Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02]

by The Quarryman's Bride

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sure glad your father is here. He’s the best tracker among us. If anyone can find her, my money is on him.” He quickly helped Emmalyne and her mother out. “Father’s trying to look for evidence of which direction she’s gone, but he’s so upset I fear he’ll have little luck.”

  Morna appeared with the boys. Gunnar looked ashen. Emmalyne went to him immediately and lifted him in her arms. He clung to her while Lethan fussed in Morna’s embrace.

  “Oh, Emmy, I’m so glad you’re here. I widnae ken what to do without you.” Morna’s words were a near whisper.

  Mother joined them. “We’ll do what we can to see you through this.”

  “It happened so quickly,” Morna said, shaking her head as she held Lethan close. “Fenella had finally calmed down. I thought she’d fallen asleep. Gunnar had gone to feed the wee pup, and Lethan was playing in his crib. I decided to fetch some clean clothes for Fenella—she’d torn the others in a fit. I shouldnae have left her door open, but I was only gone a minute or two. I went to my room to get the clothes, and when I came back, she was gone. She’d been sleeping—from the medicine. I gave her a heavy dose. She shouldnae have been able to even walk. . . .”

  “We understand, Morna,” Mother assured her. “Let’s go inside and rest a spell. The men will handle this well enough.”

  Emmalyne ran her fingers through Gunnar’s hair, then led the boy back to the porch. “I’m going to go look for her, too.” She touched Gunnar’s cheek. “You stay here and keep the ladies safe. All right?”

  “I wanna help look for my mama.” His lower lip trembled.

  “I’m sure you do, Gunnar, but you need to stay here with your little brother. My father is very good at this. He’ll find your mama, and then we can spend some time playing. Would you like that?”

  Gunnar nodded. “We can play with Scotty.”

  Emmalyne smiled. “Aye.”

  She headed out. Robert was beyond the barn, and it looked like he and her father were searching the ground for indications of tracks. Tavin looked up at her, then nodded his understanding.

  “She has no shoes on,” Robert was explaining. “The footprints will be hers, but I cannae seem to find any sign.”

  Emmalyne watched her father carefully scrutinize the area. He paced off several steps in half a dozen directions. From time to time he knelt to the ground and touched the brush or rocks.

  “We looked for her on the road,” Emmalyne told Tavin. “No sign of her there.”

  “I know. We did the same. Father had already searched it on the way to the church in case she might have headed that way.”

  “Here!” Father called out from a spot between two aspen trees. “There’s a wee bit of fabric here.” He held up a tiny piece of blue cloth. It wasn’t much, but Emmalyne could see by the expression on Robert MacLachlan’s face that it was Fenella’s.

  Father pressed farther into the brush. “Keep yer eyes open,” he admonished them.

  They set out through the forest, kicking through the first of newly fallen leaves. Emmalyne stared so hard and long at the ground around her that she lost track of the others. She could hear them just ahead of her or maybe just to her right.

  “There are broken branches over here,” Father called out. “She’s gone this way.”

  They moved in the new direction, each following Luthias Knox at a reasonable distance so as not to complicate his tracking. He led them deeper and deeper into the woods. When they came to a boggy area, he frowned and raised his hand to halt the group.

  “She walked through here. See the prints?”

  Emmalyne craned her neck to see the footprints her father was pointing out.

  “Then we go through here, too,” Robert declared.

  “Could be dangerous,” Tavin remarked. “Maybe I should go through the water and the rest of you could skirt around the worst of it and pick up the trail on the other side. It’s not that far.”

  Tavin’s father looked out across the wetlands. “I suppose you’re right. That way if she dinnae make it . . .” Emmalyne shuddered as Robert’s words faded away.

  Tavin set out through the bog while the others hurried around the edges to the other side. Emmalyne watched as Tavin appeared to search the water. Her father and Mr. MacLachlan, in turn, studied the shoreline.

  “She came out here,” MacLachlan called out. Emmalyne could see from the marks in the wet ground that Fenella had fallen to her knees, then crawled a short distance before regaining her footing.

  “This is going to take us around to the quarry,” Tavin murmured under his breath.

  Emmalyne looked at him. “The quarry? Oh no . . .” She couldn’t even finish for the fear that gripped her.

  Robert nodded. “Fenella used to come out to bring lunch to her husband from time to time. She would have taken the road back then, but in her current state of mind . . .” He fell silent.

  Luthias was already well ahead of them, so they hurried through the woods to catch up. Just as Tavin had figured, they came through the brush and trees to find themselves on rocky terrain near the main area where the men had been cutting granite the previous year.

  And across the open expanse on the opposite ledge was Fenella.

  Emmalyne put her hands over her mouth. Tavin and the others had spotted her, too. “What do we do?” she whispered. Fenella was sitting on the ground very near the edge. Very much in danger.

  Then the sound of singing caught their attention. Emmalyne recognized the song. She’d heard the Scottish tune sung quite often by her mother when they were young.

  “Dance to your daddy, my bonnie laddie, dance to your daddy, my bonnie lamb! And you’ll get a fishie, in a little dishie. You’ll get a fishie, when the boat comes home.” The voice was weak, but the tune and words were unmistakable.

  “She used to sing that to Gunnar when he was a wee lad,” Tavin’s father told them, his voice hushed. “I haven’t heard her sing since Sten died.”

  “We have to get her away from the edge,” Tavin said quietly, staring at the distant figure rocking slightly back and forth as she sang. “What do you think we should do?”

  “When she was on the roof,” Emmalyne said, “Dr. Williams had me talk to her while he came up from behind to grab her. Do you suppose that might work again?”

  “It’s worth trying,” Mr. MacLachlan replied. “I have no better idea.”

  “If I walk in from Fenella’s right side and call to her,” she continued, “Tavin could go around behind and come in from the other way.”

  “First we have to get over there without upsetting her,” Tavin said. “Father, why don’t you and Mr. Knox go back and bring the wagon. We’ll need it to bring her home. Angus, you and I will move around to the far side while Emmy goes to talk to her.”

  Her father looked at Emmalyne “Haste ye now, and God be with ye.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Haste ye back.”

  She walked slowly around the quarry, keeping to the trees and brush where she could. When only open rock was left to her, Emmalyne paused to consider how she should approach. Fenella was still singing and sat some fifty yards to the left—far enough away to give Fenella time to see Emmalyne and become agitated. The last thing Emmalyne wanted was for Fenella to get flustered and do something drastic.

  “What do I do, Lord?” she whispered.

  Fenella ended her song and began to sing another round. Emmalyne decided to join in. Perhaps if Fenella heard her singing, then saw her coming, it would pose no shock.

  “Dance to your daddy, my bonnie laddie, dance to your daddy, my bonnie lamb,” Emmalyne sang, slowly emerging from the bushes. “And you’ll get a fishie, in a little dishie.”

  Fenella caught sight of her and smiled. She continued singing in perfect pace with Emmalyne. “You’ll get a fishie, when the boat comes home.”

  Emmalyne’s heart felt like it was in her throat, but she made herself finish the song.

  Fenella waved. “Oh,
Emmy. ’Tis you. I knew you’d come.”

  Emmalyne returned the wave, shocked at hearing Fenella speak. “I’m here, Fenella. I’m here.” She picked up her skirts to better navigate the rock. For the most part the granite was fairly smooth, but it would be treacherous if she were to slip over the edge.

  “You must come meet my husband. He’s a wondrous man,” Fenella announced, looking to her left as if Sten Edlund were sitting at her side. “I wanted you to come to the wedding.”

  “I would have liked that.” Emmalyne continued walking toward her friend, her hand slightly outstretched.

  Fenella seemed to change in the blink of an eye. She looked back at Emmalyne and shook her head from side to side. Grabbing her head in her hands, Fenella moaned and muttered something. Emmalyne stopped moving immediately.

  “What’s wrong, Fenella? You can tell me. We’re good friends, remember?”

  The bedraggled, wild-looking woman paused her frantic movements and stared hard at Emmalyne. The slightest motion behind Fenella turned out to be Angus and Tavin splitting up to approach Fenella from different directions. Fearing the woman would hear or see them, Emmalyne took another step forward and called to her.

  “Fenella. Fenella, aren’t you going to come and embrace me? It’s been ever so long since we’ve seen each other.”

  “The days,” Fenella muttered. “The days are gone. The days.” She slowly got to her feet and looked around.

  Emmalyne shook her head. “We’ve plenty of days, Fenella. Plenty of time.”

  “No! No! No! No!” Fenella let out a scream that chilled Emmalyne to the bone.

  Holding out her arms, Emmalyne begged, “Please come to me. Please, Fenella. I so long to see you.”

  Fenella seemed to calm for a moment. She surprised Emmalyne with a smile. “Sten is here to take me home. We have to go,” she said.

  “Oh, please wait,” Emmalyne said, taking another step toward her. “We haven’t had a chance to talk.”

  Fenella swayed. Her eyes seemed to roll back, and without warning, she collapsed in a heap over the quarry’s edge.

  Tavin ran to Fenella, grabbing for her as her form tumbled off the ridge.

  Emmalyne screamed Tavin’s name as he reached both hands for his sister. She heard fabric ripping, and then a heartrending bellow escaped Tavin’s lips. A moment later he pushed up and crouched at the edge, a piece of the blue cloth clutched in his hand.

  Emmalyne stumbled to his side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, shaking with sobs. “Tavin, we were so close,” she wept into his ear. “And she was talking, Tavin. Did you hear her?”

  “Aye. I heard.” He pulled her close and held her tight against him.

  “She said Sten had come to take her home. Then she fainted.”

  “I know,” he said, stroking her back. “I heard.”

  Emmalyne moved out of his embrace to peer over the edge, but Tavin stopped her. “Don’t. You don’t want to see her that way.”

  “I’ll go below,” Angus said from behind them. His expression was full of sorrow and deep regret as the two looked up at him.

  He turned to leave, but Tavin said, “Wait.” He got to his feet and helped Emmalyne up, too.

  Tavin drew Emmalyne away from the rock and led her to Angus’s side. “Take your sister to the road. Our fathers will be here momentarily with the wagon. You need to break the news to them. I’ll go to . . . Fenella.”

  Chapter 28

  The chill of October meant frost on the ground and color in the trees. Because of Fenella’s death, Emmalyne and Tavin had decided to delay their wedding, but now everyone was eager for the event to move forward. Even Morna, though deeply grieving the tragic loss of her daughter, wanted only for the couple to finally be joined.

  “’Tis been a long time in coming,” she told Tavin and Emmalyne. “Fenella wouldnae want you to put it off.” She pressed her lips tight. “My poor lassie. If only I had locked the door . . .”

  Emmalyne looped her arm through Morna’s. “Now, hear me once more, my second mother to be: You cannot carry this burden any longer. You did what any of us might have done, considering the medicine she’d had.” Morna looked over at her with a trembling smile and a nod.

  Emmalyne had told Morna of Fenella’s last words and of her singing. “We shall miss her,” Emmalyne murmured. “But we know Fenella loved Jesus. Do you remember that she and I were baptized on the same Sunday?”

  “I do remember. I was so proud of you both and so happy,” Morna said, patting Emmalyne’s hand. “And she did love the Lord. I know I’ll see her again.” She paused and noticed her grandsons at play with their puppy. “She used to pray with Gunnar and tell him Bible stories.”

  At the sound of his name, Gunnar looked over and threw them a wide smile. “Watch, Grandma. I’m teaching Scotty to shake hands.” He wrangled the dog away from his brother and pushed the animal into a seated position. Next he reached for the puppy’s paw. “Shake, Scotty. Shake.” The pup allowed the awkward interference, then did his best to get back to chewing on a stick that Lethan held.

  “That’s very good, Gunnar. You’ll have him completely trained in no time.” Morna turned back to Emmalyne. “I’m so grateful for all the time you’ve spent with the boys, Emmalyne,” she said with another pat on her hand. “It’s helped to have you here . . . just to talk.”

  “I’m glad,” Emmalyne said. She looked over Morna’s head to where Tavin stood. “It’s been a blessing to me, as well. I’ve gotten to spend time getting to know your son again.” They all chuckled and sat down on two wooden benches, Morna facing the couple.

  Morna looked weary, but she smiled nevertheless. “Now we must talk about this wedding.” She began listing things that needed to be done. “I must give your father’s suit a good airing and brushing, and his boots will have to be polished. I still have to finish sewing the skirt I plan to wear.” She smiled. “We want to look our best.”

  “You’ll look fine, Mother, no matter what you wear.” Tavin put his arm around Emmalyne’s shoulder. “Besides, it’s going to be a very short ceremony.”

  “But there’s the reception, too,” his mother reminded him. “That could go on all day and into the night.”

  “Well, it will have to go on without us.” Tavin grinned and gave Emmalyne a squeeze. “I don’t plan for the new Mrs. MacLachlan to spend her wedding day and night preoccupied with well-wishers. I want all her attention on me.”

  Emmalyne elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “My mother has been busy planning the reception festivities. Father has been very generous with his purse. He said it was only right that he make this wedding special since I had to wait so long for it.”

  “Will yer sisters be attendin’?” Morna asked.

  Emmalyne shook her head. “No, the distance and expense are too great. I haven’t seen them in such a long time, but I know they are happy for me. They were none too pleased when Father ended our betrothal.”

  “But now your father has let go of that tradition.”

  “Aye,” Emmalyne replied.

  “And I say good riddance,” Tavin muttered. “Miserable, senseless tradition, if you ask me.”

  “Now, Tavin, I understand the fears of getting older and not knowing how you will manage,” his mother said. She waggled a finger at him. “One day you will be old, and you’ll wonder, too.”

  Tavin shook his head. “No, we’ll have such a houseful of children that there will always be someone to care for us, married or not. And you needn’t worry about your future, either. Emmalyne and I have decided we will simply build a very large house and have you and Father on one end and Em’s parents on the other.”

  “That sounds quite interesting,” Morna said, looking thoughtful. “And in between will be you and Emmalyne and your houseful of bairns.”

  “Exactly so,” Tavin replied. “And all four of you grandparents will be begging for your turns to watch them while Em and I take long trips to Minneapolis and St. Paul. Now, there’s
a tradition!”

  Morna laughed heartily at that, and Tavin and Emmalyne joined in.

  “Tavin says you’re to have a wee wedding trip.” Morna looked at Emmalyne with a smile.

  “Yes. We plan to take the train to Chicago. I’ve never been there, and Tavin says it’s a sight to behold.” Emmalyne lifted her shoulders in a little shrug and leaned back against her fiancé. “But like I told him, anywhere we can be together will suit me just fine.”

  “I hope she’s always this easy to please,” Tavin interjected.

  Morna laughed at her son. “Just remember to love her, treat her kindly, and make time for conversation and laughter, and she’ll be easy enough to please.”

  Tavin was glad when it was finally time for his mother to take the boys inside to take a nap. “Walk with me?” he asked Emmalyne.

  Her face brightened. “Anywhere. Any time.” She took his hand as he helped her up. She beheld him with such adoration that Tavin thought his heart might burst then and there.

  “Keep looking at me like that, and we may yet elope.”

  She giggled. “Now, Mr. MacLachlan, you’ve waited eleven years to marry me, and you’ll not be denying me a proper wedding.”

  Without warning he swung her into his arms and lifted her off the ground. “And if I insist?”

  Emmalyne wrapped her arms around his neck. “Then I suppose I would yield.” She sighed and looked quite content.

  “Good. Yielding to me is likely a good idea. Don’t forget.” He captured her lips with his own and felt her fingers gently rubbing the hard muscles of his neck.

  After a few minutes, Tavin reluctantly pulled away and put Emmalyne back on the ground. His mood turned serious. “I have eleven years of kisses to make up for.”

  She touched his cheek with her hand. “And I’m looking forward to each and every one.”

  Tavin momentarily closed his eyes. How he loved this woman! He silently prayed to be worthy of her love. He wanted to be a good and faithful husband—a man who would not allow joy to escape their household. Emmalyne had already endured enough years of sorrow, he thought. She deserved to be happy.