Alex sighed. “Every morning when I wake I have this nanosecond in which I think I’m back there.”
“And us? Don’t you ever wish yourself back in your time, with us, your real family?” It came out very harsh.
Alex met his eyes. “Never. This is my time, Pappa. This is where I live and die.”
“Not yet, I hope.”
“No, not yet. Now,” she said in an effort to change the subject, “how about you finally teach me how to make those famous cinnamon buns of yours?”
*
Elizabeth Leslie rode in late next afternoon with Jenny in tow. Ian muttered something, but at Elizabeth’s heavy-handed suggestions that he might want to show Jenny around, he nodded and set off towards the stables.
From what Alex could see, the two young people weren’t speaking, but Elizabeth beamed in their direction, voicing that they were well matched, for all that Ian was younger than Jenny.
“Mmm.” Alex led her guest over to sit in the shade, detouring by the kitchen for something to drink.
“I haven’t told you, have I?” Elizabeth said once they were settled on the bench.
“Told me what?”
“About those men.”
“Men?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You know, the men you saw making off with our maids.”
“Oh, no, you haven’t.”
“Peter has been quite busy. Most irate he is – and rightly so. Anyway, he heard how there’s this band of men who procure wives for the colonists. Sells them at a premium price, according to Peter.”
“Procure wives?” Sell them? It sounded just like a business venture Jones might be involved in, which would explain Sykes’ presence in the clearing.
“Yes.” Elizabeth scrunched her brows together. “Burley, I think he said. Yes, that’s his name, the rogue who leads them, Burley.”
“But where does he find these wives?”
“Mostly by stealing away an Indian woman or two, but now and then they resort to abducting bond servants.” Elizabeth’s face set into a scowl. “We can’t have that, can we?”
“Oh, so that’s worse, is it?”
“Of course it is! We paid good money for those girls! The Indians, well, they’re just heathen.”
“Just heathen!” Alex choked.
“They live like savages in the woods. Mark my words, over time those Indian women will be grateful.”
“You think?”
“Well yes; they’ll be married off to Christian men.”
Alex made a face, but Elizabeth didn’t see, concentrated as she was on Magnus, who was sitting on the bench under the huge white oak, surrounded by his grandchildren.
“Your father, you say?”
With an effort Alex left the infected subject of Indians, nodded and handed Elizabeth a pitcher of barley water.
Elizabeth poured herself a mug and drank it down. “Cinnamon?”
“Yes, and ginger and lemons.” Alex sat back in the shade.
“He looks battered,” Elizabeth said. “How did he make his way all the way up here on foot?”
“I have no idea, but he says he hurt his leg on the last stretch. He insists he saw a huge bear and turned to run...” She peeked at Elizabeth to see how this went down.
“A bear?” Elizabeth threw a worried look over her shoulder.
“That’s what he says, but he isn’t familiar with the local wildlife. It could have been a mountain lion, or a large raccoon.”
“A raccoon? Surely no one would mistake a raccoon for a bear?”
“On its hind legs in the dark of the woods and when you’ve never seen one before?” Alex grinned at Elizabeth. “But for a man to admit being frightened of something the size of a dog is difficult. A certain embroidering is to be expected.”
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head.
*
“Will we see you at the harvest dance?” Elizabeth asked, looking down at Matthew from where she sat astride her horse.
“Of course,” Matthew helped Jenny up to sit behind her mother and smiled at the young lass. Very pleasing to the eye, she was, and he hoped Ian thought the same.
“It may be there will be other business to discuss.” Elizabeth nodded in the direction of Ian.
“Mayhap,” Matthew said, aware of Alex’s disapproving stance beside him. “You’d best make haste.” He indicated the dark clouds that were forming across the skies. “We’ll have rain before the evening.”
“We will.” Elizabeth wheeled her horse, followed by her silent escort, a large man on a mule.
Matthew took Alex’s hand and led her in the direction of where Magnus was sitting. Having her father here was disconcerting, and Matthew had to work hard to suppress the urge to say a prayer whenever he was close to Magnus. Magic; ungodly magic that no one should tamper with – that was how Magnus got here, and it was wrong. It was different with his Alex: she’d been yanked unawares out of her existence to land at his feet. He tightened his hold on her hand, thanking the dear Lord yet again for the gift of his wife.
“Did she believe your story regarding your father?” he asked, studying his lanky father-in-law. It irked him to find himself overtopped by Magnus, accustomed to always being the tallest, what with him being well over six feet.
“She didn’t seem to care one way or the other,” Alex said. “At least she didn’t laugh outright.”
“Well, that’s good.” He smiled at her preoccupied expression. “What are you thinking of?”
“Two things: firstly I am wondering why we haven’t named our home yet, and secondly I have these strange vibes regarding Ian.”
“Vibes?”
“Feelings, concerns,” she clarified. “He doesn’t want to marry Jenny.”
Matthew grunted. This wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with Ian well within hearing distance.
“Later,” he admonished, receiving a nod in return. “As to the name, you’re right. We should give our home a name.” He looked across the yard to the sheltered house and its surrounding buildings. Just by the main door grew Alex’s rose, carried over the seas all the way from Scotland and now in its fourth year here an impressive bush, dripping with sweet-scented white blossoms. “Graham’s Garden,” he suggested.
Alex laughed. “Garden?” She gestured at the wilderness around them.
“Garden,” he insisted, “it will be. Over time...” Never quite the same slice of paradise Hillview had always seemed to him, but all the same his little piece of Eden, his small corner of the world.
“Graham’s Garden,” Alex repeated and opened her fingers to braid them into his.
“And behold the chief gardener,” Matthew murmured in her ear with a quick nod towards Magnus.
Alex groaned. “Not quite three weeks here and he’s already driving me crazy with all his ideas about how to improve my vegetable beds.”
Magnus watched them approach and was struck yet again by how seamlessly his daughter and her husband fitted together, how fluidly she leaned into him and he into her. Without being aware of it, they adapted their movements to each other, he shortening his stride, she extending hers until they moved in perfect synchronisation over the grass. He’d never seen anything like it, although he supposed that at times he and Mercedes would have appeared the same way to an objective beholder.
As their parents drew near, the children stopped what they were doing and gravitated towards them, Sarah clinging to her father, while Jacob said something to Alex, receiving an approving nod and a quick tousle in return. Ruth walked backwards in front of them and whatever she was saying made Matthew laugh, and then Daniel was at Matthew’s side, tugging at his shirt, while Mark lifted a squealing Sarah to sit on his shoulders. And there came Ian, and the way Alex looked at him had Magnus drowning in jealous rage. She loved this young man much more than sh
e loved her own son, Isaac. She had chosen to remain here when she could have followed Isaac back all those years ago, and in choosing to stay in this time she’d forsaken her original family. It hurt. It hurt even more to see how right the choice had been – for her.
Chapter 8
Magnus was gratified by how impressed his grandsons looked as he recited the healing qualities of the herbs they’d just planted. He smiled at Jacob and Daniel – one boy with his fair hair, the other with his blue eyes – and with a little grunt got back to his feet, limping over to sit beside them on the rustic bench.
“Are you a physician?” Jacob asked.
“No, not as such. I work with plants.”
“A healer.” Daniel nodded.
“Yes, I suppose I am, at least when it comes to the plant part.”
Jacob shifted on his seat and threw Magnus a dubious look. “Are you a Christian healer?”
Magnus was taken aback. “Why do you ask?”
Jacob hunched together, muttering that everyone knew that some healers were in pact with Satan and witchcraft was a mighty evil that had to be fought diligently.
“Witches don’t exist.” Well, with the exception of his own dear departed wife, his Mercedes.
Both boys stared at him with an expression of disbelief.
Magnus cleared his throat and infused his voice with as much authority as he could muster. “People who believe in witches are people who have limited education and hold superstitious beliefs.”
“Your grandda’s right – to a point,” Matthew said from behind them. He came over and stood looking down at them, his eyes guarded whenever they met Magnus’. “Most of those condemned to die for witchcraft are innocent of anything other but being different, and it’s only by examining the evidence with an open mind that a correct judgement can be made. Unfortunately, often superstition rules – not common sense. Now, you have chores to do, and then your mama said something about cake.”
Daniel shone up and leapt to his feet, followed by a somewhat less enthusiastic Jacob.
“They work quite a lot for boys their age.” Magnus loaded his voice with an element of reproof. The boys were already halfway to the stables, racing each other down the slope.
“All farm lads do – especially now, during the harvest.”
“They’re quite bright, even if uneducated.”
Matthew frowned at him. “Uneducated? They know their Bible well enough, they know of lands and people far away, they all know their letters and how to cipher, and all the lads write passably.”
“But still, much less than they would know had they gone to school – real school,” Magnus said, ignoring the warning lights in Matthew’s eyes.
“They’re taught as well as we can. Alex and I raise our children to be God-fearing and industrious, and that is no bad thing, is it?”
“God-fearing?” Magnus made a disparaging sound. “Is that the same as narrow-minded? Like believing some people actually consort with the devil?”
“Nay, it’s not. But it is acknowledging his greatness and understanding our own insignificance. I assume you agree with that, being Christian.”
“Christian?” Magnus laughed. “Nominally, I suppose I am. But do I believe in God? I don’t think so.”
Matthew studied him from under a furrowed brow. “In my home you won’t voice such doubts. I’ll not condone it, aye?” He held Magnus’ eyes, and after some moments Magnus nodded.
“Good.” Matthew helped Magnus up onto his feet, handed him his crutches, and set off in the direction of the forest.
“If you see Ian, tell him I’m looking for him,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m at the barley field.”
*
“Touchy, touchy,” Magnus grumbled to Alex a bit later, having recounted the incident. Alex sat down beside him, clasping her hands round her mug of chamomile tea.
“Maybe it’s you coming over high and mighty. It’s quite rude to insinuate that Matthew is narrow-minded.”
“I did no such thing!”
“You think? As you tell it, you more or less laughed at his faith. Our faith,” she added, irritated by the supercilious look on his face.
“Your faith?” Magnus broke out in loud laughter. “Come off it, Alex,” he said once he had calmed down. “You’re not sitting here telling me you’ve developed a belief in God, are you? What happened to my super-rational daughter?”
She gave him a cold look, stood up and moved away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Alex, you can’t believe all that stuff.”
“I can’t? How would you know? You have no idea what my life has been like these last fourteen years or what events have shaped me, do you?” She looked out into the yard where Ruth and Sarah were playing a game of tag, and then turned to face her father. “In this life, God is a constant. Sometimes He’s all we have. So when I say our faith, that’s exactly what I mean: our faith. I may not be quite as much of a Bible reader as Matthew, and there are aspects of his beliefs I don’t agree with, but I’ve learnt the hard way to put my trust in God and hope He’ll keep me and mine safe. And so far He has.”
She fell silent, remembering those awful months ten years and more in the past when she prayed and prayed to God to keep her abducted husband alive, and how she’d known, all the time, that her prayers were being heard and answered.
“You’ve really changed,” Magnus said, breaking into her reverie.
She swept together the crumbs on the table and threw them into the hearth.
“Of course I’ve changed! It’s called adapting to your circumstances, and if you don’t do that you die. Survival of the fittest and all that...” She gave him a direct look. “And I resent your comments regarding our children’s education. We do as well as we can, striving to ensure they all have as good a start as we can give them. In this day and age, education is a prerogative of the higher classes, and that we are not. We’re farmers, and we can’t afford to keep a tutor to educate our children, nor would there be one to find – not in this little corner of the world.” She collected plates and mugs and set them to soak in the battered pewter basin, pouring hot water from the kettle over them.
“Fiona!” She set the empty kettle down on the hearth. “Fiona!” No reply and Alex made an irritated noise. Where was she? She’d been gone for hours, and this was not a day off, definitely not.
“Daniel will be sent off soon enough anyway.” She sighed, returning to her discussion with Magnus.
“Sent off?”
“Matthew wants him to be a minister, so he’ll be sent to study elsewhere when he’s around ten or twelve.” To Massachusetts, which to Alex was like sending her boy to a different country, to live among people she knew absolutely nothing about.
“And what does Daniel think about all this?” Magnus asked with a disapproving edge.
“Daniel will do as his father bids him. I just hope he finds some happiness along the way.”
“And Mark? Jacob?”
“Mark is needed here, on the land. Matthew will ensure there’s enough land to support two or three of his sons. And Jacob, well for now he’s also needed here, but Matthew has spoken of apprenticing him down in Providence.”
Jacob was the one with the real aptitude for books, and just the other day Alex had found Matthew deep in thought, his eyes staring straight through Jacob, who was busy reading at the little desk. Mayhap a lawyer, Matthew had confided to Alex, who agreed.
“How can you let him take all these decisions?” Magnus looked at her as if he had no idea who this strange woman might be.
“How?” Alex rolled her eyes at him. “They’re his to take. The children are his, not mine; he has sole say in what they do or don’t do. Don’t get me wrong; Matthew and I discuss this, and he does take my opinion into consideration. But ultimately it’s he that decides.” She
flashed him a look. “I’m not a pushover, and I’m fortunate to have a husband who sets great value on my advice. But legally I’m without rights. I don’t exist as a separate entity; I’m only an extension of Matthew. Fun, isn’t it? Especially for a girl raised after Women’s Lib...”
“Then why did you stay here?” Magnus said. “Why didn’t you take the opportunity to go back with Isaac?”
“Yeah, that would really have made things easy, wouldn’t it? Isaac torn between me and John; John torn between Diane and me.” Alex shook her head. “I couldn’t. Not once since I met Matthew has there been any doubt in my mind that I belong with him. It would shred me to pieces to be without him.” She averted her eyes from his condescending look and moved over to the door. “Where the hell is she?” she muttered. “It’s time to start supper and the cows have to be milked...” She yanked her straw hat off its hook and pressed it down on her head. “Will you keep an eye on the kids? If Matthew asks, I’m off looking for Fiona – in the direction of the Waltons.”
*
It was a relief to escape the kitchen and the strained conversation with Magnus. In her head, she’d held long debates with her father throughout the years, but Magnus in reality was very different from how he was in her head. And it didn’t help that Matthew and Magnus had not exactly taken to each other.
Belatedly, it struck her that it might not be the best of ideas to rush off alone and unarmed in search of Fiona, but by now she was well on her way and reluctant to turn back. She exhaled and picked up her pace, keeping just off the trail.
“Fiona?” Kristin said. “No, I haven’t seen her. Did you send her here?”
“No, but she’s been gone most afternoon, and...err...well, I think she’s somewhat taken with your brother.”
“My brother?” Kristin repeated, bringing her fair brows together into a frown. “How do you mean: taken with my brother?”
“She fancies him which, given how good-looking he is, isn’t exactly strange, is it?”
Kristin’s freckles stood stark against her paling skin. “He has a betrothed, so your maid must look elsewhere.”
A Newfound Land (The Graham Saga) Page 8
