Hope Reborn (20 page)

“Mother never knew Sue, and now you. She would have loved you both, and her grandbabies. She loved children, but she up and went to Heaven, left me an orphan.”

The sorrow in the man’s voice cut May’s heart. She put her arm around his back and pressed close. “I’m so sorry. I’d would have loved her, too, I’m sure of it. How could I not? She reared such a wonderful son.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

He looked at her and nodded. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Handsome and strong, yet sensitive, too; had to be the perfect man. Did she know of any faults?

“I’d give every last nickel I own to have her back, but mercy, I’ll see her again, and for sure she’s in a better place. That last month…I wouldn’t want her back if she had to endure even one more day in that kind of pain.”

She pulled back. There clearly, the chink in his armor, his imperfection. Poor delusional man. As much as she wanted a life with Henry Buckmeyer, how could she go along with such foolishness?

Thinking his dead really lived, and that someday he’d be reunited with them. How could he rationalize such craziness? Could she put up with it? She’d never want to reunite with the commodore.

Then again, would a life without Henry be worth living?

He wiped his cheeks and stared off. “Mercy, don’t know what got over me.” After a bit, he turned toward her and stared into her eyes. “Maybe I do know. I’d built this wall around my heart, and here you’ve come and torn it down.”

She stared back. Did his stupid religion really matter?

Tilting her chin up, she leaned in closer, willed him to meet her, smother her with kisses. He licked his lips then pressed them gently against hers, but much too quickly, pulled back, gritted his teeth, and shook his head. He looked away. “I apologize. We can’t.”

She leaned back in the seat. Why did he always have to be right? But like he was want to say, mercy, she didn’t want him to stop. For the rest of the outing, while he gave her the grand tour, she fantasized of the most wonderful of nights when at last he wouldn’t have to stop.

Before Henry, her imaginations centered on the grandeur of her wedding, but now, he was her focus, not her walking the aisle to him, but what came after all the guests had celebrated with them then gone home to their regular lives.

That’s when she would bask in his love and know oneness at last. Her dream, come true.

Each tidbit of information pulled her from her daydream, and while pleasant to get the gist of his old home place—no trouble setting the scene—her desire for having such a future place.

A home with Henry.

Being his wife, one with him, overwhelmed her senses. She didn’t even want to remain in the reality of the now.

Had she ever wanted something so bad and not been able to have it? Only he could heal her condition, but how could she obtain that elixir? Find a salve to slather on her heart that would ease the longing?

Doomed to be lovesick for however many days it took to get the man to the altar, she sighed.

The sun dipped below the tree line before he stopped The Black in front of his porch. Instead of happy faces and boisterous babies greeting them, Mammy and Jean Paul waited, looking like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had just been spotted storming over the hill.

Henry didn’t like the expressions on their faces. Levi burst out the door with the rest of the clan and its comforting noise hot on his heels. The ranger descended the stairs two at a time then took The Black in hand.

“You go on inside, Uncle. I’ll see to this.”

“Fine, what’s afoot?”

He nodded toward Mammy. “The traders. They’ve located her brother.”

Henry helped May down then escorted her up the steps where the dear black woman wadded a handful of apron.

“Are they sure it’s him, Mammy? What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

“Yes, sir, it’s him alright, and he’s in good health, but that trader say the man what owns him won’t never sell him unless....” She shook her head facing down.

“Unless what, Mammy?”

She looked up. “He wants you, sir. Says you gots to come your own self and bring plenty of gold coin.”

Henry put his hand on her shoulder and guided her inside. “Where is this man? Do you know his name?”

“Bull Glover, sir.”

Of its own accord, a shiver washed over him at the mention of the man. “Where is he?”

“New Orleans.”

He faced Jean Paul. “You know your uncle by sight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pack a bag; we’ll leave in the morning.”

“Oh, Mister Henry, you don’t have to do this. You’ve done so much already.”

He smiled. “Don’t you fret, Mammy, actually, I do. Couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

“I’m going with you.”

He turned sideways and faced May. “No, please. You stay here and work on your story. Wouldn’t be right, us traveling together.”

“Chester can go with us, or Mary Rachel. Whoever, it’ll be fine.”

Oh, Lord, she tempted him so. He took her hand hoping she would not press the matter. “Jean Paul and I can travel light, get there and back in ten days or less.”

Her lips pouted, and her eyes narrowed. The spoiled brat he’d seen glimpses of threatened to burst out, but he gave her the same look he used on his girls when they tried to get him to do something he knew he shouldn’t do.

“Will you promise me?”

“What?”

“That you’ll be back in less than two weeks?”

He smiled. “No, too many things can happen, and I regard my word too highly, but I promise to return as quick as humanly possible.”

May held her peace and tongue through supper and a bit of writing in his library, but once she had him alone on the porch sipping Mammy’s finest of hot toddies, she checked to make sure no little ears listened then faced him.

“I truly should go with you, Henry. I could be of help. I know New Orleans.”

He took a sip then shook his head. “So do I, and no, ma’am. You need to stay here.”

“Two weeks? I don’t want to spend a fortnight without you.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then let me go.”

“No, May.” He lifted his chin and seemed to search the far tree line, but he could be just as stubborn as he wanted.

She would not relent though, not that easily. “Why not? Give me one good reason.”

Looking off for a bit longer, he finally turned back. “Glover and I have a history. If I have to kill the man, I don’t want you anywhere near.”

“Henry!” What in the world had happened between him and that man? “Forget going. I mean altogether. If Glover is out to hurt you, Mammy will understand.”

“It’s more than that. My sins are coming home to roost. Turn coward now, I’ll not be any good to you or anyone else.”

“The poet says discretion is the better part of valor. You running off and getting yourself killed is definitely not the answer.”

He laughed. “The sissy who penned that nonsense wouldn’t make it a month in Texas. You can’t run from a fight, my dear, and bless the Lord, He’ll go before me. His prophet Isaiah reported the Lord said ‘no weapon formed against me will prosper.’”

There he went again, quoting scripture. How could she reason with a thick-headed brute who thought an old book written by dead men had all the answers. “Well, you better not get yourself hurt—or worse. I’ve waited too long for you to come along.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

She thought about asking him to promise again, but he wouldn’t. Besides what good would it do? Just like that Frank guy shooting him. Henry hadn’t done one thing wrong; just showed up at church.

What past sin had he referred to coming home to roost? Then again, did she really want to know?

Well, there was something that she did want. Wouldn’t take all the sting out of him being gone for ten days—or longer—but it might help some. “If I cannot accompany you, may I have a boon, kind sir?”

He laughed. “And exactly what would my lady desire, other than going with me?”

“Might you allow me to move into your room while you’re gone?”

“What?” He laughed even harder. “You might not like my bed much should a big storm roll in.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ll have to share it with Houston for sure, Bonnie probably, and no telling who else.”

“No problem.”

He seemed to study his lap too long. “Promise not to change anything?”

“Maybe.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“Best I can give.”

“Fine, but don’t change much, and you’re out the minute I’m back.”

“Deal.” She stuck her hand out.

But instead of shaking, he jumped to his feet and bowed slightly. “Care to dance, my lady?”

Of course she wanted to dance. She let him pull her to her feet then held his hand while he squired her around the porch. First, a lively polka then shortly, he slowed to a waltz.

But too soon he escorted her inside to the bottom of the stairs and sent her up with a light kiss on her cheek.

She stopped at the first landing and looked back, even now with him still here, she labored to breathe, and not from the dancing. How would she live with him gone?

Sleep came hard then left too soon, but she wasn’t about to slumber through his leaving. With only half her normal primping, she hurried downstairs and followed her nose to Mammy’s kitchen.

At her entering, Henry stood, and pulled out the chair next to him. “Good morning, Miss Merriwether.” He held her chair then fetched her a cup of coffee, lightened it with cream, and stirred in an extra large dollop of honey.

She loved it that he knew exactly how she liked it, one more silly little reason to hate his leaving. She wouldn’t think about it, not this morning, not right now. She didn’t want to ruin the few hours left.

Two sips of the steaming brew and boot falls pulled him, then her, around. The Rangers strolled in, both flanked by their ladies. It wasn’t fair, they got to sleep together.

Well, not Rebecca, she corrected herself. But it wasn’t fair that Rose and Levi did. They got to be together all the time.

But wait. He carried a carpetbag. With his shirt fresh starched and his trousers creased, his boots shined, and his hat obviously fresh steamed, he looked ready to go somewhere.

May faced Henry. “Levi’s going with you?”

“He insisted.”

She glanced at Rose, who didn’t seem any happier than May about the men running off, then back at Henry. “Is Wallace going, too?”

The Ranger spoke up. “No, ma’am. I’m staying. Someone needs to watch over you ladies.”

Though she truly tried, she could not shove the soon-coming separation from her mind or her heart. The rock in her belly grew with each tick of the grandfather clock until the moment came for the trio to ride off. She hated it all to blue blazes. His absence already choked her.

At least he kissed her. Right in front of everyone, too. She loved that.

Rose and Rebecca stood by her side until the trio vanished over the first hill to the north. She filled her lungs then exhaled. “Ladies, care to help me move my things downstairs?”

Henry’s oldest daughter raised both brows in a rather quizzical expression. “What room are you moving to?”

“Your father said I could stay in his while he’s gone. It’ll make things easier for me using his library to write, and quite frankly being where his things are all around me will soothe my troubled soul.”

Both readily agreed, and neither commented. Each in turn found a private moment to tell May that it must be love, him letting her stay in his room. Not that she ever doubted that, he showed her in every way.

Only made it all the more difficult though; him being gone.

Not all that much to move, but the little girls even got in on the exercise. Dear Mary Rachel coddled her as though aware that May might stump a toe and crumble into a million shattered pieces.

Short of dinner, she settled in. She propped all the pillows on one side and sat in the bed against the headboard.

No way she could write with her heart so numb. Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after that. What side of the bed did he sleep on? One good-sized oval space on the wall appeared lighter.

What had hung there? It came to her almost as quickly as she’d thought the question. Sue’s picture with him. He’d taken it down. He didn’t have to do that.

Then again, maybe he did.

She smiled and Rebecca’s declaration played through her memory.

It has to be love.

How was it that Henry Buckmeyer, that wonderful man, loved her? She didn’t deserve him, his love. But he loved her, he truly did, and it made her the most special woman in the world.

Alone with her thoughts, she slowly scanned the room, studying each nook and crevice with acute scrutiny. Those heavy drapes would have to go. She’d replace them with something light, not white though, but airy.

No one came to get her for dinner, and she didn’t go. Only her heart hungered. She may not eat again at all until he returned. Refluffing her pillow stack, she got serious and went to planning exactly what all she would want to do.

Soon to become her room—with him—she’d definitely want to remodel, but nothing until he returned. Maybe.

A consultation needed to take place for her to find out which things he loved; wouldn’t want him to have to part with any of those. Actually, she wanted to keep most of it.

But the whole room just needed a bit more light and at least a few splashes of color here and there. Henry liked blues if his clothes choices meant anything. Or had Sue picked out most of them?

Maybe Mary Rachel since her mother had been gone.

Tears blurred her vision off and on until sometime between the twelve chimes of midnight and the single strike of the new day, she drifted into a fitful slumber. Seemed for hours she dreamed, tossed and turned.

Or was it the other way around?

Finally, she and her new love lay entwined in the very bed she occupied, then too soon, he vanished on that black charger riding as though he and the horse were one.

She ran after him, but instead of finding Henry, she found herself at Sea Side. The commodore strode its dark and stately corridor toward her.

“Father.”