Triumphant Love: Banished Saga, Book Nine

by Flightner, Ramona

  Gabriel let out a ragged breath at the mention of Cameron. “It sounds like what he tried to do with Clarissa to control her too.”

  “Well, thankfully his staged demise in that sawmill fire saved Eleanor from marrying him. And she escaped to Seattle for years. But his words haunted her. And I think she feared I would always yearn for Savannah in my arms, even when I held her.” He flushed as he looked at his brother. “I took her to the workshop. To the storage area.”

  Gabriel smiled. “A wonderful place for a romantic interlude. I’m assuming that is why our neighbors informed me of our lights on late that night? Don’t worry. I covered up any confusion by teasing them about my anniversary with Clarissa.”

  His brother nodded. “I lit them in hopes the neighbors would think we were working and would not call the police. And not bother us either.” He paused and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I messed up.”

  Canting toward his youngest brother in concern and confusion, Gabriel frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “After one of the most passionate interludes of my life, I fell asleep. And she says I called her Savannah just before I did.”

  Gabriel blanched. “Damn.”

  Jeremy fisted his hands and pounded on his knees. “I didn’t know what I was doing! I had the woman I loved in my arms and was going to sleep.” He closed his eyes. “From the moment I met her, for fifteen years, that woman was Savannah.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I swear I didn’t know what I said.”

  “Does Eleanor understand that was one of the most passionate interludes of your life?” Gabriel asked.

  “She thinks anything I say now is an attempt to sweet-talk her. She doesn’t believe me or trust me.” Jeremy sighed deeply. “And I don’t know what to do.” He looked at his brother, his gaze tormented. “I want to marry her. I want a future with her. But how can I be her husband if she doesn’t believe in me or trust me?”

  Gabriel sighed as he rubbed his head. “I don’t know. But I hope you discover a way before you lose her for good.”

  * * *

  Richard entered the bedroom he shared with Florence at Aidan’s house in Missoula. It was a large room and had been Aidan and Delia’s when they stayed in this house. Closing the door, Richard paused, finding Florence seated in the rocking chair, staring out the side window at the hill he had climbed earlier that day. Unconsciously he rubbed at his aching thighs and yet smiled at the memory of his time with his brothers. “Flo,” he murmured.

  “What do you want?” she asked in a flat voice. “No family is visiting here tonight, and I made up the bed in the back bedroom, where Aidan’s housekeeper used to live with her children.”

  Richard gaped at her, his hand clenching the doorknob. “I … I had hoped I could sleep with you tonight.” When she shrugged, as though it were of no importance to her where he slept, he stepped into the room. “I’d like to hold you in my arms tonight.”

  She continued to stare out the window as the late evening light revealed the hills’ outlines. A lone robin trilled, as though mourning the passing of another Montana summer day. “I find I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping alone.”

  “Flo?” Richard breathed. “I … I can’t believe it.”

  She shrugged. “What does it matter what you believe?” she asked. “If you prefer, I’ll sleep downstairs.”

  “No,” he said. “No. The children would want you nearby, should they call out for you.” He took a step for the door and held his palm over the doorknob. His other hand was fisted against the doorframe, and he bowed his head. “I wish you a restful sleep, my love.”

  As his hand clasped the doorknob, he stilled, hearing a small noise from Florence. He spun on silent feet, looking to his wife. Her head remained bowed, but her shoulders shook. Although she had attempted to hide her emotions, she had been unable to fully stifle her sobs.

  Rushing to her, he spun the rocking chair around until it faced him. “Oh, my love,” he whispered, blanching at the tears of anguish pouring from her eyes. “Why would you send me away? I want to comfort you. To love you.” He knelt down and attempted to kiss her on her cheeks, grunting when she hit him on his shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me! Not now!” she cried. After covering her face with her hands, she lowered her upper body until she had curled into her lap, in an attempt to hide her grief and herself from him.

  “Why not, my love?” He ran a hand over her quaking back and to her shoulders, attempting to ease her up to face him.

  She wrapped her arms around her legs, in a childlike defiance, so that she could cry without facing him. Her crying intensified and Richard realized he could not entice her to rise. He wrapped his upper body over her, as though sheltering her. Heavy sobs racked her, and she shook and shuddered.

  After she calmed, she pushed at him to ease upright again. Florence glared at him, her eyes ravaged and red from her sobs, her nose swollen, and her mouth open as she panted for air. “I want nothing to do with you, Richard. Not now. Not ever.”

  He paled and then shook his head. “I don’t believe you. If that were true, you’d never cry like this. You wouldn’t hurt like this.” His eyes glowed with regret and love. “I know I wronged you. I hurt our marriage because I couldn’t see my way to allowing you to help me. I pushed you away, rather than gathering you close. I’m sorry.”

  She hit at his chest. “You only regret how you’ve acted because your brothers have made you feel guilty. They’ve made you feel less of a man.” Her eyes widened as her angry words escaped.

  He sat back on his haunches, staring at her in shocked dismay. “Do you really believe that?” His voice had lowered to barely above a whisper, as though he could scarcely afford to give credence to such an idea. “That I’m less of a man?”

  “You’ve ignored me for months. Months! Yet we come here, and, within a few days, you change. What else am I to believe except that you want to impress your brothers?” She reached into the waist of her dress and pulled out a handkerchief and swiped at her nose.

  “I’m not trying to impress anyone. Not you and not my brothers.” He ran an irritated hand through his hair. “If anything, Gabriel and Richard helped me see sense, where my uncle Aidan failed.” He looked at Florence. “They forced me to see how I have harmed you and our marriage. And I’m sorry.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she hiccupped. “For what are you sorry?” she asked. “For ignoring my desire to help you? For believing I couldn’t understand and making me feel like a sister at best?”

  “At best?” Richard whispered. When she stared at him in confusion, he asked, “How did you feel at the worst?”

  “Like little more than a drudge. You rarely remembered to kiss me on the forehead when you returned home each night. You never called me your love. And you refused to hold my hand.” Tears continued to cascade down her cheeks, unheeded. “I had begun to wonder if …”

  He waited as she ducked her head and bit her lip. “If what, Flo?”

  She heaved out a breath and spoke in a cold, distant tone. “If it wouldn’t be better all around if we divorced.”

  He gripped her shoulders and then his fingers rose to cup her cheeks. His frantic gaze bored into hers, and he shook his head. “No! No,” he said in a more measured voice. “We are meant to live our lives together. For me to hold you in my arms forever.” His hold on her tightened; yet she barely reacted to his impassioned tone. “I love you, Flo. I may have been misguided, but I’ve been terrified of hurting you.”

  She made an unladylike snort and closed her eyes. “You’ve never stopped hurting me. Not since that night you had a nightmare. And not since you turned me away in the kitchen in April.”

  “Flo,” he pled. “I love you. I’ve only ever loved you.” Tears slipped from his eyes as he beheld her, slumped and broken in front of him. “Do you know what it did to me to see that I had harmed you? That I had put bruises on your precious body?” He sniffled and shook his head. “I couldn’t bear to ever do anything aga
in that would possibly harm you.”

  “You wouldn’t let me soothe you,” she whispered, as she fought another sob. “I have no idea what you lived through, Richard. I can’t know what it was like to live through that tragedy. But you lived. You came home to us. And now I feel as though you wished you hadn’t.”

  “Never!” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Never my darling, Flo. You and Agnes and the boys are what keep me going. What give me hope.” He eased away, his blue eyes bright with passionate truth. “When I lay trapped in that muck and thought I couldn’t possible hold up my head for one more minute, I saw you smiling at me. When I cried because I thought I would have to lower my head because I was so tired, I heard you telling me how much you loved me and how proud you were of me. I thought of the life we’d built. Of our children. And it gave me strength to call out. To wait for the firemen to find a way through the molasses, until they could dig me out and free me. It gave me the strength to never lower my neck or to suffocate on that river of muck.”

  “Oh, Richard,” she whispered.

  He watched her for a long moment and took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “My greatest shame is that I begged them to come to me, rather than another man, because I knew I wouldn’t last much longer.” His eyes glowed with guilt. “They freed me.” When Florence remained quiet but looked at him with quiet acceptance, he whispered, “The other man died.”

  “Oh, my love,” she murmured, as she tried to pull him into her arms. He stiffened and shook his head. She fisted her hands on her lap at his refusal to allow her to comfort him again. “It’s not your fault he died.”

  “I called out!” Richard bellowed.

  “Of course you did.” She looked deeply into his eyes, an earnest compassion filling her gaze. “If you can remember that time with any clarity, I’m certain he was calling out with as much force as he could muster too. You can’t blame yourself for being human, Richard. Don’t blame yourself for returning to us.” She laced her hands together on her lap before she whispered, “Please.”

  “On the night I hit you, I dreamed I was drowning in it. The man who had been next to me was laughing as I sank farther into the muck. When you shook me to wake me, I thought you were that man, pushing me farther into it.” His eyes were filled with anguish. “I never would have harmed you, but I can’t control my dreams.”

  “Night terrors,” she whispered, as she ran a hand over his shoulder. When he shuddered and canted forward for more of her touch, she raised her hand and traced her fingers over his cheek. “Do you still have them?”

  “Yes. And they are just as awful.” He looked at her. “Do you know, when I used to have one, and I didn’t wake you, I would wrap my arms around you, and you would sigh with pleasure to be in my embrace? That sigh would soothe me, and I would sleep the few hours remaining in the night.”

  She looked at him with an inquisitive expression.

  “No, my love. Now when I awaken, I don’t sleep again.”

  She cupped his cheeks. “You didn’t kill anyone, my beloved. You suffered terribly in a horrible accident. If anyone is to blame, it’s that company that failed to build the tank properly.” She arched forward, kissing his cheek and earning a stuttering sigh. “You are my husband.” She backed away to look deeply into his eyes. “And I love you.”

  “You do? Still?” he whispered, as tears poured from his eyes. “Even after everything?”

  “Shh …” She leaned forward to kiss him on his lips. “Especially after everything. You are strong and brave, and I could never want for a better man to be my husband.”

  “I’m not strong, Flo,” he breathed, as he eased her to the floor and pulled her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so close that he nearly squeezed all the air out of her. When she sighed with pleasure to be in his arms, he buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent.

  “Let go, my darling,” she whispered as she kissed his neck. “I’m here to catch you.”

  When he shuddered with his own sobs, her arms wrapped protectively around him. She ran soothing hands through his hair, murmured words of love and praise, and never let him go.

  * * *

  A few days later Fiona sighed as she collapsed on the sofa in her small living room. She looked around her new home, fighting a groan at the number of boxes she needed to contend with in the morning. She grinned as she remembered the extended family working together to move all their items into their house. Although she had hoped they could afford an apartment, as they waited for Patrick to begin work again, Jeremy had surprised them with a comfortable home not far from where Gabriel and Colin lived and yet close to Jeremy too. He argued he had more money than he knew what to do with, and helping them gave him pleasure. He urged them to save the money from the sale of their home in Butte as a safeguard against lean times.

  The small living room opened into a dining room with a kitchen in the back, much like Clarissa’s house. However, rather than steps out to a backyard, another room off the kitchen acted like a sunroom or another living room. She suspected she would spend most of her time there, especially in winter as she yearned for the heat of the sun. A potbellied stove in the room would provide the needed warmth. Upstairs were three bedrooms and a bath, all she could hope for.

  She sighed again, this time with contentment. Her children had been tucked into bed by their aunts, and all she had to do was find a way to rise off the sofa to make dinner for herself and Patrick. She heard him moving around in the kitchen and opened her eyes to smile at him. “What do you have?” she whispered.

  “I dreamed of having a picnic on the floor of our new home with my beautiful wife as our children slumbered upstairs. The woman Jeremy hired as a cook prepared extra food today for all the families, and so he sent some over for us.” Patrick kissed Fiona, losing his train of thought for a moment, as he lost himself to the passion of her kiss.

  Sitting on the floor, he eased her down beside him and sighed with pleasure to have her nestled into his side. “I love our new home.”

  “I do too,” she said. “Although I should feel guilty. I never suspected, all those months ago, when Jeremy wrote, asking me to describe the home I’d like to live in, that he’d try to find it for us.” She looked at her husband with complete earnestness. “I would have been happy in an apartment.”

  He kissed her head again. “I know, love, but now we have the luxury of a home, and we don’t have to worry about money for a little while. It’s a tremendous gift Jeremy has given us.” Patrick let out a deep breath. “I feel like, for the first time in years, I have the freedom to enjoy you and the children without worrying about whether I’ll lose my job at the Company, or how we’ll survive if we do. It’s a tremendous feeling to have a little financial freedom.”

  “And soon you will be working beside the renowned architect and become his right-hand man. Then you’ll never have to worry about money again.”

  He beamed at her faith in him. “We will have a wonderful life here, Fee.”

  She kissed him. “We will have a wonderful life, wherever we are, because we are together.”

  * * *

  Billy raced around the park with his cousin Calvin. Although Calvin had been reticent about being as rambunctious as Billy, Billy had managed to get his young cousin out of his shell, and Calvin now raced around like a wild boy, a spitting image of Billy. Calvin only acted like that when with Billy. Otherwise, he reverted to his reticent nature with his brothers. Today they played in a park near Clarissa’s house with their aunts Araminta and Delia watching them, although their aunts appeared more interested in discussing the family than worrying about the boys’ rambunctious play.

  Whooping with delight as they acted out their favorite scenes from history, Billy tugged Calvin to lie on his belly beside him, like a sharpshooter. They held sticks in their arms for rifles, and they squinted down the length of the branches, as though taking aim. “I see no rebels, Sergeant Calvi
n,” Billy said in a serious voice.

  “Our fierce fighting scared them away, General Billy,” Calvin said. He fought a giggle as he looked at his cousin. At Billy’s hair. The thick black strands stood on end, and Calvin imagined his must look as wild. Joy lit his matching blue eyes as he grinned at his cousin.

  When their feet were tugged, Billy and Calvin squealed with surprise and jerked around.

  “We have our captives, Captain Ian!” Thomas proclaimed, as he pulled again on Billy’s foot. He hadn’t counted on Billy fighting like a wild banshee, and Billy lashed out, kicking with the ferocity of a deranged mule. Billy’s heel hit him in his upper chest, and Thomas flew backward, landing with a resounding thud as Billy freed himself.

  Billy then launched himself at Victor, scrambling on his back and wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck. He yelled, “Run, Calvin! Free yourself from these heathens!” He didn’t have any idea what the word meant, but he’d heard it once and thought it sounded like a good word to describe his older cousins.

  Rather than running, Calvin ran past Victor and launched himself at the final McLeod brother, Ian. He hit his largest brother’s chest with a grunt, barely causing him to take a step backward. “We will never surrender!”

  Ian chuckled. “Of course you will,” he murmured, as he stroked a hand over his youngest brother’s back and then tickled him mercilessly. “Captain Ian always wins!”

  Calvin squealed with delight as he was tickled and yet still kicked out, but it did no good. Soon Billy had been sequestered too, as Thomas had risen and helped Victor free himself of Billy. The three older McLeod boys stood around Billy and Calvin, with sticks that they called swords, walking in a circle as they pondered what to do with their captives.