A Most Inconvenient Marriage (36 page)

The first stars twinkled at them from a clear sky. Jeremiah followed her gaze up. “In the army, I’d lie on my pallet and watch the stars travel. Before each battle I released everything into God’s hands. Then, as soon as I started home I gathered up all my worries and told God I’d see to them from here. It turned out that the things I thought I could control have been a disaster. The things I’d given up on—my leg, Rachel’s disposition—that’s where God has worked.” His hand rested next to hers on the boulder. “Looks like He smoothed your path, too.”

Yes, her path was clear. Nothing was keeping her in the Ozarks. She had to set aside her concerns over the reception she’d get from a chastened John Dennison. She didn’t have to live with them forever. After the reunion she could decide from there. Maybe they’d encourage her to return to nursing. Maybe she’d meet someone who’d fill the spot vacated by the man who currently sat at her side, his coat wrapped around her shoulders. Maybe not.

“We shouldn’t be alone.” She pulled herself to the edge of the rock. “Is Ma terribly disappointed?”

“She loves you, Abigail. You’ve treated her better than her children have.”

She fidgeted under his watchful gaze. Without a word he slid off the overhang, gathered Lancaster’s reins, and motioned her down the hill.

She walked by his side where the trail was wide enough, until they reached the level pasture. Abigail flipped up the collar of Jeremiah’s coat to protect her neck from the chilly wind. From the barn, Josephine called out her greeting to Lancaster.

“I’m going home,” Abigail said. “And if I’m going, I’d better start my journey before winter sets in. About the colt—wait until it’s born, and then please forward me my half. I wish I could let you keep the whole amount, but I don’t know how reduced Mama’s situation might be—”

He shook his head. “Don’t talk like that. Go see your family. It’s the right thing to do. But then come on back. We need you.”

How much would she have given to hear those words that summer? But it was too late.

“I don’t belong here. Not now. I’m not angry with you, Jeremiah, but you have to understand—I need more than you can give. There’s nothing here for me.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then his shoulders dropped. “I can’t tell you what to do. I reckon you’d be the best judge of that.”

He wasn’t going to tell her what to do? Maybe they both had changed. And that reminded her of one last bequest she had to distribute. She pushed aside the bulky coat she wore to slip her hand inside her pocket. Her fingers grasped the cool copper penny.

“I have something for you.” She stopped just short of the barn. Jeremiah turned, his face weary. “It’s from my father. I’ve kept it all this time, but I want you to have it. I want to leave you something to remember me by.”

Jeremiah’s head remained bowed over her open palm. “I won’t forget you, Abigail. I won’t forget one moment of our time together, no matter how much I might wish I could.” His fingers brushed against her palm as he gathered the coin. “I’ll cherish this. I’ll hold it for you with the hope that someday you’ll return for it.”

He pressed the coin to his lips with a wistful smile, then followed her to the house where their responsibilities awaited them.

C
HAPTER 24

It was the coldest day they’d had yet—drizzly and gusty, but Abigail wouldn’t be delayed. She was going home, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop her. The milk pail dug into Jeremiah’s stiff fingers as he trudged from the barn to the warm kitchen. Even Rachel had pleaded her case, insisting that without Abigail she’d return to a cranky, self-absorbed tyrant, but her arguments only proved Abigail correct. Rachel had changed. Medically, Abigail couldn’t help her, and emotionally her work was done.

So last night he’d stayed awake, fearful that he’d miss her evening watch. He’d squirmed on his hard pallet in the parlor waiting for her appearance, lying motionless when he heard her on the stairway. The green taffeta rustled. The floorboards barely creaked beneath her bare feet. She passed and he translated every clink of tin and drip of water he heard in the kitchen into pictures of her fixing the tea.

Then there she went again, hair tousled, eyes puffy, but at her post while the rest of the house slept. Faithful to the end.

Now he set the milk pail on the kitchen floor and scuffed his hands together to get the blood flowing. Spotting his rifle in the corner reminded him to pray for safe passage today. He’d be glad when the threat of dangerous men was behind them so he only had to worry about catamounts, bears, and razorbacks. How he wished that Abigail could’ve known the mountains without the hatred.

He heard someone coming down the stairs. Going to the parlor, he met Laurel lugging Abigail’s valise from the upstairs.

“I can’t believe she’s leaving this morning,” she said. “I’ll miss her so.”

Jeremiah’s throat tightened. He took the valise. “I’ll set it by the door.”

Still buttoning the buttons on her wrists, Laurel followed him outside. “Jeremiah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, and it really shouldn’t wait.” Her dark braids shone in the morning light, tight and freshly tied.

“Let’s go inside. It’s chilly this morning—”

“No. I’d rather talk right here.” She paced across the porch. “I’ve been thinking about something Abigail said last week. She pointed out that if our parents were to marry, you’d be my brother.” Her nose was turning rosy, her eyes bright. “I know she was just funning, but it didn’t bother me like it should. In fact, it sounded right. It sounded natural. Why wouldn’t you be my brother? I’ve always looked up to you. I’ve loved you like a member of my family. You tease me and watch out for me, and I’d do anything for you, just like a good sister should.”

Suddenly the cold didn’t bother him. “You don’t mean—”

“Newton insisted that I throw you over, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see you hurt, so I thought we should marry, but now I’m wondering if I made the right choice. I hate to be so flimsy, and if you are going to be forever heartbroken then I won’t
leave you.” She leaned forward and grasped his hand. “I want you to be happy no matter what it costs me. I’m willing to put your feelings first.”

Jeremiah fell to his knees, feeling more true emotion toward Laurel than ever before.

Laurel’s eyes widened with shock. “Do you want to get married? I will if you insist—”

“No, Laurel.” His smile stretched all the way to the back of his neck. “You don’t need to marry me. We were both so careful with each other that we nearly made an awful mistake.”

“You don’t mind if I marry Newton?”

“I was jealous when I came home, but now I see that he’s the better man for you. You’ll make each other very happy.”

Her knees buckled and she sat heavily in the rocker. “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that.” She fanned her face, even though the air was frosty. “But what if he’s already found someone else? I even worried about him and Abigail.”

Jeremiah snatched her hand, kissed it heartily, and then hopped to his feet. “We’ll just have to keep that from happening, won’t we?”

His lungs fairly tingled from the cool air filling them. A huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Laurel was his friend, would always be his friend, but she would not be his wife. He spun to face her again. “You’re sure, aren’t you? You’re refusing me once and for all?”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’m sure. From here on out, you’re a brother to me, no matter what happens between our parents.”

So happy was he that he wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and swung her around the porch.

She squealed. “Land sakes, you don’t have to act quite so relieved.”

Jeremiah set her down and tried to stop grinning like a possum.
“I just don’t want you to feel poorly about this. You’ve made the right decision.”

“And Newton is coming this morning, isn’t he?”

“He is.” He and Calbert were stopping by to say their farewells to Abigail.

“Then I might favor him with a private word, if he’ll allow it.”

“See if he don’t.” But he didn’t have time for Laurel’s plans. He had to change Abigail’s.

Abigail saw the swirling skirt as she passed the parlor window. Laurel’s giggles soaked through the rock walls, and Jeremiah’s deep voice rang joyfully, making words unnecessary.

What a change of heart from last night’s melancholy. Abigail crammed a last hairpin into her upsweep and scraped her scalp in the bargain. With her departure so near had he decided to stop pretending? If he was determined to marry Laurel, she supposed he might as well be happy about it. His misery hadn’t been doing anyone good.

The kitchen chairs gathered undisturbed around the table, waiting for their owners to claim them. The cloth-covered milk pail had already been delivered. Abigail picked up the egg basket and moved the mixing bowl to the table. Breakfast would be her last meal with the family she loved. She wanted them all to be happy, but maybe she’d better appreciate their happiness from a few hundred miles away.

Jeremiah burst through the door. He rocked on his toes, grinning from ear to ear. “Good morning.”

Why did he look so excited? Too bad she hadn’t taken up pipe smoking, because she’d love to blow a cloud in his face at the moment.

“I found the milk,” she said. “Have you already fed the stock?” With excessive force, Abigail cracked the egg against the ceramic bowl’s edge. It shattered in her hand.

“I—no, I haven’t. Laurel caught me on the way to the barn, and I completely forgot.”

Abigail had made the right decision. For all his protesting that he was only marrying Laurel out of duty, he was doing a convincing performance. He should try the stage. She wiped her yoked hand on a dish towel. “I don’t feel like cooking. Why don’t I take care of the horses one last time and you fix breakfast?”

Before he could tell her how Laurel made his heart sing songs written by cupids and mermaids, Abigail snatched her cloak and fled out the back door. It’d sure been easier to appreciate his dilemma when he was miserable.

Heavy clouds blanketed the sky, making it impossible to tell where the sun was. Gray light filtered from everywhere, erasing shadows. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to be done by breakfast time. She could only hope that Laurel wasn’t as addled as her beau and she’d help get the food on the table so they didn’t miss the train.

The footsteps crunching behind her in the dry leaves were as familiar as her own heartbeat. When she’d started his exercises, she hadn’t expected him to push himself so hard. Perhaps she shouldn’t have taught him at all. Then he wouldn’t be able to catch her so easily.

He passed her, unlocked the padlock, and swung the heavy barn door open for her. “Are you mad?”

She snatched the feed bucket and stalked toward the bag of oats. Equine eyes widened, stopping her in her tracks. She drew in a long breath and tried to stop bristling.

“I don’t mean to snap at you.” But how could she explain that his happiness made her mad?

Jeremiah closed the barn door behind him.“No apologies. You’ve put up with me for five months, and I reckon you’re due a day of grumbling.”

The gentleness of his tone left her confused. Instead of celebrating, he was treating her as carefully as she was treating the skittish horses.

“But I have no reason to grumble. You don’t owe me anything. I’m not your family. I’m not tied in any way—”

He held up his hand. “We are tied, Abigail Stuart Calhoun. You can’t pretend we’re not.”

Her eyes widened at the use of his last name. How could he be so cruel? To taunt her when he had no use for her affection? She sputtered, “Does it please you that I . . . that I foolishly gave you my heart? Don’t imagine for a moment that I’m still afflicted. I made a mistake, but I’ve recovered.”

“I hope not.” At her gasp he came to her. “You should at least hear me out.”

“Your time would be better spent feeding animals.” She shoved the bucket into his chest, then gave an extra push for good measure.

He stepped sideways, blocking her way, uncomfortably close even with the bucket between them. “I wouldn’t speak to you like this if I weren’t free to do so.”