Hearing nothing, Gray turned away and made his way to the backdoor, still battling both fury and disbelief. Because anger was easier to deal with, he decided what he needed was a long walk in the frigid darkness.
* * *
After Fiona’s tears had run their course, she tried to stand, but her legs were too weak to support her. Not surprising, she thought as she crawled across the room to her bed, considering what she’d been through.
As the shock of her attack sank in, she gathered the covers around her and wondered if she would ever feel warm again. She felt chilled clear to her bones.
She could still feel Flem’s hands on her. Could still feel the panic that had swept her when she’d thought she would surely suffocate.
She heard a sound outside her door and sat up in the darkness, frozen with fear. New doubts assailed her. Had Flem returned? How could she possibly defend herself a second time? She should have taken steps to see that he couldn’t force his way in again.
Though every movement was an effort, she slipped out of bed and grasped the edge of her night table, pressing all her weight against it as she moved it inch by painful inch across the room and in front of her door.
That done she stood perfectly still, listening for anything out of the ordinary.
Was that the sound of someone breathing just beyond her door? She thought so, though she couldn’t be certain. She stood there for as long as she could. When the cold and the exhaustion finally forced her back to bed, she huddled under the blankets, too afraid to close her eyes.
Oh, Da. Tears welled up and she brushed at them with the back of her hand. Help me stay strong and vigilant, in case Flem should come back.
She replayed every terrible moment in her mind, wondering if she’d done anything to invite such a lewd attack. She had never given Flem any reason to think she wanted him. And yet, he’d seemed absolutely astonished when he’d finally come to the realization that she was willing to do battle to protect her virtue.
Did he think himself so handsome and charming and irresistible that no woman would ever refuse his advances?
She thought back to his defense when Gray had criticized him for his flirtation with Charlotte Gable. He had acted as though he had every right to another man’s wife. If that were true, then he would surely think he had the right to any unmarried woman, as well.
Fiona had witnessed time and again how he used his charm with his mother. There was nothing he couldn’t have, if he made up his mind to it. He’d boasted that it had been so since he was just a boy. Was that when Fleming Haydn had decided that the rules by which others lived didn’t apply to him?
As the hours dragged on, the shock of what she’d been through took their toll. Just before dawn she fell into a troubled sleep.
SIXTEEN
Fiona awoke, grateful that there was no school scheduled. Moving at a snail’s pace she managed to wash and dress. As she poured water from the pitcher into the porcelain basin, she paused to stare at it, grateful that she hadn’t had to use it against her attacker.
The simple act of tidying the bed linens had her studying the bed through new eyes. What had once been her refuge had almost become a horror. In the light of day it was difficult to imagine that she’d been imprisoned in this small space, fighting for her life.
She shivered and sank down on the edge of the bed until she could compose herself.
The incident with Flem was still so vividly etched in her mind, she wondered how she would ever be able to put it aside.
Would Flem have behaved differently if he hadn’t been drunk? Or did the liquor just magnify the flaws that already existed in his personality? Whatever the reason, she knew that she would never again be able to sleep unless she took measures to protect herself. Broderick was the logical one to confide in, because of his authority in the family, but she feared that something this upsetting might bring on another stroke. There was no way she could share such a thing with Rose. That left only Gray, and the thought of telling him what had happened was too painful to imagine. Still, she feared for her life if she didn’t take steps to bar Flem from ever assaulting her again.
As she made her way to the kitchen she heard the sound of voices raised in anger.
She was surprised to see Flem dressed in his Sunday best. Usually, after a night of drinking and gambling, he slept until midafternoon. Yet here he was, standing beside the stove, facing his parents who were seated at the table. Fiona was grateful that he barely flicked her a glance before returning his attention to something his mother was saying.
“What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
Before Flem could respond Gray stomped in from the barn and set his boots to dry after hanging his coat by the backdoor. When he’d finished washing up, he took a seat at the table without a word to anyone.
When he caught sight of Fiona he looked away with a frown.
Broderick set down his cup with a clatter. “Where would you go?”
“Any place that doesn’t have farms.” Flem took his time pouring tea and sipping.
Fiona turned away, intent upon returning to her room, so that the family could have this discussion in private.
Before she could leave Rose set down a plate with a terse command. “Eat.”
Feeling, trapped, Fiona picked at her food in silence.
“Just like that?” Broderick looked up at his younger son. “You come in here and announce you’re leaving, just like that?”
“It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. It’s no secret that I hate this place. I hate farm chores. I want to go where there’s laughter and music and...” He drained the last of his tea. “Life. I want to live life, not just watch it pass me by.”
“I ask you again.” Broderick met his son’s eyes. “Where will you go?”
“Chicago.” Flem spoke the word almost reverently.
“Chicago.” Broderick spat the same word as though it offended him. “It would seem you’ve given this a great deal of thought.”
“I have. There are places there where I could play my music. You heard Mrs. Rudd last night, Papa. She isn’t the first to say I play like a real musician.” He turned to his mother. “You’ve told me, Ma, that you had dreams of going places and doing things when you were my age. Well, I have dreams, too. It’s time I went after them. Why should I walk behind a plowhorse all day and shovel manure every night, when I could be a musician?”
Rose avoided her husband’s eyes, aware that he’d turned to her with a scowl. “How will you get to this Chicago?”
“I’ll take the train. I checked with Gerhardt days ago. There’ll be one in town today.”
“Today?” Rose’s breakfast was forgotten. She set aside her fork to stare at her son. “How will you pay for this train ride to Chicago?”
Broderick’s cup was halfway to his mouth when Flem answered. “I have money.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “Lots of money.”
Tea sloshed everywhere as Broderick set his cup down with a thud. “How did you come by all this money?” Flem’s smile was pure charm. “The men of Little Bavaria might be good enough farmers, but they’re lousy gamblers.”
“Gambling?” Broderick shoved back his chair, staring at his son with a look of black fury. “You would risk my money by gambling?”
“It’s not much of a risk. I told you. Those farmers—”
“Not a risk? Not a risk?” Broderick brought a fist down on the table so hard it sent dishes rattling. A plate smashed on the floor, but no one paid any attention as shards of glass scattered everywhere. “You’ve watched your mother and me struggle every day to keep this farm going. Your brother works like a mule so that we have enough for each spring’s planting. And you’re off risking it all on the turn of a card. When do you do this gambling?”
“At night. I don’t like to sleep at night so I—”
“No!” Broderick’s voice lowered with anger. “You don’t need to sleep at night, since you sleep mos
t of the day while others do your work.” He pinned his son with a dark look. “Where do you gamble?”
“Usually in Little Bavaria.” Flem added casually, “At someone’s home.”
“Whose horse do you ride?” Broderick demanded.
“Yours, Papa.”
“Mine. And whose money do you steal to do this gambling?”
“I don’t steal. I—”
“Whose money do you steal to do this gambling?”
“Yours, Papa. But I hardly ever lose. Here.” With a look of arrogance he began peeling off bills and tossing them into the air, where some fluttered to the table, others landed on the floor. “That should more than pay you back for what I used to get started on my fortune.”
A bill floated down, brushing Broderick’s sleeve. He shook it aside before turning to his wife. “You tell me, Rose. What kind of son steals the sweat of all those he claims to love, for his own pleasure?”
Rose simply stared at her son, unable to take it all in. When she could find her voice she managed to whisper, “Why, Fleming? How could you do this to me? To all of us?”
“I have dreams, Ma.”
“Dreams.” She was shaking her head. “How could you put your dreams ahead of what is right?”
“Do you want me to stay, Ma?”
“You know I do, Fleming, I can’t imagine—”
He held up a hand and stopped her. “For what? To become what you’ve become? Look at you, Ma. You told me you once had dreams of a grand life. You were going to travel, see the world. What happened to that life, Ma? Is this what you wanted? To wash clothes and bake strudel until you’re too old to get out of bed?” His hand closed around the wad of money and he jammed it deep into his pockets. “I want more. I want—”
“You told us.” Broderick’s eyes were narrowed on his younger son. “You want music and laughter, regardless of the cost to those you leave behind.”
“That’s right. I don’t care about the cost. I want it all. And I’ll have it in Chicago. I want to wake every day feeling alive. Sharing some excitement with people who feel the same way.”
He turned to his brother. “You haven’t said anything yet, Gray. Not that I’d expect you to take my side in this. When it comes to family arguments, I always know where you stand. Squarely with Papa and always against me.”
Gray calmly finished his breakfast and set down his fork. “Then I don’t need to say a word, do I?”
Rose pinned Gray with a look. “Did you know about this?”
He shook his head. “Flem doesn’t confide in me, as you well know. But I can’t say I’m surprised.” He turned to Flem. “If you’ve already talked to Gerhardt about the train schedule, you’ve been planning this for some time. I noticed a carpetbag out on the porch when I was coming in from the barn. I assume you’re ready to go today, with or without Papa’s permission.”
“I’m eighteen years old. I don’t need anybody’s permission to live my life. I figure if I leave now, I can walk to town in time to board the train in an hour.”
Rose started to cry. “You’re really leaving me, Fleming?”
He walked over and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not leaving you, Ma.”
“You can’t. You can’t leave me all alone here. You can’t, Fleming.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him so fiercely he cried out and was forced to pry her arms from around him.
It took all of his strength to hold her at arm’s length. He studied the wild-eyed look of her as though seeing a stranger. “It isn’t you, Ma. I’m leaving this place. This farm. This godforsaken town. There’s nothing for me here.”
After enduring the scene in silence as long as he could, Gray shoved aside his empty plate. “No challenges left, is that it, Flem? You’ve conquered everything and everybody in Paradise Falls?” Though he hadn’t intended to, he glanced at Fiona.
His meaning wasn’t lost on Flem, who gave a quick, dangerous smile. “That’s right, big brother. Everything and everybody.”
Fiona left her meal untouched and pushed away from the table, determined to give this family the privacy they deserved.
Before she could escape Flem crossed the room and caught her roughly by the shoulders. “Leaving before you can offer me a fond goodbye, Miss Downey?”
At the mere touch of him she went rigid with shock. Sensing that she was about to claw at his face, Flem pinned her arms at her sides and, with his family watching, kissed her full on the lips. Stunned and horrified she fought free and wiped a hand over her mouth, as if to erase the foul taste of him. “How dare you?”
When she looked over at his family, she realized that they had already turned away, as though embarrassed to witness something so intimate between their son and their houseguest.
He covered her challenge with an exaggerated sigh. Then, to add to her humiliation he said, “I know how much you wish you could come with me, but as I’ve told you before, I travel alone.”
The look of impotent fury in his brother’s eyes was all that was needed to assure Flem that his parting shot had hit its intended target.
He was actually grinning as he called a final goodbye to his family before casually strolling out the door. While they watched in stunned silence he picked up his carpetbag from the back porch and started across the yard, all the while whistling a little tune.
Reeling under the sting of this final humiliation, Fiona fled to her room, unaware that her reaction confirmed in everyone’s mind that she was grieving the loss of someone dear to her.
SEVENTEEN
Winter descended upon the land with all its fury, painting a bleak, bitter landscape. The fields of the Haydn farm, like the hills beyond, lay frozen under a blanket of ice and snow. The air was now so frigid it shot icy darts to the lungs of anyone who dared to breathe it in too deeply.
The only creature up and about when Fiona left for school each morning was Chester the hound, who roused himself from sleep in the hay to wag his tail from the doorway of the barn as she began her long, silent journey to school. Her students arrived in pony carts and sleighs, wrapped in fur robes and swathed in scarves that left only their eyes uncovered.
Each morning she and Will VanderSleet chopped through thick layers of ice in the creek to fill the buckets of water. Logs burned continuously during the day, and the children gathered close to the fireplace for warmth.
A simple visit to the outhouse required many minutes of preparation for her students, as they pulled on boots, coats, scarves, and mittens. When they returned, they stood in front of the fire until their backsides were warm enough to sit at a desk.
With each passing day Fiona grew more eager to escape the Haydn farm and take refuge in her work. Life in the Haydn house had become one of strained silences, broken only by the occasional quarrel between Rose and Broderick. Gray had become distant and sulky, and Fiona’s shy attempts to draw him into conversation had been met with defeat.
Though she had gone over every moment of that fateful morning in her mind, she could come up with no other logical explanation for his behavior except Flem’s kiss. Somehow Gray believed that she had invited it. What was worse, Flem’s words had been calculated to make his family believe that she had wanted to leave with him. But why? Was this retaliation for having rejected his advances? Or was there something more here? Could it be something deep and dark and hurtful between Flem and his brother that made him want to strike out in such a mean-spirited way, using her as the weapon?
She didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that Flem had succeeded in driving a wedge between her and Gray, or the fact that Gray thought so little of her.
This much Fiona knew. Flem had managed, in one simple act, to forever change those who loved him. The Haydn family, which had only recently begun to experience joy and laughter, were now even more subdued and distant than ever. Rose was so miserably lonely without Flem, who had been her only joy, that it seemed her poor heart was shattered beyond repair. The gulf between Rose and her husband seem
ed wider than ever, and she now found fault with everything Gray did, with even more venom than before.
Late at night, while Gray and his father sat in stony silence by the fire, and Rose brooded in the kitchen, Fiona huddled alone in her cold room and pondered how Flem could have done this to people he claimed to love. What made a person so occupied with self, he would pursue his own pleasures at any cost?
She had begun to surmise that it was something he’d learned at his mother’s knee. Once he’d discovered that his charming smite and insincere flattery could get him anything he wanted, he simply used those gifts on everyone he met.
She pushed aside thoughts of Flem. Added to her worry over the Haydn family was the fact that she’d received no letters from her mother in many weeks. She could think of only one reason why her mother wouldn’t write, and that was illness. The thought that her mother might be sick and suffering, far from the comforts of her familiar home and loving daughter, was almost more than Fiona could bear.
She drew the blanket around her shoulders and started yet another letter to her mother.
Dear Mum
You and Da would be so proud of the progress I’m making with my students. The two oldest lads, who were once at odds, have now become good friends, and the two of them have been helping me prepare the schoolroom each morning. All the students can now read at least a little, and they’re getting better at their sums.
I’m saving my money, Mum, so that when school is out I can send for you. I’m hoping I can find a room in town to rent, so that we can be together. I can’t wait to see you again. It’s been too long.
Fiona was horrified to see a tear slip onto the page and smear the words. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, before blotting the moisture from the paper.
With a sigh she put aside her letter and crawled into bed. It was so cold her teeth were chattering. She huddled under the blankets and prayed she could soon escape into blessed sleep.
Paradise Falls Page 17
