Drew's attire this day was similar to that of their first meeting, except that his face was cleanshaven. The previous evening, he had been handsome in his pin-striped woolen suit, but Eugenia liked him much better in jeans and plaid flannel shirt, because that had been how she had always envisioned him those many months when her thoughts had been all that she had left of him.
The chill of the oncoming evening was fast encompassing Eugenia, making her eyes burn and her nose begin to run. How glad she was that she had accepted the pair of jeans that Drew had forced upon her. If not for the jeans and suede jacket, she more than likely wouldn't have been able to travel the base of the mountain. Not in these temperatures. Even now, as she looked upward, she could only make out a vague outline of the jutting peaks of Mount Pisgah. The foggy moisture swirled in masses around the mountain's edges, sometimes clinging, then sometimes breaking away to form miniature clouds, almost threatening snow to begin to fall from them.
"Are you all right, darling?" Drew asked beside her.
Eugenia hadn't been aware that he had pulled his horse to a halt, to wait on her. She smiled a bit awkwardly, not wanting him to see her uneasiness about the time of day. She had surely misjudged the distance, as she had the first time she had been on this mountain pass. It was hard for her to estimate how much farther they had to travel. All that surrounded her didn't speak of familiarity. It had been too long. She only hoped that they weren't lost.
"I'm fine, Drew," she said softly. "Just fine."
"If we don't get there soon, we'll have to search for shelter. Maybe an old miner's cabin. Something. It's gettin' much too cold for a delicacy such as yourself to be in."
Eugenia hugged herself and laughed. "Sure. Delicate? Only a short time ago, you wouldn't have been able to say that," she said. "When we first met, I was as strong as any man. Doing chores on my Papa's homestead saw to that. But I guess being a madam has softened me up a bit."
Tilting his hat, to push his hair beneath it, Drew's eyes visibly showed amusement. "Madam Eugenia," he said. "I'd like you any way you choose to be."
"Right now I choose to be at my Papa and Mama's house."
"Well, let's get a movin' then," he said, pushing his knees into the horse's side. Then he turned his head in her direction once again, frowning. "Are you sure you'll make it all right?"
"Sure. Sure. Probably only a short way to go. Don't worry about me."
Flicking her horse's reins, Eugenia didn't welcome the air searching her face once again. She sniffled, squinted her eyes, and moved on to be beside Drew, still marveling at how things had taken another sudden turn in her life. To be with Drew? It was almost unbelievable, just as it was unbelievable that he had always planned to return to her, that his dreams had been filled with her as hers had been filled with him. But for her there had also been Adam. She had to wonder who there had been for Drew during those long, empty nights. But no, she didn't want to know. She didn't want to think about it. It could ruin her present happiness if she let her thoughts wander to that part of his life. She knew that he hadn't fully accepted the role that he had discovered Adam playing in her life. There had been no way to keep him from finding out.
She had handed The Towers over to Adam to run for her, instead of selling it to a stranger. She would return by train, often, to check out how things were going at The Towers and The Old Homestead Parlour. Smiling to herself, she remembered the shock in Alison's eyes when Alison had been told that she was now in full charge of the girls. The title of Madam Alison was suddenly thrust upon her. Not yet realizing the security of Drew's companionship, remembering how fast he could disappear from her life once again, she hadn't been willing to completely hand over her ownership of The Old Homestead Parlour. Not just yet. If Drew would do as in the past she would have a place to return to. Yes, she had The Towers, but she needed much more than that. She would always have The Old Homestead Parlour.
And Adam? His reaction hadn't come as any surprise to Eugenia. When she sat him down to have the serious talk about Drew's return, she hadn't seen a look of remorse in his eyes. She had seen a look similar to relief. The same Was true when she told Nell. This had confirmed her beliefs about the relationship of these two. That they had been intimate with one another. And how could any man live under the same roof with Nell without being pulled in her direction? She was a picture of youth, beauty, even innocence. But now, Eugenia only hoped for the best for Adam and Nell. She only hoped that Adam would marry Nell. Make it legal. They had everything else going for them—a home, money, anything that anyone would want in life. All this Eugenia herself had made possible for them. She only hoped that in time she wouldn't grow to hate herself for being so lenient with them. She only hoped that they wouldn't take advantage of her kindness. But, again, only time would tell.
And Iris… and Key? Key had wanted to travel with Eugenia, to go wherever she went. But Eugenia had told him that she would send for him if all went smoothly with her transition—if, indeed, Drew did marry her, and take her to the home he had described. But she wasn't ready to accept his words until it all did happen, until it all did, indeed, become reality. When the ring was around her finger, and he had carried her across the threshold, she would then know that he was being truthful with her. Now all she had was his word, and his body. That would have to be enough until they reached Colorado Springs.
Something about the way the land was stretching out flatly around her, made Eugenia begin to recognize parts of it. Wasn't that the gorge where she had hidden from her sister Elizabeth when Eugenia had been only seven? And wasn't that the creek where her Papa had caught so many trout, whooping and hollering so loudly with each fresh capture until his voice had echoed back at him in a million softer voices?
Feeling her heartbeat increase in the hollow of her throat, she was now grateful to Drew for having agreed to visit her parents' homestead before moving on to Colorado Springs. He had frowned upon the idea at first, saying that the ride by train would be so much more pleasurable for them, more direct than having to go by horseback to "hell knows where," he had grumbled. But now she couldn't be happier for having pushed her question to a "yes" from Drew.
"Drew, there it is," she shouted, pointing to a small spiral of smoke curling upward into the sky above them, knowing that it was rising from her parents' own chimney. She could envision them at the supper table, all three of them, probably eating biscuits, greens, and pork, chattering merrily among themselves, having long forgotten about Eugenia, thinking she must be dead. But now she would ride right up to the door, shout their names, and surprise them…
Something took Eugenia's eyes. Something had been added to this hillside. She tightened the reins of the horse and swallowed hard, recognizing it to be a homemade tombstone thrust into the ground above a mound of dirt. A mound of dirt piled high with fresh, fall flowers. "Elizabeth?" she wondered aloud, remembering Elizabeth's frailness.
"Drew. Come quick," she shouted, jumping from the horse, almost afraid to read the name etched across the stone. She was aware of Drew's horse at her side now, and waited for him to climb from it and take her hand in his.
"Whose is it?" he asked darkly.
"I'm afraid to look," she whispered.
Drew pulled a match from his pocket and struck it on the bottom of his boot. He bent down and held the match to the name, reading it.
"Hiram Carter, beloved father and husband, 1846 to 1903. May the mountain accept this man as he had accepted the mountain."
Eugenia put her fist to her mouth, muffling a loud sob. She shut her eyes and let the tears warm her cheeks, feeling a deep emptiness inside her. She longed for her Papa's embrace and kiss. And now? He was dead. Gone forever from her.
"It's all my fault," she blurted, covering her eyes with her hands, feeling the ache of guilt at the pit of her stomach.
"Eugenia!" Drew said quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her. "Stop that! How in hell could this be your fault?"
Eugenia flung her arms a
round Drew and took from him what her Papa could never ever give again. "If I hadn't left, I would've been here. To continue to help him. He never had a son. He had always depended on me to help him when he got old."
Drew's eyes studied the stone once again, figuring the age of Eugenia's Papa. "But, darling," he said in a low whisper, into her ear, "Your Papa wasn't an old man. He was only fifty-seven. Leavin' him didn't make him die. Please don't think that way."
Eugenia's gaze met Drew's. "But he had always said I would take over the chores when he wasn't able," she continued to sob. "Don't you see? He wasn't able, and I wasn't there."
Falling to her knees, Eugenia began to rearrange the flowers in a neat pile. They weren't her own gift, but she knew that her Papa could sense her presence in some way. Her being there could be her gift to him. She had returned. She was a bit late, but now she would try to make it up to him. Somehow. She would find a way.
"I love you, Papa," she whispered, then rose and climbed back atop her horse. "Let's hurry to the house," she said solemnly. "I'm sure Mama needs me now."
Drew looked darkly in her direction, seeing a different Eugenia than he had ever seen before. "Sure, babe," he answered. "Sure."
In only a few winding turns between tall spruces and pines, Eugenia could see the house standing before her. It was no different. It was the same faded-out color of gray. The house was made by her father's hands, a house that had been her home for so long. Her eyes moved over it, seeing dim lighting from the kitchen window on the lower floor and what was once she and Elizabeth's shared bedroom on the upper floor. She could only think of the house as being one of silence without her Papa's booming voice to fill the void. Then her eyes moved around her. The farmland stretched out around her was full of weeds, stiff, dry, blowing in the evening breeze. And the stables sounded silent.
Panic almost seized her. "Drew," she said, pulling her horse up beside his. "I'm frightened. Without Papa how has Mama existed?"
"One way to find out," he said. "Come on, Eugenia. We must hurry along."
"Yes. I know," she said. Then she anxiously waited until she had her reins tied to a bridle post only a few feet away from the front door of the house. Her eyes widened when the door swung open revealing a much smaller Mama than she remembered having left. With her hair tied in a tight bun on top of her head, and with the wrinkles of her face her Mama headed for Eugenia, wiping her hands on an apron, her eyes searching through the semidarkness.
"Eugenia, be that you?" her Mama said, then burst into tears, running with outstretched arms in Eugenia's direction.
"Mama. Oh, Mama," Eugenia said, jumping from her horse, grabbing her Mama into her arms. She hugged her so hard she feared that she might break a rib of this fragile woman clutching onto her.
Then her Mama pulled away from her embrace and studied Eugenia closely. It hurt Eugenia so, seeing the hollowness of her Mamas eyes and the thinness of her body. It was as though she hadn't eaten regularly… in months.
"We thought you be dead, daughter," her Mama said, twisting the tail of her apron between her fingers. Then her Mama's eyes began to mist once again. "Your Papa, he's dead."
Eugenia swallowed hard. "I know, Mama," she whispered, taking her Mama's hands in hers. They felt so intricately fragile, like the fallen leaves of autumn whose veins had hardened and were ready to snap. "I saw the grave. When did it… ?"
She didn't get to complete her question. A presence at the front doorway took her attention.
Even her breath.
"Elizabeth? Is that you?" she asked, feeling a sudden eerieness pass over her. For a brief moment she thought it was Dawn having returned from the dead. But it was Elizabeth, with her black hair cascading across her shoulders, settling around a small, delicate bosom. In the darkness, Eugenia couldn't make out Elizabeth's facial features, but she knew that Elizabeth was probably even more beautiful than before, since she would have matured into womanhood by now.
"Sister Eugenia?" Elizabeth said, then threw the door open so widely it banged against the house. She rushed to Eugenia and threw her arms around her, crying loudly. "Be ye not dead after all? Be ye really here?"
Eugenia cupped Elizabeth's face in her hands, looking downward, marveling at her younger sister's innocent beauty.
"Yes. I'm truly here," she answered, then remembered Drew. She looked toward him and saw the look that all men have when stunned by the presence of a new, lovely lady. Jealousy began to ease into Eugenia's brain as she saw Elizabeth's gaze also settle on Drew. It was as though these four blue eyes, Drew's and Elizabeth's, had become magnets, pulling these two strangers into another world that only included the two of them.
It hadn't even occurred to Eugenia until now that Elizabeth would still, more than likely, be a virgin, untouched by man. And now? To have such a man as Drew suddenly handed to her, by Eugenia herself?
I'm being foolish. Eugenia laughed to herself. Drew loves me. He's only stunned for the moment by Elizabeth's beauty. It will pass. He loves me.
She took Drew's hand in hers, eyeing him quickly when she felt a trembling, then squeezing it as she began her introductions.
"Mama, Elizabeth, I'd like for you to meet my fiance. Drew Jamieson. Drew? My Mama and baby sister Elizabeth."
With his free hand, Drew tipped his hat, smiling. "So pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," he said, smiling toward Eugenia's Mama. Then his gaze fell upon Elizabeth and Eugenia could see the look of want as he smiled knowingly at Elizabeth and spoke even more softly, "And mighty glad to make your acquaintance, ma'am."
Elizabeth smiled widely and fluttered her thick lashes back at him as she did a neat curtsy, then gathered her cotton frock up into her arms, and hurried back inside the house.
Eugenia's Mama laughed weakly. "She be a mite bashful, Mr. Jamieson," she said. "No men 'round to charm her like you jist did."
"Please call me Drew, ma'am," Drew said warmly, his eyes searching through the darkness, following the path that Elizabeth had made in the high dry weeds around the porch steps.
"And call me Jessie," Eugenia's Mama said, going to Drew, tucking her arm through his. "And now. Some biscuits and sorghum to warm your innards." She turned her head in Eugenia's direction. "Come along, daughter. Elizabeth probably be fixin' you and your feller a place at the table."
Eugenia stood in silence for a short while, staring all around her. There was such a calm in the air now.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-two
Even though it was only forty degrees, Eugenia still had perspiration to wipe from her brow. She pulled the tail of her flannel shirt up and swiped it across her forehead, stopping to assess what she had accomplished this day. Mound after mound of dirt lay below her, with small piles of potatoes lying beside each. She was glad to have been able to find a few that hadn't yet rotted in the ground since her Papa's death two months ago. The entire summer he had lain ill after having a sudden heart attack from working so hard to get the garden planted for the fall's canning.
Mama and Elizabeth had pulled as many green beans, peas, peppers, and cucumbers from the vines as they had been able to manage. But the potatoes and carrots had been left for the groundhogs. With Elizabeth being so frail, Mama hadn't let her work in the sunshine for very long. And with Mama being so weak from her own kidney ailment everything had been let go. Even the cellar was almost empty of stored garden vegetables. It was so unlike her Mama to let this happen, but she hadn't had Papa there to push her onward, to remind her how important it was for survival through the long, cold winter of Colorado. Eugenia set her jaw, not understanding her Mama. She hadn't ever thought her to be dumb, but it was apparent that the only one in the family who had had any common sense, besides Eugenia herself, was her Papa. And now he was gone. And her Mama and Elizabeth needed help.
Eugenia had talked Drew into staying on at the homestead until her Mama learned how to fend for herself, and until Mama made Elizabeth do her share of the work. Yes, Elizabeth was frail, but she had
been made frail by being catered to by both Mama and Papa. They had made her so. Now maybe Eugenia could make Elizabeth develop a sense of responsibility of her own so Eugenia and Drew could move on to Colorado Springs, get married, and lead a life of their own.
Looking toward what was left in the wheat field blowing in the breeze, intermingling with stiff, dried weeds, Eugenia knew that someone had to take care of that chore. And the cow? She still had it to milk before calling it a day. She had hoped Drew would help her get done faster, but he had said that he was going to ride into the closest town and get some badly needed supplies. And when Elizabeth had begged to go along, Eugenia had nodded a silent okay. She had even thought the buggy ride might put some color back into Elizabeth's cheeks, get her ready for the tough days of winter ahead and make her at least look healthier. But when Eugenia watched Drew and Elizabeth leave together, sitting side by side in the carriage, a slow ache began to creep through her, especially as she listened to the sweet, low laughter of Elizabeth as they drove farther and farther away from where she stood watching.
Looking toward the stable, Eugenia wasn't sure if they had returned yet. She had been so absorbed in her digging she had failed to watch for their return. But surely they hadn't. She would have heard the wheels of the buggy, that familiar squeak that the buggy had made ever since she had been a small child. It had become a joke to Papa—how he would oil the wheels over and over again and the wheels would still make a noise that would put one's nerves on edge. No, surely she would have heard its return.
After digging three more holes with the spade, she felt it was time to call things to a halt. The sun was winding its way downward behind the tall pines, which indicated the end of day was drawing much too near for her to be out away from the house. She hurried toward the barn to hunt for a bucket to toss her potatoes into. But once inside, she stopped suddenly to listen. She thought she had heard… was it a titter of laughter? Then sprinkles of loose straw fell onto her hair, making her eyes dart upward toward the hayloft. Something made her heart begin to skip beats. She was afraid to go and see what… who it was causing this disturbance in the freshly stored hay.
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