Patricia Potter

by Rainbow

  They landed in Chatham, Canada, five days later. It had not been a pleasant voyage. A storm overtook them and the waters were rough. Meredith promptly got sick and stayed that way. Her intention to talk to Quinn, to convince him they should be together always, was impossible to carry out. It was all she could do to stand, much less convince a bear to raid a honeypot. She stayed in her cabin, reluctant to allow even Lissa inside. The giant paddlewheelers of the Mississippi had not prepared her for the storm-swept Great Lake.

  She was still weak and miserable when they arrived in Canada, only to be met by a resplendently dressed member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. She saw Quinn stiffen at the sight of the uniform, an attitude that didn’t change even as the man welcomed them pleasantly. She knew this would not be a good time to talk to him. But she had decided in the past days that she would not go back to Mississippi. If she had to follow him like an unwanted stray dog, she would do so.

  Chatham was a small town, largely populated by escaped slaves, many of whom had become farmers and business owners. The five fugitives took rooms at a boardinghouse.

  Daphne and Cam wasted no time in finding a minister. They were referred to a small Methodist church and a Reverend Fargate, who greeted them joyfully, especially when he discovered that Lissa wished to teach.

  “The need is very great,” he said warmly, his bright blue eyes seemingly unable to move away from Lissa. When he finally forced his attention elsewhere, Meredith noted that Lissa’s eyes had widened with interest of her own.

  Reverend Fargate was a fine-looking man with curly brown hair and one of the kindest faces Meredith had ever seen. She would be leaving Lissa, she knew instinctively, in very good hands.

  She tried not to listen to the rest of the conversation as Cam and Daphne approached the subject of marriage. It hurt too much.

  Cam had his arm around Daphne. “Can you marry us? Soon?”

  The minister’s eyes warmed even more. “That,” he said, “is my favorite duty. When would you like the ceremony to take place?”

  Cam would have preferred that very moment, but he thought of Daphne and her travel-worn dress. “Tomorrow,” he said. “Today I have to buy my bride a dress.”

  Reverend Fargate looked at Meredith and Quinn, watching as they avoided each other’s eyes. Yet their faces told him a great deal. “You will be their witnesses?”

  Quinn nodded slowly.

  “Two o’clock tomorrow, then,” the reverend said, his face turning back to Lissa. “You will come too?” There was a hopeful note in his voice, and she nodded shyly.

  Meredith was filled with joy for Cam and Daphne, yet it was mixed with the old loneliness and uncertainty. She would be leaving Lissa.

  And Quinn? She often caught his eyes upon her, but they were usually guarded and moved rapidly away when he caught her gaze on him. Tonight, drat it. Tonight she would go to his room.

  In the meantime, she helped Daphne choose a dress for her wedding, and she and Lissa helped with the alterations. It was a lovely dress of beige silk, and Daphne looked beautiful in it. Daphne had protested at the cost, but Meredith had brought money with her, and she quickly swept aside the protests.

  They ate dinner together. Quinn and Cam talked about the journey west, discussing various routes. They could travel overland, but it would be an extremely difficult journey, with Indian troubles along the way. They finally decided, instead, to travel by boat to Rochester, New York, then overland to Boston where they could catch a ship to California. Quinn felt that they would be safe in New York and Massachusetts since their pursuers believed them to be in Canada.

  After dinner he held out a hand to Meredith. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  It had been misting much of the day, but now the sun emerged long enough to paint the western sky a fiery red. Meredith moved close to Quinn and felt his body tremble as they touched. “I’m going with you,” she announced.

  “It will be hard. And dangerous.”

  “I’m used to hard. And dangerous.”

  He was silent a moment. “I don’t want you to be.”

  “What about exciting, and adventurous and—”

  “Deadly.”

  “Not with you. I have never felt so safe as I do with you.”

  He was silent. Since they had escaped from the Carroll brothers, he had felt a curious sense of freedom. And elation, particularly when he had learned of Oberlin’s role in their escape. He was not alone. They were not alone.

  For the first time in years, he felt released from the scourge he had so thoroughly believed he brought to others. But the trip through Canada and New York would be perilous. Did he have the right to endanger her again?

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He could no longer hold back his need, or his yearning. His arms went around her, and his lips hungrily sought hers. He felt a tornado of raw urgency rip through him. Caution met want and was tossed aside as easily as a leaf caught in a wind current. Their lips met in frantic wanting that had been building over the last uncertain, tormenting weeks.

  Finally, he pulled away slightly, his eyes adoring her. “I love you,” he said hoarsely, the words torn from his throat, unable to remain unsaid in his heart.

  Their legs moved then. In concert and without conscious thought. They went inside and propelled their bodies past the still-sitting trio of friends in the dining room. They went up the steps to Quinn’s room and through the door.

  Neither knew who closed the door, or how they reached the bed. They only knew that they were, at last, together again.

  Meredith woke slowly, lazily, until she realized something was wrong. The space beside her was empty, and she was filled with sudden panic.

  Last night had been the most wonderful in her life. They had made love furiously, then tenderly as each tried to give the other ultimate pleasure and put aside the past. But they had spoken no more of the trip west, and now Meredith recalled he had never actually agreed to take her. What if he had gone on alone?

  Meredith dressed quickly and ran down the steps of the boardinghouse. She threw open the front door, her eyes searching frantically, relaxing only when she saw him standing on a small hill nearby. He was looking away from her, toward the east where the sun was showering soft gold and rose colors in gentle layers across the horizon. She watched him, taking pleasure in his figure, in the familiar hard lean body now dressed in buckskins. His black hair ruffled in the breeze, and his stance was both watchful and…expectant, as if he were waiting for something, or someone.

  He turned slightly, and she saw his profile and the beginning of a smile. Her eyes turned to where he was looking, and quivers of excitement, of profound wonderment, ran through her. A rainbow arced in the sky, one end reaching down to touch the path leading west.

  Meredith walked over to him and put her hand in his, feeling his fingers tighten around her own.

  “The rainbow of promise,” she whispered.

  He looked down at her, his blue eyes free as she had never seen them before, and they spoke of their own promise.

  “‘Anguish and grief,’” he softly recited the words of Frederick Douglass, “‘like darkness and rain, can be described, but joy and gladness, like the rainbow of promise, defy alike the pen and pencil….’”

  He put his arms around her waist, and pulled her tightly against him. They both gazed ahead, the world, framed by their rainbow, now a gift before them, a gift to be lived and treasured.

  Meredith felt his lips against her hair, soft and loving and needing. “Would you marry me today?” he said. “With Cam and Daphne?”

  “Yes, oh yes,” she answered softly as she turned and looked up at clear blue eyes, unshuttered and open.

  He smiled, and his eyes finally joined his mouth in an expression of quiet elation. And she knew that Quinn, at last, was ready for his own joy and gladness.

  Epilogue

  BRETT DEVEREUX leaned forward in his seat as Elias Sprague was ushered in. He didn’t observe the for
malities.

  “He’s safe?”

  “Both he and Cam, although Cam was wounded. Apparently he’s well now.”

  “And Quinn?”

  “From all reports, safely on his way to California. With his wife.” There was a small beatific smile on Elias’s face.

  Brett stood suddenly, his chair swinging from the violence of his movement. “Wife? What wife?”

  Elias savored his next words. He was enjoying this, although he knew it was neither kindly nor godly to tease. “A painter named M. Sabre.”

  Confusion crossed Brett’s face, and his hand moved toward the two paintings on his desk. The canvasses, along with a letter, had been delivered by Jamison, the pilot and now owner of the Lucky Lady weeks earlier, just after all hell had broken loose.

  The paintings, one of a rainbow over the Mississippi, and the other of workers in a cotton field, were magnificent. The note had asked Brett to look after the paintings temporarily, that they would be sent for once Quinn had settled somewhere. Brett had studied them for a long time, wondering when his brother had started collecting art, and admiring their strength, color, and detail. He had kept them on his desk and looked at them frequently.

  “How? Where?” The surprise in Brett’s voice was evident.

  Elias smiled. “The painter has been a very effective agent with the Railroad. You might know her by the name of Meredith Seaton.”

  Brett sat down slowly. Very slowly. He looked at Elias accusingly. “You knew?”

  “She was one of our agents. Thee had no reason to know.”

  Brett leaned back and chuckled. The joke this time was on him. He had known about Quinn, had, in fact, been responsible for his being contacted initially about being a part of the Railroad. The idea had struck him after Quinn had bought Cam, and Brett noticed changes in his brother. The Underground Railroad, he had surmised privately, was what Quinn needed to give purpose to his life, to focus that rage that was so near the surface. He had never told Quinn of his own involvement, which, in fact, was small enough and usually involved only monetary contributions. Brett had felt Quinn needed to do this on his own, that he had needed to cure himself.

  But Meredith? Plain, fussy, greedy Meredith?

  Brett looked down at the paintings again and mentally compared them to the paintings she had given him.

  What else had the prissy Miss Meredith hidden?

  Knowing his brother, it was a great deal.

  His grin spread, and he started laughing and laughing. Until tears ran down his face.