After the Storm (37 page)

He bent to kiss her cheek, but she tilted her face so his mouth brushed hers. He jerked back, unsure if he was more startled by her brazen motion or his lack of reaction to it. “Beverly …”

He heard a gasp and looked over his shoulder. Cailin was standing not far behind them. The children were grouped around her, but he paid them no mind as he saw her shock.

“Excuse me,” he said, leaving Theo and Beverly to stare after him. Running to where Cailin was herding the children toward the agricultural barn, he called her name. He thought it might have been swallowed by another crash of thunder because she did not turn.

Then Megan did. He saw the little girl pull on Cailin's skirt. With clear reluctance, Cailin paused.

“I'll meet you by the rabbit's cage,” he heard her say as she sent the children on toward the barn. She faced him, tears filling her eyes.

“It's not what you think,” he said.

“I think I saw you kiss that woman and call her ‘Beverly.' Is that Mrs. Newsome?”

“Yes, and Theo Taylor, who was my law partner. He brought her here to convince me to go back to Cincinnati.” He put his fingers to her soft lips. “Don't say what I see in your eyes. I'm not Abban Rafferty, Cailin. I didn't lure you into my bed and then plan to go off with another woman.”

“You were kissing her.”

“I meant to kiss her cheek, but she kissed me. Even so, it was just a good-bye kiss among old friends.”

“I don't kiss
my
old friends on the mouth.”

“Things are different in the city. We—” He sighed. “Why am I trying to explain? You won't believe anything I say, will you? You've never trusted me. You think I'm just like Abban Rafferty, who tossed you aside to marry a rich woman. Did you ever really trust him either?”

When she choked and pulled away, he released her. She was going to ignore his question.

“Cailin,” he said, “you need to see this.”

“I've seen enough.”

He drew out the letter and handed it to her. “You need to see
this
.”

“You know I can't read any of this.”

He stabbed a finger at the first line. “You can read these words.”

“The children's names.” She met his eyes steadily, and he could see she was torn between wanting to know what was in the letter and striding away with what dignity she believed she had remaining. Anxiety filled her voice as she asked, “What does it say about them?”

“It says that three-fifths of Abban's estate now belongs to your children.”

“I told you I didn't want anything from the Raffertys.”

“Dammit, Cailin!
You
aren't getting anything.” He held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. Did she think he had never seen her pain before? He did not want to see it ever again, but she must let it go. She had told him she had, but her reaction to both Beverly and this letter told him that she had not. “The money is for the children. It's not much, not much more than a few hundred dollars each, because everything the Raffertys own apparently has been heavily mortgaged, but it's rightfully the children's. Are you going to let your pride deny your children their inheritance?”

Her eyes widened as she looked down at the paper.

He jabbed his finger at the second paragraph. “And there's the answer why your saintly Abban Rafferty went to Ireland and figured he'd never come home.”

“What does it say?” Her trembling voice was almost swept away by the rising wind.

“He killed a man in a fight.” At her gasp, he took the letter back. “My friend writes that Rafferty claimed self-defense, but witnesses stated otherwise. They testified that he struck the man first. The man had come into the tavern looking for Rafferty. He said your husband had badly beaten the man's sister, who had been one of Rafferty's mistresses. Rafferty beat him, leaving him for dead. Then he fled and returned only when his family's influence and money greased enough palms to clear his name.”

Her face was ashen as she whispered, “I never guessed.”

Stuffing the letter into his pocket, he clasped her face. “Cailin, why should you even consider accusing a man you loved of such abominable behavior?”

“I never guessed,” she repeated, then shivered. “Yet I accused you of—” She stiffened when thunder crashed so close that the ground reverberated.

More lightning crackled overhead.

Megan rushed to them and hid her face in Cailin's skirt, and Brendan raced across the field, shouting, “We need to get inside before the storm hits.”

Samuel grabbed Megan and ran to the rockaway. All around him, others were racing for their carriages. Tossing Megan onto the front seat, he hefted Brendan up beside her. He turned and motioned to Cailin, who had not moved.

He rushed to her. “Don't be so stubborn that you'll stand out in the storm simply because you're mad at me, Cailin!”

“It's not that. Where's Lottie?”

“She was with Megan.” Rain struck them, as piercing as the wasps' stingers.

“But where is she
now
?” Tears brightened her eyes, but he knew all her thoughts were on the little girl.

“She was going toward the barn. She'll be—” He yelped as something hard banged against his head. He put up his hand, wondering if he had been hit by a baseball. Then hail clattered around him. “C'mon, Cailin. Now!”

For a moment, he thought she would refuse to listen. Then she ran with him to the carriage. The hail battered them in a shower of icy pebbles.

“Megan,” he called as soon as he was within earshot, “do you know where Lottie is?”

“She was going to go and see if our rabbit got a ribbon.”

“If she's in the barn, Cailin, she'll be all right.”

He did not give her a chance to answer. Handing her into the rockaway, he jumped up beside her. He pulled her into his arms, turning so he was between her and the barrage. The children crouched beneath the dash. In his arms, Cailin shook. Was it from fear, or was it because she could not deny, even in the midst of her belief that he had betrayed her as Abban Rafferty had, how much even the simplest touch fired their yearning for each other?

The carriage rocked as a savage gust struck it. He heard Brendan and Megan scream, but could only hold on as the right wheels rose off the ground. They dropped back to the grass with a crash that reverberated through him.

“No!” Cailin shrieked.

He raised his head to follow her horrified gaze at the larger barn. The wind lifted the roof. It struck the ground, smashing into kindling. For a moment, there was silence, save for the hail that rattled around them.

Then screams came from every direction. Human screams. Animal screams. Thunder burst like cannon fire overhead. The pens by the barn shattered as the terrified beasts broke through them. The walls of the barn shook, and he knew other animals inside it must be trying to flee.

Cailin pulled away from him.

He halted her. “Stay here.”

“I'm not staying here!” She started to slide off the seat.

“Stay here.” He caught her face between his hands. “Trust me this time to save one of your children, Cailin. Trust
me
!”

“Samuel—”

“Trust me! Please.”

It was only a second, but it seemed like a lifetime before she nodded. “I'm trying to trust you. I really am.” She put her hand on his cheek. “Go!”

He did not give her time to change her mind or for himself to enjoy this hard-won show of her faith in him. He leaped out of the carriage and raced across the open field, which was rapidly becoming a mire. Through the rain that was falling as swiftly as if the Ohio surged up over the bluffs, he saw others running toward the barn.

The wind knocked him from his feet. He stood, then ducked as debris soared toward him. Spitting out mud, he scrambled to his feet. He put his arms over his head to protect it and ran to the barn.

Cows and goats ran through a hole in the wall. He jumped aside before one could plow him down. He heard shouts for help from inside the building. Running to where a door had been ripped off by the wind, he threw himself inside.

He fell to his knees as he was freed from fighting the wind. Hoofs grazed his side. With a groan, he pushed himself out of the way of the panicked animals.

“Lottie!” he shouted.

He heard his name cried in a high-pitched voice. He ran to his left. Or he tried to, because he was shoved back time after time by the animals. He clambered up the side of a pen, vaulted over the sheep in it, and catapulted out on the other side. Seeing several unmoving forms on the ground, he ran past them to Lottie, who crouched in a corner where two pens came together.

He pulled her into his arms as the wind tore the boards off the wall like someone peeling a potato. Huddling with her, he realized someone was stretched out beside her on the ground. Lightning flared against the darkness.

Thanington!

Samuel held on to the little girl, wishing he had let Cailin and the other children come with him. He tried once to look over the top of the walls protecting them, but rain and wind knocked him to his knees again. In his resolve to force Cailin to admit that she trusted him, he had left her and the children to this storm. Then he realized he had to trust
her
to protect Brendan and Megan.

With a crash, the back wall fell. Then there was silence again, broken only by the patter of rain. Not like the violent storm of moments ago; this was the steady rain they had been hoping for.

Shouts came from every direction. Calls for help for those who had been hurt, and more from folks searching for those who had been separated in the abrupt storm.

Standing, Samuel scanned what remained of the barn. Other people were coming to their feet, soaked, muddy, some with blood on their faces. All of them stared about in disbelief.

“Samuel? Lottie? Samuel, where are you?”

Cailin!

“Over here!” he called back.

She ran to him, drenched and with her broken bonnet bouncing on her back. Brendan followed. He tugged his sister after him. When Megan turned and darted toward the back of the barn, he gave chase.

“I found Lottie,” Samuel said.

Cailin dropped to her knees and hugged her youngest. “Lottie, dearest Lottie.” She could not say anything else but those two words as Lottie clung to her.

“You scared us, quarter-pint.”

Samuel's voice broke through her hysteria, and she saw him beside Mr. Thanington. Her first thought that the man was dead vanished when she saw him lifting his hand to his forehead and moaning.

“I think,” Samuel said, “we all survived. What a mess to clean up after the storm passes.”

“Is Dahi all right?” Lottie asked.

Cailin stared at her daughter. How could Lottie be talking about an imaginary friend now? Gently she said, “Lottie, Dahi isn't here.”

The little girl pointed to Mr. Thanington. “Dahi is right there!”

“Dahi?” she repeated in astonishment. When Mr. Thanington sat, shaking mud from his light brown hair, she asked,
“He
is Dahi?”

“Isn't he, Mama? You said the others weren't Dahi, so he must be Dahi.”

“I can't see your friend.”

“But you know all about him, Mama.”

“Pretend I don't. Tell me everything you can about him.”

Lottie screwed up her face. “Mama, you know. He lived in Ireland with us and then he went to 'merica. We went to 'merica, too. But you couldn't find him in New York. He was lost, so I wanted to find him for you.”

“Dahi?” she asked softly, thinking of the many words Lottie misunderstood. “Like
do athair
?”

“Dahi!” exclaimed the little girl with excitement, mispronouncing the words as she had so many others. As Cailin looked at Samuel in astonishment, Lottie continued, “You told me Dahi had pale-colored hair and was tall and—”

Cailin drew her younger daughter into her arms. “Lottie, do you know what the words
do athair
mean?”

She shook her head.

“It is Gaelic for ‘your father.' We came here to be with your father—your papa, but he died before we got here.”

“Then I don't have a papa?” She pondered for a moment, then said, “If I don't have one, I should be able to pick out one for myself.”

“It doesn't work like that,
a stór
.”

“Maybe it should,” Samuel said as he drew Cailin to her feet.

She gazed into his eyes, wanting to believe what she saw there. He had been wrong when he said she had never trusted him before today. She had dared to trust Samuel with her heart. Not blindly, as she had Abban, but through the pain and doubts. Even through her fear that having this man in her life would be a short-lived joy. He had proven that every foreboding was unjustified.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.”

“You've got plenty of excuses not to trust a man.”

“But I trust you, and I really like trusting you.” She took a deep breath, then said, “Because I love you.”

“Do you now?” he asked, copying her Irish accent. “Then,
a stór
, there seems nothing else to do but …” He took her right hand and dropped to one knee. “Will you marry me, Cailin O'Shea Rafferty?”

She stared at him, astonished. Hearing chuckles around them, she paid them no mind as she gazed down into his smile. “Marry you? You want to marry me?”

“I just asked you, didn't I?”

Ignoring Lottie, who was dancing about with excitement, she said, “I thought you never wanted to get mixed up with weddings again. That's what you told me when you refused to come to Alice and Barry's wedding.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this proposal?”

She knelt, facing him as rain poured down over them to wash away the sorrows of the past. “No.”

He released her hand and cupped her chin. “What do you say,
a ghrá mo chroí
?”