by Bonnie Leon
For a long while Hannah remained on her knees, praying and beseeching God, seeking his forgiveness and asking that he mercifully restore her marriage. Weak from weeping, she finally stood. She poked the ash and then added tinder to the glowing coals. She went to the front porch to get wood and stopped there to watch the empty road. If only John would return.
Quincy walked out of the barn carrying a pail of milk. He headed toward the house. Using the corner of her apron, Hannah wiped away the remnant of her tears, turned to the stack of wood, and picked out a few pieces. She faced Quincy. “Good day,” she said, her words sounding hollow.
Quincy held out the pail. “Patience needed milking and I figured ye might be needing some fresh.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll take it in for ye.” Quincy hurried up the steps and opened the door, standing aside for Hannah.
Hannah remained just inside the doorway, watching while Quincy placed the milk on the counter. He turned as if to leave, then stopped and looked at Hannah. “Not to worry. He’ll be back.”
“I pray you’re right.”
Quincy removed his hat. “I could find him if ye like.”
“Where do you think he’s gone to?”
“Sydney Town, most likely.”
Taking in a shuddering breath, Hannah couldn’t keep from looking toward the roadway. She willed John to appear. “If you go, I want to go with you.”
“Don’t figure that’s a good idea. Most likely he’d rather ye didn’t.” He spoke in a quiet, even tone. “If it was me, I’d be discomfited if me wife came looking for me.” He smoothed back short-cropped hair and offered a kind gaze. “I’ll find him for ye.”
Hannah felt a flicker of hope. “It would do my heart good to know he’s well.”
“I’ll do me best.” Quincy returned his hat to his head. “I’ll leave straightaway, then.”
“Can you wait a moment? I’d like to write him a note. Please wait.”
Quincy shrugged. “S’pose it’ll do no harm. I’ll get me horse ready and be back.” He walked toward the barn.
Hannah closed the door, then took pen, ink, and paper down from a shelf. Sitting at the table, she opened the ink bottle and dipped in the pen. She held the pen above the paper, but couldn’t think of what to say. What will bring him back to me?
She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. “Father, give me the words. Tell me what John needs to hear so he can believe in me again. Please open his heart to me.”
She put the pen to the paper. “My dearest John. I pray Quincy has found you well and safe. I’ve been worried to distraction and utterly desolate since you left.
“The fault for all that has happened rests upon my shoulders. I should have told you the truth long ago. You said you feel betrayed, and you should. It was wrong of me to keep such a ghastly secret, especially from you, the one I trust above all others. Please believe that if it were possible to go back and begin again, I would tell you.
“I beseech you to forgive me. I need you. I love you. I will always love you.” Hannah stopped and stared at the paper. What more could she say? She signed it, “Always your loving wife, Hannah.”
She blew on the paper to dry the ink and then reread what she’d written. Squeezing her eyes closed, she prayed, “Father, help him understand, help him to forgive me.” She folded the letter in half and held it against her chest as she walked to the door. Bring him back to me.
When she opened the door, Quincy stood alongside his horse at the foot of the porch steps. He looked uncomfortable and glum. “I’m ready to go.”
“Give him this.” Hannah extended the note. “Make sure he gets it.”
Quincy tucked the letter into his coat pocket. “Not to worry. I’ll find him.” He shoved his foot into the stirrup, pushed up, and settled into the saddle. “I locked Jackson in a stall inside the barn. Figured it best to leave him here with ye.” With a quick tug on the reins, he turned the horse toward the road and trotted off. Hannah watched until she could no longer see him and then stepped back inside and closed the door. The house felt empty.
“I must speak to Lydia.”
She added wood to the fire, then took down her cloak from its peg beside the door, pulled it about her shoulders, and hurried out of the house toward the barn. After making sure Jackson had water, Hannah saddled her mare, and without thought of the disagreeable stirrup stockings, she settled atop the horse and headed for the Athertons’.
When she approached the Atherton home, Hannah was reminded of her unconventional mode of travel by the stares she received. Perhaps the wagon would have been a better choice, but it would have taken too much time to harness the horse, and riding was faster. Under the circumstances she cared little what others thought.
She rode directly to Lydia’s cabin, dismounted and tied the horse to the porch railing, then walked up the steps and knocked on the cottage door. No one answered. She must bein the main house.
Hannah headed toward the Atherton home. When she reached the back porch, she didn’t bother to knock but stepped inside, striding through the porchway and into the kitchen. It smelled of baking.
Mrs. Goudy smiled at her. “Hannah! Grand to see you!” She set a pie on the broad kitchen counter. “What a pleasant surprise.” She gave Hannah a hearty hug. “I wish you’d come to visit us more often.”
The woman’s kindness broke down Hannah’s reserve, and she could feel the sting of tears. “I’m glad to be here,” she barely managed to say.
Mrs. Goudy held her at arm’s length. “What is it, dear? What’s the trouble?”
“I’m fine, truly. Just a bit emotional is all.” Hannah couldn’t tell Mrs. Goudy that John was gone. She’d want to know what could make him so angry that he’d leave.
“Is that all?” Mrs. Goudy eyed her with suspicion.
Deidre wandered into the kitchen and turned cold eyes on Hannah. She reminded Hannah of a cat gazing at some unsuspecting little bird.
“Why, Hannah, what are ye doing ’ere? It’s not like ye to come all this way during the week.” She glanced out the window. “And where’s that handsome husband of yers? I was hoping to have a word with him.”
There was something in her tone, something threatening that set Hannah’s nerves on edge. “He’s off on business,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. “I thought it a fine time to visit friends.”
“Oh.” Deidre swept up a loose tendril of blonde hair and tucked it in place. “Well, if yer looking for Lydia, I saw her in the parlor a few moments ago.” She smiled—it was not the warm smile of friendship but rather a cool and dismissive one. With that, she walked toward the pantry.
Mrs. Goudy returned to the stone oven and retrieved another pie. She glanced at Hannah. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Absolutely.” Hannah edged toward the door leading to the dining room. “I’ll just have a look to see what Lydia’s up to.” She tried to keep her tone light.
Hannah moved through the familiar dining room, crossed the stone entryway, and stepped into the parlor and onto its colorful rug. Lydia was cleaning a window and didn’t notice her.
“Lydia.”
Her friend turned about with an “Oh!” She pressed a hand to her throat. “You frightened me. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I guess I was off in my own world.” She smiled. “Grand to see ye. It’s been too long since ye’ve come for a visit.”
Hannah hugged her. She needed to talk, but not here. “Can you take a bit of time so we can chat?”
“Of course. Please, sit.”
“Can we go to your cottage?”
“All right.” Lydia’s expression turned to concern. “What is it? Something’s not right.”
“I’ll tell you, but not here.”
“All right, then. I’ll let Mrs. Goudy know where we’ve gone to in case she needs me.” Lydia moved to Hannah and placed an arm protectively about her shoulders. “Come on. We’ll talk.”
The two friends sat across from each ot
her at Lydia’s small table. “Are ye thirsty?” she asked. “I can get us something to drink.”
“I am. It was a bit of a ride here. A glass of water would suit me fine.”
“Ye came by yerself?” Lydia moved to a counter and lifted a pitcher of water. She filled two glasses and carried them to the table, setting one in front of Hannah.
“Yes.”
“And on horseback, I see.”
“I did. I like to ride.” Hannah sipped the water, uncertain just how to begin the conversation.
“So, what’s brought ye all the way here in the middle of the week?”
Hannah set her glass on the table. She looked at it and not at Lydia. “John’s gone.”
“What do ye mean, gone?”
“We had a terrible fight and he left me.”
“Oh.” Lydia rested an arm over the back of her chair. “I thought ye had something dreadful to tell me.” She offered a gentle smile. “He’ll be back, most likely in time for dinner. Men don’t like to miss a meal.” She patted Hannah’s hand. “Ye don’t need to fret so. Every couple has their rows now and again.”
“You don’t understand. He left two days ago.” Hannah ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “I told him about Mr. Walker and the baby.”
Lydia took in a sharp breath. “My Lord. And he left, eh?”
“Yes. It was awful. Just as I’d feared. He was so angry. I’ve never seen him like that . . . never.”
“I’m sure he’ll see reason and be home soon.”
“I don’t think so. He accused me of enticing Mr. Walker. He believes it was my fault.” Hannah could feel the stabbing pain of John’s accusations.
“Truly not.”
“He said he could never trust me again.” Hannah’s eyes brimmed with tears. She tugged a handkerchief out from beneath the cuff of her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.
“Oh, he doesn’t mean that. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re angry. I’m sure he’ll get over it. He just needs a bit of time.” Lydia laid a hand on Hannah’s arm. “He’ll come to his senses and realize the truth.”
Hannah gently blew her nose. “I want to believe that, but when I told him that I’d prayed the baby would die, he became enraged. He said no decent woman could want her own child dead.” She pressed trembling fingers against her lips. “I’ll never forget the look of revulsion in his eyes. He hates me.” Heartache shot through her. “He’ll never forgive me. Never.”
Lydia moved around the table, knelt beside Hannah, and put her arms around her. “I’m sure that’s not true. He’s angry is all. John could never stop loving ye.” She patted Hannah’s back the way she might a child. “He’ll be home, ye’ll see. Yer love is stronger than this.” She smiled and gently wiped tears from Hannah’s cheeks. “I know it is.”
“How can you know that?” Hannah was sure Lydia was wrong. Fear brought more tears. “I’m afraid. What if I’ve lost him?” She glanced at the window, hoping she might see him. Of course that was a silly notion. “Quincy thinks he may be in Sydney Town. He’s on his way there now to see if he can find him.”
Lydia returned to her seat. “He will, and he and John will come home. Ye’ll see I’m right.” She rested her arms on the table. “The two of ye will grow old together, I’m sure of it.”
Hannah nodded. “That’s what I always thought. But you didn’t see how angry and how hurt he was. He felt utterly betrayed. You and Mrs. Atherton were right.” She tried to keep her chin from quivering. “I should have told him the truth before we were married.” She covered her face with her hands and massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “But I know that if I’d told him before, I would have lost him for sure. I may have lost him anyway.”
“Try to be hopeful.” Lydia’s eyes teared. “We all must be.”
Lydia rarely cried. Something must be terribly wrong to move her to tears. “What’s happened? What is it? Something besides my problems is bothering you.” Hannah dabbed at her eyes and carefully tucked her handkerchief inside her cuff. “Here I’ve been talking about me and John, and you’ve troubles of your own.”
“No. It’s nothing.”
“It is. Tell me.”
Lydia tipped her glass slightly and gazed at the water inside, then looked at Hannah. “It’s David. He’s not come by to see me for some time. He’s been here, but he’s not talked with me. He did see Deidre. I’m certain he’s tossed me over for her. And I can’t blame him. She’s beautiful.”
“She’s comely enough and soft-spoken, but no more educated and not nearly the person you are. I can’t believe David would be interested in her. He has more insight than that. Deidre’s devious. I don’t trust her, not a bit.”
“I don’t either. Not anymore. At first she seemed quite nice. But I know better now.” Lydia clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m worried about David. Deidre just wants a man who will take care of her. She doesn’t love him.”
“I’m so sorry, Lydia. David seems to be a levelheaded sort, but if he believes Deidre is better for him than you, then you’re better off without him.”
“I suppose.” Lydia didn’t sound convinced. She pushed away from the table and stood. “My troubles are nothing. Ye’ve much more to be concerned ’bout. But I’ll wager that by the time ye return home, John will be there.”
“I pray you’re right.”
“Will ye stay and have dinner with me? Mrs. Goudy’s made a roast and fresh-baked pies.”
“Sounds delicious, but I dare not stay. I want to get home before dark.”
“I’m sure Perry can take you in one of the buggies. It’s been a long while since we supped together.”
Hannah was torn. On one hand, she hoped to find John at home, and on the other, she hated the thought of returning to an empty house. Time with friends would be a good distraction. “Do you think Catharine will mind?”
“Heavens, no. In fact, I’ll wager that if I invite her to join us, she will.”
“All right. I’ll stay.”
Hannah stood beside the buggy. “I’ve had a grand time,” she told Mrs. Atherton.
“So pleased you came by. Say hello to John for me. And tell him to work a bit less. One needs to have some leisure now and again.”
“I’ll tell him.” Hannah felt a twinge of guilt. Except for Lydia, she’d told everyone John had been unable to join her because of work.
Mrs. Atherton hugged Hannah. “Come again soon.”
“I will.”
Lydia grasped Hannah’s hand. “I’ll see you on Sunday, eh?” “I’ll be there.”
Perry assisted Hannah into the buggy, then climbed in beside her. Her mare was tied to the back. He slapped the reins and the horse stepped out briskly. “It’s going to be a fine evening. A bit chilly, but good for a drive through the countryside.”
“It is. Thank you for seeing me home. I feel badly that you’ll be returning after sundown.”
“I’ll light the lanterns and they’ll help me find my way just fine.” He turned his attention to the horse. “It’s a pleasure to be of help to a friend.” He gave Hannah a sideways glance. “Lydia told me.”
“What did she say?”
“Just that the two of ye had a row.”
Hannah’s anger flared. Why would she say anything? Sheknows I wanted it kept secret. She glanced at Perry. “We did argue.” Hannah wasn’t sure she wanted Perry to know anything more, but she knew he genuinely cared about her and John. He was a true friend. “The truth is . . . he left. And has been gone for two days.”
“That’s not like him. What got into him?”
“It was a very bad fight.”
“Still, it seems a bit out of line.” He tapped the horse with his whip. “He’ll be back—probably there now.”
“I hope so.”
The ride home was pleasant. Perry talked about his work for Mr. Atherton and about his promising relationship with Gwen. Hannah was happy for him but couldn’t help but think about Lydia. If only things would have
worked out between her and Perry—that would have been best.
Darkness swept over a blazing red sky. Perry stopped and lit the lantern. “Hope there’s enough oil to last ’til I get home,” he said, climbing back into the buggy.
By the time they reached Hannah and John’s house, a promise of moonlight brightened the horizon. A light was on in the house. Hannah’s heart quickened. “John. He’s home.”
“See, I told ye.”
Just as Perry pulled the buggy up in front of the porch, the house went dark. “Strange.” He pulled the brake and secured the reins, then climbed down, turning to assist Hannah.
“Wait ’ere. Something’s not right.”
“There’s no light in Quincy’s cabin either,” Hannah said. Jackson barked and whined from inside the barn. If John had returned, he’d certainly have let the dog out.
Perry lifted one of the lanterns and grabbed his musket.
Fear ignited inside Hannah. “What are you thinking? Who could it be except John?”
“If he were home, why’d he put out the light? And he’s not come out to greet us.” Perry headed toward the house.
“Please be careful,” Hannah whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
10
Perry moved cautiously toward the front steps. The lantern in one hand and his musket clutched against his chest with the other, he glanced back at Hannah.
She offered what she hoped was a heartening smile but couldn’t keep her eyes from the front door. Who could be in the house? Why would they put out the light? Hannah prayed, but all sorts of frightening possibilities flooded her mind.
What if some horrible man waited inside . . . waited to slay them? If that were true, Hannah couldn’t allow Perry to face him alone. She searched about for something to use as a weapon. All she found was the driving whip. Hands shaking, she grabbed hold of it and followed Perry.
Holding the lantern higher, he turned to Hannah. “Stay back,” he whispered.
“I left the pistol on the hearth,” Hannah said softly. “What if the intruder has found it?”
“That’s not for ye to worry ’bout.” Perry glanced at the house. “I know what to do with this sort.”
