White Dawn

by Susan Edwards

  Emily wiped her mouth and glared at him. Bending down, she picked up a pouch of blue glass trade beads and threw them at him. “How dare you?” The bag slammed into his head. A second one landed a blow to the side of his face.

  “Hey! Stop!” Willy fell back, trying to dodge the flying missiles. The throbbing in his groin made it hard to stand, and her shrieks made him cringe.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  Willy whirled to see John looming in the doorway. He tried to stand.

  One look at Emily’s bruised lips, and fury brought John’s brows together. His fist shot out and into Willy’s face.

  A moment later, Willy felt himself picked up and thrown across the room. He slammed into the log wall. His nose throbbed and his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. Using the back of his hand, he wiped the blood away and got to his feet. He hurt all over but he was ready to battle for the right to claim Emily. “Ye’re not takin’ her away from me, cuz. She’s mine.”

  John pulled her to his side. “Emily isn’t a prize to be won in a fight.” His voice held contained fury. “And I’ve asked her to marry me,” he announced quietly.

  Shocked, Willy wiped his bleeding nose on his shirt. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.” He gasped past the pain.

  “It’s true,” Emily said, tilting her chin, staring down at him as if he were beneath her contempt.

  Willy glared at John. “I didn’t hear the angel say she accepted,” he challenged. “I can still court her.”

  Emily narrowed her eyes and took John’s hand in hers. “I have accepted.”

  “So don’t ever go near her again,” John warned.

  And with that, he turned to usher Emily outside.

  Willy got to his feet and stood in his grandfather’s shack, shocked and still bent over in pain. He watched John hold Emily close; then they were gone from view. He staggered to the doorway to see them heading into the shelter of the trees.

  Pain, worse than his throbbing nose or groin or head, struck. The angel, like everyone else, had rejected him.

  John led Emily into the trees, then stopped when they were out of earshot of the others. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I won’t hold you to that. But maybe if Willy thinks we’re going to be married, he’ll leave you alone.”

  Seemingly exhausted, Emily rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you really believe that?”

  John hesitated. “Maybe.” Probably not. He knew his cousin well. Willy would keep at Emily, refusing to believe she’d turned him down. He was kind of slow that way, and he would despise that she’d agreed to marry John, instead. It would hurt his pride, and that was something Willy did not take well.

  John rubbed his bruised knuckles with some satisfaction, then was surprised when Emily said, “Maybe I should leave, John. I’ve caused enough trouble.”

  He shook his head. “No more than I’ve always lived with. Worse, I used to give in to Willy’s tantrums. It was easier than to listen to him complain. And easier on my parents, who tried their best to give him what he needed. But he didn’t want their love. He just wanted everything that I had.” He fell silent. “But you may be right. It might be best if we leave.”

  “We?” She looked at him with sad eyes. “I can’t ask you to leave your grandfather, John.”

  “You’re not asking. And he’ll understand. I’ll ask Mary and Ben to remain for the winter. He said he only wants to stay one more.”

  “John?”

  Pulling the woman he loved into his arms, he held her close. “Yes, Sunshine?”

  “I can’t marry you.” The words ended on a choked sob, but John barely heard. Blood was pounding in his ears.

  “Because of my cousin?” His stomach clenched. If Willy had messed this up for him, he’d beat his cousin to a bloody pulp.

  She shook her head no and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  He tipped her chin up and fingered the tiny indentation there. “Then why?” He’d felt so sure that she loved him, that once they left here, she’d have all her fears put to rest.

  Emily pulled out of John’s arms and hugged herself. Her blue eyes swam with tears, reminding him of the sky during a summer storm when there were still patches of blue peering through the pouring rain.

  “I’m with child.”

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. His first reaction was joy. Then he realized it was way too soon for her to know she was pregnant with his child. Understanding dawned. She’d gotten with child during her time with the savage. The air left his lungs. He wasn’t sure what to think. What to feel. Did it matter? No. At least he didn’t think so. He wouldn’t let it. He couldn’t let it

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. But to his own ears, the words lacked conviction.

  Emily smiled sadly. “I can’t accept that, John. You haven’t even had time to think about it, let alone know your feelings.” She pulled her heart-shaped locket from its place between her breasts and opened it, then pointed to one of the portraits. “That’s my father, Matthew Sommers. I’ve never met him. And I don’t even know if he knows I exist. My mother married Timothy Ambrose, the man I grew up believing to be my father. She was pregnant with me, yet married someone else—who ended up hating both my mother and me. He made her life hell. And mine.”

  She snapped her locket closed, then said, “I can’t do that to you, or my child.” Tears flowed down her face, and she paused. “The funny thing is, I discovered that I do love you. But I can’t have you.” Having said those words, she turned and fled.

  John stood there in shock, wanting to run after her, yet she was right. He needed time to sort things out.

  “You going to let that girl go? Going to let something in her past pull you two apart?” Gascon Cartier stepped out from behind a tree.

  John glanced at his grandfather.

  The old man shrugged. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I was coming back to camp, but… Didn’t want to crash in on the pair of you.”

  John gave his grandfather a hurt look. “Well, then, as you said. You heard her. I can’t force her. It’s got to be her choice.”

  “And yours as well.” Gascon lit a pipe. Blue-gray smoke curled up over his head. “If you truly love her, the babe won’t matter.”

  John did love Emily. Deep down, he knew the babe didn’t matter. The father was long gone, out of Emily’s reach. Especially if John took her away from— That thought made him realize he did harbor some insecurities. Even some resentment that the child she’d give birth to wasn’t his. Though he’d meant what he’d said when he reassured her that the past was past, that it didn’t matter that he hadn’t been her first or only lover, a child was a different matter. It brought the past, the present and the future together. A child would forever be a reminder of the man she’d once loved.

  John sighed. Until today, her past hadn’t mattered. What if she married him and lived to regret it? He welcomed his grandfather’s interruption to his depressing thoughts.

  “Take her back to the mission she came from, son. There’s no question she has to leave before that fool cousin of yours does something stupid.” Gascon gave John a hard stare. “And you don’t want to be the one who punishes him for it.”

  Left alone once more as his grandfather wandered back to camp, John knew the old man was right. If Willy tried to force himself on Emily again, John would kill him, family or not. In that, Willy had gone too far and things would only continue to get worse between them—unless John left. He had to take Emily away. But what lay ahead? He wished he knew.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily sat on the bank, staring blankly out over the water. She’d run here, needing solace and comfort from what had just happened. She tossed a rock into the shallows. It splashed and created ripples, those circles widening just like the consequences of her carefree summer. The pain and problems just kept growing.

  Tears threatened to spill, and the lump in the back of her throat made breathing difficult. She should have told John sooner
, as soon as she’d learned she was with child. But she’d been afraid. And ashamed. And in love.

  She’d never given thought to becoming with child. And since so much had happened since the baby’s father had left her, she hadn’t paid attention to her monthlies. She thought of her Indian Apollo. What would he have done had he known about the child? Would it have made any difference? Would he still have abandoned her?

  For a brief moment she tried to imagine how it could have been; then she realized it didn’t matter. It was too late. There was no way to find him and tell him of the child their love had created. There was no way to go back to what had been—even if she could make it seem as if he’d never left.

  Frowning, Emily realized she wasn’t sure she’d even want that. Yes, they’d shared an idyllic time. Yes, she’d been happy. But hadn’t she been happier since? Even if it was now tearing her apart, the love she had for John had made her feel complete.

  In his own way, she now knew her golden warrior had loved her—his obvious anguish when he’d left her in the meadow had told her that much. Or at least she chose to believe it.

  Why he’d left, she’d never know; but he’d given her so many gifts that she no longer hated him for going. Aside from the necklace and wooden box that she’d hidden among her things—reminders of that first love—her Indian had given her something much more precious: the beginnings of a new life for herself. Freedom. He’d briefly shown her what it was like to be without fear and worry. He’d taught her to live each day to its fullest, appreciating the very land that both supported and threatened her. No matter where she went in life, she’d always be grateful to him for that. And now, as she considered her future, she also realized that he’d given her another gift: the new life growing inside her.

  No matter the circumstances of her baby’s conception, she’d already formed an unbreakable bond with this child. She’d guard this innocent life with her own. But the joy and the anticipation of being pregnant were dimmed by the hurt that came from knowing that because of it she could no longer marry John. She didn’t dare.

  Opening her clenched fist, she stared down at her mother’s locket. In her palm, Emily held the proof of a past sin. Her mother had gotten with child and married another man. She’d paid for it with her happiness and—ultimately—with her life. Emily, too, had paid for that sin. Such a cycle would not be repeated.

  Still, it hurt. Emily knew now that she truly loved John, and a future without him seemed bleak. She rested her head on her drawn-up knees. “What am I going to do?” she asked herself.

  “You’re going to talk to your friend, that’s what you’re going to do.” Mary appeared out of nowhere and plopped down beside her. “What did Willy do back there?”

  Emily turned her head. She’d forgotten about Willy. His actions paled in comparison to her pain at having to turn down John’s desires for their future. “He just had some trouble understanding what ‘no’ meant.”

  “So I heard.” Mary looked amused when she added, “Guess you took care of him, though.” She sobered. “Not that it will stop him from trying again.”

  Shrugging, Emily sighed. “He won’t be a problem for long. John’s taking me back to the mission.”

  Mary’s eyes turned sad. “I’ll miss you. I was looking forward to spending the winter in the company of another woman. But I understand. John’s smart to leave with you. It’ll just get uglier if you stay.” She looked uncomfortable. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” Emily touched Mary’s arm. “I’ll miss you too. Maybe I’ll come to St. Louis someday and see you there.”

  “That’d be nice. So, what will happen between you and John?”

  Emily scooped up another handful of rocks and tossed them one by one at the river. Some hit the water. Some fell short. “I told him about the baby.”

  Mary lifted a brow. “And?”

  “He wants me to marry him.”

  “That’s wonderful, Emily. You two belong together.”

  Emily thought so, too. If only circumstances were different. She stared at her friend. “I said no.”

  “What?” Mary’s eyes clouded. “Emily, why?”

  Staring down at the portraits of her parents—her true parents—Emily let her tears fall. “If I marry him pregnant with another man’s child, I’ll be no better than my ma.”

  Her friend drew herself up. “What nonsense is that? Now, you listen to me, Emily. You don’t know your parents’ story. You can’t judge them. For all you know, they were in love and something happened to prevent them from marrying.”

  Her lips trembling, Emily snapped her locket shut. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? I only brought shame and anger into my mother’s life.” It hurt to remember how her mother had been so unhappy. That she’d never laughed. That she’d aged and died long before her time. That she’d never been free to have friends and experience the joy of living. Likely because of her daughter.

  Shaking her head, Mary reached out and took one of Emily’s hands in her own. She squeezed gently. “That doesn’t mean your life will be like hers. For whatever reason, she chose her life’s path.”

  “Did she? I’ll never know. Not unless I can find my father and learn what happened.” Emily tossed the rest of her pebbles into the water and pulled away from Mary, afraid the other woman’s kindness would break the fragile hold she had over her emotions. Crying wouldn’t solve anything.

  Another unpleasant thought occurred to her. Her future was truly uncertain, for she couldn’t bear to find her father now. How could she face him with the evidence of her shameful behavior? She didn’t say anything to Mary, for she knew her friend would try to make her see things differently. But she knew her own guilt.

  Mary leaned back on her hands. “Did John ask you before or after he knew of the babe?”

  “Before.”

  “And he’s still willing to marry you?”

  Emily sighed. “He thinks he is. But I know he’ll resent this child. And he’ll grow to hate me. I don’t think I could bear that, Mary. I can’t do to him what my mother did to Timothy Ambrose. What if he was once like John—a nice man who wanted to do right by my mother? Maybe he knew about me before they married. What if he loved my mother? Thought it didn’t matter that she was pregnant with another man’s child?” She used her skirt to wipe the tears from her face. “I’d die before I saw that happen to John. Or my child.”

  Mary sighed. Then again. The breeze ruffled her short curls. “I’m not sure what to say, Emily.” She looked her in the eyes. “Except John is a good man. He’d never hate you or the child. It’s not in him.”

  “I wish I could believe that, Mary. But from my experience, I can’t. Who’s to say what it is that makes a man angry? And bitterness and resentment turn to hate sooner or later.”

  They sat in silence. The crunch of footsteps made them both glance over their shoulders. John stood there, hands hanging at his side, his eyes shadowed. “Mind if I talk to Emily alone?” he asked.

  Mary jumped to her feet and, with a reassuring smile, she left. Emily turned back to stare at the water. She felt John move behind her, then take up the spot Mary had vacated. He, too, put his arms around his drawn-up knees.

  “I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

  Emily bit her trembling lip. “For what? That I’m with child? Or that you asked me to marry you?” She hurried on before he could answer. She didn’t think she could bear to hear him take back all the wonderful things he’d said. “Don’t worry, I’ve already released you.” She couldn’t help the hurt and bitterness that edged her voice.

  He reached over and gently turned her to face him. “I don’t regret asking you to marry me. I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

  “But the baby changes everything. It’s proof that I’m a fallen woman. That I made love with a savage.”

  John’s eyes flashed. “I’ve never held your past against you. You did what you had to do to survive. Maybe you weren’t forced, but you were living a life where t
he rules were different. I don’t blame you for that, or view your actions as sinful. You were in love, and the child you carry was conceived in love.”

  “But—”

  His fingers cut off her protest. “Listen. My offer to marry you stands.” He paused as he gathered his thoughts. “You’re right. I’m not sure what to think of the babe, but not for the reasons you fear. I’m sure I could accept your child as mine and give him or her the same love I’d give a child of my own flesh and blood.”

  His thumb lifted to wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. “I’d never blame an innocent babe for something it had no control over. Nor apparently is there any threat of the father coming to claim a child I’d grow to love or the woman I love more than life itself—I do admit that relieves me. And while, if I’m honest, there is a part of me that is disappointed that this child isn’t mine, that doesn’t mean I will love it less.”

  He looked down, taking both her hands in his. “Part of my hesitation came from the fear of how you’d react. Will you always doubt me? Hold to your past so tightly that you smother our future? That’s what I’m afraid of, Emily. I can’t live with such fear and doubt. I wouldn’t survive seeing our love turn bad.”

  Emily tried to stop the flow of her tears. How she loved this man, and her heart was breaking. “The answer is simple. We can’t marry.” No matter that she knew she did right—the words hurt.

  “No. We must marry. We’ll give the child a name so that he or she doesn’t live with the stigma of being a bastard. You don’t want that, do you? Then, whether we hold each other to our marriage is something that can be decided later. Once the babe is born, we can decide what will be best for all of us.” John gave her a small smile. “How about it?”

  Emily wanted to marry him. Wanted his name. Wanted him and all he was for her child’s father. But… “I’m so afraid of losing your friendship, John. This will change everything.” She let him pull her into his arms. His chin rested on top of her head.