child under the age of sixteen could borrow a book, and anyone who misplaced a book would be banned from the building.

“Yes, I think we need to turn it down,” he said quietly, looking from the minister to Alice, who wore a dismayed expression. “I'm sorry. If all he wanted was to have the Haven Public Library named the Thanington Library, I'd be begging you to have this signed right away. As it is, I can't. The next thing you know, he'll be asking to rename the town after him.”

Alice gathered up the papers and stacked them neatly. “I agree, even though it breaks my heart not to accept this offer.”

“It
is
an offer.” Samuel took the papers from her and picked up a pen the minister had in front of him. “What do we want? We leave that and cross out the rest and send it back to him.”

“Can we do that?” she asked.

“What do we have to lose?” He laughed and began scratching through the items that bothered the committee. Dipping the pen into the ink again, he drew more lines down the second page. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed the negotiating he had done when he worked with Theo in Cincinnati. For the first time in weeks, he wondered how his partner was faring. Theo had never enjoyed bargaining and compromise but would research through stacks of dusty tomes to get an answer on a property dispute.

Reverend Faulkner chuckled. “This is going to be quite a shock. I can't wait to see his response.”

“Neither can I.” Samuel continued to read and rewrite or delete other items. When he was finished, he handed the papers back to Alice. “I asked for a response by next Wednesday.”

“Next Wednesday?” Alice glanced at the minister. “Samuel, I'm getting married next Wednesday. Did you forget?”

“No, no,” he said, coming to his feet. Taking the last page, he wrote in a date a week later. “How's that?”

“Much better. Thank you.” Alice smiled.

Samuel got through the rest of the meeting and the good nights, but as he drove home along the quiet, dark road, he was not sure how. He sighed. He had lambasted Cailin for holding on to her shame, and here he was doing the same.

“And your shame wasn't because of anything
you
did,” he said, as if Cailin sat beside him.

He looked at the newspaper on the seat beside him. Would he find Beverly's name in it again? It seemed the newspaper had become focused on her every action, reporting which parties she attended and which charities were benefitting from her generous donations of her husband's money.

A single light burned in the hallway when he entered the house. He blew it out before going to his bedroom door. When he opened it, he discovered another lamp was burning even more dimly. He was surprised the room was empty. He had expected Cailin would be asleep at this hour. Tossing his coat over the back of the chair, he stretched to loosen the muscles tightened by fatigue and frustration.

He sat and pulled off his boots. He stared out the window, wishing Cailin had been waiting. She would laugh with him about Thanington's silly posturing and remind him that continuing the battle was worthwhile. He needed her warmth, which renewed his soul as her faith in him strengthened his belief in himself. She would be rankled at Thanington's latest tactic, but, as Samuel did, she would see that this counteroffer might be the swiftest and only solution to the stalemate.

Rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, he wondered where she was. Maybe Megan had had another nightmare. Maybe he should go and make sure everything was all right.

As he pushed himself up from the chair, the door opened. Cailin slipped inside, and he stared at her. This was not the prim woman who had so insisted on proprieties that she had been willing to wear a patched gown rather than let him buy her fabric for a new one. She was dressed in little more than a chemise that did not reach far past her knees.

“Why do you look so surprised?” she asked, flicking her fingers against the skirt. “I told you that I'd teach you to dance as we do in Ireland.”

He gasped, “You dance dressed like this?”

“No,” she whispered in a sultry enticement as she walked toward him, letting her fingers trace a path along the bed's upright in a motion he ached to feel upon his own skin, “but I'll show you what I learned from a gypsy woman who sought shelter at our farm for a few days until Father Liam discovered she was there and asked her to leave.”