The Journey (22 page)

He gave a nervous laugh. “Why would you think that?”

“Because just now when I came in, you looked so worried, and as I’m soon to be your wife, I should know what is bothering you.”

“Really?” He tested her. “And if I were to tell you that I might have to make a difficult choice—a life-changing choice—what would you say to that?”

“It would depend.”

“Why’s that?”

Growing flustered, she dislodged herself from his embrace. “Well, for all I know it might change
my
life, and I don’t know that I would be too keen on that.”

“Not even if it meant you and I would be together? Isn’t that all that matters when a man and woman are in love?”

Something in his manner, in the way he was looking at her, made her nervous. “No,” she answered defensively. “Being in love
isn’t
all that matters. What matters is that we both should be happy.”

“Yes,” he agreed, although he felt her resistance and was unnerved. “But what if the choice I have to make is not really a choice at all, but something I feel obliged to do?”

She considered that for a moment, then like a child who wasn’t sure of how to respond, she used her wiles and going to him, slid an arm round his waist. “I think you had best tell me what you were reading, just now,” she wheedled.

“I’d rather not, Patricia. It isn’t altogether settled, and it may not come to anything anyway.”

“Hmh! You’re not about to do anything that would make me unhappy, are you, my darling?” she pleaded prettily. “I mean, you will let me have my say in this choice of yours, won’t you?”

Holding her at arm’s length, he answered wisely, “Of course you will have a say. But, like I said, there may not even be any choice to make. I won’t know that, until I return from America.”

“America?”
At once she was all smiles, confident that she would be going with him. “I knew if I kept on at you long enough, you would take me away, but
America!
” She laughed excitedly. “What an adventure that will be! When do we leave?”

Seeing her pleasure, Leonard was half-tempted to take her with him. He thought that if she saw the vast and beautiful land outside Charlestown and the sprawling house his grandfather had built over the years, she might grow to like the prospect of moving there. But commonsense prevailed, and he said merely, “I’m sorry, Pat, but I shall be tending to important business. I can’t take you with me this time. It’s deuced inconvenient as it is, leaving Comberton at this time of the year.”

“Oh, come on, Leonard! What business do you need to tend that means I can’t come along? We are to be married after all, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, but I simply can’t take you, not this time. Look, when I get back, I promise we’ll see about a weekend in Paris—would that suit you?”

“No, it would not.” Giving him a frosty look, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the door. “I have shopping to do in Manchester. I imagine I’ll be gone for at least four hours. That should give you plenty of time to decide whether I come with you or not.”

When he heard the front door slam, Leonard walked to the window, from where he could see Patricia climb into the taxi. She did not look back, but somehow that did not concern him.

Instead, he took out the letter and read it through again.

“No, Patricia,” he said aloud. “I won’t take you with me.” His mind was made up. The reason he was going to America was too important. This wasn’t just about him and Patricia.

Thrusting his hands into his pockets he began to pace the room, his thoughts and loyalties all churned up. The decision was something he had to make by himself. If it turned out that there was, after all, no choice to make, then so be it. But if it came to a head, then he had to think of others who would inevitably be affected.

The people who had been loyal to him over the years, these were the people uppermost in his mind right now. He thought of Barney, that good man, and his heart was sore. Then he thought of Joanne, of maybe never seeing her again, and the prospect was unbearable. He found himself searching for a way that would allow him to take the Davidsons with him, but at the moment that seemed quite unrealistic.

His thoughts then flew ahead, and his heart sank. Whatever the outcome of his visit across the Atlantic, there was still Patricia.

And so far he had not decided what to do about her.

Y
ou’re thirty-nine years of age and you still have the body of a young girl.” Having climbed into bed, Barney leaned on his elbow and watched his wife undress. It wasn’t often she undressed in front of him; for some reason she preferred the light out, and whenever he came upon her naked, she would blush and hide, and scamper into bed. “You need never be ashamed of your body,” he told her now. “You should be proud.” His voice dropped to the softest whisper. “You’re very beautiful, Joanne. You always were.”

Having finished brushing her hair, she slithered into bed beside him. “I’m not beautiful,” she protested, though with a smile. “You only think that, because you love me … like I think you’re handsome, because I love
you.
”

Tenderly he placed a finger over her lips. “No,” then with his other hand he stroked a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “You really are a lovely-looking woman, my darling. You may not see it, but I do, and so does every other man who looks on you.”

“Stop it, Barney.” She went rosy with pleasure. “What will you say when I’m old and toothless, and bent like a willow tree?”

His answer was to take her in his arms and hold her as close as any man could hold the one he loved. “None of that would matter,” he answered honestly, “because you will always be beautiful to me.”

In the halo of moonlight shining in through the window, she could see in his eyes the depth of his love for her, and she was deeply moved. “I love you so much,” she said, her voice breaking. “I love our children and I love the life we lead, but it would not be the same without you.”

He could feel the tension in her body, and he was shocked. “Hey!” Listing himself up, he looked into her sad face and was afraid—not for himself, but for her. “You mustn’t talk like that. We have each other and, God willing, we’ll have each other for many years to come.”

“Do you promise?” she whispered. “Do you promise never to leave me?”

Barney saw the tears rising in her pretty eyes, and was deeply moved when one plump, watery tear spilled over her cheek. “I can’t promise,” he answered, wiping away the tear with the tip of his thumb.

“Why not?”

“You know why not,” he chided gently. “We none of us can see what the future holds.”

She tightened her grip on him. “You have to promise me, Barney.”

“What’s wrong?” Kissing her on the mouth, he wondered why she should ask him such a thing. “Why do you insist, when you know a promise of that kind is impossible?” Fear squeezed his heart. Had she heard him in a coughing fit? Did she know how ill he had been feeling of late? Had Lucy told her about that day in the field, when she found him gasping for breath? And now Joanne was asking him to make a promise of this kind. He couldn’t do it. Nor could he voice his fears.

“Promise me, Barney,” she entreated. “Say you will never leave me, then I’ll be content.”

Gazing into her quiet eyes, in the space of a single heartbeat he saw his whole life there, and somehow suddenly, the fear he had felt began to ebb away. “I promise,” he murmured. “If it’s in my power to be with you forever, then I will.”

“There! That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She smiled, and for no reason he could fathom, he was a man at peace with himself.

Cradling her face in his hands he kissed her long and passionately, and she responded with the nakedness of her body against his, rhythmically pushing again him then pulling away, until he rolled her beneath him and placing a gentle hand round each of her legs, he drew them apart.

There was no need of words; there was nothing to say that had not already been said a thousand times.

Wrapped around each other, they made such wonderful love; not as they had done many times before, with tenderness, but with a wild passion and a desperate, painful hunger that drove them into each other—almost as though they intended never to be separated.

And then it was over, when their bodies were aching and vibrant and the life-juices still flowing, they held onto each other. For the rest of their lives they would remember this night; when for the first and last time they made love as never before, and Joanne drew from Barney a promise which, he knew in his lonely heart, he could never keep.

Two days later, on a fine, breezy morning, Leonard Maitland boarded a liner for America.

“I’ll be away for some time.” An hour before setting off for the docks, he had called Barney to his office at The Manse. “I’m leaving you in charge as always, and should you encounter any problems, though I don’t imagine you will, you do know who to contact?”

“Yes, I do, sir, thank you. I have his name and address.” As ever, Barney was well organized.

“Good man! As I already explained, the agent knows as much about my affairs as I do, and he’s well-placed to contact me in any event. I’ve arranged for the house to be taken care of, so there is no need for you to concern yourself about that. On the whole, I don’t envisage any problems.”

“Thank you for your trust.” Over the years Barney had come to like and respect this man who was his employer. “Rest assured I’ll do my best to keep the farm running smoothly.”

“I know you will,” Leonard declared. “You took excellent care of my interests when I was last in Boston. And now I must get off. I have a long journey ahead of me.”

Barney walked with him to the taxi, Leonard carrying his bag and briefcase, and Barney following with his portmanteau. “Have a safe voyage,” he said as Leonard climbed into the vehicle. “I hope your trip goes well.”

“Oh, so do I, Barney!” Leonard declared. “So do I!” Gesturing for the driver to move out, Leonard caught sight of Joanne as she walked toward the river. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. If only Patricia was more like her, he thought, he would be a much happier man.

Seeing the taxi, Joanne waved, her face wreathed in a smile.

His heart warmed and with her face in his mind, Leonard took the smile with him, all the way to Boston, USA.

“Well, it seems Mr. Maitland went away at the right time.” The whole family were gathered round for Sunday dinner—a grand affair with the table sagging beneath the weight of a partly-sliced beef-joint, a ham shank ready for the carving, various deep dishes of crisp-roasted and boiled potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and a pile of Yorkshire puddings the like of which Lucy had never seen before.

There were also two large boats of meat-gravy and a dish of homemade horseradish sauce, a particular favorite of Lucy’s.

“What makes you say that, Dad?” That was Susie, seated next to him and already helping herself to a slice of beef.

“Because the weather’s on the change,” Barney explained. “Once the cold wind starts coming in from the north, you can expect to see winter on its tail.”

Joanne tapped the back of Susie’s hand. “Don’t start eating yet.”

She gave Barney a reminding nod, and he immediately roved his gaze across each person at the table in turn; when they were suitably attentive, he folded his hands together, bowed his head and started Grace. “We thank the good Lord for a healthy harvest to come, and for the food we are about to eat. God bless friends and family.” He looked up, and already the dishes and plates of food were being passed round.

“Well!” Joanne tutted. “That was a short Grace.”

“No matter,” her husband replied, shovelling a heap of cabbage onto his plate. “It was sincere, and we’re good and ready to eat the fruits of our labor while they’re still hot.”

“Why
has
Mr. Maitland gone to America?” Susie was curious.

Barney passed Lucy the potatoes and gave his daughter one of his impatient looks. “You must have asked that question a hundred times or more,” he chided. “The answer is the same as it was before—we don’t know. What’s more, it’s none of our business.”

Still she persisted. “It must be something important, because that’s twice he’s been this year.”

Rolling her eyes, Joanne smiled at Lucy, a smile that said, “Wait until your son starts asking questions and you don’t have the answers to give, it’ll drive you crazy.”