After the Storm

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Admiring the lightning bug Megan had captured, she looked up when Samuel said, “Brendan, go and get the book on the table in the parlor.”

  “A lesson now?” he asked, obviously disgusted at the very thought.

  “I thought you might want to read to your sisters again tonight.” He smiled. “Do you think you can read all of the next chapter to them?”

  His eyes glistened with pride. “Yes, sir! I can read all of that and more.”

  “One chapter will be enough. It’s late.”

  Cailin smiled as each of her children hugged her and gave her sticky kisses. She watched while they did the same to Samuel. Anyone witnessing this scene would think they were a family, no different from any other. That thought was surprisingly pleasing. She was captivated anew by the idea of staying on this farm where her children were happy … and where Samuel was.

  Calling after the children to leave their dirty dishes on the kitchen table, Cailin stood. She set her dish on the seat of the chair and went to the railing to look out into the night. In the few weeks since she had stumbled up the road, this place had seeped into her heart. It resembled Ireland so slightly; only the scents from the fields brought back memories of her life there. Still, this farm at the end of the dirt road had become a place she would always hold dear. It would be a sweet memory … if she left.

  Where had that thought come from? It should have been when she left, not if. Yet, as she gazed out into the night, she knew she had already begun questioning whether she wanted to return to Ireland. Here her children could go to school. Here they could grow up to be whatever they wanted to be. Here was where Samuel lived.

  “You’re wearing that pensive expression again,” Samuel said, coming to stand beside her as if she had spoken his name aloud. He leaned his arm against the post holding up the roof. “I hope your thoughts are happy ones.”

  “Do you know how lucky you are to have found this place?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you find it?”

  He laughed. “I looked on a map and saw the name of the village and decided this was where I wanted to live.”

  “Haven?” She looked up at his face, which was shadowed by a day’s growth of whiskers. “Why were you seeking a haven, Samuel?”

  “Aren’t we all searching for one?” He ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “A place where we can set aside our troubles and revel in happiness.”

  “Have you found it?”

  “I thought I had.”

  “Until I bumbled into your life.”

  He laughed again. “Not you. Thanington.”

  Leaning against the rail, she asked, “What offer did he make to you and the library committee?”

  “Money. Lots of it.”

  “With what conditions?”

  “I should have guessed you’d be much more clear-thinking than Reverend Faulkner and Alice, who were so thrilled with the obvious solution that they wanted to accept it last night. I talked them into asking for a week to consider Thanington’s offer.” He rested a hand next to hers on the railing as he asked, “Why is it you’re suspicious of his generosity?”

  “In Ireland, the English aren’t our favorite people, especially one who has anointed himself with a title he doesn’t have the right to claim.” Putting her hand over his, she asked, “What does he want?”

  “He hasn’t said, because I brought the discussion to a quick end. I figure he wants at least his name over the door.”

  She rested her head against his arm. “That isn’t too much of a price to pay to get the library you want Haven to have.”

  “If that was all he wanted, I’d agree wholeheartedly. That much money must be aimed at getting him more.”

  “You’re a suspicious man, Samuel Jennings. Always looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

  He drew her to her feet. “It comes from my years of reading the law, I’m afraid. I learned the good side of people often is only a way to conceal greedy hearts.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I did. That’s why I came to Haven. To persuade myself there’s a lot of good in a lot of hearts.” He curved his arm around her waist. “And I think I’m getting persuaded until someone like Thanington comes along.”

  “He may be harmless in his delusion of being a fancy lord.”

  When she ran her fingers along his chin, he smiled. Her own smile vanished beneath his lips as he kissed her with a slow, deep yearning. It urged her to succumb to the need to make love with him until their minds fell from the precipice of sense into the sweet madness of passion.

  He drew back, and she moaned a denial. Propping up her face on his thumbs, he said, “You must decide, Cailin, if you’re going to look for good, too, or just see the bad. When you make your decision, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  “Good night.” After a swift brush of his mouth against hers, he picked up the dishes and went into the house.

  She looked back out into the darkness. Lightning flashed, distant and impotent, so unlike the fiery craving within her. Glancing at the door, then down at her tightly clasped hands, she knew she must figure out what she wanted. Samuel Jennings was going to be part of her life for as long as it took her to earn enough money to pay for train tickets to New York, so she must get her life back on track—and headed in the right direction. It would be so much easier if her heart stopped beseeching her to trust Samuel even as her head warned, over and over, what had happened when she last had fallen under a handsome man’s spell.

  Eleven

  Brendan called out, “Samuel, where are you?”

  Looking up from where he had been checking an ear of corn, he waved to the boy. He smiled as Brendan rushed up to him. “You’re just the person I wanted to see. Can you—?”

  “What did you say to my mother?” he asked, his arms clasped over his chest. “She’s looking so sad.”

  “I don’t recall saying much to her other than good morning.” He tossed the ear into the half barrel he was using to collect the corn until his wagon was repaired. “What did she say before she started looking sad?”

  He shrugged.

  “What were you talking about?”

  “Oh …” He gulped. “My Grandpa O’Shea.”

  He ruffled the boy’s hair and said, “I’ll see what I can do to cheer her up.”

  “Samuel, I’m sorry.” Brendan stared down at his bare feet. “I shouldn’t have accused you of upsetting her, but you and she—you, well, you know.”

  “I know.” He pointed to the row of corn, not wanting to discuss the uneven course of every conversation between himself and Cailin. “Start here and see if you can finish the row before lunch.”

  “Mama wants me and the girls—the girls and me—to go into Haven for her.”

  “Do that, and then finish up this row.”

  “Yep.” His grin returned as he raced off, leaving a small dust storm in his wake.

  Samuel wiped his forehead on his shirt before tucking it back into his trousers. If this hot, dry spell had come a month ago, the crops would have been ruined. Harvesting in the heat was no fun, but at least he would have something to feed the cows he had planned to buy this fall.

  As he opened the screen door into the kitchen, which smelled of that morning’s eggs and coffee, he smiled. Cailin was humming the tune he often whistled while he finished a chore. Even in that blasted patched dress, she was beguiling as she swayed to the music. He wondered when the next dance would be at the Grange Hall.

  “Busy?” he asked.

  Cailin halted in mid-note as she looked over her shoulder. She dried off a plate and put it up on the shelf. “I’m done with the dishes. I’m going to do some cleaning. By the time I’m done, the bread will have finished raising, and I’ll bake that. There’s a cake Brendan’s been asking me to make for dessert, so I need to prepare it.”

  He raised his hands and laughed. “I wasn’t accusing you of not having anything to do. I was wondering if you
wanted to take a few minutes and go for a ride.”

  “A ride? Where?”

  “I’ve got to see Wyatt Colton to get the axle for the field wagon. Do you want to ride along?”

  “Is it far?”

  “No, so you’ll be back before Brendan and the girls return from Haven.”

  She nodded. “It shouldn’t take them long to pick up some chocolate and the mail.”

  “And you accused me of spoiling them.”

  “You accused yourself, if you’ll recall. Sending three children into town to pick up some supplies isn’t exactly spoiling them.”

  Holding up a single finger, he said, “One box of chocolate. Three kids. That seems like a couple too many for the job.”

  “All right.” She draped the damp dishrag over the back of the chair. “You’ve discovered the truth. They were anxious to play with Emma’s children, so I figured the errand was a good excuse to let them run off some of their energy on a hot day. Brendan promised he’d be back in time to help you in the cornfields later this afternoon.” Scanning the sky through the door, she asked, “How long does it stay this hot?”

  “The weather should break sometime toward the end of September.”

  Cailin groaned. “That’s weeks away.” She hesitated. “Samuel?” She drew a wrinkled page of newsprint out of her pocket. “I found this in the parlor. I’ll talk to the children, so they don’t make a mess of your newspaper again.”

  He took the crumpled page and tossed it into the air, catching it easily before dropping it back onto the table. She was not fooled by his apparent indifference, because his smile looked forced. When he answered, his voice was strained. “I told them they could have the old newspapers for the rabbit’s hutch. This one is one I’ve already read.” He glanced at her. “You didn’t want to read it, did you?”

  “No!”

  Her fervor was too much, she knew, when he said, “I guess that’s a definite answer.”

  “Let’s go to pick up that axle before it gets much hotter.”

  “An excellent idea.”

  She started for the dining room, but paused when he moved in front of her. His hand settled on the door frame only a finger’s breadth from her. Even though his smile did not change, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

  Just enough so she had to wonder if he still was talking about the axle when he murmured, “I’ll have to come up with a few new ideas, won’t I?”

  She backed away, hitting the kitchen table hard enough to make it rattle. He walked out of the kitchen, whistling the very tune she had been humming before he came in. Astonished, she realized she had heard it first when he whistled it. Samuel Jennings was becoming a part of her life in so many ways.

  Leaning in the doorway, she watched through the window as he strode toward the barn. The confidence in his step was not arrogance, and his smile was sincere. He was unquestionably beguiling, and his kisses burned on her lips for hours after he was no longer holding her. He was everything she had dreamed about when she was a young girl. A man who thought she was beautiful in spite of her freckles and her height. If only she had met him before …

  Cailin shook those silly thoughts from her head. She started to untie her apron, then left it on. The white apron was stained, but it covered many of the patches along the front of her dress. She got her bonnet. By the time she came out into the yard, Samuel had the horse harnessed to the wagon.

  He drove slowly, so the dust raised by the horse was not smothering. Even so, she began to cough as she waved the particles away from her face. When he offered to stop the wagon, she motioned for him to keep on going.

  “You’re a stubborn woman,” he grumbled, but he slapped the reins on the horse as they turned down a road leading toward the river. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.

  Her coughing disappeared as the road became a grassy trail. When they came over a small hill, she saw a cottage. Its whitewash glistened in the sunlight, and she was astonished to see a bright red door set in the center of a porch with a single rocking chair.

  As they stopped, her gaze was pulled toward the river. A steamboat was docked at the small wharf reaching out into the river. On the sidewheel The Ohio Star was painted in bright red paint around a blue star. The sound of a hammer striking metal came from somewhere on an upper deck.

  Samuel helped her down from the wagon and shouted, when the hammering paused for a moment, “Wyatt, are you around?”

  A dark-haired man peered over the railing on the middle deck. “I should have guessed you’d be right on time.” He walked with easy confidence on the deck, which rocked with the river’s current.

  Samuel’s hand on her arm guided Cailin down the hill and onto the wharf. Her first tentative steps told her the boards were not going to crack beneath her.

  As he reached the stairs, the man on the boat called, “Check the boiler now, Horace, and see what pressure you can get.”

  An older man peered out of a door on the bottom deck. “Give me a few more minutes.”

  The dark-haired man crossed the lower deck and jumped across a narrow finger of water to the wharf. As he walked toward them, he pushed back his hair and settled his cap in place.

  He put his fingers to the brim as he looked at her. “Ma’am.”

  “This is Wyatt Colton,” Samuel said. “Wyatt, Cailin Rafferty.”

  “There’s no doubting you’re the mother of the Rafferty kids,” Wyatt said with a deep laugh. “Same red hair. Rachel and Kitty Cat are in Haven. Rachel is helping Anderson with his books.”

  “Books?” Cailin asked. “Is she going to work in the library when it’s built?”

  He wiped his hands on a cloth he pulled out of a pocket. “I should have said Rachel is helping with his financial books. She did all the finances for the River’s Haven Community, and now she’s working for folks around the Haven area. They’re going to be sorry they missed you. Rachel has been wanting to meet you.” He put his foot against the boat’s railing. “We’ve been pretty busy since The Ohio Star tied up here.”

  “Where is it headed?” Cailin asked, fascinated by the ship with its large paddlewheels on either side.

  “Up the river to Cincinnati, so putting in for repairs here was sensible.” He smiled. “Anything you need picked up in Cincinnati, Samuel? The Ohio Star can bring it back on her way down river to Louisville.”

  “Nothing, thanks.” Samuel’s reaction to the word Cincinnati was so restrained, Cailin doubted if Wyatt had even noticed it. She would not have, if she had not seen it before. Samuel had admitted he had come here looking for a haven. From what? Not just from the life he had known as an attorney.

  She silenced her questions as she walked back up the hill with the two men. While Wyatt showed Samuel the repairs he had made, she gazed along the river. Its silvery thread glinted in the sunshine. She saw clouds rising over the horizon to darken it to the west. Maybe the long-awaited storm would come tonight.

  “That’s damn—blasted heavy,” Wyatt said as he closed the back of the wagon. “If you roll it out, I don’t know if it will stay together.”

  “Brendan can help me,” Samuel said. “The boy’s gotten to be a great hand to have at the farm. He’s learning faster than I can teach him.”

  “Right now, Kitty Cat seems to be an expert on looking for trouble.” He laughed. “Something she’s had a lot of experience at.” He tipped his cap again. “Glad to meet you, Cailin.”

  “And you.” She smiled as she let Wyatt give her a hand up onto the seat while Samuel swung up on the other side. “One of these days, I’m sure I’ll meet Rachel and Kitty Cat.”

  “I’m sure you will.” With a grin, he walked back toward the steamboat.

  Samuel steered the wagon onto the road. Waving his handkerchief like a limp fan to keep the dust away, Cailin thought about the ice cream they had enjoyed. Maybe she would take the girls and see if they could find enough berries to make more. Or maybe they could make ice cream with some of the chocolate.
/>
  She sat straighter as the wagon turned into a road that angled back toward the river. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the house.”

  “You’re right.” He rested his elbows on his knees as the horse went along at a pace appropriate for the hot day. “I have one more stop to make.”

  “Where?”

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” he teased.

  “A fine sentiment if my name was Kitty Cat. However, it isn’t.”

  “I know. It’s Cailin O’Shea Rafferty.”

  She regarded him with bafflement. “Why are you babbling?”

  “Brendan came out to the cornfield to let me know you were wearing a sad face. He was upset enough to accuse me of doing something to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t do anything.” She put her hand on his arm. “We were talking of Athair.”

  “So he said, after he calmed down.”

  “My father’s birthday is tomorrow, and I hate not spending it with him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled sadly. “And I’m sorry Brendan accused you of something that wasn’t your fault.”

  He did not reply as he drew the wagon into a small grove of trees. Stopping, he jumped down and came around to her side. He held up his hand.

  It was a summons her heart refused to allow her to ignore. Putting her fingers in his, she turned to step down. He released her hand and grasped her at the waist. Lifting her off the seat, he lowered her slowly until her feet touched the ground. Then he took her hand again and pressed his mouth to her palm.

  She whispered, “I don’t like being irritated with you.”

  “And you make it blasted difficult to be angry with you when you look at me with those brown puppy-dog eyes. I guess I’m just going to have to accept that you don’t trust me.”

  “How can I trust you when you’ve made no secret of the fact that you want my children?”

  Running his finger along her sleeve, he whispered, “The one I want now is you.”

  “You’re making this even more awkward.” She walked along the wagon to put some space between them but did not step out into the punishing sunshine. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”