After the Storm (30 page)

She was not surprised to see Samuel was holding a newspaper, although she wondered if he had been reading it the whole time they were at the wedding. What astonished her was to see a bottle of whiskey beside him. It was half-empty. Had he had a little or a lot? She had never seen him drink anything but hard cider.

“Samuel?”

He lowered the newspaper. Unlike when she had last seen him standing on the porch, his face was bare of emotion. “I see you caught the bouquet.”

“Actually Megan did.” She put the flowers on the stairs. “I thought you'd change your mind and come to the wedding, or at least the gathering afterward.”

“I told you I wouldn't.”

“You missed a lovely wedding. The children enjoyed themselves.”

“That's good to hear.”

He picked up his glass. Taking a deep drink, he refilled it. “Don't,” he said.

“Don't what?”

“You're wearing that scowl you wear every time you scold one of the children for doing something you believe they should know better than to do.” His voice remained crisp and unslurred, so she guessed he had not had much to drink.

“I wasn't going to scold you.”

“No? Then why are you standing in the doorway staring at me?”

“I was staring at the newspaper.”

“And reading it?” He stood, tossing the newspaper down, and laughed sharply. “Have you suddenly made such great strides in your reading lessons that you now can read the
Enquirer
?”

“You know I haven't.”

“Then you must have been staring at me.” He walked toward her, resting one hand on the molding beside her. “Or you're lying.”

She pushed past him and picked up the newspaper. She pointed to a drawing on the back page. “I was looking at this advertisement.” Throwing the newspaper back onto the chair, she said, “It was far more interesting than you are when you're being petulant, if you wish me to be completely honest.”

“I wish you to be completely honest.” His arm swept around her, pulling her to him. His kiss threatened to steal her breath from her, but she would not let him use this pleasure as a weapon. She pushed herself out of his arms. “You're drunk.”

“Not yet. I suspect I will be soon.” His laugh was harsh. “Do you want to join me?”

“Having a drink of whiskey? Yes.”

“Yes?” His eyes widened in shock.

She went into the kitchen. Returning with a glass, she held it out.

“You want some whiskey?” He seemed abruptly as sober as a preacher on Sunday morning.

“You offered me some. Are you saying you don't want to share?” Reaching past him, she picked up the bottle and splashed a generous serving into her glass. She clicked it against his before downing it. “That's fine whiskey, Samuel.”

He frowned. “I had no idea you were an expert on spirits.”

“My father taught me to respect whiskey.” Setting down the glass, she said, “Apparently your father didn't do the same.”

“Ah, now comes the scold.”

“Quite to the contrary.” She shook her head. “I don't know what's upsetting you enough to drink alone, Samuel. I don't know if it's the wedding or something else, but it's clear you'd prefer to accuse me of things I have no intention of doing rather than be honest with me this evening. If you'll excuse me …”

Samuel knew he would be wise to let Cailin walk out, not just out of this room, but out of his life. She was a woman who did not know how to leave well enough alone, and she was tempting him to spill his reservoir of pain. What would she do then? Laugh at him for being so distressed by what had happened in Cincinnati on a day not very different from this one? He had lost the woman he loved to another, but her husband had betrayed her far more appallingly.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Do you really care?”

He bit back his answer. Yes, he did care for a thousand different reasons, but he said only, “Just curious if you're going to stay with me tonight.”

When sorrow filled her eyes, he wondered what he had said wrong now. He had thought she wanted to continue to play the game she had begun. He had hoped she would admit that last night had been too long when she was not with him. As he looked down at his glass, contempt at his bout of self-pity sliced through him. He put the glass on the table.

“I'm sorry, Cailin. I'm taking out my anger on you.”

“Anger? At what?”

He shook his head. “It really doesn't matter. I've got better things to do than sit here and feel sorry for myself.”

“Samuel, if you'd tell me what's haunting you, I'll listen. Sometimes it helps to talk about the things that plague our hearts.”

The things that plague our hearts
? She was too perceptive. The sweet smell of some fragrance drifted from the hair that curled along her neck. He would like those strands grazing his fingers as he drew her mouth to his.

When he did not speak, she said, “Mr. Thanington was asking about you.”

“Thanington? Why?”

“He was curious if you'd be interested in doing some work for him. Legal work.”

He laughed without humor. “He'll have to find someone else.”

“He said also to tell you that he's considering your comments on the offer he made to the library committee.”

“That's a surprise. A very pleasant surprise.”

“I thought you'd think so.” A half-smile tilted her lips. “And Lottie thought she had found Dahi.”

“Found Dahi? I thought she could see him whenever she wished.”

“Why don't you ask her?”

As she turned again to leave, he said, “Cailin, there must be a way to work this out so we're not both miserable.”

“Just you?” she asked, facing him.

“I'd rather not be miserable.”

“I think you revel in your misery. I don't know why, but you do. I wanted to help you as you've helped me deal with—” She paused as the children rushed up the stairs to change out of their good clothes so they could play. “It's time for me to heat up what's left of the soup for supper.”

“And that's that?”

“Yes. I don't want to be unhappy, Samuel, and you don't want to be happy. Supper should be ready soon.” She picked up the bottle and poured another serving of whiskey. Taking it with her, she went back to the kitchen.

He looked at the nearly empty bottle, then walked out of the house. He had a long overdue errand to run, and now was the time to do it, before the whiskey sifted from his head and he talked himself out of it. The telegraph office must still be open. If it was closed, he would search Haven for Kenny. It was time to send a message immediately to New York.

Seventeen

“D-e-l-a-n-c-y
spells Delancy, Mama,” Megan said with a smile.

Cailin laughed and gave her daughter a hug. When Samuel's newspaper crackled beneath her elbow, she shoved it to the middle of the kitchen table. He must have been finishing it while he had breakfast before any of the rest of them had gotten up this morning.

“Can you tell me what all the letters on the side of Emma's wagon spell?” she asked, to keep her thoughts on her children who were sitting around the table.

“Delancy's General Store, Haven, Indiana,” Megan answered with pride.

Glancing at Brendan who nodded, Cailin said, “You're learning more and more. Your new teacher is going to be impressed with all you can read.”

Cailin was not sure how Brendan had become aware that she could not read. She had asked him what certain letters spelled, but as she was doing with Megan, she had pretended she knew the answers to her questions. Suspecting he had overheard her and Samuel the night she admitted the truth, she was glad he had not said anything to the girls. Neither Megan nor Lottie were good with keeping secrets.

The back door opened, and Samuel asked, “What does
b-l-a-c-k-b-e-r-r-i-e-s
spell?”

Megan screwed up her face in concentration, then asked, “Is it blackberries?”

“Yes.” He held out several pails. “Lots and lots of them are ripe along the old road leading down to the river.” He smiled at the children. “Shall we go and see how many we can pick before nightfall?”

They tumbled out of their chairs, each grabbed a pail, and ran out the door.

Samuel held up one of the two pails he had left. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Yes.” She took one pail. “Thank you.”

He held the door so she could precede him. Closing it, he said, “I thought you'd say no.”

“If you hadn't wanted me to say yes, you shouldn't have asked.”

“Whoa!” He held up his hands. “I didn't say I didn't want you to come with us. I said I didn't expect you would. You've been keeping a lot of distance between us during the past week.”

“How better to put some distance between us than in a briar patch?”

He laughed, and she was astonished to realize she had not heard him laugh in far too long.

She sneezed as dust tickled her nose. “If it doesn't storm soon, this whole road will blow away.”

“And the pumpkins won't grow any more. Until Megan took over care of the rabbit, she'd planned on taking the biggest pumpkin to be judged at the fair. It's a good thing she's forgotten that, because they're going to be a pretty small lot.”

“You love working this farm, don't you?”

“It's an endless challenge. Next year, I want to have more than a couple of fields planted. Brendan plans—had planned—to raise some pigs to sell to the markets in Cincinnati.”

She did not answer. So many plans would now have to be changed, not just Brendan's.

Handing her the other bucket, Samuel picked up a wash-tub from beside the well. He stuck out his crooked elbow. She put her hand on it and walked with him toward the waiting children. He said nothing as the children called excitedly to them. Then he answered their questions about picking berries.

As if she were hearing and seeing him with the children for the first time, she noted the bonds that had grown between her children and him. To tear them away from him would hurt them so deeply. Yet how could she stay when he had been honest that he had no place for her in his life other than as his mistress? She wanted a home—just like this one—and a family—just like this one—and a man she could love forever—just like this one. It should have been perfect, but it was just the opposite.

When they reached the massive wall of blackberry bushes, Samuel set down the washtub and said, “Before you start, you need to remember that there are prickers on the bushes. They'll hurt if you get one stuck in your finger.”

“I don't want to get my fingers sucked!” cried Lottie.

She tried not to, but Cailin could not keep from looking at Samuel as Lottie's words reminded her of her first taste of ice cream. His eyes burned with the craving she knew too well. Too many nights had passed since she had last slept in his arms.

“Just be careful,” Cailin said, knowing that was advice she needed to take for herself.

Megan picked a berry and popped it into her mouth. “They're yummy.”

“Try not to eat all you pick.” Samuel laughed, but the intensity in his gaze had not lessened. “Megan, why don't you come with me? We'll start at the far end.”

Knowing he was wise to put some distance between them, even though she wanted nothing between them, Cailin said, “Brendan, you and I'll start here.”

“Me? Me?” asked Lottie, spinning in her excitement.

“You have the whole middle.”

With a whoop, the little girl raced along the bushes and picked off one berry. She held it high in the air before dropping it into her bucket. Then she ran to another spot and pulled off another berry.

Cailin saw many of the berries had shriveled on the twisting vines. The heat would soon dry out the rest. She pushed those hard, black nobs aside to look for berries hidden more deeply within the briars. Batting away a buzzing insect, she pulled off the berries and let them fall with a steady plop-plop into her pail. Sweat glided down her back and dripped from her forehead, and she thought of the sweet ice cream they could make with these berries.

Brendan inched closer and grinned. “We're going to have lots of berries, Mama.”

“Maybe we can make some blackberry jam.”

He licked his lips. “That sounds delicious!” Squatting, he plucked berries from the lowest vines. “Did you talk to Samuel about it?”

“About what?” She wove her fingers past the briars to pick another berry.

“About you two getting married.”

She gasped, hoping Samuel was not close enough to hear. “Brendan, I thought you understood that that decision is between me and Samuel.”

“It seems as if you've decided. We're in Haven.”

“You know why we haven't left.”

“Because you don't have the money to pay for our passage?” He frowned. “Samuel would give you the money if you really wanted it.”

“No, he wouldn't.” She sat back on her heels. “He doesn't want to lose you and your sisters. He loves you very, very much.”

“And he loves you. Jenny said so, and she always knows about these things. She knew Jesse Faulkner was sweet on her sister Miranda before anyone else did.”

Cailin smiled gently. “I had no idea Jenny was so wise.”

“Don't make fun of her, Mama!”

Putting her hand on his arm before he could whirl away, she said, “I'm sorry, Brendan. I didn't mean to insult her. She clearly has insight into young hearts.”

“She says you're in love with Samuel. Says she's seen it with her own two eyes when you've been in Haven.” He scuffed his foot in the loose dirt. “She wants to know, too, why you two haven't gotten married.”

“Is that so?”

“She says everyone in Haven hopes you'll decide to get married because they're all curious if Samuel would attend his own wedding.”