After the Storm

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Do you want me to lie to you, Cailin?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  She faced him, not surprised that he was less than an arm’s length away. “You’d like me to say you, wouldn’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a bit.” His finger slipped across her shoulder to wrap itself in a loose strand of her hair. “But it was an honest question.”

  “I’ll give you an honest answer. I want to go home and pretend I never came to America.”

  He laughed coolly. “I should have known better than to ask you for the truth if I didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Samuel, I’m glad we’ve had a chance to meet. That’s honest. But your life is here, and mine is in Ireland.”

  “Where your kids never had a chance to go to school and you lived in a house with a dirt floor?”

  She wrung her hands in her apron until she heard the thin fabric rip. “I want my children to go to school. With learning, they can be whatever they wish to be, but my father is back there all alone. We should be with him.”

  Taking her hands in his, he did not move closer. “There’s no sense in letting this gnaw at you when you’re a long way from having the money to go back.”

  “If I asked you—”

  “I thought you didn’t want anything from me.”

  “It would be a loan.”

  He shook his head. “You know I won’t agree to anything that takes the children away from Haven a minute sooner than necessary.”

  “I know.”

  “So we’re at the same stalemate we’ve been from the beginning. Shall we call a truce, Cailin? We’ll both stop trying to distrust the other. That would be a good start.”

  “I will try.”

  “And so will I.” He released one of her hands but held on to the other as he led her through the trees.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as she let the cool shadows wash away the day’s heat. A faint breeze rattled the leaves against each other, and the grass was soft and green beneath her feet, not brown like the stalks drying in the sunlight.

  “Just for a walk.”

  “We both have chores to do.”

  “And the hardest one is trusting each other, isn’t it?”

  She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about that again.”

  “Then shall we talk about the heat?”

  “Not when it’s so pleasant here beneath the trees. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “How about you? Can we talk about you?” he asked as he swung her hand.

  “I’m a duller subject than the weather.” She smiled.

  He stroked her fingers. “That’s strange, Cailin. I don’t find you the least bit boring. You’re an endless puzzle to me.”

  “Me? A puzzle?’ She laughed. “I’d say it was the other way around.”

  Instead of answering, he continued to lead her through the grove. Dappled shadows darkened his hair and dripped along her gown, hiding the patches. When they emerged from beneath the trees, the pungent smell of ripe fields ready to be harvested combined with the aroma of the muddy riverbank. Trees whispered like children laughing together. The sound was diminished by the whine of insects in the bushes.

  She held up her hand to protect her eyes from the sun’s reflection on the pond in front of them. It was big enough so the house and barn could have been placed in the middle. Looking along the river, she saw the familiar barn not far away. She had not guessed they were so close to it.

  “What a pretty spot!” She turned slowly. “I’m surprised you have a pond when your farm is near the river.”

  “The river looks closer than it is. A bluff drops down to the riverbank. The pumper from Haven, even if it could get here in time to fight a fire, wouldn’t be able to get water from the river to the barn or house. From here, there’s a chance.” He laughed. “Assuming the fire burns very slowly.”

  “Very, very slowly.” Squatting down, she put her fingers in the water. “It’s cold!”

  “There’s a spring in the bottom so the water stays cold all year round. I widened the bowl it was sitting in to make this pond.” He kneaded his shoulder. “That job almost persuaded me I didn’t want to be a farmer. I never wanted to see a spade again.”

  “This must be what Lottie was talking about when she asked me if a water spirit lived nearby.” She stood. “I’ve told them stories about spirits who live in springs in Ireland.”

  “Do you think that’s her friend Dahi?”

  “Who knows? She apparently inherited her grandfather’s gift for storytelling.”

  Again he took her hand. As they walked through the tall grass that reached almost to her knees, he said, “I’ve been thinking that, with the house being so blasted hot, we might have a picnic some evening here by the pond.”

  “A picnic?”

  “Haven’t you ever been on a picnic?”

  “I’ve eaten in the fields when I helped my father on our farm, but never on a whim.”

  He smiled. “We’ll have to do something to rectify that. We’ll bring the children and come here with a basket and a blanket to enjoy a cool meal on a hot night.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” She wiped her forehead. “I hate to complain, but—”

  “It’s hot.” Walking toward the trees that circled the pond on three sides, he laughed. He sat her on a rock and dropped to the ground beside her. “I think I’ll let the sun pass by a little before I fix the wagon.”

  “Look.” Cailin smiled as she stood and walked around the nearly perfect circle of stones at the edge of the wood. “I used to call those fairy circles. There was one not far from our farm. I’d go there hoping to capture a fairy.”

  “Not a leprechaun?”

  “These are fairy circles.” She laughed. “The little people are more likely found along a country lane where they might trick a foolish mortal into giving up his last coin.”

  “You sound as if you believe in such things.”

  “I don’t disbelieve.” She sat on a log just outside the ring of stones. “Who knows what I might have chanced upon?”

  Coming to his feet, he put one foot on the log next to her and rested his arm on his knee. “This is a side of you, Cailin, I haven’t seen before. You’re usually so practical.”

  “In Ireland, it seemed practical to allow for possibilities.”

  “I don’t think it’s so different here. There are always possibilities one needs to consider.”

  “Is that why you’re here in Haven instead of being a lawyer in Cincinnati?”

  “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”

  She nodded. “Is Cincinnati near here?”

  “It’s up the river in the state of Ohio.” Her bafflement must have been obvious because he added, “To the east of here. By a steamboat like The Ohio Star, you could be there in a day or two, depending on its stops.”

  Cailin said nothing. When he sat beside her on the log, she wondered if he was searching for a way to answer her question or a way to circumvent answering it. She chided herself for that thought.

  “My possibility,” he said, “is deciding I’d rather be a farmer.”

  “Were you right?”

  “Yes.”

  She wanted to believe him but saw undeniable regret in his eyes. He was honest about his yearning to move away from the city; she had seen how he liked the harder life on the farm. Something else had persuaded him to leave what must have been a more luxurious life. Only once had she met an attorney. That man had worked for Abban’s mother, and his attempts to intimidate her had been too successful.

  “But you opened those crates, so you must have been reading those thick law books.” She saw color rise up out of his open collar. For so long, she had been anxious to ask this question. Now, when she had the opportunity, she hesitated. Even asking the question might destroy everything between herself and Samuel, but she must know. “Were you looking for a way to keep the children?”

  “It seems you�
��re good at guessing, too.”

  “When it’s easy.” She picked some white blossoms from beside the log. Dropping them onto her skirt, she began to shred the leaves off the stalks.

  “You aren’t curious about what I found?”

  “No.” She continued to pull off the leaves. “I don’t go looking for bad news.”

  “You just let it find you?”

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “It has too often.”

  “Yet you don’t buckle under.”

  “I can’t.” In spite of herself, her voice caught as she said, “Not as long as I have my children. Are you going to continue to look for ways to take my children away from me?”

  He shook his head. “No. I haven’t considered doing that since the night you came into my office with the papers from the Children’s Aid Society. Anyone can see how much Megan needs you.” A sad smile tilted his lips. “Even someone who didn’t want to see it.”

  His hand, as gentle against her chin as it was when he teased Brendan’s hair, kept her from looking away. She was not sure if she could have when she saw the naked pain on his face. Slowly, her fingers glided along his cheek. Words of comfort filled her mind, but this touch—this incredible communication that needed no words—spoke them far better.

  “I know how much they mean to you,” she whispered when he sighed. “I’m sorry this has happened.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” He plucked another flower. “Have you ever viewed these in the moonlight?”

  “Why would anyone do something so ludicrous?” She laughed as he grimaced playfully. “You can’t see colors at night.”

  His arm circled her waist and pulled her closer. “Cailin, you’re wrong. I can see the golden-brown fire in your eyes even in the midst of my dreams. Is there anything else I truly want to see?”

  The genuine longing in his voice warned her of the danger she was courting by remaining here. He lifted her hand away from his cheek. For a moment that could have been a single heartbeat or an eternity, he looked at her over it. He released it and captured her face between his hands. His lips stroked hers.

  She ceded herself to the powerful urgency awakening within her. Not reawakening, but as if for the first time, because the thrill of his kisses reached depths she had never known. His lips trailed along her neck in a scintillating path. Every inch of her ached to be touching him. Her hand under his open collar caressed the firm skin along his shoulders. She should push him away, but she held onto him as waves of tempting heat flowed over her.

  “You feel so sweet against me,” he whispered, so close his lips brushed hers on every word.

  Slowly her eyes opened as he raised his head to smile down at her. She blinked, but her glazed vision refused to focus. Not that it was necessary; her heart knew every line of his face. Her finger quivered as she traced his stern nose and the unyielding heat of his lips. They captured hers again. As his breath burned into her mouth, she heard a strange sound.

  With a laugh, she drew back and patted his stomach. “You sound hungry, Samuel.”

  “Yep.”

  She chuckled again when he used the word Brendan had. “The children are probably back and waiting for their lunch, too.” Standing, she held out her hand to him. “I think we’d better get back to the house.”

  “I think you’re probably right, even though I hate to admit that.” He took her hand as he got up. “After you feed them, how about taking care of the hunger inside me?” He pressed her hand against his stomach. “I don’t mean the hunger here.”

  She could not misunderstand this. He made her long for him as no other man had ever done. She wanted him, but in her heart as well as her arms, and she could not allow that. “I can’t, Samuel. Not now.”

  “I know.” He cupped her chin. “Don’t blame me for trying to persuade you over and over when one of these times you’re going to agree.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

  “A good attorney always knows what the results will be in an open-and-shut case.” He laughed, then said, “I wish I could convince you right now to sample rapture with me.”

  His words sent a swell of desire rushing through her, but when she said nothing, he walked to the front of the wagon. Putting her hand in his, she let him help her up onto the seat. He climbed up after her. He reached for the reins, then, with a moan, pulled her back into his arms. His lips moved across hers, teasing her into forgetting every obligation but the one to the desire growing between them. She must not, but she wondered how much longer she could resist.

  Twelve

  “Are you ready?”

  At the question, Samuel looked up from hooking the horse to the wagon he called a rockaway. Cailin and the children were silhouetted against the sunlight that was becoming less unbearable with the end of the day. As he led the horse and carriage out of the barn, he smiled at Cailin’s astonishment.

  “I thought,” he said, winking at the children, “that as you have everyone Saturday-night clean and pressed, we should go to town in style.”

  “This is yours?” She ran her hand along the black side and touched the tufted dark red cushions on the front seat.

  “I haven’t used use it much since I left Cincinnati, but I figured tonight was a good night to take it out.” He lifted Lottie and Megan onto the back seat. Brendan jumped up to sit next to them. The children giggled when he bowed to Cailin and said, “Ma’am, I’d be right pleased to hand you in.”

  Cailin’s eyes were wide as he assisted her. She raised her fingers to run them through the bright red trim hanging along the edge of the roof.

  “This is as fancy as the tassels and piping I’ve seen on draperies,” she said in awe.

  “And it doesn’t hold up to the rain any better than fancy velvet drapes. That’s why I don’t take this rockaway out when I suspect it may storm.” He sat beside her on the cushioned seat and set the horse along the road. Hearing the children’s excited voices, he said more quietly, “I thought you’d like a treat. You’ve been working hard lately.”

  “As you and Brendan have out in the cornfield.”

  “We all deserve a treat.” Holding the reins with one hand, he slipped his other arm around her waist. She leaned against him, and he wished they had left the children at home.

  The children began singing in the back seat, and he listened as Cailin hummed softly. He wanted to urge her to sing with them, because he suspected her singing voice would be as warm as her speaking one. Instead, he guided the horse and let the song fill the air. More than once, he felt Cailin glance toward him, but he was not ready to tempt ruining this evening. Not yet.

  Lights blossomed from the Grange Hall as they drove into Haven. Wagons of all sorts were parked in a haphazard pattern around the Grange and along the green. The children jumped out almost before the wheels of the carriage stopped and were running across the green to join the other children playing tag.

  Offering his arm to Cailin, he put his hand over hers as he walked with her to the front door. Conversation, mingling and tangled, poured out. The Grange’s windows, which lined both side walls, were thrown open to catch any breeze from the river. Most of the chairs were filled, and people leaned against the walls between the windows. At the front, a platform like the one at the school usually had a podium on it, but tonight the piano had been pushed out into its center. Again, as when they had gone to the meeting at the schoolhouse, curious eyes followed as he and Cailin went to a pair of seats at the far right.

  “Nobody’s going to eat you alive,” Samuel murmured as she seemed to draw in upon herself. “There’s no reason to be shy when Brendan has probably told you tales about half the people here.”

  “Maybe knowing so much is a good reason to be shy.”

  He laughed and watched heads turn toward them again. Taking a book from the stack one of the Grange members was passing out, he offered it to her.

  “It looks as if we’re going to start the evening singing,” he said.

&n
bsp; Cailin opened the book slowly and stared at the page as if she could understand the letters between the musical notes. “I doubt I know any of these songs.”

  “You’ll learn the music pretty quickly, and, as you can see, the words are simple.”

  “Yes.”

  As soon as the pianist began playing, she realized Samuel was correct. The words were simple, and she recognized several songs she had already been taught by the children. Sitting beside him, holding the music book between them, following his lead in singing, she was enveloped in a quiet joy. When Lottie ran in, Cailin set her youngest on her lap and listened to Lottie’s sweet voice. She saw Samuel smile when Lottie added a few of her own unique lyrics.

  Cailin could have let the evening of singing go on forever, even if they had to sing the same songs over and over. She would be able to pretend that nothing was amiss beyond these four walls, and she could ignore the pretty dresses the other women wore. Too soon, the piano was pushed back to one side of the platform. The chairs were folded and put away or arranged in a single row along the walls. Cider was poured, both sweet and hard. Any youngster who got too close to the jugs of hard cider was warned away with smiles and a cup of the sweet cider.

  When Samuel was drawn into a discussion with Noah Sawyer and several men she did not know, Cailin selected a chair along the wall. It gave her a good view of Lottie, who was talking earnestly with a blond gentleman. He patted her on the head before she ran out the door to find the other children.

  Cailin opened the music book and ran her finger down the page. D-a-y. She would ask Brendan to tell her what that combination of letters meant. She looked at another word. A longer one. U-n-i-t-e-d. She shook her head. That one looked too hard. Smiling, she touched the next word. S-t-a-t-e-s. Two of the letters were used twice. That surely would make it easier to learn and remember.

  “Cailin?”

  Her head jerked up, and she shut the book hastily. Seeing shock on the faces of the two women in front of her, she tried to smile.