When Swallows Fall

by Gloria Davidson Marlow

  “Cade told me she was quite convincing. But, truly, all that is water under the bridge. What I need to know is what to do now.”

  “Well, you left him once before and absolutely no good came of it. Perhaps you should have had a bit more fortitude this time around. I doubt there’s much hope of saving him, if all you say is correct, so your only decision is whether you can live with yourself if he dies alone, believing you think him guilty. I certainly can’t answer that for you.”

  Could I live with myself if he died alone? I had seen what I considered the worst in him, but did I really believe he could have killed Desdemona? Or Amelia Scott? Or even the poor maid, Susan? I had tried to find anything that would prove to me he was innocent, and I had come up with nothing. On the other hand, the only proof he was guilty was the cravat and the collar, and those could have easily been pilfered by someone bent on casting suspicion on him. I wondered if anyone had considered that possibility or if Cade was right and they had immediately believed him guilty of Desdemona’s murder because of Amelia’s death years before.

  “Well, my dear, I think we’ve reached the end of our little visit. I assume you’ll let me know how you’re doing in a few days’ time.” Mrs. Dupree pushed herself to her feet, groaning a bit at the creaking of her knees but otherwise quite spry for a woman her age. “If my health holds, I may just travel out west in the fall. Perhaps you could join me.”

  “Perhaps,” I agreed, embracing her gently. “I shall visit with you later in the week.”

  “Of course,” she said, but her smile told me she knew I was already contemplating a journey back to Cade’s side.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I arrived home feeling anxious and out of sorts. The telling of the story had not offered me any relief from my questions. Instead, they haunted me even more, for I realized that I still had not reconciled myself to Cade’s guilt. Yet I had been unable to find anything to prove his innocence.

  On that note, I needed to make preparations for Tabitha’s arrival in my home. I had continued using my own girlhood room after my father’s death, but I would now need to use it and Desi’s adjoining room as the nursery suite to accommodate Tabitha and Janie. I would need to move my belongings to the large room that had been my father’s. I had emptied it of his clothing and other personal belongings years ago, and it was only a matter of moving my things into the empty room.

  By nightfall, I was exhausted and aching from head to toe. Both Richard and Cade would lecture me, but I had moved nearly everything from my room to my father’s. Only my mother’s books remained where Desi and I had kept them all these years, and I decided they could wait until morning.

  I stood there in the doorway, imagining the way Desi and I had curled beneath the dormer windows, reading those very books in the moonlight. How we had giggled our secrets together and made our plans for the future.

  In the daylight, we often went our own ways, but here in this room, we had always come together. Now, Desi’s little girl would lay her head down to dream in the moonlight that streamed through those windows. Would she miss the house where she grew up? Would she cry for her father? Would she be able to understand his absence?

  How could she understand it when I, a full-grown woman, couldn’t? The thought of the world emptied of Cade’s presence hit me full force, and a sob forced itself from my throat.

  What kind of person was I that I could have left him to face his fate alone? I had not even left him with a kind word. Instead, after all my avowals of belief in his innocence, I had thrown them in his face and walked away.

  What happened to your compassion for all mankind?

  His question echoed in the empty house around me. How many times had I told him I wasn’t the girl he had known so many years ago? Yet he refused to see how true it was. Until the last moment we were together, that is, when I showed him exactly how deep my bitterness ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I slept fitfully that night, tormented by dreams filled with dead birds, funeral dirges, and Cade’s lifeless eyes staring at me from a dark gaping hole at the seaside cemetery. I woke in a cold sweat, with tears streaming down my face.

  I washed and dressed, and with determined steps made my way to the train station to purchase a ticket back to Almenara. On my way home, I stopped by John Bailey’s office to inform him of my plans.

  He stood when I entered, but after beckoning me to a chair he sat back down behind his desk.

  “Fee, it’s good to see you this morning.” He peered at me, his sharp old eyes taking in my puffy, red-rimmed eyes and sickly pallor. “How’d you sleep your first few nights back home? It’s funny how quickly we humans can get used to one place over the other.”

  “I slept well. It was good to be home.” The first sentence was a lie, the second the truth. It was good to be home, but I would find no pleasure or peace here until I did the right thing by Cade and my niece.

  “Your father always said you were a poor liar,” he said with a kind smile. “He also told me your heart was broken by Cade Scott and your sister.”

  I thought of the many days John had sat beside my father’s bed before his death, the murmur of their voices drifting down the hall. I rarely made out a word of what they were saying, but I was eternally grateful for John’s presence. I should have known that after being friends for so long they would share each other’s secrets, as well as mine.

  “Has he done it again, Fee?” John asked. “Broken your heart?”

  “No, but I’m fairly certain I broke his.” My voice cracked, and John’s mouth curled into a gentle bow.

  “You’re at a good place, then. Stuck at an impasse where forgiveness is required from both if either of you ever want to move forward again.”

  “I’m going back to Almenara.”

  “I figured as much when I saw you heading for the train station bright and early this morning.”

  “Could you have Amos bring a carriage around in an hour?”

  “Of course. Are you sure you’ll be okay there, Fee? I won’t lie and say you don’t look a mite worse for wear since you left us. I wouldn’t be a very good friend to you or your father if I let you put yourself in harm’s way.”

  I hadn’t offered John any reason for the faint bruises and scrapes that were still visible on my face, or for my lingering pallor and frailty, and I didn’t want to go into detail now. I was certain he knew of my lunch with Mrs. Dupree, and by tonight he’d know everything I’d told her.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” I assured him. “I contracted a fever while at Almenara, and I suppose I’m still recovering.”

  “Perhaps you should stay home for a while. Have Dr. Neely look you over. Rest and recuperate.”

  “I must get back to Cade. No matter what happens, I intend to be at his side.”

  “The way I hear it, he’ll most likely hang for Desi’s murder, Fee. Will you be home then?” His voice was sympathetic, but held a note of worry, as well.

  “Yes, but I won’t be alone when I return, John. If Cade is gone, Desi’s little girl will be with me. If that’s the case, I’ll need to arrange for the upstairs rooms to be readied for her and her nurse. I’ve made notes of what else needs to be done. Can you see to hiring someone, should it come to that?”

  I placed my detailed list on his desk, and he took it in his hands, staring at it closely. He lifted misty eyes to mine.

  “So Desdemona has a daughter, eh? And now the poor little thing will be left alone. Lucky she has you, Fee. Jess and I will take care of what needs to be done. We’ll look forward to having her here, too.”

  “Thank you, John. I’ll let you know when to expect me home.”

  I stood, and he moved around the desk. Perhaps we both doubted I’d ever be back, for he hugged me as tightly as my father would have, and there were tears in his eyes when we moved apart. He bid me farewell with an encouraging grin and a gentle pat on the back.

  True to his word, John had a carriage waiting to t
ake me and my suitcases back to the station within the hour. This time, my mother’s books were packed within the folds of my gowns, the stained linen handkerchief flattened between the pages of Hamlet.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As the train chugged away from the platform, leaving me standing there, I looked about, surprised to find the station deserted.

  From somewhere in town, I could hear the sounds of a crowd, and I hurried toward it, certain I’d find someone to take me to Almenara. My valise was much heavier with my mother’s books inside, but I didn’t want to risk losing it, so I carried it with me, despite its cumbersome weight.

  The roar of the crowd turned into angry cries as I rounded the corner to the town square and came to a halt, my heart dropping at the sight of the mob gathered outside the church.

  “Murderer!” one of the men yelled.

  “He must pay!” added a woman at his side.

  “No!” Eleanor screamed from somewhere at the rear of the crowd.

  My eyes searched for her, finally finding her held tightly between Mrs. Hartley and Lorraine.

  I called their names as I crossed the street, but I was upon them before they heard me. When they finally did, Mrs. Hartley looked as if she would burst into tears of relief.

  “Praise be, miss. You’re back.”

  “What is happening?”

  “Poor little Kathleen was found dead at the lighthouse. Some of the men have run Devlin up in the church and are demanding his arrest. After they’re done with him, though, that might be pointless. It seems they’re intent on killing him.”

  I don’t know what made me push my way through the crowd. I heard Mrs. Hartley begging me not to enter the church, and some of the people outside tried to grab hold of me as I went, but I propelled my body forward, out of their grasp.

  Inside the church, I found a scene straight out of hell. Men were gathered around the prone and bloodied body of the man everyone called Devlin. I don’t know why, at that inexplicable moment, it dawned on me that I had no idea what his surname was, or if Devlin was his surname and it was his first that was lost to me. I could only think that if we were to bury him, we’d need to know exactly what should go on the tombstone.

  The men were still hitting and kicking at him, obviously intent on finishing the fatal job they had already started.

  Nellie Arnold was standing entirely too close to them, pleading with them to stop as tears streamed down her face.

  I practically ran down the aisle, and taking several of the men by surprise, pushed them away, until I was standing between them and the unconscious man.

  “Move out of the way, miss,” one of them grumbled, but I shook my head.

  “I won’t stand by and let you kill him.” My voice was surprisingly steady given the horror that raced through me.

  “He’s killed our girls, he has. Nearly killed you, as well.”

  “He did nothing of the kind,” I said. “He left me alone at the lighthouse, yes, but my life was never in danger.”

  It might have been a lie, I wasn’t sure. At the time, I’d felt certain I was in mortal peril, but I denied it now with far more bravado than I felt.

  “What proof do you have that he killed those girls?”

  “He was there, miss, picking our Kathleen’s pockets after she was dead.”

  I shuddered at the thought but tried not to let it sway my resolve to prevent another murder from taking place.

  “He told you he found her after her murder,” Nellie moaned, wrapping an arm around her belly. “Why won’t you believe him?”

  A chorus of voices sounded at the gruesome idea, and they surged forward once again.

  “Stay back!” I ordered, moving even closer to Devlin and giving Nellie a gentle nudge toward the nearest pew. “Nellie, sit down!”

  “Why should we listen to you?” snarled a young man I recognized as the blacksmith’s son. “We all know what your sister was, and there’s nothing saying you aren’t just the same. Now she’s dead, killed at the hands of her husband, and you stand over her lover like a common harlot.”

  I tried to protest his judgment but was cut short by Kathleen’s father.

  “We don’t want to hear it, miss. There’s a job to finish, and we’re going to finish it right here and now.”

  A booted foot struck out at Devlin, but my shin caught the brunt of it, and I gasped with pain. Some of the men stepped back then, clearly unwilling to do me harm, but others stepped forward to take their places, and I was dismayed at the bloodlust in their eyes.

  “The sheriff’s coming!” a woman called from the church door, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I might not care to be around the surly man, but I was glad to know he was on his way to put an end to this madness.

  “Might as well get it done then,” one of the men said. He raised a wooden stick high above his head, and as he brought it down, I had no choice but to protect the poor unconscious man from the blow. The stick caught me across the shoulders and back, and I cried out as pain exploded through my body.

  “Hey, now!” Kathleen’s father yelled. “No need to harm the lady.”

  It seemed his defense of me was the spark that ignited a melee, and I curled myself into a ball, protecting myself as best I could from the heavy boots that flew around me. Several caught me in various parts of my body, and by the time Calvin, Dennis, and several other levelheaded men broke up the fight, I was dizzy and nauseous with pain.

  Dr. Scarborough entered then, ordering Nellie home and to bed immediately. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that baby will be here tonight, so I’ll be up to your house as soon as I’ve seen to Devlin.”

  “We’ll see to Devlin up at Almenara,” Calvin informed him, as Nellie cried out from the doorway. “You’d best see to Mrs. Arnold.”

  “I’ll be up to check on him after she delivers,” Richard agreed, paying me no mind. “I doubt anything but time will heal his injuries, although there may be some bones I need to set.”

  “Dennis, get Devlin up to the house,” Calvin ordered. “He’s in no shape to be jailed or even questioned. I’ll keep him there until he’s healed.

  “Should I carry Fee up, as well?” Dennis asked, studying me worriedly.

  “No, I’ll see to her myself.”

  He didn’t say anything to me, just scooped me up as if I weighed nothing and carried me away from the church. I expected to be placed in the same wagon that was carrying Devlin to Almenara, but Calvin passed it by and headed down the street.

  My head throbbed, one eye was swollen nearly closed, and I could feel a slow trickle of blood from the reopened cut on my forehead. I hurt from head to toe and, quite truthfully, kept from swooning only by sheer force of will.

  “Am I under arrest?” I asked as we passed through the doors to his office, then the jail beyond. My words sounded so slurred I wasn’t sure he’d understood me until I heard him chuckle.

  “You should be, but I can’t arrest people for being stupid.”

  He unlocked a cell and deposited me on a small cot.

  “This woman is a damn fool,” he said, his eyes on the darkened corner of the room.

  “What the devil happened?” Cade demanded, stepping into the light.

  “She tried to break up a lynching,” Calvin said, before I could answer. “Apparently someone hit her, she went down, and all hell broke loose.”

  “Ophelia, you could have been killed.”

  The fight seemed to leave me, and I leaned heavily against the wall behind me.

  Cade moved to sit beside me, gathering me against him as Calvin bid us farewell and slid the door closed behind him. I am certain I was asleep before he was outside the building.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The sun coming through the single window woke me, and I turned into a strong masculine chest.

  My swollen eyes opened as much as possible, and I stared into Cade’s worried face.

  He cupped my cheek gently. “I could kill them all for this.”


  “They are angry and afraid. They’ve lost three girls already and are afraid of losing more.”

  “But you’re an innocent. They had no right to harm you.”

  “I stood between them and the one they blame.”

  “Devlin.” He spit the word out like poison.

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you protect him?”

  “I had to. Compassion for all mankind, you know. My father would have it no other way.”

  He was quiet, no doubt remembering our last conversation.

  “Your father is long dead.”

  “But his teaching lives in me.”

  “I doubt he would have wanted you to help at the risk of being hurt.”

  “He wouldn’t have stood in my way if I thought what I was doing was right.”

  “Is that always what guides you, Fee? What you believe is right?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  I looked at him, lying in a narrow prison bed, his eyes filled with sadness, his mouth bracketed by worry. All those years ago, I had done what I thought was right. I had set what I wanted aside and left him behind to care for my father because I felt it was the right thing to do. I had suspected the cause of my sister’s illness, I finally admitted to myself, and I had hoped she would find a man to care for her and her child. I had never thought it would be Cade, but perhaps I hadn’t thought about anything at all, except what I thought was right for all of us. All these years, I had clung to the belief that I had made the right decision, and I had covered myself in righteous anger that I had been betrayed because of it. Now I could see the possibility that I had been wrong. Perhaps what I’d done had not been the right thing at all. Perhaps I should have made Desi return home to help take care of our father and mend the damage she’d done. Perhaps I should have been honest with Cade, told him what I suspected and promised to come back to him. Instead, I’d sentenced us all to a life of unhappiness because I thought I was the best judge of how we all should proceed with our lives.