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Love Held Captive

Page 22

by Shelley Shepard Gray


  “It was most likely typhus.” Far too many men had died from poor sanitary conditions.

  “Whatever it was, he died. As you can imagine, she’s still having a difficult time getting over his death.”

  “I’m sure she is,” he said softly, realizing yet again that he wasn’t the only person in the family who had suffered. He’d been so consumed with fighting his own demons that he hadn’t spared a thought to theirs.

  Which brought him back to his family’s sudden appearance.

  “Why did Father bring all of you here?” he asked, realizing he needed to prepare himself before all four of them were confronting him with something that would likely catch him off guard.

  Phillip slowed his steps. “Not sure if I should be the one telling you.”

  Whether it was because he was still coping with Devin’s injury, absorbing Julianne’s arrival, or felt as if he still wasn’t doing his best for Lizbeth, his temper snapped. “You are almost thirty years old. When are you going to be old enough to speak for yourself? Tell me.”

  They were walking down his hallway now. Every door was closed, no one else in sight. But the hall had never felt so long. Ethan was both eager to pull his brother into the privacy of his room yet also dreading the moment.

  “Father wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  “What would it matter if he wasn’t? Do you really think the world would end?”

  Looking stung, Phillip stepped back. “Of course not.”

  “Then what has you so afraid?”

  Phillip clenched his fists. “I am not afraid of anything.”

  If he wasn’t, he was a fool. “What is the reason, then?”

  Their parents and his sister would be joining them within a minute or two. Ethan pulled out his key, inserted it into the lock, and resigned himself to waiting.

  “They want you to return home,” Phillip said under his breath.

  That was it? “I’ll come home as soon as I’m able.” He smiled encouragingly. “I promise.”

  “No, you don’t understand, Ethan. Our father is dying. The doctors don’t give him more than six months to live. We need you back. I … I can’t do it all on my own.”

  An ache settled deep in his heart as shock overcame him. But though he knew he’d have to later come to terms with what he’d just heard, Ethan didn’t dare give in to it now.

  Therefore, he pushed back the pain just as he had done during the war over and over again. “Have you even tried?”

  Phillip flinched. “I have, but it’s never been good enough. I’ve never been good enough, at least not in Father’s eyes.”

  He grunted. “I think we both know that is a lie. I’ve been the embarrassment to him.”

  “They have missed you, worried about you, and prayed for you,” Phillip corrected, his voice thick with emotion. “But never, never did they feel embarrassed.”

  “I had nightmares. I couldn’t adjust when I returned.” Lowering his voice, he said, “I was weak.”

  “You were human, Ethan. You fought with honor. You are a much-lauded survivor of a prisoner of war camp. Everyone in Houston speaks highly of you.” He chuckled, the laugh sounding harsh and dark. “I promise, you are many things to our parents, but a disappointment is not one of them.”

  What if his brother’s words were true? What if his father didn’t regard him as a black sheep but as a prodigal son? “I don’t know what to say,” he said at last.

  “No? Well, why don’t you simply answer me instead? What is it going to take to bring you home, Ethan?” he asked between gritted teeth. “Would our father dying do it? Or does it need to be something more important to you? Maybe the idea of running your family’s legacy?”

  “That isn’t more important than our father.”

  “Really? What about Mother begging? Would that encourage you to put us first?” Phillip stepped closer as he walked through the threshold into Ethan’s suite. “Or do you make sacrifices only for strangers or your fellow comrades from prison?”

  Ethan gripped the frame of the door as he struggled to answer. Quite simply, he didn’t know.

  29

  Ethan never imagined he’d feel sorry for his father, but he was coming close to it at that moment. Standing in his suite next to his brother, and looking at his sister and parents standing together next to the windows, he felt a tension in the air that was almost claustrophobic.

  When he’d entered his room, he’d been determined to merely stand and wait for his father to come to the point of his visit all on his own. Michael Kelly had always liked to be in charge, and Ethan had no desire to take that away from him.

  But after watching him clumsily attempt to get to the point of his visit and fail, Ethan realized he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t act as though he weren’t his father’s son. He was. And that meant his father deserved his respect, even when he didn’t feel comfortable giving it to him.

  “Sir,” he finally began. “I’m sure you are busy. Perhaps you could share why you have decided to visit me here.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it is difficult wondering why we have descended upon you without notice,” his father said stiffly.

  “I don’t care about that,” Ethan retorted, suddenly realizing he meant it. “You are my family. I might not have shown it of late, but I still love and care for you.”

  He could practically feel his siblings’ approval beside him. Ethan didn’t know if that mattered to him. But after getting to know Lizbeth, he realized he’d taken them for granted.

  Only after talking to Lizbeth and realizing just how much she’d had to do on her own, how much she’d had to survive without any help or comfort … Well, it made him ashamed. Yes, he’d been hurt and imprisoned. But he’d also always known that, when push came to shove, he would never have to stand completely alone. Now he wanted to stand by her side and give her the support and love she needed.

  And, perhaps, also reach out to the people in this room. It was time to stop focusing on their differences and pay attention to what they had in common. Because, at the end of the day, he was incredibly blessed to still have his family. They were imperfect, but so was he. Therefore, if there was even a chance to have a kind of new relationship with them, he had to try.

  “We want you to come home, Ethan,” his mother said, her cultured voice breaking the silence. “The war is over now. And … and we need you with us.”

  “Yes,” his father said. “You have your life to reclaim. It’s time you came home for good.”

  Home. The word brought up images of a wide front porch, the grove of pin oak trees, the stable full of fine horses. The deep burgundy rug that lay in the center of the house’s formal drawing room. His great-grandmother had brought that rug over from England.

  It all brought forth a wave of sentimental longing. He wanted to be a part of the family again. But was he ready to move home right away? He just wasn’t sure. He also didn’t want to say anything about his father’s illness until he brought it up himself. Not trusting himself to speak, he remained silent.

  “Ethan, what do you have to say?” his father prompted.

  “I want to help, but I may need more time. I have a rather full life here.”

  “Doing what?” Father ran a finger along the top of the marble-topped dresser. “Gambling? Living in a hotel?”

  Ethan couldn’t help but smile. “I would hesitate to call my success at the tables a failure. Besides, I don’t gamble as frequently as you might imagine. I’ve also come to the aid of my friends. Helping them in any way I can.”

  “But what about when your family needs you to come to their aid?” Phillip asked. “Do we not count?”

  Margaret stood up and walked to his side. “Ethan, won’t you reconsider? Just because there’s been strain between us, it doesn’t mean we can’t make amends. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”

  Ethan swallowed. His sister’s words were much like what he’d been meaning to tell Lizbeth. That she was worthy of a second c
hance. That just because her life had changed didn’t mean it no longer had value. “Yes,” he said at last.

  When Margaret launched herself into his arms, he held her tight. In spite of himself, tears pricked his eyes. “There, now,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Everything will be okay.”

  But instead of nodding, she shook her head. “It won’t. Father is dying.”

  Though Phillip had prepared him, he still flinched. He lifted his head and stared at his parents across the room. “Is she telling the truth?”

  Their father nodded. “I … I have some kind of disease in my organs. The doctors say I won’t last much longer.”

  “But, Margaret, we weren’t going to tell him yet. Remember?”

  “He needed to know, Mother.”

  Phillip looked at their parents with a pointed expression. “It’s time for us all to be honest with each other, I think.”

  His parents exchanged looks. Then their father nodded. “Phillip is right. We came here to ask you to come home because we need you to run the ranch.”

  Looking at Phillip, Ethan said, “Are you sure you won’t resent me being there?”

  “I’ll be grateful, Ethan.”

  “Faye’s husband died, son,” Mother said. “She is free now. Maybe that might make a difference?”

  “Why would I want her back? She married another man while I was a prisoner of war. I didn’t even know of it until after the fact.”

  “We can find you someone,” his mother said. “So many women are available now.”

  “I already have found someone,” he said. “I’ve already found Lizbeth.”

  “And who is that?”

  “She’s the girl we thought was a maid,” Phillip supplied. “That woman with the dark curly hair.”

  “She’s pretty,” Margaret said. “She seems sweet.”

  “She is.”

  “Does this mean you’re considering my request?” his father asked. “Would you return home?”

  “Would you accept Lizbeth on my arm?”

  The tension in the room grew taut as his parents exchanged glances again. Then his mother walked to his side and clasped both of her hands in his. “With open arms,” she said.

  Her expression was completely serious. In that moment, Ethan realized she was sincere as well. If he could convince Lizbeth to marry him, he could move them to the ranch and she would be secure. Settled.

  Squeezing his mother’s hands lightly, he said, “I’ll come home soon. I need to take care of a few things first, but I’ll come back. It’s time.”

  When she pressed her lips to his knuckles, he could almost feel a collective sigh of relief fill the room.

  Funny, but he might have felt a bit of relief too.

  “Here you go, Devin. Are you ready for some nourishing soup?” Julianne asked as she carried a bowl to his side.

  Devin yawned as he struggled to sit up. After everyone else left his room, he’d been so exhausted, he’d told Julianne he wanted to rest his eyes for a bit. To his dismay, he’d slept almost two hours.

  During that time, Julianne had straightened the room, eaten some of the food she and Lizbeth had brought in, and then eventually had gone to get fresh water and some soup for him. She’d left him a short note, describing her errand.

  He’d found it the moment he woke up. Then, while he was waiting for her return, he’d used the time to analyze his degree of pain … and make plans for retaliation. After so many years of war, he didn’t take putting the law into his own hands lightly. But Bushnell had been more than a thorn in his side. He was a threat to all of them. He’d tried to kill him. He’d also treated Julianne disgracefully and, it turned out, violated Lizbeth. Surely there wasn’t another man in his life who deserved retribution more.

  However, focusing on such dark thoughts had drained him. He’d felt desolate and bitter. After taking a few sips of the broth, he set the bowl on the table by the bed.

  Julianne’s appearance was truly a ray of light. “I’m ready for your company,” he said lightly.

  She paused, not even hiding her surprise. Then she smiled. “I’m glad.”

  Oh, that smile. Just like that, life seemed better. Struck by a new sense of optimism, he inhaled deeply. She had such an effect on him.

  Would he ever be able to look at Julianne without being completely struck by her beauty? It wasn’t likely. Though he’d learned long ago that one’s outward appearance didn’t make or break a person, few people were blessed with a beauty like hers.

  However, he had decided that was a good thing. He liked the idea of being a little tongue-tied around the woman he had chosen to love.

  Yes, love. He’d come to terms with the depth of his feelings for her sometime around the moment he was bleeding and struggling up the front steps of the Menger Hotel. He’d had a momentary epiphany about the connection between bleeding to death and the pain in his heart. He’d decided if he was going to bleed out, he might as well die honestly. And that involved telling himself that he had loved his family. He’d loved his country. The men he’d fought beside and suffered next to in prison barracks.

  And a beautiful woman who had suffered in her own way, but was still walking and breathing and looking her detractors in the eye.

  Julianne picked up the bowl and carried it across the room. Then, with a rustle of taffeta, she returned to his side. “I’m so glad you slept. How are you feeling?”

  There was no way he was going to share with her the ugly thoughts he’d been entertaining about Bushnell’s fate. “Oh, you know,” he murmured. “I feel like I’ve been shot.”

  She didn’t smile at his quip. Instead, she leaned closer, bringing with her the faint scent of roses he now recognized was as much a part of her person as the striking auburn hair that framed her face.

  “When did the doctor say he was going to return?” she asked.

  “He didn’t. Hopefully he won’t be back.”

  “You dislike doctors that much?”

  “I dislike being poked and prodded that much.”

  As he’d hoped, she perched next to him on the bed. Examining his bandage, she murmured, “I never took you to be squeamish, Devin.”

  “I’m not. I just don’t necessarily trust sawbones. I saw too many drunken ones on the battlefield.” Belatedly realizing the images in his mind weren’t fit for feminine ears, he shifted restlessly. “Don’t mind me. Everything seems to irritate me today.”

  “I’ll watch myself, then.”

  “Everything except you.” When her eyes warmed, he said, “I just don’t like lying here like an infant.” He didn’t like being weak, and he really didn’t like being weak in front of her. He was sure she was one of the strongest women he’d ever met.

  After smiling softly at him again, she turned her attention back to his wound. Her fingers were light as she loosened the gauze strips and inspected his bare skin. “Everything seems to be doing all right.”

  He noticed she didn’t look squeamish. “Do you have experience tending wounds, Julianne?”

  She leaned back. “Some.”

  The very fact that she looked so uncomfortable talking about her skill made him curious. “How?”

  “Like many women, I volunteered in the local hospital during the war.”

  “I didn’t know.” He really didn’t know much about her, he realized. Suddenly, he wished she would tell him everything about herself. He wanted to know it all—her favorite foods, her favorite colors, how she’d gotten her beagle. What she dreamed about. He wanted to know it all.

  She smiled slightly, though the warmth didn’t reach her eyes. “Did you think I only waited for Daniel to visit me?”

  “Of course not.” Although his thoughts had been perilously close to that conclusion. “I guess hearing about your work at the hospital took me off guard because you look so delicate.” He was not lying.

  “If I ever was delicate, I learned to overcome it rather quickly.” She walked across the room, ga
thered fresh gauze and scissors, then returned to his side. “At first Mrs. Mills acted as if my reputation was going to infect the injured men like a leper’s disease might. But after some time passed, any help was welcome.”

  “I would have liked to see you tending to the men. I bet they thought you were an angel coming to them.”

  “Aren’t you full of poetic words this afternoon?” She shrugged. “I don’t know what they thought.”

  “Really? Most soldiers weren’t shy about flirting with women.” In fact, he would have been hard-pressed to imagine her not being inundated with all sorts of heartfelt sentiments of love and devotion.

  She tensed as she seemed to take a moment to get her bearings. “I have neglected to tell you where I was,” she said in a halting way. “You see, Captain, I tended to the men who were most grievously injured. Most of them died,” she added, her voice thick with emotion.

  He knew about those wards, of course. Doctors separated the worst of their patients so as not to hurt the morale of the healing. On paper it made sense, but in practice Devin had always thought it bordered on cruelty for the men in those rooms.

  He’d visited his men in those places more than once. He could still recall the dark feeling of doom and the smell of death lingering in the air. Never would he have imagined anyone putting a delicately raised woman in such a place.

  “You were assigned there?” He didn’t even try to temper the indignation in his voice.

  “Mrs. Mills knew those men needed kindness too.”

  “Of course they did. But that was no place for a sheltered woman. I’m sorry, Julianne. I hate that you experienced that.”

  “I’m not. It was worthy work.”

  “Of course it was.” He was making a mess of things. “How about this? I’m proud of you. Will that do?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Yes, Devin, I think that will do just fine.”

  30

  It was almost dark by the time lizbeth returned to the Menger Hotel. She’d considered staying away until morning, just so she wouldn’t have to speak to either Dallas or Aileen again. Or see Ethan’s face, now that he’d had more time to think about her ruin. Or the strain in Julianne’s eyes. She didn’t have the strength to fight another verbal battle, especially when she had no idea what she could say.

 

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