Paradise Falls

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  All night they’d clung together, knowing their idyll was about to end. Their lovemaking had taken on the desperation of two lovers about to be separated for a lifetime.

  He’d been so tender, it had made her weep. But she’d hidden her tears, waiting until he was asleep before allowing herself even that small weakness.

  Now, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, there was no denying that the time of reckoning was at hand.

  Gray was the first to speak. “Guess I’d better get out to the barn.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” She managed a smile. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “I’d like that.” He kissed her again and slid out of bed. After slipping into his clothes he eased down on the edge of the bed. “We could always pray for another blizzard.”

  He was relieved to see the hint of a smile that came into her eyes. “Do you think there’s a chance?”

  He kissed the tip of her nose, “I believe in miracles.” Then, because he had to, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her until they were both breathless.

  As he eased her back against the pillows she arched a brow.

  He grinned. “I figure the cows can wait another hour.”

  * * *

  Fiona set Gray’s place at the big wooden table, slicing thick slabs of bread still warm from the oven and steeping the tea until it was strong, the way he liked it.

  She glanced out the window. Except for the remnants of snow it might have been just another spring day, with birds chirping and squirrels chasing each other around the base of the tree.

  She leaned a hip on the sill and surveyed the kitchen. It was obvious that it had been built with a family in mind. The big, intricately carved table and six sturdy chairs. The stove, with an oven big enough to accommodate several loaves of bread and enough burners to cook an entire meal at one time.

  For these few precious days she had been able to pretend that this was hers. She had been the lady of the house, and Gray her man.

  Because he was still in the barn, she took her time walking around the house, as though trying to store it all away in her mind. The big cozy parlor, with its overstuffed furniture and fireplace made of stone. The upstairs bedroom with a matching stone fireplace, and the big soft bed where she and Gray had so recently slept—and loved. She peered into the other bedrooms and smiled at the thought of curly-haired children asleep in each of the beds.

  A lovely fantasy. But now she had to face the reality of this day.

  She saw Gray heading toward the house, a bucket of milk in each hand, Chester trotting happily alongside.

  She hurried to the kitchen and busied herself at the stove.

  That was how Gray saw her. Looking more like a schoolgirl than a teacher. Dressed, in her usual prim skirt and shirtwaist, her dark curls tied back with a ribbon.

  She turned, and he drank in that sweet smile.

  “Your breakfast is ready.”

  He even managed to return the smile. “Thank you.” He set down the buckets of milk and carefully hung his coat and pried off his boots.

  “I bet the cows were glad to see you.”

  He nodded and bent to the basin to wash. “And even happier to be turned out to pasture. They’re not used to being locked up in the barn for so long.”

  Fiona set a plate of meat scraps in front of Chester and poured herself a cup of tea.

  Gray glanced at her empty plate. “You’re not eating?”

  “I’m not hungry.” She filled his plate, then turned away to pour him a cup of tea.

  When she joined him at the table, he moved the food around his plate, all the while avoiding her eyes. Finally he shoved the plate aside. “I guess there’s no point in trying to put this off any longer. It’s time I got you home.”

  * * *

  He took the long way. It wasn’t, he told himself, because he was a coward. It was simply that he needed to prolong, for a few precious minutes, this special time with her.

  She sat beside him on the high, hard seat of the wagon, with Chester sprawled across her lap. When Gray turned the team away from the road, she glanced at him.

  “Are we heading toward the falls?”

  He nodded. “I want you to see it when the snow melts.”

  She heard the roar long before they rounded the bend. When Gray brought the team to a halt he helped her down and they walked to the edge of the cliff.

  As they stood staring at the sight, Fiona pressed a hand to her heart, at a loss for words.

  This was no lazy spill of water over rocks. Now, with the torrent created by the melting snow, it had become a roaring wall of water thundering like a train over the rocks and ledges that formed the barrier to the stream below. Mounds of snow still clung along the sides, and foam bubbled up, creating a mist as the water churned and boiled and tumbled, all wild and primitive and looking for all the world as though it belonged to some other civilization.

  Gray turned to her and could see, by the look on her face, that she was as moved as he always was by the sight of it.

  He took her hand. “I knew you’d like it.”

  “Like it? Oh, Gray. It’s more than beautiful. It’s... soul-stirring.”

  It touched him deeply to know that she shared his feelings for this special place.

  “Like you, Fiona.” He framed her face and stared deeply into her eyes before lowering his mouth to hers. “You stir my soul the way no one else ever has. I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds. You’re an educated woman, and I’m just a farmer. But I love you, Fiona. You’d make me the happiest man in the world if you would agree to be my wife.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away. She wanted no tears to mar this happy moment. The lump in her throat was threatening to choke her.

  When she didn’t speak he lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I know I have no right.”

  “No right?” She swallowed hard. “Oh, Gray. I was just remembering back to when I was a little girl, on the boat that brought us to America. My da told me something I’ve never forgotten.” Her brogue thickened, as she repeated the words. “My da told me that I’d know when I met the right man, for it isn’t just the way he looks, although that may be what first attracts me. Nor, he said, will it matter what he does. Whether a man works with his hands, or has the greatest mind in the universe, it’s what’s in his heart that matters. He told me to never waste my love, but rather to give my heart to someone whose own heart is worthy.” She lifted shiny eyes to Gray. “I’ve saved my love for a man who has the grandest heart of all. I love you, Gray. And I’d be so proud to be your wife.”

  With the roar of the water thundering in their ears, they stood locked in an embrace until at last, aware of the passing of time, they returned to the wagon and headed toward the Haydn farm.

  * * *

  Broderick stood framed in the door of the barn when Gray’s team pulled up. He took one look at Fiona and started forward shouting, “You’re alive!”

  The sound of his shout had Rose rushing out the back door. As it slammed behind her, she hurried to join her husband.

  Gray climbed down from the wagon and hugged his father before circling around to help Fiona to the ground.

  Rose ignored her son and spoke directly to Fiona. “When you didn’t come home, we were afraid you’d been trapped in your school, with your students, but no one could get there to find out.”

  “I would have been. Mr. Rudd came for the children and told me to hurry home, but the storm came in so quickly, I couldn’t make it.”

  Rose glanced at her husband. “Broderick and I worried that you might not have enough firewood to stay warm. I’m glad we were wrong.”

  “I didn’t stay at the schoolhouse, Mrs. Haydn.” Fiona smiled at Gray who stood beside her. “I foolishly started for home, but I fell and lost my lantern, and then I got hopelessly lost. If Gray hadn’t come along and rescued me, I’d have surely frozen to death.”

  Rose’s eyes
narrowed slightly. “Are you saying that Grayson found you and didn’t bring you home?”

  Before Fiona could answer Gray lifted a hand to stop her. “There was no time, Ma. Fiona was nearly frozen when I found her. I had no choice but to take her to my place and see that she was warm and dry.”

  “And the two of you have been alone there all this time?”

  Broderick put a hand on his wife’s arm. “Now is not the time, Rose. Let’s bring these young people inside—”

  She shook off his hand and turned to Fiona. “The good people of Paradise Falls have the right to expect a teacher to live by a higher code than most. That means there must be no hint of scandalous behavior by one entrusted to mold the minds of our young. I already know what my son is capable of doing. If you are a righteous woman I will expect you to stand up at Sunday services and state, in front of the entire congregation, that you did not give in to temptations of the flesh while you were alone with Grayson.”

  “Ma—” Before Gray could say more Fiona lay a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “You ask something I cannot do, Mrs. Haydn.”

  “Cannot? Or will not?”

  “I cannot, for it would be a lie.”

  At Fiona’s admission Rose shot a triumphant look at her husband before turning her back on all of them and stalking into the house.

  Seeing his mother’s reaction Gray caught Fiona’s hand. “We’ll go back to my place now.”

  “No.” Broderick drew an arm around his son’s shoulders. “This isn’t over.”

  “It is. I won’t have Fiona attacked. She deserves better.”

  “Yes, she does.” There was a look in Broderick’s eyes that his son hadn’t seen before. “Now come inside, both of you.”

  Though he still walked with a pronounced limp, Broderick needed no help as he led the way up the steps. Inside they found Rose slamming pots and pans around the stove. When she saw Gray and Fiona, she turned her back on them and began setting two places at the table.

  “Sit.” Broderick took his place at the head of the table and pointed to the chairs on one side.

  Gray held a chair for Fiona, then sat beside her and reached for her hand. Though her heart was pounding, she took comfort in his touch.

  Rose stared daggers at her husband. “They are not welcome at my table. He is no longer my son. And this woman will no longer be a teacher in this town when I’m finished with her.”

  His tone was pure ice. “Sit, Rose.”

  She shot him a startled glance, then took her seat at the other end of the table.

  Broderick turned to Fiona. “I haven’t had time to tell you how happy I am that you’re unharmed. Rose and I had feared the worst.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Haydn. If it hadn’t been for Gray, I would surely be dead. I had already prepared myself for it when he came along like my guardian angel.”

  “I hardly think it appropriate to compare him with an angel,” Rose sniffed.

  “I love your son, Mrs. Haydn.”

  Rose’s head came up sharply. “Love. What would you know about such things?”

  “I know that I love Gray, and he loves me. He’s asked me to be his wife. And I’ve agreed.”

  Broderick smiled at the young couple. “Married. I couldn’t be happier.”

  Rose got to her feet. “You would make a mockery of love and marriage?”

  “Sit, Rose.” Broderick motioned to her chair and had the satisfaction of seeing his wife do as he ordered.

  He steepled his fingers and peered at her. “I’ve been giving your edict some thought.” He saw Rose’s eyes widen. “It would probably be good for the soul to stand before the congregation and confess.”

  Feeling vindicated, she gave a quick nod of her head. “As I said, a teacher ought to be held to a higher—”

  “I wasn’t talking about Miss Downey.” Broderick met his wife’s eyes. “I think they have the right to know of any guilt that might be festering in the souls of those who sit in judgment of them. Would you like to tell them, Rose? Or will I?”

  Speechless, Rose could only stare at her husband.

  “Very well. I’ll tell them.” He turned to Gray and Fiona. “I was twenty years old when I was persuaded by some friends to attend a church dance in Little Bavaria. When I walked into the hall I saw a woman who completely captivated my heart. For the rest of the night, I couldn’t even see anyone but her. We danced every dance.”

  Rose’s jaw dropped. “You never told me you were taken with me.”

  “Why do you think I danced with no other woman?”

  She fell silent.

  Broderick returned to his narrative. “Before the night was over, we slipped away from the others and took our pleasure in the hay of an empty stall.”

  Rose stared hard at the table top, refusing to meet her husband’s eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “I later learned that the beautiful stranger was making plans to pursue a life as a maid to a wealthy relative who traveled to exotic lands. She wanted no part of life as a dull farmer’s wife. I resigned myself to the thought that I would never see her again, but one day she came to me and told me that she was expecting a baby. My baby. I was only too happy to marry her. But the happiness was one-sided. As you can see, she has spent a lifetime punishing me for stealing her dreams.” He inclined his head toward his son. “And in the process, has punished you, as well, for the part you innocently played in stealing those dreams.”

  Gray turned to his mother. “I can’t say I’m sorry, or that I wish none of it had happened. But I am sorry that you couldn’t pursue your dreams.”

  “You’ll never know how many times I’ve wished the same.”

  He lowered his head, then came to a sudden thought. “Why didn’t you hate Flem, as well?”

  “Fleming was different. You belonged to your father. He chose your name. He took you with him everywhere. He lavished all his love on you, leaving none for me. I realized that I wanted something of my own. Fleming was all mine. I conceived him freely. I wanted a daughter, to share my dreams. But when he was born, so perfect, so beautiful, I vowed that he would have all the things I’d been denied. I would allow him his dreams, his pleasures, the future I couldn’t have.”

  Gray shook a head in disbelief. “It never occurred to you that you were teaching him to shun his responsibilities? To be lazy, and devious, and sly?”

  Rose slammed a hand down on the table. “Sly? You would call Fleming sly, after all the evil things you have done?” She turned to Fiona. “If you knew about Gray, I doubt you would be so eager to be his wife.”

  “I know about Gray.” Fiona met his look and her own softened. “He has told me everything, and I love him, Mrs. Haydn.”

  “Love.” Rose spat the word. “We’ll see how soon love turns to duty. And duty to drudgery.”

  Broderick’s voice had all their heads turning to him. “Are we agreed then, Rose, that you and I will be first to stand before the congregation and confess our past sins?”

  Rose’s eyes flashed. “You’re as sly as your son.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Very well. I’ll not speak publicly about their weaknesses. But until you can arrange to marry, Miss Downey will continue to live under our roof, for the sake of propriety, and you, Gray, will return to your own farm.”

  He squeezed Fiona’s hand. “For the sake of propriety, for I know how much that means to my mother.” Then he lifted it to his lips. “I’ll go into town now and speak to Reverend Schmidt. Is tomorrow soon enough to be wed?”

  Fiona was smiling. “Not nearly. But I’ll abide by whatever day you and he can arrange.”

  “He must announce your banns from the pulpit three times.” Rose seemed to take particular delight in giving them the news.

  “Three weeks then.” Gray shoved back his chair and touched a hand to Fiona’s cheek. “Until then, Chester and I will be miserable.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  The snow had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, but evidence of
the blizzard littered the landscape. Giant trees lay toppled, awaiting the farmers who would chop them into logs for next winter’s fireplace. Sheds and outbuildings had collapsed under the weight of so much snow and were slowly being rebuilt.

  As if to compensate for the fickle weather, the countryside had turned especially green and lovely. The pale, spring green of the willows was complimented by the darker green of the evergreens. The lush meadows were dotted with mayflowers and tiny violets. Fields of rich, black earth had been neatly plowed and planted, and already the first tiny shoots could be seen breaking through the ground.

  Twice the reverend had announced the banns of the town’s teacher to the son of one of the town’s oldest families. Outside of church on Sundays, while the men talked of calves and foals and piglets and the renewed cycle of life, the women talked of weddings.

  “So, Rose.” Greta Gunther nudged Brunhilde Schmidt. “Didn’t you once say you thought the teacher would make the perfect mate for your Fleming?”

  “Did I?” Rose shot daggers at her neighbor for being so bold. “Actually, now that Fleming is in Chicago working as a musician, I expect he’ll marry someone with a similar background. Someone talented, educated, and successful.”

  “Have you heard from him?” Brunhilde asked gently.

  Rose wasn’t certain what galled more. Greta’s pointed sarcasm, or Brunhilde’s attempts at comfort. “As you well know, we haven’t heard. But I expect that it’s only because he’s so busy.”

  “Are you helping Miss Downey plan her wedding?” This from Emily Trewe, who was hoping for business for her millinery shop.

  “Of course I’m helping her. We’re the only family the girl has.” Though Rose had not softened toward Gray and Fiona, she was wise enough to avoid tempting her husband’s ire, and so she joined the women in bland talk of the coming wedding.

  She lowered her voice and noted with satisfaction that everyone gathered closer, afraid of missing a single word. “If you ask me, however, they’re much too impetuous. I would have been happier if they had waited.”