Her frown intensified at his triumphant smile. “You’ll have to spend more time with me to discover that.” He winged out his arm for her, walking slowly beside her as he escorted her back to her home.
Two weeks after the mine fire in Butte, Patrick Sullivan poked his head into the workshop in Missoula run by Gabriel and Jeremy McLeod. Patrick squinted at the darkened interior after walking outside in the bright midafternoon light from a late June day. The brothers joked in the corner as they sanded a piece of wood together, and he paused to watch their easy camaraderie.
“Can I help you?” a voice to the right of the door asked, jerking Patrick’s gaze away from his cousins.
“Yes, I’m here to see my brother-in-law and cousin.” He nodded toward Jeremy and Gabriel who had looked in his direction at Ronan’s question.
They stilled their movements and watched him warily.
Gabriel threw down his sandpaper and swiped his hands on his pants. “Pat, good to see you,” he said as he held out a hand.
Patrick shook it, squinting his eyes as he read a warning in Gabriel’s gaze.
“I was hoping to speak with you before talking with Savannah,” Patrick said to Jeremy, who maintained his distance on the opposite side of the room.
Jeremy watched and scowled as a patron for Ronan entered. Gabriel motioned with his head, and Jeremy raised his eyebrows in agreement. “Let’s go upstairs,” Jeremy said. Gabriel led the way up a staircase mostly hidden by finished pieces of furniture to a storage area over the workshop.
“If you can believe it, this is where Clarissa and I lived the first few years of our marriage. Until we had a child,” Gabriel said as he looked around, his gaze distant as though envisioning a room filled with furniture rather than boxes and lumber. He pulled out three empty crates, turning them on their sides and forming seats for them. He motioned for Patrick to sit and then glared at his brother to do the same. After they were all seated, Gabriel studied Patrick. “Why are you here, Pat?”
“Why has it taken you so damn long to finally visit?” Jeremy snarled, cutting off Patrick’s reply.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of the mine fire in Butte. That was my mining company’s mine. Our men who were lost.” He raised dazed eyes to them. “It’s been a horrible few weeks, and I was needed at work. However, now that the crisis has been contained for the moment, I took a few days to come here to see all of you.”
“Where are Fee and Rose?” Gabriel asked. “You can’t have left them alone in Butte.”
“No, they’re at Colin’s. She wanted to accompany me, and I’m thankful for her support.”
Jeremy leaned forward, his face reddened and hands clasped together as though preventing himself from grabbing Patrick. “Why are you here? Are you here for Melly?”
Patrick paled. “I’m here because of Melly, yes. I … Has Colin told you about our discussion?”
Jeremy ran a shaking hand through his ebony hair. “Only that it was a story you had to tell and that it showed the extent of his stepmother’s cruelty.” He pinned Patrick under a severe glare. “Before you see Sav, I must know. Do you plan to take Melly away from us?”
“Of course not. She’s your daughter, Jeremy. You’ve raised her for years. You’ve adopted her. I’m her uncle and wish to have a part in her life.” He sighed. “I’d like no secrets between us so Mrs. Smythe may no longer stir up doubts and trouble between us.”
“She’s been doing a darned good job of it lately, as she’s had us jumping to her tune for years,” Gabriel grumbled.
“Will you tell us how you’re Melly’s father?” Jeremy asked.
Patrick nodded. “If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer to tell you, and then you can tell your wives in whatever fashion you deem … acceptable. It’s not something I’d care to discuss with my sister or cousin,” he said, flushing.
Gabriel lost his battle to fight a grin. “No offense, Patrick, but the way you and Colin are building this up, it has the makings for the story of the century.”
Patrick glared at him. “Just remember that I’m the one who suffered through it.”
Gabriel sobered at his words and nodded for him to continue.
Patrick spoke, his words hesitant and voice low as he related the same events he had told Colin earlier in the month. He fought an all-over body blush at Gabriel’s incredulous chuckle at the part where he related waking and finding Mrs. Smythe crawling out of his bed.
“Nasty surprise,” Gabriel muttered.
“There’s no way to know for certain that Melly is my daughter. My father is dead. We will never know if he was … unable to perform his duties.” Patrick held his head in his hands as though ashamed to even discuss such a thing.
“Besides, anything that raving lunatic tells us is bound to be at best only a half-truth,” Jeremy said. He cleared his throat. “I can understand why you’d not want to relate such a … a”—he waved his hand around—“to Sav and Rissa.”
“Now do you understand why I would never alter how things are for you?” Patrick asked Jeremy beseechingly. “Melly’s happy. She’s well-loved, and she knows who she is. Why would I ever want to jeopardize that? If she is my daughter, I could ask for no more.”
Jeremy heaved out a huge sigh. “You have no idea what a relief this will be for Savannah. For me,” he whispered. “Melly has been ours since the moment we held her on the train ride west fourteen years ago.”
Patrick wandered Colin’s small back yard, ignoring the slamming of the back door. “I’m fine, Col,” he called out as he studied the bushes and stared into space. He jolted at the soft hands touching his arm.
“Patrick.” Clarissa tugged on his arm, pulling him to face her. When he still refused to meet her gaze, she pushed herself into his arms. “Oh, Patrick.”
“I’m fine. I’m glad there are no more misunderstandings or secrets between us.” He ran a hand over her hair and pulled her tight. He shuddered as she gripped him to her with as much might as he held her.
After a few moments, he pushed himself away from her. “I don’t understand why you’d believe me. Why you’d immediately accept what I said.”
“You don’t lie, Patrick. When we were children, you were annoyingly truthful. Don’t you remember all the times we could have gotten out of scrapes, but you told the truth?”
“It wasn’t fair for the servants to take the blame,” he said, standing taller and more stiffly.
“Exactly.” A soft smile spread as she watched her eldest brother. “Since I was a girl, you’ve acted with decorum and honor. I know you wouldn’t lie to me, to your brother, to your cousins. Not about something this important.” She gripped his hand. “Not when it caused you to be cast from our family for so many years.”
She pulled him as she moved toward the back door. “Come. Everyone’s waiting for you inside. We want to celebrate.”
He planted his feet, as though having grown tree roots. “Why? I’ve been back for a few years.”
“Yes, but now we know the truth. We know that Melly will always be with Sav and Jeremy and also the reason for your odd, searching looks at her.” Clarissa tugged him, propelling him into motion. “Besides, you survived that horrible work as a helmet man. And your relationship with Fiona must have improved as she’s traveled with you. We have many reasons for a celebration.”
Patrick was unable to hide his contented smile.
Clarissa’s grip on his hand tightened.
“Yes, those are all wonderful reasons.”
After sharing a grin, Clarissa sobered. “We also know Mrs. Smythe will return to speak with us. We must prepare for the upcoming confrontation. This is a small town, and she will hear of your arrival.”
“We can discuss what we hope to say,” Patrick murmured, “but we all know nothing ever goes as planned with that woman.”
“Why are you in such a foul mood?” Patrick asked, his feet propped on the banister on Colin’s front porch. He sat outside with Colin, enjoying the long warm e
vening as it slowly cooled off. Fiona was inside with Savannah and Melinda, helping to put Rose to bed. When Patrick had offered to help with the evening ritual, he’d been shooed away, the women wanting to share time together. Colin remained silent, chewing on the end of a toothpick.
Patrick stretched as his brother gave no indication of answering his question. “I’m not looking forward to another train ride, although I’m glad it’s only for a few hours.”
Colin grunted. “Was it worth it to you?” He turned to meet his brother’s inquisitive stare. “Marrying a woman who didn’t love you?”
Patrick stiffened before forcing himself to relax. “I believe Fee does care for me. She’s simply having difficulty expressing that emotion.”
Colin made a deep noise and stared out at the street again. “I wonder, if you take too much time declaring how you feel, if her feelings for you will have eroded due to your silence.”
Patrick dropped his feet to the ground and leaned toward his brother. “I don’t think we’re talking about me. We’re talking about you and Araminta.” At Colin’s tortured glare, Patrick gave a small humph. “I’ve never understood why you haven’t told her that you love her.” When Colin remained silent, Patrick sighed, settling into his chair again. “Araminta looks different.”
“She’s being courted,” Colin whispered. “By bloody Bartholomew Bouchard, that bastard from the Bay.”
Patrick laughed. “How long did it take you to come up with that phrase?” He grunted when Colin hit him on his shoulder. “I don’t know why you’re torturing yourself. Tell her how you feel. Once she knows the depth of your feelings, she’ll drop the bloody bay man.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve never seen her so content.” Colin ran a hand through his hair, leaving strands standing on end. “I’ve been a fool, waiting too long. Worrying that I would ruin the relationship we do have.”
Patrick huffed out a sardonic laugh. “I don’t know why you’ve worried about ruining something that’s been horrible since Lucas visited in ’14. Ever since you almost kissed her.” He raised an eyebrow at Colin’s shocked stare. “Do you think siblings don’t talk? Rissa told me all about it.”
Colin covered his face with his hands and groaned. “This is why I dream of living far from meddling family!”
Patrick instantly sobered. “No, Col. You never want to live far from family. It’s horrible and lonely. The worst experience you could imagine.”
Colin dropped his hands and rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not serious.” He sighed. “I suspect you’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be frozen out by the woman you care about.”
“Have you ever considered that the reason Araminta acts as she does is because she cares too much about you and doesn’t want to be hurt by a rejection from you? You’ve had years to declare yourself, and you never have.” Patrick shook his head in bewilderment. “It makes no sense to me.”
Colin sighed as he scrunched down into his chair. “Nor to me either.”
“Something will happen to force you to act, Col,” Patrick said, his warning tone causing Colin to shiver.
Colin gave his brother a warning glance, signaling he wanted no further discussion of his relationship with Araminta. “What are we to do about Mrs. Smythe?” Colin asked.
Patrick’s expression became even more serious as he clamped his jaw at her name. “I have no desire to speak with her, but I fear I must. Let’s arrange a meeting either here or at Rissa’s. Savannah and Jeremy have been through enough.”
Colin closed his eyes as though in deep thought. “Even if the meeting isn’t at their house, I think they’ll want to be present. If for nothing else to support you.” Colin opened his eyes to look at his brother. “An injustice was done to you by that woman. She needs to understand the family is united in its support of you.”
The family had crowded into Clarissa’s living room, while the children, including Melinda, were at the park with Araminta. Patrick stood by the fireplace with Colin at his side, while Jeremy sat next to Savannah. Clarissa sat on a chair next to Fiona with Gabriel behind her, his hand on Clarissa’s shoulder. Ronan had joined them in solidarity, sitting in his wheelchair by the settee. They shared long glances at the loud knock on the front door.
Colin strode to the door, flinging it open with a glare as he beheld his stepmother. He stepped back to allow her to enter but refrained from offering to take her coat or hat. She sauntered into the room, looking around at the united front awaiting her. After tense moments of silence, she huffed out an agitated breath.
“So this is how I’m to be treated?” Mrs. Smythe said in her sugary, high-pitched voice. “As though a criminal on trial in front of her family?” She glanced around and huffed out an exasperated breath.
Clarissa looked at everyone in the room. “I see no family of yours present.”
“How dare you, you little hussy!” Mrs. Smythe screeched. “You tricked me into agreeing to visit your home by telling me my daughter would be here. That she was eager to make my acquaintance.” She swiped at an eye as though scrubbing away a tear and frowned when she saw Colin roll his eyes. She focused again on Clarissa. “After all I did for you, ensuring that a respectable gentleman would want you. Would offer for you and provide you a place in Boston society, this is how you speak to me? This is how you treat me?”
Gabriel placed a hand on his wife’s trembling arm. “You know exactly the reasons each one of us in this room despises you. None more than I do.” He glared at the woman who promoted Clarissa’s abuse at Cameron’s hands. “Never believe, for one moment, that you have been absolved of your sins for your mistreatment of Clarissa. There is no absolution for what you did.”
Mrs. Smythe watched Gabriel with patent loathing and superiority. “You have always been a worthless upstart, and I will never understand my stepdaughter’s unfortunate fascination and alliance with you.” She sniffed as she looked at Clarissa and then at the simple, comfortable home she had made with Gabriel. “It seems life in this pathetic backwater has brought you little joy. When I think of how you could have lived …” Her voice faded away at the tragedy of the thought.
“You never had any consideration for my being or my care. It was all about you. How much you could garner from any alliance I made with a man deemed acceptable to the grandparents,” Clarissa hissed. “I am only thankful I was able to evade your trap.”
“Your grandparents have missed you terribly,” Mrs. Smythe said, frowning when her remarks earned scoffs and amused smirks from Colin, Savannah and Clarissa.
“They’ve only ever cared for themselves,” Clarissa said. “I shouldn’t worry about them.”
“You unfeeling monster,” Mrs. Smythe declared. “Do you have any idea what it did to them to know they would have no family, no one present when they died? That none of their offspring would honor them with their presence?”
“Why should we mourn what we never had? There was no affection, love or consideration of our desires,” Clarissa said with a taunting smile. “They would gladly have seen Savannah beaten to death by her first husband, if only for the upkeep of the family name and the enrichment of the family coffers. They—and you—would have wished no better for me with their encouragement for me to marry Cameron.”
Colin watched his sister with a mixture of concern and admiration, knowing that discussing her forced separation from Gabriel and any allusion to Cameron’s rape was difficult for her. However, understanding lit the gazes of those present as Clarissa garnered Mrs. Smythe’s attention and ire as she strove to distract her from Patrick’s presence.
“You’ve always believed yourself to be cunning,” Mrs. Smythe said, her sugary sweet voice gone. “And you.” Mrs. Smythe focused on Savannah. “Pathetic, docile Savannah, doing her family’s bidding. Losing her first daughter and then claiming she was abused so she could murder her husband. I’m surprised you could convince the gullible police you were acting in self-defense.” Mrs. Smythe sniffed again as though
in disgust. “It’s horribly unfair you were allowed to inherit his millions when you killed him.”
Savannah raised her chin. “I’d give thanks daily, Mrs. Smythe, that you never had to suffer as I did.”
“Suffer? Suffer?” she shrieked. She glared at Colin as he touched one of his ears as though having experienced hearing damage. “You’ll never know how I suffered. Not in my first marriage nor in my second. Married to that oafish Irish immigrant who could barely string two words together and had the manners of an ape.”
“How dare you speak of our father in such a way,” Patrick said.
Ronan shook his head at Patrick’s words as he walked into her well-laid trap.
Mrs. Smythe smiled, as though she had successfully baited a response from her intended target. “Oh, my dear Patrick. You’ll never know how I mourned when your father sent you away. Such nights of passion we had together.”
“You’re delusional, and you know it,” Patrick growled. “There were no nights and certainly no passion on my part. Just shock and mortification one morning when I saw you crawling out of my bed.” He flushed at the last sentence.
She smiled indulgently as she watched him blush in mortification. “Oh, how it pains me to hear you deny what we had.” She preened in front of his family members, delighting as their postures became more guarded. “I doubt any of you here know the pleasure that was …”
“Enough!” Patrick roared. “You are a lying filthy horrid woman, and everything you say is a blatant falsehood. I never wanted anything to do with you. Not then and not now. You took advantage of me. To my everlasting shame.”
“So you admit you and I share a child?” Mrs. Smythe said, her gaze calculating.
“No, I don’t. I have a beautiful niece, daughter to my father, Sean Sullivan.” He clasped Fiona’s hand as he stood behind her in solidarity. “I have a daughter with my wife.”
Mrs. Smythe scoffed. “A daughter. You claim to have a daughter with that harlot? We all know it wasn’t you who planted a baby in her belly.” She smiled with joy as Fiona flinched. “I’ve heard that her real father is intent on regaining what he lost. I’m certain he would do a better job in the raising of such a beautiful little girl.” She sighed with feigned sadness. “I know her grandmother is eager to meet her. She dreams of showing her the wonders of life in Boston.”
Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7 Page 13
