“Josiah meant well,” she repeated when she had control of her voice. “But it was never meant to be.”
Leaving Silverpines was the right thing to do. Nic kept telling himself that as he got up the next morning from a largely sleepless night. Eulalia now knew everything. Knew every sordid detail about the truth of his marriage and about his wife.
Telling her about Guinevere had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Standing before the vanity with the small basin of water to wash his face and then lather up for a shave, his eyes didn’t see his reflection. Instead, it saw Eulalia’s face as he told her about when Guinevere almost killed him.
“Killed you?” her sweet voice, filled with disbelief echoed in his mind.
His jaw had clenched. “Yes.”
“How?”
“Do you remember how I told you about her increasing paranoia? She began to suspect me of being dishonest with another woman. She’d accuse me of seeing different women behind her back. Even when we went to church, a simple hello to a fellow parishioner would make her suspicious. It got to the point where I could do no more than nod. If I spoke to any woman, no matter who they were, she’d never let up.”
“But what about her…Lancelot?”
Nic steeled himself against the image of the man. “He’d gone by that time.” No need to tell Eulalia it had taken every single ounce of control to not pulverize the man when he discovered his illicit meetings with his wife. It was enough that he’d gone over to the house where the man lived, with his own wife, and made it clear that if he’d ever touch his wife again, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
“I thought everything was all right. For a while there, after…Lancelot had been out of the picture, and after I stopped saying anything to any women of the church, I thought everything was okay.”
Nic came out of the last night’s memories to take in the fact that his hands were shaking. The straight edge blade he used to shave wobbled. Quickly he set it down.
No way he could shave now. He’d do himself some harm.
When he related the awful incident to Eulalia, he’d kept his hands hidden behind his back so she wouldn’t see how the nerves attacked him. Although he told her the story, he’d tried to divorce as much of the harsher element from it.
Could she truly understand what it was like to see the woman you love turn into a monster? To come home and see her sitting by a table in the dark, only a flickering flame from a candle stick illuminating her face? Would that he could have fully given Eulalia the details of the fear that had gripped his chest when an instinct told him to run the moment he’d met her gaze?
That instinct had saved his life. He’d darted to the side just as Guinevere leapt from the chair, and came at him, swinging something heavy. The sound of the air being cut by whatever it was in her hand had glanced off of his ear. A brief flash of moonlight touched the surface of what she’d held in her hand.
An ax.
He briefly glossed over the details of apprehending the weapon from his wife’s hand, but she didn’t really know how much of a struggle it was. The darkness of the room gave no aid as they wrestled for purchase in the folds of night.
Guinevere had almost the strength of a man in her madness. Nic remembered trying to talk to her, trying to get through her head. They fought over the ax in a tussle, he trying his best not to hurt this woman while trying to protect himself from her.
The only alternative had been to strike her cheek just as he gained the upper hand on the ax. She’d fallen to the floor as he yanked the weapon from her.
Guilt had clawed through him as he waited to see if she would attack him again. But she didn’t. She sat in a heap on the floor, crying and wailing. He wanted to go to her, but he couldn’t trust her.
Instead, by keeping his front facing her, he lit the fire in the hearth and lighted a couple of wall lamps until the entire room was aglow.
Still, the blonde-haired figure of his wife sat in a heap. She sobbed for a long while, almost an hour. His guard never lifted.
Then, finally, when the tension between his shoulder blades had started to ease, he heard the words, “Nic, you have to send me away. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not going to send you away.”
She’d lifted her head then. Her green eyes dark like wet leaves, her usually smooth pale skin, blotchy. “Nic, you don’t understand. You need to send me away. I need to be away from you.”
“No, Guinevere, you don’t.”
“Tonight, it was an ax. What if next time, it’s a gun?”
“Next time?” he asked, shock reverberating through him.
“Yes, Nic. Next time. Because there will be a next time. I’m trying my best, every day to not…not…be this way, Nic. But…I can’t. I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Mr. Montgomery!”
Nic shuddered, ripped out of his memories. His heart still hammered in his chest and he gulped in air. It took another few seconds to gain control before he called out weakly. “Yes?”
“You have a visitor in the lobby, sir.”
A visitor? He frowned at his reflection. He knew it couldn’t be Eulalia.
“Thank you. Please tell whoever it is I will be down momentarily.”
“Yes, sir.”
Footsteps ebbed away from his door. He stared at his distorted image in the metal of the straight-edged blade. No, beyond all sense of hope, beyond everything he wanted, Eulalia would not be there. In fact, he highly doubted it.
He could still see the look of agony on her lovely face as he told her the truth. See the way she withdrew from him even though they hardly touched each other.
His attraction for her…possibly even more than attraction…was of a forbidden variety. A fruit from a tree he should have never tasted back in May. Nor, should he have continued in this make-believe with her.
Especially now, when Guinevere needed him more than ever.
No, it wouldn’t be Eulalia down there waiting for him. What could she have to say? Would she retract her words telling him that they could never see each other again? Would she forget to tell her children that Uncle Nic would not be able to come by ever again?
He picked up the straight edge blade and then sheathed it in its protective cusp. Then he went around the room and gathered his things for the last time. He’d go to Wickwell Springs and never return to Silverpines again.
Five minutes later, he shut the door to his room and made his way toward the foyer area. Hoping against hope, he was still disappointed to not see Eulalia.
Yet the last person he expected to see was Eustacia.
“What are you doing here?” he asked bluntly, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.
She came to stand in front of him. “Lolly told me you were leaving,” she said quietly.
“I am. I’m going to Wickwell Springs.”
“To be with Guinevere.”
He rocked back on his heels. “She told you then?”
“Of course she did, Nic. I’m her sister. Not to mention you told her about…”
“Yes, I did.” Nic made no apologies for revealing the fact she loved Josiah.
A grimace marred her face. “An eye for an eye, Nic?”
Shrugging, “Maybe. Something like that.”
Eustacia’s silver eyes met his. “Well, it’s probably best that she knew. Josiah made it clear to me that he never thought of me in that light, nor had Eulalia had any clue. But my sister and I were able to clear the air about it.”
“I’m glad something good came from yesterday. For you.”
For himself, it felt as if the whole world had ended.
“Something good?” She let out a small laugh. “What do you think came out good for me?”
“You just said—”
“That I cleared the air with my sister,” Eustacia clipped out. Her lips thinned. “I cleared the air for her. Not for me.”
“I don’t understand.”
Eustacia cl
osed her eyes in pain. “I lied to her. I told her that I no longer loved Josiah. But that was a lie.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” she argued. “I had to lie in order to protect my relationship with her. I can’t tell her how often in the past six months I’ve mourned for him. I can’t tell her how I wish I could have treated him better when I realized he would never return my feelings. I wish—I wish I could have done things differently.”
“Why did you come here, Eustacia? It had to be more than just to wish me goodbye.”
“I’m not wishing you goodbye, Nic. I’m coming with you.”
“With me? For what?”
“I’m going to Wickwell Springs with you.”
He blinked uncomprehendingly. “Whatever for?”
“Because you didn’t tell Eulalia the truth about your wife.”
Nic gulped. “I told her everything.”
“I know you told her about her madness, and the way she practically placed herself into an asylum for her own good. But there’s more to it than that.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“Nic, how do you suppose I knew about Wu Li?”
“You probably overheard his name and drew conclusions. You’re a card shark, Eustacia. Reading between the lines and reading people is a talent of yours.”
“True,” she said without pride. “But there’s more to it than just my card shark intuition as you say. I didn’t talk to Wu Li, no. But I did talk to his nurse.”
Nic’s heart dropped to the floor. “No.”
“Yes. And she told me everything. Guinevere is dying.”
“Don’t say it!” he bit out harshly, the pain of her words slicing through his chest like the sharp edge of knife. Softer he squeezed out through his tight lips, “Don’t.”
“It’s not going to change anything, Nic,” Eustacia said softly.
“I know that,” he choked out of his constrained throat. “But, I just wanted to be…”
“You ran away from her like I run away from things.”
Nic stared at this woman who on most days irritated him to no end but now, she wasn’t that anymore. She understood.
Part of him had run away from Guinevere. From the wild and erratic moods, her adulterous way, and her murderous intent. Maybe, in the back part of his brain, in a place that didn’t see the light very often, he was glad for his friend’s death. It gave him a chance to get away from the hellish parts of his life.
He’d fought back and extinguished fires in major cities throughout his career.
The dissolution of his marriage, the breakdown, that was a fire he couldn’t put out. It raged out of control and burned everything that had once meant something to ashes.
For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. Forsaking all others.
Those were the vows he made to his wife six years ago. When he’d made them, he’d every intention, every desire to fulfill them. Yet, the accident which had changed his wife had changed him.
And now, after six years, his wife only had months to live.
He’d wanted to run away and had. Josiah’s wish to watch over his family had been his way of escaping.
But now, he couldn’t run away anymore. Couldn’t play pretend anymore. Guinevere needed him for as long as she had time.
And his time with Eulalia? A balm to his soul that he had to let go of.
“I’m coming with you, Nic. I’m coming with you so you won’t be alone.” She thrust her shoulders back and lowered her chin. “Whether you like it or not.”
Nic wanted to dissuade her from coming. After all, Eustacia on a good day was a lot to handle. But he had no idea how long Guinevere had. It could be months like Dr. Li had said. Or, it could be longer than that. He just didn’t know.
“Eustacia.”
“Let’s leave Silverpines forever. You and me.”
She turned around and started toward the glass door. When she got there, she glanced behind her. “C’mon Mr. Fireman, let’s go.”
Nic stood on a precipice in his mind and saw Eulalia, the children, and the wonderful moments of joy they created. Then he saw Guinevere lying in a heap on the floor, tears streaming down her face.
He sighed. “All right, Eustacia. I’m coming.”
CHAPTER NINE
Silverpines, OR
April 1900
“And dear Lord, please protect Uncle Nic. Please let him come back home to us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Eulalia pressed her lips together to keep herself from scolding Winston for praying for his godfather to come back into their lives. How she wanted to tell him that that was one prayer the Lord would not answer.
Their last meeting had happened back in October. It was a new year, a new century. Silverpines continued to grow and to change. New people came in, marrying the women, building up business, and staking claims. Life flourished in the midst of the ruin. Silverpines now boasted of electricity, a memorial for both Timber Town and the mining community were being sculpted, and there was talk of a city developer coming into town. One man had come all the way from Africa, according to the local gossip with a train of exotic animals and had begun a zoo.
Silverpines was on its way to revitalization. To a new beginning.
While she, Eulalia Pemberlay, was stuck in the past. No, not stuck in the past but surrounded by it.
“Mama, I know Uncle Nic will come back.”
Eulalia wrapped the blanket tighter around her daughter. “Tabby, my darling. I told you, Uncle Nicander is going to take care of Aunt Guinny. He can’t come back anymore. Remember I said she hurt herself? Well, he has to take care of her.”
“Couldn’t he bring Aunt Guinny with him? That way, Dr. Childs can give her some oil and flowers and plants and then she’d feel better.”
A reluctant smile lifted her face. Leave it to Tabitha to come up with a practical solution.
“It’s not so simple. Uncle Nicander has to stay with Aunt Guinny. She needs him.”
I need him.
“But we need him, too. He always used to come and see us,” Winston protested.
“I know, my love. But he can’t anymore.”
Eulalia knew the children held out on the hope she was wrong. Hadn’t Tabby’s prayer revealed that desperate hope?
“But Papa said—”
“I know what Papa said, my loves. But, sometimes Papas can be wrong. Just like Mamas can.”
How well acquainted she had become with this fact in the months since Nicander’s absence. The kiss they had shared last year, had, at first, been a memory she refused to feel sorry for. It had been wonderful for both of them.
Yet, when he told her about Guinevere and the true extent of their problems. When he’d told her of her deterioration into madness and the subsequent attempt on his life, the shame that had once eluded her came over in full force.
It seemed too late, a year had already passed, but she knew she had to ask for forgiveness. In a way, she was glad to feel shame again. Not because she liked the sensation of tiny worms crawling across her skin. No. But shame helped her to understand that right and wrong existed.
Nicander’s words from last year echoed more than once in her mind. “I’ve tried to feel remorseful. Tried to feel some sense of shame for what I did. But I can’t. Can a man be truly sorry if he can’t feel either of those emotions? And if he can’t, what does that make him?”
Eulalia now knew the answer to that – arrogant and prideful. Unrepentant.
When she looked back on the kiss, she didn’t cringe as she once had. Now, she truly began to regret it. She’d kissed a married man. That should have never happened. Before, when she asked for forgiveness for her part, it hadn’t been sincere. Heartfelt, not sincere.
When she’d asked for forgiveness from the Lord, after the regrets started to come, she asked for forgiveness in truth. And then, only then, did the feeling of guilt leave.
“Mama, do you want Uncle Nic to come back?” Tabitha asked.
; Should she say yes? Encourage the children in their folly? Or, should she say ‘no’ unequivocally?
Or simply just tell the truth?
“I do want him to come back,” she said, softly caressing Tabitha’s cheek. “I do. But I know he must take care of Aunt Guinny and we can’t be selfish, can we?”
“No,” both of the children said, their voices heavy with resignation.
“Now, go to sleep, my darlings.”
She kissed them both and then blew out the candle, letting the moonlight illuminate the room. When she went to leave, she said, “Good night.”
“Mama?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Do you think we should still pray anyway? Would it hurt to keep praying?”
Eulalia felt a tug in her heart. “No, my love, it wouldn’t hurt at all.”
She wandered out of the room and down the hall to her own room. This month marked a year since she lost Josiah. There were days where she felt his loss keenly. Then there were other days when she had a hard time remembering his face. A fact which frightened her. The children also expressed the same sentiments but over time, she noticed a curious thing.
Even in their desire to have Nicander back, they no longer wanted him as their new papa. She could only guess that at first, they saw him as a new papa that would just fit right into their family, ease the ache of loss. Much as she did. Maybe they, just as she, had been trying to mask the reality of their father’s death. As if by getting a new papa would take away the pain of losing the man they loved with all their hearts.
Now, they wanted Nicander in their lives for himself. Was that a good sign? She didn’t know.
What she did know was that she had fallen in love with the fireman. Though she would always love Josiah, her heart had been claimed in the midst of her grief by a fireman with blue-gray eyes, and an unwavering loyalty.
Eulalia lay back in the bed and stared at the dancing shadows on the walls. Nothing could come from her love of Nicander. He had to take care of his wife, and she had to take care of her children.
Maybe she couldn’t be with the men she loved. The Lord had taken her husband for Himself and she knew she’d see Josiah again someday. Nicander had an obligation to his wife to care for her. She found it honorable for a man to continue to be with a woman who had almost destroyed him.
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