Because he wasn’t coming back.
His father, a big bear of a man, reached out and pulled Adam into a hug.
Chapter Twenty-six
It had been fifteen long heartrending days since Adam left her. Rebecca missed him and Crane Landing and the wonderful people who were becoming her friends. If only she could find some certainty in her mental health, but her thoughts were growing more peculiar by the day.
She was growing closer with her family, but still experienced moments of being overwhelmed in the busy house full of people. She had spent the majority of her days in the livery as she had every day since returning to Fredonia. Since coming home, she had helped Calvin Uldridge treat an infected hock on a neighbor’s horse and an abscess tooth on another. She remembered a good deal about the treatments but nothing about the two years he’d been teaching her his trade, still it was one of few times when her mind was occupied with something other than Adam.
Neither Doc Milton nor Doc Finlay could give her any answers about her odd ability to recall certain things and remain completely blank about other areas of her life.
They didn’t know why she remembered some things and not others. It seemed she could recall the how but not the who. She remembered how to do things, as if her body could simply take over the task. But when her mind got involved it was as if she had snuffed a lantern. Everything disappeared into blackness.
As she helped her mother put supper on the table as she’d done every night since Adam took the train that carried him out of her life, she was silent and thoughtful. Sighing, she placed a platter of roast meat on the table followed by a bread basket with piping hot rolls.
She was trying to rebuild her life in Fredonia in the midst of her loving family, but her heart longed for Crane Landing and a man she couldn’t forget—and a boy she couldn’t remember.
If only she could be that girl Adam hung onto with such unshakable love. The memories he’d shared with her about that sweet young couple made her heart bleed.
“Are you unwell, Rebecca?” her mother asked, drying her hands on her apron.
“I’m fine, Mama,” she said, but she wasn’t fine. Physically she was free of pain, but her thoughts were frightening her, and lo but her heart ache was more painful than her worst headache. Although she had tried to occupy her mind, it seemed nothing could divert her thoughts from Adam.
He was her supper companion and was still on her mind late that evening when she wandered out to the porch. The younger children were in bed and her mother was sitting down for what seemed the first time all day.
“Do you ever tire of tending to everyone, Mother?” Rebecca asked, sitting beside her on the porch swing.
“My body gives up long before my heart does,” her mother said, giving Rebecca a tired smile. “But I enjoy tending my children.” She reached out and stroked Rebecca’s hair as if she’d done it a hundred times.
It felt nice.
“What’s bothering you, sweetie?” She pulled Rebecca’s hair behind her shoulder. “You’ve been quiet and preoccupied all evening.”
Her mother’s touch was deeply comforting. “I’m scared, Mama.” She met her mother’s concerned eyes, desperate to talk with someone about her fears. Doc Samuel told her to talk with someone she could trust with her worries. If her mind was indeed splintering and becoming unstable then her mother would know eventually anyway. “My thoughts are so confused that I’m afraid I’ll never be normal again.”
“What do you mean by confused?”
“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m daft—and maybe I am. Maybe I should be in an asylum.”
Her mother smiled. “You are as sane as the rest of us. Now what are you confused about?”
“I’m having disturbing thoughts, Mama, and I’m afraid I’ll hurt your feelings if I tell you about them.”
“Rebecca, you can tell me anything no matter what it is.”
“Even if it’s about you?”
“Especially if it’s about me,” she said, sitting up a bit on the swing. “Have I done something to upset you?”
“No, Mama, it’s nothing like that. You are a sweet, dear woman and I honestly love you. I just keep having this thought that you aren’t my real mother.” There. She’d said it. Now her mother would know just how dotty that knock on the head had made her.
“If you mean real as in giving birth to you, then you’re not confused, Rebecca. Your father brought you home when you were four years old. I fell in love with you the minute I met you. I’ve loved you every minute since and have never thought of you as anything other than my beloved daughter.”
“Wait... are you saying... Mama, are you saying I’m not confused?”
“Not only are you not confused but you are remembering parts of your life, sweetheart, unless of course someone has told you this information.”
Rebecca shook her head and brought her hands to her mouth. She stared into the dark night, her mind spinning. No one had said a word to her about this. She couldn’t have asked about this any more than she could ask about Adam’s mother. Who would she ask? Secrets such as this were often the skeletons in the closet that families didn’t talk about. Adam said they had many secrets shared just between them. Was his mother one of those secrets or was Rebecca teetering on the edge of madness? The only way to know was to ask, and the only person she could ask was Adam.
Rebecca felt the gentle stroke of her mother’s fingers across her shoulder. “It’s hard to imagine that there was a time when you weren’t my daughter, and it makes me sad to think what could have been had your father not brought you home,” her mother said, and quickly filled her in on the circumstances of her birth. “I hope this hasn’t upset you too deeply.”
Rebecca shook her head and looked straight into her mother’s eyes, her own misting with hope. “It makes me very happy, Mama. I remembered something! And I remember you. I don’t remember anything else about you, but I do remember your smile and the gentleness of your touch.”
Her mother’s eyes were filled with so much warmth and love that Rebecca knew without a doubt they had shared many beautiful moments together.
“What was she like, the woman who gave birth to me?” Rebecca asked.
Her mother shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never met her, and your father has rarely ever mentioned her.”
“Do you think Daddy would tell me about her?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I do. He’s been expecting you to ask about her for years.”
Rebecca glanced toward the livery where a light glowed from the tack room window. Her father was there now finishing up for the night. “Before I go, do you know if there is such a thing as a hoop snake, Mama?”
The question brought her mother to a full upright sitting position, her expression stunned. “Did you see a snake, Rebecca?”
“No, but I keep having the strangest thoughts about a hoop snake all rolled up like a carriage wheel. It’s rolling right toward me and I don’t know what to think. Then Daddy appears and he... he shoves another man away from me and snarls at him like a vicious dog, and then I see another older man laughing, like something has tickled his funny bone. I think I know him, but his name escapes me.” Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t know if these are memory fragments or if I’m confused or hallucinating. It’s terribly distressing.”
“Oh, Rebecca... I think you’re beginning to remember things.” Her mother clasped her hands. “What did the older man look like?”
“The man laughing at the hoop snake?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca shrugged. “He was a good bit older than Daddy, I think. His hair was white and sort of thin and... he had a nice laugh. It was a happy sound and I quite liked it.”
Tears welled up in her mother’s eyes. “He did have a happy laugh,” she said, her voice thick. “I’m pretty sure that man is your grandfather, my papa, and that you are remembering one of the tall tales he used to tell you. One day when you were just a little girl you saw a
snake in our garden. When you screamed, your Daddy rushed to protect you and he snarled at Uncle Kyle because he was so scared. To help you calm down your grandpa told you a tall tale about a hoop snake. I’m not sure why you’re recalling those particular incidents, but you are indeed beginning to remember things.”
Rebecca squeezed her mother’s fingers. “Then I’m not confused or hallucinating or losing my mind?”
A light laugh burst from her mother and she pulled Rebecca into a warm hug. “No, sweetie, I think you’re healing.”
When her mother released her, Rebecca sank back on the swing seat, her mind awhirl as she met her mother’s eyes. “I may not remember the days and events of our lives, Mama, but I feel a great love for each of you. My family is still in here,” she said, pressing her palm to her heart. “I just want you to know that. I love you, Mama, and I am so incredibly grateful that my father chose you for both of us.”
Her mother’s eyes misted and she stroked Rebecca’s hair. “From the moment I saw you I knew we desperately needed each other. I think we still do.”
Rebecca nodded, feeling their bond and mother-daughter friendship. “I wish I could remember more of our time together and more about my life,” she said, settling against the swing back. “But I feel as if I’ve just received the best gift of my life.”
“I think you will remember.” Her mother snuggled in beside her. “You’re young and have the rest of your life to recapture your lost memories.
“Not if I want to marry Adam. He wants back the girl he fell in love with, and he’s not going to wait a lifetime to find her.”
“Are you certain of that?” her mother asked gently.
With a small nod, Rebecca said, “Yes, unfortunately, I am certain.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and got to her feet. “I need to talk with Daddy.”
She found her father in a stall filing a chipped hoof on one of their beautiful Morgans named Simon.
When he looked up and saw it was her, his file stopped mid-stroke and his jaw dropped. “You aren’t sleepwalking, are you?” he asked, adding a playful wink.
With a light laugh, she leaned against the stall door. “What was my birth mother’s name?”
He released a quiet whistle, lowered the file and stood.
“Mama said you’ve been waiting years for me to ask about her.”
Blowing out a breath, he scraped his hair back with one hand and set the file on the half-wall of the stall. “I have, but I certainly didn’t expect that day to be tonight.” Opening the door, he stepped out of the stall. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and assured him with a soft smile. “I’m fine, Daddy. I remembered a little bit about Mama today and she helped me sort out my confusion. She said you could tell me about the woman who gave birth to me.”
His face flattened and his eyes darkened with intensity. “You remembered something?”
She nodded.
“Oh, sprite...” He swept her into his arms, hugged her hard and placed a quick kiss to the side of her head. He released her in the next instant as if realizing she still didn’t remember him, but his eyes glistened and he seemed to be wrestling with his emotions.
“My memories are fragmented and few, Daddy.” She didn’t want to give him false hope. “May I ask her name?” she asked.
He nodded and seemed to pull himself together. “Her name is Olivia Jordon. I met her shortly after the war when I... when I was in a very bad place. She was a dancer touring with the ballet at the time. It shames me to admit it, but we had a brief affair until her troop moved to another theater in another city. I didn’t see her again until several months later when she came back with you. She told me you were my daughter and then left without you.” He shook his head. “As long as I live I’ll never understand how she could have walked away. You were only a few weeks old.”
Rebecca pressed her palm to her queasy stomach. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”
“Taking you in my arms was the best moment of my life,” he said, seeming to struggle with the need to hold his child in his arms again.
“Where is she now?” Rebecca asked. “Did she ever contact you to ask about me?”
Sadly, he shook his head. “No, honey, I’m sorry.”
Rebecca quietly digested the information wondering why she didn’t feel deeply wounded. Perhaps it was because she’d been happy and had a wonderful mother in Evelyn.
“I’ve kept tabs on her in the event you ever felt a need to see her. She lives in New York and is sponsored by a wealthy banker.”
Rebecca’s gaze snapped to her father’s face. “Sponsored? Is she still dancing?”
“No, honey.”
Rebecca cocked her head, confused.
“She never married,” her father said, as if that would clarify things for Rebecca.
And a few seconds later it did. “Oh, my,” she said, realizing that a sponsored woman was a kept woman and that her mother was the banker man’s mistress.
Her father sorrowfully shook his head. “I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could have told you a kinder story.”
Feeling immensely grateful to this strong, wonderful man, Rebecca stepped into his arms and saved him the struggle of trying not to hold her. “Thank you for everything, Daddy. I’m so grateful you loved me and found such a remarkable, loving mother for me. Thank you for being such a kind and gentle father.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Scout went to work with Adam each day. For three weeks, the dog prowled the vast shipyard making friends with the crew, begging scraps from their lunch tins, and sleeping the day away while Adam worked himself to exhaustion. Any minute that his mind wasn’t occupied with work, thoughts of Rebecca took up residence.
Thinking of her was excruciating.
Leo had told Adam to accept the fact that he would be worthless for a long time, and it wasn’t far from the truth. Adam could work his way through any problem or challenge at the sawmill, or in the shipyard, but the minute his thoughts turned to Rebecca he was lost in a world of heartache.
He wondered if she was healthy and happy, as he hoped she was, but he didn’t write to ask. Even one word to her would open a floodgate of emotion that would drown both of them. He couldn’t do that to her again. It was enough that he’d pushed her away with his incessant talk of the past. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to lose his best friend Rebecca Grayson who knew him better than he knew himself. He wanted the girl who knew about his past and loved him anyway.
Hard work was the only way for him to escape her, and so he worked until dark. Then he would bathe the sweat from his aching body and spend a couple of hours at The Crowe’s Nest listening to his friends’ conversations. He would stop at two mugs and head home to Scout. Ever faithful, the dog would be curled up on his bunk, alone or with Blue, awaiting his return. Every night Adam fought for his share of the mattress—and for sleep. Every morning he woke choking on the grief lodged like a bone in his throat.
He and Scout haunted the river at night, walking the path he’d worn between the bunkhouse and the little home Rebecca had occupied while she stayed at Crane Landing. The house was dark now, the back porch empty. She wasn’t there to greet him with her sweet white smile and starlit eyes. There was only the howl of a timber wolf giving voice to the aching loneliness Adam felt.
Scout sidled closer to Adam’s leg, too old to fight now.
“It’s okay, buddy. He’s looking for a mate, not a fight.” He bent down to give Scout some reassurance with a scratch behind the ears, and a light from the other side of the river caught his attention. “Who else but Dawson Crane would be awake at two o’clock in the morning?” he asked himself.
Scout nudged his leg.
“Yeah, I know. You and me.” After a few seconds of peering at the distant light, Adam ruffled the fur on Scout’s back. “Let’s make sure Dawson is all right.”
They backtracked to the bridge where Adam and Rebecca had lingered one evening tal
king about what it might be like to live in Crane Landing. Dreamy-eyed, Rebecca had plucked bright yellow petals from one of the wildflowers he’d picked for her and dropped them from the bridge where he had kissed her and told her he loved her. She made a wish and watched the colorful petals drift away. What she’d wished for he never knew.
“Come on, boy,” he said, picking up his pace to put the bridge and painful memories behind him. At one time he’d been overwhelmed with sympathy and heartache for Rebecca because she had lost her memories, but now he wondered if she wasn’t the more fortunate of them to not be tormented by their past as he was.
As he neared the small house on the hill he spied Dawson sitting on the porch smoking a cheroot. Lazy swirls of smoke drifted in the night air. The field around the house was alive with crickets and the sound of peepers coming from the river just two hundred feet away.
“Wondered when you were going to stop by,” Dawson said, his graveled voice sounding loud in the night.
Scout yelped a greeting, and Adam quickly shushed him.
“Saw your light on,” Adam said. “Thought I’d make sure you were all right.”
“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I fell on my head twenty years ago. Haven’t found a suitable answer yet, least wise one I can agree with.”
The man’s peculiar ways made Adam smile. Dawson had always been an eccentric and interesting man. He had the Crane name and the Crane fortune and he didn’t care a whit about either. He cared about the animals that found sanctuary on his property. He cared about the stars in the night sky and what might be up there with them. From the dimmest star above to the smallest creature on earth, Dawson Crane cared enough to document his interests in pen and ink or in living color on canvas.
My Forever Love Page 27
