by Reina Torres
And just as quickly as her voice had reached out to him from his memory it was gone.
An ache nagged in his chest, a tight clench of emotion around his heart. He’d thought that he was ready to let her go. Thought he’d had enough memories and moments stored up to keep her close.
And now he knew it was a lie.
He’d never get enough. Never have enough without her.
“Well, there went that idea.” He groused and waited for Brigid to answer him back.
He let go of a breath he hadn’t known he’d kept pent up inside of him and felt his forehead connect with the post, a hollow thump of sound inside his head.
There was nothing left to do.
He’d marched her right back to town. He’d left her at the Hamptons’ door with a solemn ‘fare-thee-well’ and had turned around, leaving her behind.
And now, no matter how much he regretted it, he’d made his choice.
A solid hit on his back shoved him forward, smacking his forehead hard against the post.
“Hey!” He struggled to turn but the pressure on his back was steady, forward, unmoving. “What’s going on?” Shrugging his shoulders back and forth, Quinn struggled to free himself and nearly fell back when the pressure on his back was suddenly gone.
Turning around, he found himself staring into the doleful eyes of little Dandy, the goat who’d fallen for Brigid faster than he had.
“What do you want?”
Dandy put his head down and clomped forward, missing Quinn’s arm, but managing a glancing blow on his back. Shaking off the frustration, the little goat turned to the side and nudged Quinn with his flank, nearly pushing the larger man off the edge.
Narrowing his gaze at the little menace, Quinn glared at him, only to have the little goat glare right back. As he watched, the guff seemed to bleed right out of Dandy, his head sagging down, his tiny tail drooping as well. Picking his way across the short distance between them, his hooves tapping a quiet tattoo over the wood. When he was about half a foot away, Dandy leaned forward and gave Quinn’s shoulder a soft bump, backed away, and bumped him again. When he was done, Dandy looked up at Quinn and waited.
Quinn waited, as if he expected the animal to talk to him, and it seemed like Dandy was waiting for him to do the same.
Lifting up his hand, Quinn set it on the little goat’s head, giving it a rub. “I’m sorry, boy. It’s just not the same without her, is it?”
Quinn didn’t wait for an answer. He was suddenly on his feet.
Dandy’s quiet bleat followed after him as he walked across the yard. He walked up to the barn, waving Dandy in before closing the bottom half of the door and setting the lock. Quinn moved to the coop and stopped beside the gate. Pursing his lips together he blew a whistle that had every feathered head lift in attentive shock. With a sweep of his hand he watched Down leap into action, darting around the flock and shushing them toward the coop. Quinn saw the chickens rush at the door, but when they were safely within the confines of the fenced area they stopped and craned their necks to look around his legs, turning their little heads up when they saw the empty space behind him.
Half defeated and even more sure of his course of action, Quinn shook his head. “Yeah, I know,” he told them, “you miss her too.” Turning on his heel he started around the corner of the barn.
A furious tattoo of sound, drew him back to the coop. Down was nearly able to look him in the eye from the height of his perch. The feisty rooster had his claws tightly around the fence links, his wings beating the air with a determined flurry as his claws tried to open the gate.
Quinn poked a finger in the rooster’s direction. “Down!”
The rooster didn’t stop, pulling again and again at the links. Beneath him on the ground, the chickens kept up a steady cacophony of their voices, urging him on.
Rubbing at his temple, he gave up trying to argue with a bird. Waving at the assembled flock he shook his head. He didn’t have to think about his destination. He didn’t have to worry about his path. He knew the way to town in the dark.
But more importantly, he knew that Brigid was there.
And that was where he was going.
Hoping he wasn’t too late.
When Brigid entered the church, she did so under the protection of the Hamptons. She was grateful for their show of support, almost reduced to tears from the steady presence of Mr. Hampton walking to her left and the sweet smile of Mrs. Hampton at her right, the other woman’s arm tucked through the bend of hers. While the Hamptons greeted their friends as they walked, Brigid kept her gaze focused on the ground before her, as if she was afraid that the boards would fall away, pitching her into the underground.
She was surprised when they reached the second row of benches and Mrs. Hampton tugged her along, seating her firmly between them at the end. “See?” Carolina’s voice was soft and gentle in tone and color. “No problems to speak of. Aren’t you glad you came?”
Brigid didn’t want to argue with her. What was the use?
When Brigid had returned from what Carolina called her ‘harrowing experience,’ Carolina had drawn her a bath, brought her a plate of warmed beef and potatoes and a cup of tea and let her sleep. The next day, Brigid hadn’t been so lucky. A knock at her door was followed by a gentle nudge. Carolina had asked to step inside and talk. Instead of telling her to leave, Carolina had urged her to stay.
Brigid had heard the arguments, and responded back with a tearful denial. She’d heard the sharp words and harsh treatment that Quinn had endured from Appleton. She’d seen the way he’d walked away from the lawyer, his determined steps leading away from town.
Even though Carolina had spent the better part of Brigid’s first night back at Hampton House prying information from her, Brigid had held back most of her words, she'd certainly struggled to hide her feelings.
What good would it have done to burden the kind woman who had stood beside her and told Appleton to move along when he tried to confront Brigid in the foyer about a week ago?
Carolina didn't deserve to have the weight of Brigid’s pain and worry on her shoulders. Kindness, Brigid had told herself, wasn't rewarded with such sadness.
“Brigid?”
She felt a hand on hers and started in shock. She found Carolina watching her with open concern.
“Are you feeling well, Brigid?”
Mr. Hampton must have heard the concern in his wife’s voice and turned his attention in their direction. “Miss Belham? How are you doing?”
Brigid blinked back the tears brought on by their kindness. “I thank you, Mr. Hampton,” she turned slightly, “and you as well, Carolina.” She wanted to reach out to her friend, but kept her hands folded in her lap. She had no interest in opening the Hampton's to any kind of derision or speculation on her behalf. Well, she realized, any more than she'd already done. “I am as well as can be expected. I’m just wondering if it might not be better for me to go back to the house.” She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw the curious eyes of half a dozen people watching her intently. “Perhaps, I should go.” Reaching down at her side she picked up her reticule and looped the string over her hand. “I thank you for-”
“Miss Belham, is it?”
Brigid looked up, startled at the unfamiliar voice. The gentleman standing beside their bench had a kind look about him, and before she turned to get an introduction from the Hamptons, she could tell by his mode of dress and the quiet greetings offered by the Hamptons, that he was indeed the pastor of the church.
“Yes, Pastor Clement.”
“I am certainly glad to see that you are alive and well after your harrowing adventure.”
Brigid could almost feel the townsfolk leaning in to listen to their conversation. “I thank you for your saying so. It wasn’t so much of an adventure, as it was entirely my poor concept of time that let me wander so long and far from town without a guide to bring me back. I was just lucky that I happened to stumble upon the right doorstep.”
> The pastor chuckled, jostling the Bible he held in his arms. “Yes, out there in the woods, there’s only one doorstep to find, but I thank the Lord that he sent you to a man with honor and a good and gentle heart like Livingstone Quinn.
“If it hadn't been for him, you would likely have perished in the wilds.” He lifted his head and spoke, his voice rising in volume and fullness. “We should all offer thanks that Miss Belham, who came to Bower to join our community, was delivered safely back to us, unharmed by her ordeal.”
The room seemed to ring with silence after his words reached all of the curious ears within the four walls of the small church.
She didn't have to turn around to see Carolina’s encouraging smile, or Mr. Hampton's loving look at his wife.
“Thank you, Pastor Clement. Those are kind words indeed, but it seems as though I will be moving on. I have thanked the Hamptons for their genuine care and affection, but as long as the train arrives on time tomorrow morning, I plan to be on it and moving on to another town.”
The pastor gave her a soft smile that seemed as disappointed as it was kind. “I am sorry to hear that, Miss Belham. I do hope you’ll stay for the service. I'm not one for long speeches at the pulpit, but I am particularly proud of what I have prepared today.”
She nodded and sat back down on the bench between the Hamptons and watched the parson move up to the next bench, offering words to the family seated there. Carolina covered Brigid’s hand with one of her own and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not alone. Please, tell me you know that.”
Brigid felt the prick of tears in her eyes. She wanted to talk to Carolina, but this was not the time or place for that, nor did she think she had the heart to close the door on her friendship with the Hamptons. All she did was nod and sit back against the bench and concentrate on the feeling of community that she wanted to call her own. It was likely the last time she’d have a chance to enjoy the warm feeling of being part of the fold of Bower.
People were only curious now, but if Appleton was that upset at her behavior, she had no doubt that the whole town would soon know exactly what he thought of her.
And the trouble was, he was telling the truth. Quinn’s hospitality had been just that, given with a true and open heart. She doubted that he had any idea how much she cared about him in return. She could have and perhaps should have told him before she left, but she hadn’t wanted to add guilt onto his shoulders along with the kind of speculation she’d opened him up to by her presence.
The pastor took his place behind the pulpit, setting his notes down before casting his warm gaze over the assembled group. “Good Morning to the good people of Bower.”
“Good Morning, Pastor Clement.”
Brigid heard the smattering of voices around her and from Carolina at her side. She smiled through her tears and listened with an open and grieving heart.
“This is the day that the Lord has made,” the pastor gestured to the room with both hands, “let us rejoice-”
“And be glad in it.” Brigid joined in with the others and relaxed against the bench. At least with the Pastor at the pulpit, the attention of the room was off her shoulders.
Halfway to Bower, Quinn heard a suspicious rustle behind him in the underbrush.
He stopped short, standing still in place. The noises behind him stopped.
Another few steps before he stopped again, this time casting a curious look over his shoulder.
Nothing.
Another fifty feet or so and he swung around and narrowed his eyes toward the underbrush.
“That’s enough. Out of the bushes. Right now.”
There was a heavy pause, a long breath that nearly had him second guessing his instinct. He’d already lost his heart, why not his mind as well?
Just before he decided to turn back around and stop wasting time, he heard a thick flutter of sound and the soft crack of a thin branch. Emerging from the shadows, fading into sight, was his irascible rooster, and what looked to be the entire flock at his heels.
“I thought I told you to stay.”
Down hopped his way across the uneven ground and continued on past Quinn. Nearly a score of chickens had swept past his boots before Quinn gave up on trying to make his point and started back on the trail. His large strides ate up the distance that Down had put between them, and soon sent him on ahead.
“Keep up if you can, but I’m not waiting for any of you. I’m not losing her again.”
While he didn’t hear much behind him at that moment, as he continued on, he’d heard a burst of fussy clucking every now and then. He was glad to be over halfway there, the worry he’d felt in his heart was only growing like a painful knot in his chest. There was only one way to loosen it, he had to convince Brigid to stay, not just in Bower, but with him.
Chapter 12
Brigid managed to meet some curious stares as the majority of the parishioners made their way out of the church, lifting her chin just enough to be confident but not proud or defensive. She had her pride, but she wanted people to accept her, not ridicule her.
“Miss Belham?”
She stopped in the vestibule and tried to take hold of Carolina’s arm, to have her wait with her, but her friend gave her a pat on her arm and continued outside with her husband.
Turning to the pastor, she mustered up a smile that she hoped managed to soften the solemn set of her mouth. “Thank you for your kind welcome. I was hoping to avoid undue attention.” Her mouth dropped open slightly as the words filtered into her own ears. “I’m sorry,” she winced, “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful or rude. I worry that the Hamptons will suffer for their kindness toward me.”
“Miss Belham, I think you underestimate the good people of Bower.”
She tried to hide her surprise, her eyes narrowing slightly before she blushed to the roots of her hair. “Please forgive me, Pastor Clement. You would be a better judge of your parish, but Mr. Winslet certainly doesn’t seem inclined to see reason. Quinn,” she blushed even harder, “Mr. Quinn was a gentleman of the best kind. He gave me use of his home and slept in the barn. He provided me with clothes when mine were ruined in my fall. He gave me boots that he’d made for his sister, and when I was at my lowest, he shared his strength with me.”
Pastor Clement seemed to soak in the words, nodding slowly as he turned them over in his head. “It’s good to know that you’ve seen the man he is.”
Brigid was pleasantly surprised to hear his kind tones.
“I’ve known Livingstone Quinn from the first day he arrived in Bower. You learn a lot about a man when he feels lost and is struggling to find his way. He was quiet, but he was kind. He was reserved, but when someone needed a hand, he was there to offer it. I have rarely seen a young man like him, where his stature matches the size of his heart.”
Tears gathered on her lashes as Brigid struggled to keep her composure. “You really do know him, don’t you?”
Pastor Clement’s expression softened as he nodded his response. “I think the world of that young man.” He leaned closer as if he was about to impart a secret. “My wife and I have him to thank for his generosity too.”
She blinked back a few tears. “Eggs?”
The back door opened and a woman entered with a covered dish in her hands.
The pastor’s face lightened with love, his eyes widening slightly as the woman stepped up beside him. “Miss Belham, this is my wife, Gwen.”
“Oh, Miss Belham!” Gwen Clement was joy. Her quiet beauty rushed over Brigid like a soft wind. “I’m glad I had a chance to meet you.” The pastor took the dish from her hands and set it aside, allowing his wife to move closer. She took Brigid’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “While you were missing, Jeffrey and I would go and sit with Miles and Carolina and pray for your safe return.” She let out a soft feminine sigh. “Had we known that you were with Livingstone, we wouldn’t have worried.”
Brigid felt her shoulders relax and she leaned into the other woman’s touch. “Carolina
said that Mr. Hampton and Pastor Clement had gone out to search for me,” she blushed, “I’m sorry for the bother.”
“Don’t you worry,” she sighed, “it’s what we do for our community, Brigid. I hope that you’ll remember that you’re one of us.”
She wanted to say something, but she was so afraid that anything she said would bring out her tears and she was very nearly cried out. Still, she needed to say something to the pastor’s wife to thank her for her kindness. Forcing a smile on her face she tried to gather her thoughts and was interrupted again.
Carolina Hampton pushed open the door and beamed at her. “Brigid, you need to come outside.”
Turning to look at Carolina, Brigid shook her head. “I was hoping to wait until the street was quiet before I venture outside.”
Not taking no for an answer, Carolina darted inside and took Brigid by the arm. “This is not the time to hide away. Come now.” She pulled her toward the door, “You’ll be happy you did.” Gwen Clement joined in the fun, taking Brigid’s other arm, urging her outside. When they reached the front of the building they drew her into the church yard and turned her to face down the street.
There was still nearly a score of townsfolk milling about the street near the church, but as Brigid struggled to bring the two ladies up short, they continued on and Brigid forgot to worry about drawing attention to herself. Everyone was staring with rapt attention down the street.
It only took her a moment or two to see why. “Oh goodness!”
Miles Hampton turned around and jogged over to his wife, placing a kiss on her temple before he gathered her into his side. “Looks like you have a visitor, Brigid.”
Gwen Clement clapped her hands and touched her palms to the side of her face with a sweet sigh. “Looks like you have a number of visitors.”
And their words were true. Marching up the street, before the curious eyes of the townsfolk, was the larger-than-life form of Livingstone Quinn.
Later, when someone would ask her what he was wearing, Brigid would tell them it was ‘a determined look,’ for colors didn’t matter to her in those first few moments. What did, was the way that once he caught sight of her, standing between Carolina and Gwen, he didn’t just walk, he broke out into a run.
