Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02]

by The Quarryman's Bride

  Gillam laughed. “Nah, you aren’t in the shade. Any foreman worth his salt knows to get out of the sun. That’s how I do it.”

  Tavin laughed, too, and stretched his arms over his head. “Then you’d do well to get back to your shade and leave me be. I have real work to do.”

  “Aye. I can see that well enough. I did come with a purpose, however. Father wants to see you. He said to leave what you’re doing.”

  Tavin relaxed and reached for his shirt. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

  Gillam nodded and disappeared from view. Tavin couldn’t help but wonder what his father wanted from him. It wasn’t like him to take a man from his job in the middle of the day.

  “Maybe he’s reconsidered my promise,” Tavin muttered to himself. “Maybe he’s come to realize how impossible this situation is.”

  Chapter 10

  “As ye know, there’s an outbreak of measles in the area,” Tavin’s father began. “Ye lads took the disease when ye were young.”

  Tavin exchanged a look with his brother, Gillam. “Aye, we did. So what is this about?”

  “Yer mither fears the wee lads have taken the sickness. She’s not quite sure, but her suspicions are usually correct.” Robert MacLachlan dusted off his trousers and picked up a sheaf of papers. “Ne’ertheless, we must see to this granite. Yer mither thinks it might be well if we were to remain here at the quarry in case the doctor puts them in quarantine. I figure to have some cots put up here in the office. We can warm our meals on the stove.”

  “Won’t Mother need some help?” Tavin asked.

  His father shook his head. “She dinnae want to risk exposin’ us in case it turns out to be somethin’ other than measles. We’ll know soon enough. We’re already down a man here at the quarry—Harry Withers. Could be Harry has taken the measles or some other malady. I cannae be sure.”

  “We’ll just have to make do,” Gillam said, shoving back an errant lock of hair. He looked very much like Tavin and their father with his dark hair and green eyes. The worry in his expression matched that of his father’s. “I will stay here. I don’t want to cause danger to Irene or the babe she carries.”

  Father nodded and Tavin did likewise. “I don’t much care where I sleep,” Tavin said with a shrug. “I’ve certainly had worse than this.”

  “There’s somethin’ else. A wee matter of the union officials and their desires to see all of the quarries belongin’ to the Stonecutters.”

  Tavin shrugged. “Is that such a bad idea?”

  “I dinnae ken,” his father replied. “I’ve been on both sides of this, and I cannae say either one has all the answers. The man I bought this place from was of a mind that no man would tell him how to set his prices. The men aren’t used to bein’ a part of the union, but I cannae say they would be against it.”

  “I think it’s something to consider,” Tavin replied. “The unions have helped to get hours regulated and pay increases. Of course, in the past we’ve been on the side of the laborer, and now you’re the owner. I suppose it could make a big difference.”

  “Aye,” his father agreed, giving the papers in his hand a wave. “Of course, there could be trouble. We’ve already had some problems, and there’s no way of knowin’ for sure if the union was to blame or not, but it could be their way of scarin’ us into sayin’ yes.”

  Tavin considered his father’s words a moment, but it was Gillam who spoke up. “I suppose we keep prayin’ about the right way to go, Father. You said yourself that was the best way to gain wisdom.”

  “Aye, that I did.”

  That solution wasn’t one Tavin wanted to dwell on. Since losing Emmalyne Knox, he’d given up on God answering his prayers. He picked up his cap and headed for the door. “You two figure out what’s to be done about the unions. I’m going to get back to work.”

  Tavin opened the door and came face-to-face with Luthias Knox. The older man seemed surprised to find Tavin there and did nothing to hide it.

  “What’re ye doin’ here?” Luthias asked with a scowl.

  Nodding toward the office, Tavin said only one word before pushing past the older man. “Business.”

  Emmalyne tried hard to pique her mother’s interest in basket weaving, but nothing she said seemed to raise her spirits. “There are plenty of lakes around here and fishing is quite popular, Mother. Just think of it. We might even be able to raise enough money for a trip to see Aunt Eileen.” This sparked a hint of interest in her mother’s expression, and while Emmalyne was heartened by her response, she was also fearful she might be encouraging her mother in a direction that would only mean another sorrow and disappointment.

  “It would take a great many baskets to earn enough for such an endeavor.” Mother frowned and shook her head. “Besides, your father would never be lettin’ us go. You heard him—he thinks it a waste of money and time.”

  “But if we raised the funds ourselves, he couldn’t complain about the cost,” Emmalyne countered, hoping it was true.

  “He could and he would. You know how he is.”

  Emmalyne couldn’t deny that. She took a seat at the table opposite her mother and leaned closer. “Why did you ever marry such a man? You have always been a loving and kind soul. It seems strange that you should marry someone so harsh and cold.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d thought them through, and Emmalyne suddenly wished she could take them back.

  Her mother gave a sad smile. “Weren’t always so. Luthias was a good and loving lad in his youth. There wasn’t a man around who could steal my heart away from him.”

  Imagining her father as a loving and kind youth was difficult for Emmalyne. “What happened to make him so heartless, then? I’ve never known a time when he wasn’t this way. It’s only gotten worse as the years go by.”

  “You know that your father blames me for the death of . . . of the girls.” Her mother’s thoughtful expression sobered. She looked Emmalyne in the eye. “He also blamed me for the death of his family. I’m the one who encouraged him to run away and for us to be wed. We were madly in love, and it wasn’t hard to convince him.”

  “Were your parents against the wedding?”

  “Not so much that, but I was just sixteen. They wanted me to wait another year or two, and I was unwilling to hear their arguments.” Mother looked at her hands and the slender gold band she wore. “I loved Luthias with all of my heart, and he loved me. We didn’t wish to wait for any reason.”

  “So you ran away together.” Emmalyne had always known of her parents’ elopement, but her mother had never offered many of the details.

  “We did. Your father came for me just after midnight. I had packed a bag and left it near the privy. When he came, I slipped from bed and snuck out the window, wearing nothing but my nightdress.” She smiled at this memory. “It was quite chilly and damp. The weather almost changed my mind.”

  “But it didn’t,” Emmalyne interjected.

  Her mother looked up. “No. It didn’t. Luthias promised me that his love would warm me and keep me safe. I told him I’d just as soon put on my dress and boots. He laughed at me and collected my bag. We were well away from the house, however, before I stopped to dress.”

  “It sounds as though Father was quite different then.”

  “He was. He was happier. He laughed and enjoyed life.” She paused to gaze out the window. “But then the fire took his family.”

  “Tell me about it, Mother. What happened?”

  “No one could say for certain, but the house caught fire in the night and took the lives of all within. Luthias was devastated at the news. We had just returned to announce our marriage and planned to tell his folks first. We knew they would assume that was what had happened, and they weren’t nearly so against us marryin’ as were my folks. We selfishly thought to have an easier time of it with them and maybe even get their help in explaining the matter to my family.”

  “But they were dead?”

  “Aye. Luthias and I went out to his
family’s farm, where we were met by the neighbors who told us the sad tale. I stayed with them while Luthias rode on to survey the scene for himself. He came back a changed man. He hardly spoke two words to anyone. There was a funeral that week, and we buried his father and mother, two younger sisters, and a brother. He didn’t speak a word during the entire service, and even afterward he remained silent as people paid their respects.”

  “Like he did when we buried Doreen and Lorna,” Emmalyne whispered, remembering her father’s stoic silence.

  Mother fell silent for a moment, and just as Emmalyne thought the story had concluded, she began to speak again. “It wasn’t until nearly two weeks later that he said to me what had happened was my fault. He told me that if I hadn’t convinced him to elope, he would have been with his family and could have gotten them to safety.”

  “But there was no way of knowing that,” Emmalyne protested. “He might have been killed, as well.”

  “I said as much, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead, he left me with my parents and went to deal with his parents’ farm. My mother was beside herself. She feared I might be with child and that Luthias would never return. But I wasn’t expecting, nor would I be for a time. Your father wouldn’t even touch me.”

  Emmalyne could only imagine the heartache of a young woman, deeply in love, who then was rejected for something over which she had no control. Her mother’s pain must have been quite overwhelming.

  “What happened to the farm?” Emmalyne asked.

  “He had to sell it. Your father took a terrible loss on the land, but he used the money to set us up in a little place near a quarry. He used some of the money to buy tools and apprenticed himself to learn the business of quarrying stone. However, once the quarry master learned your father was an educated man, he approached the owner about other possibilities for Luthias. Your father was soon taken from the laborious work and put into the office, where he was taught to keep the books. This was more to his liking. He didn’t have to work with the other men or even see them except on paydays. He preferred it that way, and he seemed to grow even more stern and hard.

  “I finally worked up my nerve to ask about his coldness,” Mother continued. “He told me I was to keep the house and the wash, cook his meals, and tend to his needs . . . but above all, I was to do it in silence. He said he might have made the mistake of being caught in my spell, but he would right the matter in his own way.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

  “By taking away his love?”

  Her mother nodded. “I cannot even tell you what he was thinkin’,” she said, her lips trembling. “I suppose he thought the spirits of his family members might be appeased by his sacrifice of being miserable. All I could do was stand by and watch . . . and . . . endure his anger.”

  “As we’ve all had to do.” Emmalyne reached out to touch her mother’s hand. “I am sorry, Mother. I didn’t ask about this to cause you more pain. I’ve just needed to understand why Father is the way he is. I’ve often seen other fathers show tenderness and affection, and I’ve wondered why I was denied it. I thought I had done something grievous to cause Father to act in such a manner.”

  “Nae, ’twas never you, Emmalyne. Oh, for sure he was disappointed when I gave him a third girl-child, but it wasn’t so much about you as it was my failing. Always it’s been about my failings.” Mother bowed her head. “I oft wish I’d ne’er been born, or that the good Lord would take me now . . . or give me the strength to . . .” She fell silent.

  Emmalyne winced and wondered if her mother was contemplating ending her life.

  “You used to tell me that our being here on earth was proof that our work was not yet done,” Emmalyne said carefully. “That God was still using us to further His will. Obviously He has a plan in all of this for you, or you wouldn’t be here, Mother.”

  She raised her gaze. “Unless this is my hell . . . my punishment.”

  “And is that how God would treat His children . . . His faithful? You have remained true to Him throughout all the agonies and losses. Surely God honors your love and faith, rather than punishes it.”

  “I would like to think so,” Mother replied. “But no one knows the mind of God. We have no right to question why He allows such pain.”

  “Perhaps we have no right,” Emmalyne said, “but surely He is a loving Father and allows for His children to seek answers and wisdom. Would He punish us for our questions? Our doubts? Did not even Jesus allow for doubts when Thomas demanded to touch the wounds in His hands and side? As I see it, Scripture is full of times when people questioned God and asked for understanding. God is a loving Father. You have told me so since I was a little child at your knee. How is it that He is less than so with you, Mother?”

  She saw her mother’s pain-filled expression soften. “Yes, He is a loving Faither. You are right to remind me of it. I suppose the sorrows of life have caused me to doubt that.”

  “Then we must do what we can to put those sorrows in their place,” Emmalyne said, getting to her feet. “I wonder if you might take a walk with me. The doctor said that fresh air and exercise in the sunlight would do you good. I plan to walk to the MacLachlans. I thought by now they would have dropped in to see us, but since they have not, I believe it would be the right thing for us to do.”

  “Oh, I could never walk that distance,” Mother replied. “But you go ahead. I’m just as surprised that Morna hasn’t come to visit, but perhaps she’s been too busy. Surely she still considers us friends.”

  “Of course she does.” Emmalyne moved to the kitchen counter and took up a plate of shortbread. “We can walk slowly, Mother. We can rest along the way if need be.”

  “No, you go ahead. I’m feeling very tired. I think I’ll just rest awhile.” Mother got to her feet and plodded off toward the bedroom. Emmalyne watched until Mother had closed the door behind her. The house suddenly seemed too quiet.

  Emmalyne wondered if remembering the past had caused her mother even further grief. Remorse washed over her. Perhaps I should remain home. Mother might need me.

  She vacillated between visiting and staying home. If she left and something happened to her mother, Emmalyne might never be able to live with the consequences. On the other hand, Dr. Williams had encouraged Emmalyne to allow Mother to do more for herself. But Emmalyne couldn’t help but wonder why Morna and Fenella had not been by to see them. Perhaps seeing her would only be a painful reminder of Tavin.

  “But I might also be able to find out how he’s doing.” She looked at the plate of shortbread.

  Indecision tore at her, and finally Emmalyne decided to just be done with it and go. If she met with a cool reception, she would at least know where she stood. She took a peek at her mother, who seemed to be asleep, whispered a prayer that this was the right choice, and headed down the lane.

  The MacLachlan house and quarry were two and a half miles to the west, according to her father. She surmised she could make the walk in three-quarters of an hour if she put her mind to it. With the decision made, she picked up the plate of shortbread and set out at a brisk pace. She was only about half the distance when a horse and buggy approached from behind. She stepped to the side of the road, then turned to find Dr. Williams driving his horse quite fast. He pulled the animal to a slow walk just a short ways from Emmalyne.

  “Whoa,” he called, pulling back on the reins. He looked down at Emmalyne and smiled. “Good day. I’m glad I caught up with you.”

  “How did you know I’d be here?” she asked.

  “Your mother told me. I arrived just after you left. She must have heard my knock from her bedroom, and she said you were on your way to the MacLachlans’.”

  “That’s right. I wanted to take them some shortbread I made.” She held up the plate.

  “I can take it for you,” he told her, “but I cannot allow you to visit them just yet. They’re in quarantine. I thought your father might have told you.”

  “Quarantine? For what?”

  “Measle
s,” the doctor replied. “There’s been an outbreak in the area. You’d do well to just stay home.”

  “Well, I’ve had the measles myself.” Emmalyne frowned. “Who all is taken with the sickness?”

  “The two young boys and their mother.”

  “Fenella?”

  He nodded. “She was the last to come down with it. They’ve all been quite sick.”

  “And she has two boys?”

  Again he nodded. “Yes. The oldest is four and the youngest is a little over a year. A dangerous age to have the measles.”

  “I’m sure any age would be a risk.” Emmalyne shook her head. “I can’t imagine how awful this must be. Are you certain I couldn’t go and see if they need anything?”

  “I really would prefer you didn’t. We need to keep the disease from spreading; there are already quite a few cases in the area. I’ll see to it that they have everything they need,” he assured her.

  “I suppose then I will give you these—and please tell Morna how sorry I am not to be able to bring them myself,” Emmalyne said, moving toward the buggy and handing him the plate.

  “And, of course, I get to have a sample as my pay, right?” He threw her a big grin.

  “Of course,” she said. “The worker is worth his wage.”

  Jason laughed at this and took a sample. He closed his eyes and smiled in pleasure.

  “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, Doctor,” Emmalyne said wryly. “Now, I suppose I shall make my way home and get back to my chores.”

  “Perhaps one of those chores,” he said, looking at her with a twinkle in his eyes, “might be making shortbread for the doctor of the community. I happen to know that he will happily take baked goods in lieu of payment.”

  Emmalyne chuckled. “I suppose that could be arranged—after all, we do owe the doctor quite a debt.”

  He sobered and shrugged. “Perhaps we could discuss further payment sometime over . . . shortbread and coffee.”