Home by Nightfall

by Alexis Harrington

  Susannah actually laughed again. It felt good—so much of life had been grim lately. “No, she’s paying Granny Mae to cook the meal, and Cole is going to drive into town on Christmas morning to pick up her and the dinner. I think Jess ordered a ham with all the trimmings.”

  Tanner groaned and seemed to sink into his coat. “Granny Mae is going to be there? I like her well enough but she’s like laxative—a little goes a really long ways.”

  Susannah gave him a sympathetic look. “Take heart. She’ll keep Shaw busy. I hope. And think of Jessica—what a milestone this is. A couple of years ago, those women were ready to square off on Main Street with six-shooters.”

  He chuckled. “At least we can leave if things get too ugly. If they were at the house, we’d be stuck. Or you would be. Men can always find an excuse to get away.”

  She lifted a brow. “So I’ve noticed.” It was good to be in this relaxed conversation with him, one that didn’t reflect all the troubles they’d had in the last few months. She missed that, being able to talk to him as a friend.

  A mile or so from the farm, they pulled up alongside a wooded area with a few young fir trees, six or seven feet tall. “This looks like a good place,” he said, setting the wagon brake. “You three get out there and start hunting. I’ll bring the saw.”

  After they took off in the direction of the trees, Tanner wrapped the lines around the brake handle and reached into the wagon box for the saw. Suddenly, a shot rang out from the distance, flushing a pheasant from the stubble. The bird took off across the sky and was out of range, almost out of sight, but another shot sounded, and then another.

  “Shit!” He reached into the front of the wagon and grabbed the rifle, then crouched beside one of the wheels. He looked around and saw no one except Susannah and the kids running back.

  “What’s that?” she asked, white-faced.

  He waved them to his side. “Stay low. I’m not sure what’s going on. At first I thought someone was just hunting a pheasant. But the bird flew away and the shots went on, coming from the opposite direction.” They huddled together like a drake and a hen with their ducklings.

  “You mean you didn’t fire the rifle?”

  He shook his head.

  “Shouldn’t you just yell at them to stop so they’ll realize we’re here?”

  “I’m not sure they don’t already know.”

  Susannah stared at him. “You mean we’re the target?”

  “I don’t want to find out. It could be just someone hunting with bad aim or bad timing. We’ll just stay down here for a minute and see what happens.” He took off his hat, put it on the end of the rifle, and lifted the weapon above his head as far as he could reach. No more gunfire followed. They waited a bit longer.

  “Okay, I think we’re safe, but I want to get out of here. Everyone into the wagon.”

  “But we didn’t get a Christmas tree!” Wade complained.

  “I rather have you keep your red head. Susannah, I want you in the back with the boys. Lie flat on the bottom.”

  “And leave you up there alone?”

  He gave her the same look he gave the kids when stating the obvious. “Someone has to drive.”

  They loaded into the back and he climbed up to the seat. He turned them around and headed for home as fast as he could without turning over the wagon.

  When the house came into view, he pulled up to the porch to let everyone out. “Okay, into the house. No dawdling.” The boys jumped down and Tanner handed Susannah out. He continued on to unhitch the horse. They hadn’t been gone very long, probably no more than thirty or forty minutes.

  Inside, the note Susannah left was still on the table but it had been moved to the other end. She peeked into the parlor and the dining room, but neither Shaw nor Riley were there. She saw the fear in the boys’ eyes, and who could blame them? Things had changed so much around here—no one felt that kind of tension more than children, and she worried about them. She sent them off to the parlor to play checkers and put a pot of coffee on the stove to perk.

  A few minutes later, Tanner walked in and threw his hat on the table.

  “Coffee?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He raked his fingers through his hair. She put a cup in front of him and a pitcher of cream. “I want to know what happened out there. It was the damnedest thing I’ve experienced in a long time.”

  Bringing the pot to the table, she filled his coffee cup. “Are you sure they were shooting at us?”

  He looked up at her with a dead serious expression. “Susannah, I’m not sure of anything anymore except what I think and feel. Everything and everyone else is a mystery to me. Who’d want to shoot you or me or the kids? How the hell do I know? Did someone do it on purpose? Maybe—these days I’m always looking over my shoulder.”

  She straightened and stared at him. “Good God, why?”

  “I couldn’t say. I just have an uncomfortable feeling, a creepy hunch.” He sighed and sat back in the chair and tapped his spoon on the rim of the cup. His wedding band, already scuffed by hard work, glinted under the light of the overhead lamp. “You have to admit that things around here aren’t the same as they were.”

  She sat across from him. “No, I was just thinking that too.” She told him about the note she’d left.

  “Where’s Shaw?”

  “Not downstairs. I didn’t check his room, though.”

  “And I didn’t think to look for Muley when I unhitched the wagon.”

  At that moment, they heard footsteps on the porch and Riley walked in. He gave them a tentative smile. “Is this a private meeting or can anyone sit down?”

  “We’re just having coffee, Riley. Would you like some?”

  “Sure.” He pulled out a chair as Susannah stood up to get another cup.

  “What have you been up to?” she asked.

  “I just took Kuitan out to stretch his legs, since it wasn’t raining for a change.” His dark hair was windblown and he’d been out long enough for his face to have a ruddy glow.

  “Do you know where Shaw is?” she asked.

  “Isn’t he here? He was when I left.” He took a sip of his coffee with no cream or sugar.

  She exchanged brief glances with Tanner. “We haven’t seen him for hours. I’d better make sure he’s all right.” She slipped down the hall to the stairs.

  Tanner took a swallow of coffee and looked up at Riley. “Did you see anything interesting while you were out there?”

  “I thought I saw a buck down by the creek.”

  “Really? Did you have your gun with you?”

  Riley blanched. “Gun—um, no.” He pushed his coffee cup back and forth between his hands. “Why?”

  Tanner watched him. “No reason. I was just thinking you could have brought home some venison.”

  He seemed to become more agitated at the suggestion, and now his hands began to tremble. “I couldn’t put an animal that size on Kuitan unless I walked back. Anyway, that would involve dressing it.” He shuddered. “I’m a good shot but after what I saw in France, I don’t have an interest in that kind of hunting anymore.”

  “I suppose not,” Tanner replied. “Maybe just target shooting, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s all right.”

  It was almost impossible to figure out what went on in Riley’s mind. His fidgeting could mean he was guilty as sin, or just jittery from shell shock. Most of the time he seemed to be in the present, but at other times—who knew? Even though he’d recovered a lot of his memory, he wasn’t the same man who’d left here to go off to war. Tanner didn’t have any expertise in disturbances of the mind, but he didn’t believe Riley would ever be the same. If he was lying about the gun, Tanner couldn’t tell one way or another. If Riley did take a shot at him, it would be a good method to get him out of the way—a hunting accident, so tragic, so convenient. And just like that, Susannah would become Mrs. Braddock again.

  Susannah walked back into the kitchen. “Shaw must have left. He’s not upst
airs.”

  “Huh.” Tanner pushed out his chair. “Well, I’ve got some chores that still need doing before dark.”

  Riley nodded and interlaced his fingers tightly to try to hide the tremors.

  • • •

  Late that night, Susannah was woken by the sound of screaming. She flew out of bed, confused and startled.

  “I can’t save him! There’s nothing I can do! No, God no!”

  She hurried to Riley’s bedroom, and in the light of the lamp she kept burning in the upstairs hall, she was able to see him thrashing around in his bed.

  She grabbed his arm and shoulder. “Riley! Wake up! It’s a dream—it’s just a dream!”

  She heard Shaw thumping around in his bedroom. “What the hell is going on?” he called from his doorway.

  She stepped into the hall for a moment. “It’s nothing, just a bad dream. Just go back to bed and stay out of this.” The last thing she needed was more of Shaw’s “help.”

  “Bah.” He shut his door again.

  She sat on Riley’s bed. “Susannah?” he gasped, “is that you?”

  Her heart wrenched in her chest. Sleep was supposed to be a restful escape. For him, it was just a visit to a horror-filled place of death and fear. “Yes, honey, I’m here. You’re safe—you’re home in Powell Springs in your own house.” In the low light, she saw him press his hands to his head. She got a match from the box on the nightstand and lit his bedside lamp. His nightshirt was sweat-soaked, and for a moment she swore she could see the anguish of every single war atrocity he’d witnessed reflected in his eyes. When would he break free of this awful prison? Would he ever? She got a clean nightshirt from the chest of drawers.

  “Change into this, and I’ll get something to help you sleep.” She left him to go down the hall to the bathroom. On the way she grabbed her robe and put it on, not just because the night was cold. In the medicine cabinet, she found a bottle of Miles Nervine and a spoon she kept on the shelf. Returning to him, she found him in the fresh nightshirt, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “This will help,” she said, and he accepted the dose of nasty-tasting liquid like a child, with a shudder.

  “Why does all this stuff have to taste so bad?” he complained in a plaintive voice.

  “The bad taste makes it work better,” she teased gently. “Here, drink some water.” She handed him the glass that stood next to the matchbox and sat down beside him. “Is it always the same dream or different ones?”

  He drank half the water before setting it down, and she put the spoon in it. “The same one but it changes. I don’t even remember exactly what it’s about except for the shelling and the most gruesome images of blood and gore. Sometimes they’re beyond reality—tanks the size of the Lusitania, endless streams of machine-driven enemy soldiers that are shot but another immediately takes his place. Other times, I just dream about what I lived through.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I wish I could take it all away. I swear I would if I could.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded so tired. He leaned his head against hers. “God, Susannah, how did this happen? How did so many lives get disrupted, torn up, lost?”

  A wave of anger rolled through her. “That’s what war does. Foolish men argue for power and money, and send others to die for them to achieve whatever goals they have for themselves. They sit in their distant towers, far removed from the suffering, seeking glory and wealth.”

  He sat up and looked at her. “Is that what you really think?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But this war ended all wars.”

  She realized that to dispute this promise, which was repeated throughout the war—and which she doubted—might push him deeper into a well of hopelessness. After all, he’d lost so much to support the idea. If he thought it had all been for nothing, the despair could finish him.

  “I sincerely hope that’s true,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. “And you can be proud that you were part of it.”

  He snaked an arm around her waist. “But I’d rather dream about you than giant tanks and mechanized monsters.” He leaned in to kiss her and she let him. She had been lonely too, and tired. His lips eagerly sought hers and teased open her own. It had been this way with them at one time, passionate, their attraction to each other like a spark on drought-dry tinder, ready to ignite with a glance, a brush of a hand on her arm or knee. She felt his hand on her ribs climb to the softness of her breast and a small, anguished sound formed in her throat. He pulled her back onto the mattress and pushed open her robe and began working urgently on her nightgown buttons, all the while probing the inside of her mouth with his tongue. When, in frustration, he gave up on the buttons and pushed the hem of her nightgown to her hips, she seemed to wake up from her own reverie of the past. She put both hands on his shoulders, pushed hard, and squirmed away from him. She jumped off the opposite side of the bed and escaped his grip.

  “Stop it! We’re not doing this, Riley.”

  He stood up and faced her. “You were my wife!”

  “But I’m not now.”

  In the low light, they stared across the bed at each other like wild animals, each breathing fast, each wary.

  “I will not be unfaithful to my husband, no matter who he is. I didn’t betray you and I won’t betray Tanner.”

  He drew a deep breath and nodded, pushing his hair off his forehead. The fear that had been in his eyes earlier was now replaced with a trace of frustration.

  “All right, Susannah. All right. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she replied. She crossed the room to the door and went back to her own bedroom. This time when she closed the door, she turned the lock.

  She got back into her cold bed and nestled under the covers. Yes, she had allowed Riley to kiss her, and it had been a mistake. It was all a mistake. No matter how she tried, she could not muster the feelings for him she’d once had.

  He wasn’t her husband anymore.

  Late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, Riley surprised everyone by bringing home a tree. He had nailed a stand on it before he brought it in.

  As he dragged it into the house, even the boys, who usually kept their distance from him, were excited and jumping around. Tanner had told them not to mention what happened in the woods to anyone, not even at home. Susannah wasn’t sure what his thinking was, but she decided that he probably knew best.

  “I haven’t seen a real Northwest evergreen at Christmas since I left. I thought it would be fun, since we didn’t have one.” Susannah followed him into the parlor and they moved a table out of one corner to put it up. After supper, they spent the evening stringing popcorn and cranberries, and Susannah went to the attic to bring down the decorations. She was pleased to see that Tanner stayed to help.

  Shaw watched the proceedings from his rocker and threw in his two cents now and then, which no one wanted to hear.

  “Can we put candles on the tree, Aunt Susannah?” Wade asked.

  “Oh, no. I’ve heard about too many trees catching fire and burning down someone’s house.”

  “Awww, I’d watch to make sure it didn’t happen.”

  “Killjoy,” Shaw croaked under his breath.

  “I’m not deaf, Shaw,” she reminded him. “If there were a fire in the house, you wouldn’t be able to get downstairs in time.” She and Riley exchanged wry glances before she turned back to the boys. “So, sorry, the answer is still no. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Will Santa Claus come?” Wade asked.

  “Santa Claus!” Joshua hooted. “Do you really still—”

  “Josh,” Tanner cut in. “I need some help out here in the kitchen.”

  “Yessirrrr,” the boy answered and got to his feet as if facing doomsday.

  Susannah watched them go with a private smile and finished hanging the glass ornaments and homemade treasures she’d collected over the years. Anyone looking at the scene would assume this was a happy family gathering, she thought. />
  But anyone who thought that would be wrong.

  • • •

  Just before midnight, everyone but Tanner had straggled away to bed. Susannah was picking up the empty storage boxes from the parlor to put away until it was time to take the tree down again.

  Tanner had been outside, checking the buildings one last time before he went to the bunkhouse. He walked into the parlor with one hand behind his back.

  “Put down that junk for a minute and come sit.” He sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside him.

  “I’m almost done.”

  “Susannah—”

  “Okay.” She dropped the box and stepped over to the leather sofa, apprehensive about what was coming next. She sat beside him, suddenly longing for the evenings they had spent here. It was only a few months ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

  “This has turned out to be a pretty churned-up year for us.”

  “Yes, it has.” She drew a deep breath and sighed. “One I never expected.”

  He took her hand. “I know I’m not the easiest man to figure out, and that’s it’s not fair of me to expect you to read my mind just because I don’t talk about my feelings much. So here’s something I want you to know.”

  She looked at him, her apprehension growing. He was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear; her mind raced; he was going to say he’d decided not—

  “I felt guilty when Riley first came home. I was mad but I felt guilty too, for loving his wife. But you’re not his wife, you’re mine. And I’m sick to death of feeling guilty. I don’t owe him or the world an explanation about loving you.”

  “Tanner, you don’t have to—”

  He held up a hand to indicate he wasn’t finished. “When we talked in the tack room that day a couple of months ago, I told you I didn’t know how to fight a man who didn’t remember anything or anyone.”

  She nodded.

  “Well, he remembers enough now, and I’ve had enough of feeling ashamed of being your husband. I won’t force you to choose, but I want you to know that I won’t pull any punches either.” From behind his back, he brought out a gift-wrapped box. “I wanted to give you this in private, not in front of the others.”