He took her hand and played with her fingers. “I am, Vivie. I’m angry you ventured onto the city streets of Butte without me. I’m angry you dared go into the Company offices without me. You have no idea the vultures who abound there.”
She shivered. “I can well imagine.”
“Who did you meet when you were at the Company, Vivie?”
“A man called Samuel Sanders.” She frowned as Lucas nearly growled as she said that name. “He was pleasant in the beginning but then transformed into your typical placating yet overbearing man of business.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, of course not. We were in his office with his secretary outside.” Her amused smile faded as she looked at her husband.
Lucas’s gaze was wild with fear mixed with anger. “Never speak to him again,” he whispered. “You have no idea how close you were to peril.” He stroked a hand from her head down her arm as though to reassure himself that she was safe.
“I can’t make such a promise unless you tell me why. I won’t be rude to someone out of hand without a reason.” When Lucas shook his head, she glared at him. “I have a meeting with him tomorrow, and, unless you tell me why I shouldn’t attend, I will be there. I believe he wishes to discuss my concerns in more detail.”
Lucas paled and gripped her hand to the point of pain. “You are not going to that meeting.”
Her eyes flashed with ire as she challenged him. “Do you forbid me?”
“Dammit, Vivie. Do you believe I would act as an overpowering husband?” He slapped his leg with his free hand. “Mr. Sanders is Gabriel’s and Jeremy’s long-lost, but cruel cousin from Boston. He’s also known as Henry Masterson. He took tremendous joy in debasing and abusing Fiona, who was his secretary at the time, and then he tossed her aside after he’d gotten her with child.” He speared Vivie with a furious look. “His favorite place for maltreatment of his latest victim is that office of his.” He gripped his wife’s chin. “Does he know who you are?”
Genevieve flushed and shook her head. “I gave him my maiden name and removed my wedding ring for the meeting.”
Lucas frowned, tracing the ring on her finger, and sighed with disappointment. “I don’t like deception, Vivie. Promise me that you will not meet him or speak with him again.” He waited until she nodded her agreement. “I fear he will have discovered who you are and has plans to either threaten or hurt you. Either of which are unacceptable.”
She nodded, her brow furrowed as she considered what he’d said. “Why did he act as he did toward Fiona?” she whispered.
Lucas sighed, raising her hand to his lips for a kiss. “I’d suggest you ask her. And I would speak with Jeremy and Gabriel too, so that you better understand their history with Mr. Sanders. They’ll all want to keep you safe from such a man.” He met her confused gaze. “He may have attempted to be charming yesterday, but he’s one of the vilest men of my acquaintance.”
After a few moments of silence where she’d relaxed into his side, Lucas asked, “Would you have been my champion when I was a child working in my father’s store?”
“Why should you have worked in his store?” she asked with a furrowed brow.
Lucas shrugged as he continued to play with her hands. “It was the family store. It’s what you do when you’re in trade, Vivie.” She blushed at his gentle chastisement. “We stocked shelves, ran to the storeroom for needed linens, swept the floors. Father called them our chores, and we always attended school, but we worked most evenings after school and on weekends, starting at around age nine. I was fortunate because I knew we would always have food, clothes, and I received a good education. However, you should know that many of these families in Butte wouldn’t survive without their children helping out. Life isn’t just or fair in that way.”
“I know that, and that’s why we need to ensure their children attend school and have a chance for a better life. It’s only through education that they will flourish.” She flushed as he gazed at her appreciatively.
“I agree that an education is important, but you can’t learn when your stomach is empty and you are worrying that your mother won’t make rent and your family will be evicted.” He held his finger to her lips. “I’m not saying I disagree with you, Vivie. I agree with you and will be as supportive as you want me to be as you work to improve the lives of the children in the communities in which we live. I just want you to be aware of the obstacles you will face as you work for reform.”
He smiled at her as her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m so proud of you, Vivie. You are passionate in your beliefs, and I admire that.”
“Why? You were so angry with me a few moments ago.”
He chuffed out a laugh. “That was because you weren’t careful enough about your personal safety. I couldn’t be prouder that you’re a reformer at heart.” He raised her hand and kissed her palm this time.
She blushed and fought tears at the truth of his statement in his expression. “I can’t believe you’re serious.”
His full laugh eased her tension. “Of course I am. My sister and cousins are suffragists. I’d thought it only a matter of time until you became infected by their brand of reforming illness.” He stroked a hand over her cheek. “I’m delighted you have your own cause.”
The following afternoon, Genevieve sat at the kitchen table, paring potatoes. Fiona entered the kitchen and wrapped an apron around her waist as she joined Genevieve at the table. “I can’t thank you enough for the help,” Fiona said.
Genevieve smiled. “I’ve always enjoyed the kitchen. My mother despaired of me.”
Fiona smiled. “I had no choice but to like the kitchen, with all my brothers and sisters.”
Genevieve gasped as she nicked her finger. She set down her knife and the potato she’d been peeling and put pressure on her injured finger, leaving a small red splotch on a kitchen towel. “Do you miss your family in Ireland?”
Fiona nodded, a wistful look in her eye. “Mum and Da died right after I arrived in America. I’ve two brothers who remained in Ireland, but the rest of us are in America or England.”
As Genevieve continued to press on her finger, she studied Fiona. “May I ask you something? I realize I don’t know you well, but I met someone a couple days ago.”
Fiona narrowed her eyes, and the easy camaraderie disappeared as her shoulders tensed. “I have few friends here.”
“I find that hard to believe. You’re friendly and warm.” Genevieve took a deep breath as she met Fiona’s guarded gaze. “I met Samuel Sanders.” Her eyes widened as Fiona paled.
“Where? How? Why?” Fiona breathed. Her paring knife clattered as it hit the table and then landed on the floor. Genevieve caught the rolling potato before it joined the knife.
“I’m interested in the plight of children. Ensuring they receive a good education and aren’t forced to work at a young age. I wanted to meet with someone from the Anaconda Company about their rules and regulations regarding child labor. I hoped to confirm they were complying with the laws.”
Fiona’s eyes glazed, and she began to pant. “You met him in his office,” she whispered.
Genevieve released her hold on the potato, uncaring as it dropped to the floor. She gripped Fiona’s arm and gave it a gentle shake. “You’re all right, Fee. Focus on me.” She gave Fiona a hesitant smile. Fiona’s dazed, anguished gaze and her overall panic slowly receding as she followed instructions and focused on Genevieve. “That’s it, breathe deeply.”
After a few moments, Fiona had calmed enough that she looked around her kitchen and frowned at the tabletop. She looked to the ground and picked up the paring knife and potato. She wiped the knife on her apron and set the potato in front of her. “At this rate, we’ll never have dinner ready in time.”
“Fiona, we can eat late.” Genevieve maintained a gentle, but firm, hold of Fiona’s arm. “Lucas told me a little about him but not much. From how you reacted to his name and the memory of his office, I now realize I was nai
ve in visiting him.”
Fiona swiped at a tear. “You weren’t to know. Besides, whatever he did, I allowed him to do.” Fiona rose, breaking contact with Genevieve and moving toward the stove.
“I know that can’t be true,” Genevieve sputtered. “I see the affection between you and Patrick.” She frowned as Fiona let out a mocking laugh.
Fiona kept her back turned as she worked in the sink. “I’ve no idea why you keep your husband at arm’s length.” She shrugged her shoulders before she turned and met Genevieve’s gaze. “I would warn you. If this isn’t how you want your marriage to continue, I’d find a way to change it. For, once a pattern is set, it’s near impossible to change it.”
Genevieve paled at Fiona’s words, nodding her understanding. Her finger had healed enough so she could help again with paring potatoes, and they worked in silence.
That evening, Lucas had disappeared from their room again after she had prepared for bed, and she lay there with sleep eluding her. She looked around their hotel room and spied her violin case peeking out from behind the chair. She kicked away the covers and rose, freeing her violin from its case. She ran the bow over the strings but held the neck of the violin to prevent sound from filling the hotel room. She smiled to herself at the thought of irate neighbors knocking on her door as she played as she desired—at full volume with no regard for whom she would disturb. She closed her eyes as she held her bow above the strings, moving her arm in the motion of playing, and imagined the sounds she would create.
“Why don’t you play?” he whispered, standing in the doorway.
She shrieked at Lucas’s voice.
She set her violin in its case and closed it with a definitive snap. “I don’t want to wake anyone. Besides, I don’t have a talent like you do.”
“That’s rubbish, and you know it. I heard you play on the train, Vivie. It was beautiful. It called to my soul.”
A flush rose on her cheeks, and her eyes looked haunted. “You never said,” she whispered.
“You hid your violin and acted as though you wanted to keep it a secret. Thus, I thought to humor you. But you have an artist’s soul, Vivie. I know you do.” He smiled as he cupped her cheek.
“I love music,” she whispered. “Whenever things have gone badly in my life, I’ve either turned to books or music.”
“And yet you want to hide it. Just as you want to conceal your desire to help those less fortunate. You don’t have to hide yourself from me, Vivie. I hope you’ll come to believe that what I say is true.”
Genevieve’s eyes were luminous, as though fighting hope. “You said on the train you’d teach me to write music.” At his nod, she frowned. “Don’t you worry I’ll become as lost in music as you?”
He laughed. “Vivie, you have as much right to your passions as I do.” He smiled at the blush on her cheeks. “It’s late tonight, but I’m willing to teach you a little now.” When her contented ease seeped away, he crouched in front of her. “What’s the matter?”
“I hear the most wondrous music in my mind. What happens if I can’t write it on paper?” She picked at her wrap. “What if I learn what you teach me, and it never comes out right?”
Lucas sighed and met her worried gaze. “I’m afraid that’s the risk you take, Vivie. Nothing ever comes out as you’d wish. It’s always different than how you hear it in your head. But it doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful.” He stroked her cheek again. “And if it comes out a garbled mess, give thanks you created beautiful music in your mind. Few people are capable of that.”
He stood and moved to her small vanity. “We’ll use this as a desk.” He arranged the vanity stool and a chair and pulled out paper. He stilled as he watched her warily a moment. “I’ve made a horrible assumption. Can you read music?” At her amused laugh, he relaxed. “Whew. This will make it easier.”
Genevieve settled on the stool, pulling a blanket from the bed to cover her legs. Lucas watched her speculatively, and she flicked the part crumpled on the floor over him.
He smiled with amusement and appreciation. “Very wifely of you,” he teased.
As he explained how he wrote music, Genevieve forgot the late hour and the wind whistling outside, rattling their window. She was mesmerized by his deep voice, passionate with his enthusiasm, and by his long fingers that flew over the page as he wrote a simple, sweet song. His composition took up half the sheet when he stopped and held out the pencil to her. “Here, you finish it. You know the rhythm and what I’m creating.”
“I could never,” she stammered, her hands tucked against her stomach under the blanket.
“Vivie, this isn’t a masterpiece. It’s a lullaby for little Rose. She’ll be delighted with whatever we write.” His teasing smile hid a challenge as he still offered the pencil to her.
She took a deep breath as she extricated her right hand from the blanket to grip the pencil. “You can rewrite it after I make a mess of it.” She glared at him as he laughed.
“We’ll simply tell them it’s a song in two parts.” He nodded to the paper in silent encouragement.
She straightened her shoulders a moment before leaning over and humming to herself. After another hesitation, she wrote a note and hummed again. With each note, she took her time. Rather than Lucas’s rapid song production, she worked meticulously over each note.
After a half an hour, she put down the pencil and frowned. “How did you write so much music so quickly, and I wrote barely a line?” She glared from the paper to him.
He shrugged. “I’ve had years of practice. And I’m used to hearing music in my head and transferring it to paper without having to sound out every note. It’ll come easier to you, Vivie. I promise.”
“Is this something you did with Parthena?” She froze after asking the question. “I don’t know why I asked you that.”
Lucas shook his head. “No, your sister had no interest in learning how to compose. She wanted to perfect her performing.” He gave Vivie a speculative look. “You’re quite different from your sister.”
She stiffened a moment before rising, taking the blanket with her. “I know. Thank you, Lucas, for the short tutorial. If you don’t mind, I might use some of your paper to compose from time to time.” She stood with her back to him. “Now, it’s time for bed.”
Lucas nodded. “Go ahead and sleep, Vivie. I think I’ll compose a little while longer.”
She crawled into bed and curled on her side, listening to her husband scratch out notes on a page rather than climb into bed and hold her in his arms.
Chapter 8
On the day before New Year’s Eve, Genevieve found herself standing beside Savannah and Araminta as the men played with the children. They had borrowed toboggans from Patrick’s neighbor and took turns riding down a snow-covered slag heap. Savannah laughed as Gabriel and Billy barreled down the man-made hill together, nearly running into a pile of snow before they came to a halt.
“Oh, I wish Clarissa could see you!” Savannah called out to Gabriel as he tugged Billy off the sled. Gabriel smiled and waved as they trudged up the hill again. Savannah turned to the women next to her. “I can only imagine how hard it is for Rissa not to be here to watch them play.”
“It would be harder for her to be on her feet all this time,” Araminta murmured.
Genevieve studied Araminta closely. She had a tight bond with the family, although she had an air of aloofness about her. Genevieve had learned that she was an orphan who had traveled west with Savannah and Jeremy over a decade ago, and worked helping to care for Clarissa’s children. Araminta ignored Genevieve with her focus on the next pair of riders, her gaze lit with fiery intensity as Colin and Geraldine shrieked and whooped their joy as they flew down the hill.
“Mr. Sullivan seems to enjoy these outings as much as the children,” Genevieve said.
Savannah laughed. “Colin is young at heart. He’s one of the most joyous people I’ve ever known.” She spared a quick glance in Genevieve’s direction. “Although I’d
recommend you never cross him or someone he cares about. Then he can be fierce.”
“And he’s extraordinarily loyal,” Araminta said. She trudged up the hill in her limping, loping gait to chat with those not sledding.
Genevieve stood transfixed as Lucas sat on one sled with Melinda on another next to him. Genevieve could hear his laughter from the bottom of the hill as he teased his niece. The countdown was carried on the wind.
“Three, … two, … one!” Gabriel yelled.
However, only Melinda careened down the hill, while Lucas continued to dig his heels into the snow with no appreciable forward momentum. Unbeknownst to him, Jeremy had a firm grip on the back of his sled. Finally, after Melly had gone a fair distance, Lucas bolted forward. When he crashed into the snow pile at the base of the hill, he emerged, looking like an angry polar bear.
“I’ll get you, Jeremy McLeod!” he called up the hill. He slung an arm around Melinda’s shoulders as he laughed. He turned toward the watching women. “Serves me right to think Jer would play fair when I challenged his daughter to a race.”
Savannah giggled. “You should have seen yourself, Lucas. Digging away with your hands and heels and going nowhere. You probably ruined that portion of the hill!”
Lucas laughed and gave a whole body shake, ridding most of the snow off his coat and trousers. “Come. Let’s race again.” He and Melinda walked up the hill, to await their turn.
Savannah turned to look at Genevieve. “He’s always enjoyed playing in the snow.”
Melinda laughed at something Lucas said, the sound echoing down the hill.
“And he’s always been wonderful with his nieces and nephews. For he considers Rissa’s children his nieces and nephews too.”
“You have a very warm, loving family,” Genevieve said.
“We’ve formed one here. It wasn’t always like this for us.”
“Lucas mentioned something once that made me think that his mother, your mother, wasn’t proud of his musical accomplishments.” She stared at Savannah curiously. “Is that possible?”
Escape To Love: Banished Saga, Book 6 Page 8
