Separate Roads (27 page)

“First I want to apologize.”

She started at this and jerked her eyes back to him. “Apologize?”

He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been a bear to live with, and I know it better than anyone. I’m sorry.”

She smiled. “What has brought about this realization?”

He sighed. “I can’t abide the anger between us. I look at you, and I feel a sense of what we’ve lost. We were so close at one time. We could very nearly read each other’s thoughts. Now I can read them all right, but they’re all angry and bitter.”

She nodded. “True enough, I suppose.”

“I didn’t set out to make you miserable or to try to run your life. I wanted to be a good man—like our father. I wanted to prove to him that I could be trusted to take a role of responsibility seriously.”

“But you’ve done that and more,” Jordana countered.

“Not all that successfully. As you’ve pointed out, your job at the bank provided more for our means than anything I’ve done.”

“That’s going to change now that the railroad is paying you for this position, at least in supplies and such. I’m sure once they see what you’re capable of, they’ll pay even more.” Faced with his touching humility, her previous ire began to subside.

“That’s not the point. The things I dream of are hardly those that a man could attach much responsibility to. I desire to traipse out across the country, photographing the landscape—seeing what there is to see. I can hardly protect you or anyone else in my life by taking such a road. And I certainly can’t offer any stability.”

“This isn’t really about me, is it?” Jordana suddenly questioned.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you know full well that I desire nothing more than to explore the country. I don’t want to be tied down to any one place for very long.”

“What about being tied to one person?” Brenton cocked his brow, and his tone contained a slight tease.

Jordana shrugged. “I don’t know. Most men don’t take to the idea of a woman traveling around the country, sleeping out under the stars, risking her life by exposure to the elements.”

“Most women don’t take to the idea of such a life either.”

“And you don’t think Caitlan would take to that kind of a life? The kind that would see her at your side, helping you photograph the country?”

“When did Caitlan enter the conversation?” Reddening slightly, Brenton shook his head. “I don’t see Caitlan wanting someone like me.”

“Why do you say that?” Jordana asked more seriously. “You’ve made similar statements on more than one occasion. Why did you send her away if you desire a life with her?”

“I didn’t send her away,” he protested. “She went of her own accord.”

“She didn’t seem that eager to go, if you ask me. Why, every time I talk with her, she sounds even more discouraged than you are.”

He looked at her for a moment and shook his head again. “Look, I didn’t come out here to talk about Caitlan.” He was defensive.

“Maybe you should have.”

Brenton fell silent, his eyes focusing on a scraggy stand of trees. “You should come back to camp. I heard Captain O’Brian say rain is coming, and you don’t want to get caught out here.”

“Captain O’Brian isn’t my boss,” Jordana reminded him tartly. “Besides, I doubt I would suffer any adverse effects should I get a good dousing of rainwater.”

He grinned. “We are pretty dusty, aren’t we? Maybe we should have stood outside in last night’s downpour.”

Jordana smiled and reached out to take his hand. “Brenton, I love you with all my heart.”

“But . . . ?”

She laughed. “But I’m growing up, and you have to respect that. I know I’m just a woman, but I’m a woman with the drive and determination to live my life to its fullest and not be bound by convention or unwritten rules of etiquette. Think of our mother. Think of the stories she’s told us. She too was desirous for something more. It isn’t that I don’t value those like Victoria, who long for nothing more than a neat little house and a hearth on which to cook. But, Brenton, that isn’t me. Those aren’t my desires—at least not yet—maybe never.”

“I know. And I know you’re very capable. No matter what happens, you always manage to come out fairly unscathed.”

Jordana thought of all the problems she’d encountered over the last few months. She thought of her unsavory encounters with Damon Chittenden and shook her head. “It’s not necessarily that I’ve come out unscathed,” she replied, “but I do trust God to help me, and I trust Him to keep me safe.”

“Always, Jordana?”

“Well, I try. Perhaps there are times I could be more sensible, but even God doesn’t expect me to be perfect. Like anyone, I’ve just lived my life. Maybe I do take some risks, but I just can’t believe God wants me to cower by hearth and home when He himself made me as I am. I don’t think I am any more foolish than Noah was thought to be when he started building the ark.”

“But the ark had a purpose. Do your plans have such a purpose?”

“I don’t know. I can’t honestly tell you that I know what my plans or purposes are. But I know what they aren’t. I know that I’m not ready to marry or settle down to a family and the responsibilities of parenthood.” She grew silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was full of emotion. “I wanted very much to be satisfied in my love for G.W. And, Brenton, I did love him. But I loved him as I love you—like a brother. G.W. respected me, as you used to.”

“I still do,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I know I haven’t shown it, but I do respect you.”

“I hope so,” she replied with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to lose that. I guess I can’t hope for you to understand my feelings, Brenton. I don’t understand them myself. I try hard to figure out what I’m supposed to do and where I’m supposed to go, but I’m still very uncertain. That’s another reason I don’t want you sending me home to Mother and Father. I might not know exactly where I’m going, but I know it’s not back there.”

“Never?”

She shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I don’t know. . . .”

“Fair enough.” Brenton rose to his feet. He reached down and pulled her up. “Walk with me?”

She nodded and looped her arm through his. “So am I forgiven?”

“Forgiven for what? I’m the one who is seeking forgiveness.”

Jordana felt the rain-scented breeze hit her face. In the distance a clap of thunder caught their attention. It looked as though they were indeed due for another rain.

“Well?” Brenton asked. “Am I forgiven?”

She laughed. “Of course you’re forgiven. Now, what are you going to do about getting Caitlan back?”

He stopped and shook his head. “I’m not going to try to bring her back. Caitlan going to live with the Cavendishes was probably the best and wisest thing that could have happened.”

“Why do you say that?” Jordana cast a dubious look at him.

“I love her,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can’t live under the same roof with her without it giving the appearance of impropriety.”

“That’s nonsense. I’m there. She and I have always shared a room. There’s absolutely nothing inappropriate in what we’ve done.”

“I won’t compromise her reputation.”

“No one said you would.”

Brenton sighed. “You don’t understand. When we were living all under one roof, she consumed my thoughts. I thought about her every waking and sleeping moment. It was almost unbearable. She was there, so close—close enough to touch, yet I couldn’t touch her.”

Jordana suddenly realized the extent of her brother’s desire. Why hadn’t she seen this before? After all, she’d known all along they loved each other. She often felt the great sense of frustration in their unwillingness to admit their feelings. But never had she thought about the desires and passion that drove men and women to each other’s arms. How could she? She herself had never experienced them.

“Oh, Brenton, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of it that way. Was it terribly hard on you?”

“Worse than anything I’ve ever known. I can’t be leading us into temptation that way. I must find a solution and get her to Kiernan as soon as possible. You see, it was never so much a desire to be rid of you, as a need to put her away from me.”

“Why not marry her?”

“Why didn’t you marry G.W.?” he countered.

“I told you, I didn’t love him like that. I loved him as a brother.”

“Maybe Caitlan loves me in that same way.”

Jordana’s hysterical laughter was clearly not what Brenton had expected. He stared at her with shock and then irritation.

“Oh, please forgive me, Brenton,” she said, regaining control, “but Caitlan’s love for you has nothing to do with brotherhood. You truly can’t see much farther than your nose if you honestly believe her to love you only as a brother.”

“Then why did she react the way she did when I kissed her?”

“You kissed her?” Jordana’s brow arched in surprise. “She never told me that.”

“She was probably too mortified.”

“More likely, she was overwhelmed. Look here, brother of mine,” Jordana said as thunder once again rumbled in the distance, “Caitlan knows how you feel about God. She’s troubled about her own feelings and knows that you could never marry someone who didn’t share your faith. But don’t give up on her. She was raised to believe.”

“Being raised to do something and doing it for yourself are two different things,” Brenton replied softly. “She has to come to God on His terms, for herself and not for her family or even for me.”

Jordana nodded. “She knows this quite well. I’ve told it to her over and over. She’s afraid to trust. She worries that God won’t be all that He promises to be—that He will somehow hurt her as others have, giving big promises, much talk, and then never carrying through. She’s wounded from the past and her losses. She’s grown up listening to horror stories about the famine and all the subsequent troubles. And not only stories, but, Brenton, she’s lived much of the horror herself.”

They began walking back toward the wagon, spying Rich as he stood outside his tent deep in discussion with one of the surveyors.

“He’s a good man,” Brenton commented casually.

“What?” Jordana pulled her focus off Rich, shifting it back on her brother. “What are you talking about?”

“Captain O’Brian. You seem to have a definite interest in him.”

She shook her head. “I want no more soldiers in my life.”

“G.W.’s death has hurt you very much, hasn’t it?”

She felt the tears come once again, and this time she allowed them. “I can’t believe that he is gone. It seems so unfair. He was vibrant and young and wonderful. How can he be dead? How can so many of them be dead?”

“You mean the war soldiers?”

“Soldiering is a hard business,” she sighed. “Woe to the woman who gives her heart to a soldier. I think I’d make a very poor widow. I think of G.W. and of the fun we shared, and now that he’s gone I often reflect on the things we discussed. I wonder at my reaction and replies, and try to second-guess whether I could have somehow made things better by answering differently.”

“You might also have made them worse,” Brenton replied. “Like you once told me, you have to trust God for the outcome, otherwise life passes by while you sit and contemplate and regret and wonder if you might have done something different.”

“But I can’t help it,” she said, letting go of his arm to pull out her handkerchief. “I worry that somehow I made things worse for G.W. I don’t want to have that responsibility in anyone else’s life again. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. G.W. might have gotten better had I returned his love. He might have had something to live for.”

“So now God is deciding whether folks live or die based on whether or not
you
fall in love with them?” Brenton put his hands on Jordana’s shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Jordana, your love went with G.W. to Europe. He carried it there as surely as he carried his illness. Just because that love wasn’t of a matrimonial nature doesn’t mean it wasn’t every bit as supportive and nurturing. You said yourself that he carried his love for you to the grave. That love should have been enough to set him back on his course and make him well if what you’re saying holds weight. But it doesn’t, don’t you see? People get sick and die, whether or not anyone loves them or needs them. They die whether they’ve accomplished everything they wanted to do, or nothing at all. The reality is that they pass from this world when God says it’s time. Not one minute before, nor one second after. Mourn G.W.’s passing, but never assign yourself more importance in that passing than you are humanly responsible for.”

Jordana knew he was right, but it hurt so much. She never wanted to feel that kind of hurt again.

As if reading her mind, Brenton shook his head and said, “You can’t go through life shutting yourself off in the hopes of never getting hurt. Love is a precious and wonderful thing, whether it is love for parents and siblings or friends and mates. You will become hard and bitter, Jordana, if you refuse to love or be loved.”

Jordana hugged Brenton tightly. “When did you get to be so wise?” She clung to him and sniffed loudly.

“I’m not so wise when it comes to my own problems,” he replied, patting her back tenderly. “Maybe one day I can take my own advice and love openly no matter the cost.”

Jordana pulled away and nodded. “You must go on loving her,” she said with tender admonition. “I feel confident you and Caitlan are destined for each other. You may have a separate road right now, but sooner or later, I see that road joining.”

His face held the tiniest hint of a hopeful smile. “I pray you’re right, but there’s much to be overcome.”

“Nothing good ever comes easily,” she said, knowing it didn’t solve the problem, but also knowing it was the only comfort she had to offer. “I wish it did.” She looked away to the coming storm and sighed. Life was full of storms and difficulties.

Brenton squeezed her arm and said, “But good things do come. We have to hold on to that and trust that God is in control, that He sees far more for us than we can see for ourselves.”

“The bigger picture?” she asked softly.

Brenton nodded. “A much bigger picture.”

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