Twice Loved (copy2) (45 page)

Sensibly, Dan hurried on. “As I said, the papers are still there, and the circumstances being what they are, Judge Bunker would never deny the dissolution of this marriage. He’s known us all our lives, too.” Dan cleared his throat, continuing with an assumed dispassion. “Anyway, my mother said she’d welcome having a man around the house again to cook and do for, so as soon as I’m well enough, I’ll be moving back there ... until things can be properly settled in court.”

Laura was speechless. What could she possibly reply? Thank you? The noble gesture was painful enough for Dan without adding the insult of a gratuitous response. Then suddenly Laura felt as bereft as she knew Dan must be. The tears she had been trying to hold back became a deluge. Without warning, she was overcome and dropped her face into both palms while sobs jerked her shoulders. Though she’d neither planned nor anticipated this reaction, there could have been no more fitting response to Dan’s words. The end of five married years that had been basically harmonious and loving deserved this moment of mourning.

She sat on the edge of the bed, crying softly for several minutes, and when the tears stopped, somehow Dan was holding her hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled her sideways until she fell into the shelter of his arm with her head tucked beneath his chin. There were no more words. But as they lay in silence, their unspoken thoughts became the requiem for all they’d shared, not only during the past five years, but for nearly two decades before that.

***

When Rye and Josh returned, Rye immediately noted the constrained atmosphere. He could see at a glance that Laura had been crying, and for a moment felt the clutch of dread weight his stomach. Josh scampered straight across the room to Dan, bubbling with excitement over his first skating lesson. Rye attempted to catch Laura’s eye, but she assiduously avoided glancing his way, so with a worried scowl, Rye prepared to leave.

Dan’s words stopped him at the door.

“Rye, I have a favor to ask.”

The tall man turned back into the room. “Of course, anything.”

“I hate to ask after all you’ve done already, but Laura goes out to Jane’s every year a few days before Christmas to take her some bayberry candles and things and have a visit before the holidays. And I ...” Dan raised his palms helplessly. “Well, of course I won’t be able to take them this year, so I was wondering if you’d mind driving her and Josh out there one day soon.”

Rye’s glance swerved to Laura, but she was studying Dan with an expression warning she was having difficulty keeping from breaking into tears again. “Of course,” Rye answered. “I’ll rent a cutter and be here whenever Laura says.”

At his words, Laura could no longer avoid meeting Rye’s eyes. She thought that if this day didn’t end soon, her heart would certainly crumble. It had been flooded with emotion so many times already, this seemed the final stroke that might shatter it. She wanted to cry out, Dan, don’t be so damnably noble! Instead, she could only suffer an overwhelming sense of injustice for him and answer Rye. “Any day ... whenever you can find the time.”

“Tomorrow, then, at midafternoon?”

“We’ll be ready.”

***

The following day at the appointed time, Rye came to collect Josh and Laura in a sleek black cutter pulled by a gray and white piebald mare. With warmed bricks at their feet and a heavy sealskin fur across their laps, the three set out across the snow-covered moors. The breath of the horse billowed and formed a cloud that appeared the same color as both land and sky. The jingle of harness rang out with the clarity of a glockenspiel in the cold, cold air. As the runners of the vehicle sliced through the dry snow, they squeaked out an unending syllable and left behind a pair of tracks with hoofprints between.

There was room on the black leather seat for no more than two, thus Josh sat on his mother’s lap, with both of his knees bumping Rye’s left thigh. Josh did more talking than either his mother or father, and when he asked if he could hold the reins, Rye laughingly complied, settling the boy between his legs and placing the lines in Josh’s smaller hands. The horse sensed the difference and turned a blinder sideways, then headed straight again, her trot never wavering as Rye kept a watchful eye.

With Josh seated between his spraddled thighs, Rye’s warm leg now rested firmly against Laura’s. The contact was thrilling, though neither turned or looked at the other.

When they reached Jane’s house, Josh immediately scrambled from under the laprobe. But when Rye began shifting, Laura placed a hand on his forearm. “Josh, you run in and tell Aunt Jane we’re here. Rye and I have to talk for a minute.” Then Rye suspended Josh over the side of the rig by one arm and lowered him till his feet touched the ground.

When they were alone, Rye and Laura looked at each other fully for the first time.

“Hello,” he murmured.

“Hello.” Will I ever grow tired of looking into his pale blue eyes? she thought. Never ... never.

“You were very sad yesterday.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Can y’ tell me why?”

Against her thigh, his was pressed, warm, secure.

“I told Dan that I’d be leaving with you in the spring, and he told me that he was giving me a Christmas gift.” She paused, knowing he had guessed what it was. “He told me he is giving me my freedom. Mine and Josh’s.”

The wisps of whitened breath ceased falling from Rye’s nostrils for a long, long moment. Then he breathed again, a huge sigh. “When?”

“He will be going to live at his mother’s house as soon as he’s well enough to make the move. As for legalities, he spoke to Ezra Merrill last September and filed divorce papers then. Right after he found the busk.”

Rye slowly turned to face forward, his sober expression anything but victorious. Laura laid her mittened hand on his forearm. The reins remained laced through the fingers of his leather gloves, but he seemed unconscious of the fact. “He sent us out here today so we’d have a chance to tell Josh— both of us, together.”

Rye said nothing. He seemed to be staring at a point beyond the horse’s head, then he sighed again and dropped his chin, and sat for a long moment, lost in thought. The horse shook her head and made the harness jingle, and it seemed to drag Rye from his reverie. “Why don’t I feel like celebratin’?” he asked quietly.

She only squeezed his arm, for they both knew the answer to his question.

The visit to Jane’s passed in a haze of distraction, for Laura’s thoughts were on their ride home. When the three were again settled in the cutter, she felt apprehensive. Josh’s acceptance was vital, and as she studied the back of his head, wrapped in a thick knit cap and a scarf whose fringes shimmied in rhythm to the hoofbeats, Laura closed her eyes, hoping.

“Joshua, Rye and I have something to tell you.”

Josh, with his ripe-apple cheeks and wind-reddened nose, turned to look up at her. Beneath the fur, Rye’s leg flanked hers in firm support. “Rye and I... well, we ... we love each other very much, dear, and we never wanted to ... to...”

When she faltered, Rye took over. “I’m goin’t’ marry your mother, come spring, and the three of us’ll be goin’t’ the Michigan Territory together, along with my father.”

For a moment Josh’s face reflected his lack of comprehension. But when understanding dawned, it brought no smile. “Is Papa cornin’ too?”

“No, Dan will stay here.”

“Then I ain’t goin’!” Josh declared stubbornly.

Laura’s gaze skittered to Rye, then back to her son. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, Josh, but Rye is your real father, and when I marry him you’ll be our son. You’ll have to live where we do.”

“No, I don’t want him to be my papa!” Josh stuck his lower lip out belligerently, and it began to tremble. “I wanna have the one I always had and live in our same house!”

Despair weighted Laura. “But wouldn’t you like to go off on an adventure to the Michigan Territory, where you’ve never been before?”

“Is it far away?”

Laura was afraid to tell the truth, but knew a lie would only make matters worse, eventually. “Yes, it is.”

“Do we have to take the ferry to get there?”

Oh, much more than the ferry, Josh, she thought, but answered only, “Yes.”

“But then how could I see Jimmy?”

“Well ... you wouldn’t see him, but you’d make new friends where we lived.”

“I don’t want new friends. I wanna stay here with Jimmy and Papa and you.” The belligerence had disappeared from Josh’s face, and the tears he’d been valiantly trying to control whispered over his golden lashes and down his red cheeks.

Laura pulled him back against her and tucked his head beneath her chin. Holding Josh, she wondered how to make him understand, but suddenly she realized something Rye had said. She turned to look up at him.

“Josiah’s going along—for sure?”

“Aye. He says his bones’ve had all they can take of this dampness and fog. Though I suspect he just doesn’t want t’ miss out on the adventure.”

The idea of having Josiah along was pleasing, but still, it could not dispel the cloud cast over their plans by Josh’s reluctance.

In an effort to win his son’s approval, Rye now asked, “Would y’ like t’ drive the team again, Josh?”

But the boy only shook his head and burrowed closer against his mother. All the careful buildup of trust between father and son seemed to have been for naught. Lord, Laura thought, would things ever be easy? Would there forever be obstacles between her and Rye?

Chapter 21

It 
WAS AN 
afternoon in late January, crisp but cloudy, when a wagon drawn by an aging sorrel mare pulled up at the foot of Crooked Record Lane and was loaded with the clothing and miscellany of Dan Morgan. It would have been easier for Laura had she conveniently planned to be absent from the house when Dan left it, but that would have been the coward’s way out. Instead, she stood beside the dray while the last items were secured and Dan came around the tail end to stop before her and pull his gloves on tighter. He glanced at the house, then down at the icy bay, and once again needlessly tugged at his gloves.

“Well .. The word hung in the cold air like the ting of a bell in a winter woods.

“Yes, well ... She spread her palms nervously, then clutched them together.

“I’m not exactly sure what one says at a time like this.”

“Neither am I,” Laura admitted.

“Do I thank you again for saving my life?” He sounded not bitter, only resigned.

“Oh, Dan ...” Suddenly she realized they were standing like wooden soldiers, and reached to lay a hand on his forearm. “Thanks aren’t necessary, surely you know that.”

He studied her right shoulder, and she his eyes. He glanced toward the house and spoke with false animation. “I fixed that loose hinge on the back door and put a shim under the leg of the dry sink so it won’t rock anymore.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“And remember, if there’s anything you need, just ...” But if there was anything she needed, Rye would see to it from now on.

“I’ll remember.”

“Tell Josh I’m sorry I missed saying good-bye to him, but when he comes back from Jane’s, I’ll stop by and see him.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Good ...” He fell silent for several long, long seconds. Then came the same word, scarcely audible. “Good.” He squared his shoulders, but just then was hit by a spasm of coughing, the last lingering vestige of his illness.

“It’s bad for you to be out in the cold any longer than necessary, Dan. You’d better go.”

“You’re right.” His eyes found hers at last, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. But in the end he only nodded formally, clambered aboard the dray and said simply, “Good-bye, Laura.”

“Take care of yourself, Dan.”

The dray moved off, and she watched Dan’s back until a sharp shiver reminded her that she herself wore no gloves or hat. Clutching her cape, she stared at the ice-encrusted scallop shells while making her way back to the house. When the door closed behind Laura, she sighed and sank back against it, closing her eyes, feeling momentarily forlorn and guilty of something not exactly nameable. The silence of the house imposed itself on her and she opened her eyes, scanning the keeping room, noting the absence of Dan’s humidor on the table, of his coat and hat from the tree beside the door, of his shaving strop from its peg.

But on the heels of her guilt came immense relief. Alone. How long had it been since she’d been alone? There was a rich healing revitalization in having time to oneself. No one to cook for. No one to answer to. Nobody whose chest needed poulticing or whose shoes needed tying or whose bruises needed kissing. No eyes to either meet or avoid.

Laura was suddenly grateful Josh was gone—they were all gone! Countless times she’d wondered how she’d feel at this moment. Never had she expected this weightless sense of release. When she was a girl she’d known an extraordinary amount of freedom, and having reveled in it as she had, Laura now became aware of how changed her life had become after marrying Rye, bearing Josh, and subsequently marrying Dan. There had always been someone around, someone either relying on her or on whom she relied. Now, for a short time, there was no one.

Laura felt reborn.

She put an extravagant three logs on the fire at once, poured a generous serving of apple cider and set it on the hob to heat, closed the door to the linter room, adding an extra coziness to the main room, dragged an upholstered wing chair from the far end of the keeping room to the hearth, replaced the spermaceti candle with one of bayberry, fetched a fat goose-down pillow and threw it onto the chair, flung her apron off and searched for something to read, coming up with a three-month-old copy of the 
Fireside Companion
 she’d never taken time to open.

Two hours later, when a knock sounded at the door, Laura was dozing in her cozy nest. She stretched, flexed, and reluctantly left the chair to pad across the room on stockinged feet.

Rye stood on the step, dressed as usual in his pea jacket and knit bobcap. “Hello. Come t’ do the chores.”