The next time she had seem him was Sunday morning at church. He had come in around ten minutes late, which turned several heads. She stole a glance at him from her seat in the fourth pew, and he flashed a grin at her. His hair was slicked back with water, and his blue eyes twinkled with laughter. Faith looked down at her gloved hands so no one would see her own wide grin, which she was having trouble suppressing. She looked sideways at Miriam and saw the tic that hit the comer of her mouth when she was annoyed.
“Please, God,” Faith began to pray, and then realized she didn’t have any idea what she was praying for. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and decided to try concentrating on the sermon.
I wonder why he is here, she thought as the minister droned on. Surely he’s not here to see me. The idea made her cheeks burn, and she decided the tip of her shoe needed instant perusal. After a moment she raised her head and quickly glanced over her shoulder. The grin flashed again, and beside her the corner of Miriam’s mouth twitched angrily. Faith crossed her arms and grabbed her elbows. She felt as if something in her was going to overflow, and it took every bit of her willpower to sit calmly listening to the minister while her insides were turning cartwheels.
Finally, after an eternity, the sermon was over, the last hymn sung and the congregation was making its way towards the door. Faith caught the back of a copper-colored head above the mass filing down the aisle. Ian stopped to shake the minister’s hand and pushed his hair back before putting on his hat. The hair had flashed with gold when the autumn sun hit it, and Faith felt as if the same sun had gone behind a cloud when Ian’s head disappeared from view. She looked at the ponderous backside of Mrs. Johnson, who was blocking her way. Behind her, Miriam and her father were engaged in conversation with the Masons. Mrs. Johnson turned to say something to her husband, and Faith took advantage of the small opening and squeezed through. She managed to miss the minister by timing her exit with the introduction of Mary Higgins’s new fiancé and was out the door. She flew down the steps and skidded to a halt in the road, looking left and right to see where he had gone. Her ears caught a hint of a whistle, and she bounded across to where the carriages were waiting. He was there, standing by the chestnut, the reins in his hand. She stopped suddenly, her skirts billowing out at her sudden halt.
“I went to the wrong church,” he said.
“What?” she asked, suddenly embarrassed by her pursuit of him.
“I was late because I figured you for a Presbyterian.” He motioned to the left, where up the road the Presbyterians were still inside worshiping. “When you didn’t show up, I thought I’d try here.”
“No, we’re Methodists to the bone.”
“And what do Methodists to the bone do after they’re done worshiping?” he asked, his blue eyes suddenly intense.
“Some of us have been known to take a book and quilt down by the river so as not to disturb older folks’ Sunday afternoon nap,” she said. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile and her dimples flashed.
“Sounds like a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Perhaps I should try it.”
“There’s a lovely place off the river trail near a grove of hemlocks.”
He effortlessly swung up in the saddle. The grin flashed, and he tilted his hat. “It doesn’t sound hard to find.”
An hour later Faith flew out the back of her house with her mother’s quilt and a book of poetry under her arm. She had made an appearance at dinner, but her father and Miriam were so distracted that they hardly knew she was there. They actually seemed relieved when she asked to be excused and said she wanted to get out and enjoy the day before winter set in. They had their heads together in the drawing room when she came flying down the stairs, and Miriam didn’t even frown at her for rushing about. As soon as she got behind the barn, she broke into a run. She came upon the Ohio a few minutes later and turned north. Some ten minutes later she reached a bend to the left where a grove of hemlocks grew on the bank.
He was there, sitting on the bank. Apparently, he had eaten his dinner there, for the remains were lying beside him. The chestnut was browsing among the trees, the reins dangling from the bridle. Ian stood up when she came into the clearing and dusted his hands down the sides of his pants. Faith walked up to him and tilted her head up. She hadn’t realized how tall he was. He reached out for the quilt and spread it on the bank, kicking the remains of his meal out of the way as he did so. When the quilt was spread to his satisfaction, he held out his hand to her and with a courtly bow indicated that she should sit. Faith giggled and daintily stepped on the quilt. As she settled down, her skirts and petticoats billowed out around her. Ian came down beside her with her hand still gripped in his. Her skin glowed like a pearl against the bronze color of his, and she marveled at how fragile her hand looked in his big one. He could crush it if he wanted to. A million thoughts raced through her mind. He could murder her and dump her in the river and no one would know it, but here she sat on the banks of the Ohio with a complete stranger who had the gentlest hands, the bluest eyes and the cockiest grin she had ever seen.
They spent the afternoon talking about everything. They shared stories about their lives, shared the grief of losing parents, and talked about their dreams. Ian wanted to go west and breed horses on his own land. He lived as cheaply as he could, over his employer’s stable, so he could save enough money to buy a stud. He had his eye on one now, a four-year-old he had raised from birth. Faith marveled at his outlook on life. His conversation was witty, and she found herself laughing time and time again. Occasionally she caught him gazing at her with a serious look in those deep blue eyes, and she felt absolutely helpless. The afternoon flew by, and as the sun dipped behind the trees across the river a chill entered the air. Ian pulled Faith to her feet and wrapped the quilt around her shoulders.
“I don’t suppose your father would let a stable hand call on you?” he asked, the hair falling into his eyes again.
Faith tentatively reached her hand up to smooth the silky locks back. “No, I don’t think he would approve.” She cast her eyes to the ground. Ian put a long bronzed finger under her chin and lifted her face up to his.
“Then I guess we just won’t tell him about it.” He flashed his grin, and Faith answered with one of her own. “Should I see you home?”
Faith had a mental image of her father’s face if she showed up with Ian. “No, I’ll be fine.”
He adjusted the quilt around her again and stood with his hands on her arms. He lowered his head towards hers, and Faith felt the hair come down on his forehead when his lips touched hers. She tilted her head back to give him better access to her mouth, and he pulled her into his arms. Her own arms went around his neck, and her fingers made their way into the close-cropped hair at the back of his head. One of his hands came up behind her head, and she marveled again at the gentleness of his touch. He took his mouth from hers and drew in a ragged breath. Their foreheads touched, and Faith realized she was breathing in the very essence of him.
“You’d best be off,” he said after a moment. She nodded, afraid to speak, and turned to step away. Instead of making a graceful exit, she tripped over the ends of the quilt and fell to her hands and knees. Ian instantly dropped beside her. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern all over his face. Faith started to giggle and looked up at him in wonder. He joined her laughter as he pulled her to her feet. “What’s so funny?” he asked when she covered her mouth with her hand to halt the tide that was overflowing from within.
“I’ll tell you later,” she managed to get out and started down the trail. She gathered the quilt around her and broke into a run. When she finally reached the safety of her room, she jumped on her bed and kicked off her shoes. She stretched her legs out in front of her and wiggled her stocking-covered toes. “Oh, Momma, my toes curled!” She laughed and fell back on the bed.
A breeze had gently come down from the north and its soft caress cooled Faith’s body. She relaxed into slumber, the weeks she had spent
with Ian passing as seconds in her dream. After that first Sunday afternoon, she had spent time feverishly praying for beautiful weather. God had answered each week, and after Sunday dinner she had sped down the trail behind the barn to meet him. Ian had faithfully attended church each week and waited across the road after service for her to make her appearance at the door. While her father was shaking the minister’s hand. Faith was watching for the tip of Ian’s hat that said he would be there waiting for her. He had taken to riding the chestnut closer to her house each week, until he was soon waiting under the maples right behind the barn. One time he had brought the bay mare with him, and they had spent the cool, crisp fall day exploring the hills that rolled down to the river.
Faith’s life became a cycle. She was with Ian or waiting to be with Ian. There was nothing else. The time she was spending outdoors had brought a golden hue to her porcelain skin, and her sky-blue eyes sparkled with a life they had never shown before. She felt as if a piece of her had been missing and Ian had miraculously put it in place. She had a glow about her now, one that was hard to ignore, and she noticed Miriam studying her when she thought she wasn’t looking.
The time they spent together was precious, and they talked about everything. Ian had a way of bringing humor into every conversation, and Faith soon found that she had her own sharp wit. When she voiced her observations, Ian would flash his grin and wink, as if they shared a deep secret. The best part about being with Ian, however, was his kisses. They left her breathless and excited, and wanting so much more. She knew Ian felt the same way because each week he had a harder time pulling away. The last beautiful fall day they shared was especially difficult. They were in the grove of hemlocks again, on the quilt, when he pulled her to him. The touch of his lips to hers was intoxicating as always, but this time she felt an urgency in him. He pulled her down beside him, so that she was on her back looking up at him when he pulled away.
“God, Faith, do you know what you do to me?” he asked, his voice husky with emotion.
“Probably the same thing you do to me,” she whispered, losing herself in his gaze. He placed his hands on either side of her heart-shaped face and looked into her eyes.
“I love you, Faith. Since the first time I saw you, I loved you.” She looked up at him and saw everything that was Ian reflected in his deep blue eyes. She knew he was good and she knew there would never be another for her as long as she lived. Her mother’s words came back to her. When you find the man you love, don’t ever let him go.
“I love you too.” Her hand caressed his cheek, and he lowered his face to hers, their lips barely touching, their eyes open, searching the depths of each other. His hands on her head became possessive, and he suddenly bore down on her lips, asking her to respond in kind. She opened her mouth to receive his kiss, and Faith felt as if her very soul was being drained out by the play of his tongue on hers. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, her fingers wove through his hair, and she felt herself suffocating. He dragged his lips away and began to kiss her neck. Faith tilted her head back and gasped for air. Her head was spinning, and she felt as if she was being sucked down into a whirlpool. His hand caressed her arm and moved around to take possession of her breast. It surged up to meet his touch, the heart beneath it pounding frantically.
Suddenly he was gone. In the seconds it took for Faith to get her raging body under control, she realized that he had removed himself from her. He was sitting on the edge of the blanket with his back to her, running his hands through his hair. She rose to her knees and tentatively touched his shoulder. A shudder ran through him at her touch, and she dropped her hand. She gathered her skirt around her and sat beside him, facing him. His face was flushed, and he turned away to look up the river.
“Would you come away with me then?” he finally asked, when the color in his face had returned to its normal bronze hue.
“To Richmond?” she asked, her face curious as to what he had in mind.
“Aye, to Richmond, to live over a stable, with a trainer of horses as your husband.”
“Husband?” she asked, a smile turning up the comers of her mouth.
He gave her an exasperated look. “Yes, husband. I mean to be your husband, if you’ll have me, and I mean to do better for you than what I can offer now.”
“I think what you’re offering now sounds just fine,” she said with a laugh.
“Are you having fun with me?” he asked, his exasperation turning to annoyance.
“Yes, I am, and I’d like to have fun with you for the rest of my life, if that was indeed a proposal of marriage. Was it?”
He looked down at her. Her face was positively merry, her smile wide, her eyes tilted up at the comers with happiness.
“It will be,” he said. He became very serious. “Faith, I mean to make you my wife, but it will have to wait until I can make us a home. Can you wait?” His eyes were desperate as they searched hers. She reached up and smoothed his hair back.
“Ian, all I want is to be with you. I can wait. I don’t want to, but I will.” He took his hand in hers and raised it to his lips. Their eyes met and made promises to each other. He pulled her up from the quilt and gathered it around her.
“Off you go,” he said and kissed the end of her nose. He turned her in the direction of her house and swatted her backside. “Try not to trip.”
She turned back around and stuck her tongue out at him.
“I’m going to think things through, and we’ll talk next Sunday,” he said as he gracefully swung up on the chestnut and turned around to give her a salute. “See you in church.” And then he was off.
Faith watched him disappear through the trees and turned towards home. The wind had picked up—it was now the middle of November—and she realized that they had probably exhausted their supply of beautiful Sundays. Winter was sure to come, and then what would they do? Ian would think of something, she was sure.
The next Sunday it rained. Faith stood with Miriam in the portico of the church waiting for her father to bring the carriage around. Ian rode by on the chestnut, his brown suit covered with a dark rain slicker. The brim of his hat barely tilted as he rode past, and Faith’s mind whirled with confusion. “He sure is dedicated for someone who’s not from these parts,” Miriam mused as she watched his progress up the rutted road.
“Who?” Faith asked, although she knew the answer. Miriam indicated the darkly garbed figure that was melting into the sheets of rain.
“The Masons’ new trainer, or should I say trainer on loan? They speak very highly of his ability,” Miriam said with the authority of one who had knowledge of every happening in town.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Faith answered and anxiously looked for their carriage in the procession that was lined up in front of the church. When Faith turned back, she caught Miriam staring at her. Faith instantly wondered if all her secrets were showing on her face. Miriam did not look pleased, and the corner of her mouth gave way to the tic. She would have to be more careful now, now that there was so much at stake. There was no doubt in her mind that her father would never approve of Ian. She knew the only way they could ever be together was if she ran away with him. But there had to be a place to run to, and she had to trust Ian to take care of that. He had said he would have some answers for her today. She knew he would find a way for them to be together.
Once again the family’s Sunday dinner was a stilted affair. Faith shoved her food around on her plate and complained that the rain had made her sleepy. Miriam frowned at her when she excused herself and fled up the stairs. She shivered as she entered her room and realized that her window had been left open. She rubbed her arms to erase the chill and crossed over to lower the sash. The rain had blown in and left a wet patch on the floor, wetness that led to the dressing screen placed in the comer. She cautiously approached the screen and peered around the side. Ian was standing there, dripping wet, his shirt unbuttoned, drying his face and hair with a towel she had left there earlier that day. He brough
t the towel down the front of his chest and flashed his grin at her. He tossed the towel over the screen and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when they finally came up for air.
“I didn’t think you should be prancing out for a bit of poetry on such a rainy day, so I came up with an alternative.”
“How did you know which was my room?” she asked incredulously.
“I’ve known since that first Sunday,” he replied. “I’ve come by every night to bid you sweet dreams.”
Faith looked up into his deep blue eyes with wonder. She knew in that moment that she didn’t care where they went; she would follow him into hell, as long as they could be together.
“Let me tell you what I’ve decided.” He led her over to the bed and they sat down together on the side. “Any chance we’ll be disturbed?”
“No, the door’s locked. I always lock it when I’m in here, and it used to be my habit to spend Sunday afternoons in my room.”
Ian leaned back against the pillows and pulled Faith up against him. She waited patiently for him to speak, content to have her cheek against the bare skin of his broad chest, listening to his heart beat within. She wrapped her arm around his waist, and he squeezed her closer. She was quite sure there was no better place on earth to be at that moment.
“There are two possibilities before us,” he began. “The first involves me getting you with child as soon as possible and making the deed right as soon as it becomes known.”
A smile split Faith’s face at that delicious thought. “I don’t think you would survive the telling,” she replied, poking a slim finger into his bronzed chest to drive the point home.
“Me either,” he agreed, rubbing his hand over the injured area. “The second involves going to my employer for help. I know he thinks highly of me and would lend me a small amount for us to find a place of our own. I have some money saved, but I will need to buy stock so we can support ourselves. Without an income, we would be sorely pressed in a short time. The only problem with this plan is that we will have to wait until my job here is done. I cannot tell the man I have failed him and then ask for a loan the same day.”
Chase the Wind Page 2
