Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight

by Flightner, Ramona

“Then perhaps I should take it off,” she teased, instinctively understanding he needed to focus on something other than his memories. “Make love with me, my darling.”

  He tugged her nightgown over her head, and his hands roved over her, pausing at her midriff to the subtle roundness there. “I know what can happen, Sav,” he whispered, “but I can’t rid myself of some hope.”

  “I know, love. I know.” She tugged at his hair and kissed him, losing herself to his touch and their passion.

  Chapter 8

  Boston, July 1918

  Savannah stood outside the door, her hand on the doorknob but unable to turn it. She noted the fresh coat of paint, where the “and Son” had been scraped away. She traced the faint outline of the letters a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing open the door. The tinkling of the bell evoked a multitude of memories: Her mother working behind the counter with her father. Lucas teasing her as he left for deliveries. Her father’s careful cajoling of patrons to purchase more than intended and his wink in her direction when he was successful.

  Savannah stood in the doorway a moment, expecting to see her father, but frowned when an unknown young man smiled at her as he nodded to the fine linens. When he opened his mouth to begin his sales pitch, Savannah murmured, “I beg your pardon. I was hoping to see Mr. Russell today.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s detained and is unable to speak with patrons at this time.” He held his arms out as though to showcase the displays of fine linen. “I’m certain I can be of service to you.”

  “I apologize. I’m not here to see linens but Mr. Russell.” Savannah backed up a step as though to leave before moving with alacrity through the side door to the adjoining hallway. Her father’s office door was ajar, and she pushed it open. Loud footsteps sounded behind her, and she bolted into the office, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Seated at his desk, her father glared at the intruder. With a look of wonder on his face, he rose and walked toward Savannah, as though afraid he saw an apparition, rather than his daughter. “Savannah? Are you really here?”

  “Yes, Father.” Her voice broke before she could say anything further. She threw herself into his strong arms, shuddering when they closed around her.

  When his young assistant then barged into the room, indignantly affronted at being outmaneuvered, Martin only waved him away.

  When they were again alone, Savannah continued to cling to her father. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she whispered.

  “I never dared to hope,” he murmured, kissing her head and stroking a hand down her back. “Why didn’t you write and tell me you were returning to Boston?”

  She eased away and swiped at her tears. After extracting a handkerchief from her handbag and scrubbing at her face, she shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you.” She allowed herself to be settled into a chair, and he sat next to her. “There was too much to tell in a letter.” She clasped her father’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m to have a baby.” Her voice broke on baby.

  Martin beamed. “What wonderful news!” His smile faltered when Savannah took little joy in the announcement, and tears continued to course down her cheeks. “Why aren’t you happier?”

  “I was advised years ago that to have another baby would mean almost certain death for me. We tried to avoid pregnancy, but …” She flushed and ducked her head at discussing such an intimate topic with her father.

  “There must be something they can do for you, in this day and age,” Martin argued. “I’ve read of all sorts of miraculous operations and medicines that are available now.”

  “I fear it will take a miracle to save both me and the baby,” she whispered, clinging to her father’s hand. “It’s why Jeremy insisted we travel here. He wanted to ensure I saw the best physicians and didn’t trust that the doctors in Montana would know the latest techniques.” She took a deep breath.

  “Whatever the reason that brought you home to me, I am delighted,” he whispered. “You look beautiful, Savannah darling.”

  Her tremulous smile strengthened as he held her hand. “I can’t wait for you to meet Melly. For you to know your granddaughter.”

  His eyes lit with joy. “I’ve read so much about her antics, I feel as though I already know her. But now, to laugh and to hear her tell her own tales will be a priceless treasure.” He watched Savannah closely. “How is Lucas?”

  “I’ve never seen him so happy,” Savannah said, rubbing at her nose before putting her handkerchief in a pocket. “He’s smitten with his Genevieve, and their daughter is beautiful.” She shared a long look with her father. “They named her after Aunt Betsy, although they call her Lizzie.”

  He nodded before sighing deeply. “I hardly doubt your mother has earned the right to a namesake.”

  Her hand spasmed in his at the mention of her mother. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to support you when she died,” she whispered.

  He shook his head and smiled with infinite love in his gaze. “I hoped you would care for your family rather than rush home to me. Your mother and I had suffered from severe discontent for years before she died.” He took a deep breath. “And I would never expect you to have forgiven her for the meddling that led to Jonas’s presence here the night he died.”

  Savannah shuddered. “The night I killed him,” she whispered.

  Her father stroked a finger down her cheek. “He’d already shot me and Lucas. He showed no intention of leaving here without you, and I doubt you would have survived long at his mansion.” His eyes glinted. “Never doubt my pride in you for protecting yourself and us.” He traced a vein on the back of her hand before releasing it. “As for the time after your mother’s death, I had Lucas for a few weeks before he ran away with Genevieve.”

  “You should have had more than that,” Savannah protested. “You’ve had no one with you for too long.”

  He smiled at her. “I have friends, Savannah. I have letters from you and Melly and Lucas and Clarissa that fill me with joy. I’m not alone in this world.”

  Savannah looked around the cramped yet organized chaos of his office and shook her head. “Sell the store. Come to Montana with us. Live near me and Lucas and Melly. Rissa and Colin each live within blocks of me. We’d be a family again.”

  He chuckled. “We are a family, Savannah. Distance doesn’t define what we are.” He smiled at her. “Although I will consider your suggestion. I’m tired of linens and coaxing women into purchasing what they need but don’t want to pay for.” He glanced around in confusion. “Where are your husband and daughter?”

  She blushed. “I had them wait in a nearby tea shop. I wanted time alone with you first. May we stay with you? I want to have time with you and for you to have time with Melly. If you prefer, we can stay with Aidan and Delia.”

  “No!” Martin said, gripping her arm. “Stay with me. I … I very much want time with you and your family, Savannah. It’s been fifteen years since you left. I need new memories with you, my beloved daughter.” He studied her for a long moment. “It does me good to see you happy. After all you suffered, you found happiness.”

  They rose, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Welcome home, my Savannah. Welcome home.”

  * * *

  Jeremy felt Savannah tremble next to him as they stood in front of the McLeod mansion. It was a large, imposing building on a corner lot on Marlborough Street in Boston’s Back Bay. The roses in the front garden were in full bloom; the windows sparkled, and the mansard roof’s black tiles gleamed in the sunlight. “Come, love,” he urged.

  “Give me a moment,” she whispered as she stared at the large wooden door with its ornate hand knocker. She appeared as though in a daze, and he feared she envisioned scenes from her first marriage when she lived in this house with her abusive husband, Jonas Montgomery.

  Melinda, impervious to the tension, ran forward and knocked on the door. She bounced with excitement as it opened, and a man in a formal suit answered. “Oh my!” she gasped. “I
t’s like in a novel.” She peered around him at the expansive front hall. “Is Uncle Aidan here?” she asked the young man.

  “If you would be so kind as to inform me who is calling, I shall inquire,” the man said in a clipped voice that brooked no argument.

  “We’re the McLeods from Montana,” Melinda said. “Jeremy, Savannah and Melinda McLeod.” She smiled with pride and then frowned as the door shut in her face. “He shut the door, Father.”

  Jeremy laughed. “He’ll be back, once he determines that we are welcome.” He raised his eyebrows at his daughter as the door was wrenched open. His uncle, with broad shoulders and barely a hint of black in his now nearly all gray hair, stood in front of them, delight sparkling in his eyes.

  “Jeremy!” Aidan said as he rushed forward, pulling Jeremy and then Savannah and Melinda into his embrace. “Oh, it is grand to see you in Boston at last. Come in. Delia will be just as delighted to see you.” He looped his arm through Melinda’s and led them into the house.

  “Come, love,” Jeremy whispered to a recalcitrant Savannah. He gave her his arm as she inched toward the mansion’s entrance. He paused as her breath hitched as she stepped over the threshold. “Is it much changed?”

  She nodded. “It’s familiar but so different,” she whispered. She gave her light wrap to the butler, her gaze on the new wallpaper and the new carpets. “The staircase and the stained glass windows are the same, but everything else is different. It’s much brighter.”

  Aidan watched her with concern. “It was terribly dark and foreboding when I purchased it. Delia helped me to redecorate, and it feels much more like a home to us.” He led them into the front formal parlor, pausing as Savannah gasped.

  “The cherubs are still here,” she whispered as she stared at the dancing cherubs on the ceiling.

  Melinda giggled as she looked at them. “They are so cheerful. Why would you want to replace them?” Her attention was diverted by Aidan.

  Jeremy stroked a hand down Savannah’s arm. “Sav?” he whispered.

  “I used to lay on the carpet, after he beat me. Or nearly strangled me. And glare at those cherubs as they seemed to mock me. They were content as I drowned in my misery.” Her eyes flashed with loathing as she glared at the ceiling.

  Jeremy stood in front of her, blocking her from their daughter’s view. “I hate that you are suffering so. If you want to depart, we will leave. I believe Uncle Aidan would understand, and he will visit us at your father’s.”

  She looked into her husband’s eyes and focused on the love she saw within. “No. I will not run again. If I leave here, he will continue to control me, even from the grave. And I refuse to give him any victory.”

  Jeremy smiled as he traced a finger down her cheek. “There’s my brave Savannah.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, darling.”

  Delia entered and embraced first Savannah and then Jeremy. She moved to Melinda, hugging her and keeping an arm wrapped around the young woman’s waist. “I will not allow you to monopolize Melly’s time,” she said to her husband and gave Melinda a squeeze as the girl giggled. “Come. Please sit, and we’ll have tea.” She paused as she approached her chair, sensing Savannah’s discomfort. She flicked a quick glance in Aidan’s direction and turned. “I find I’d rather gather in the back sitting room. It’s much more informal. And we are among family.”

  She gave Melinda a tug and led them from the room, down a long hallway to a room overflowing with palms and wicker furniture scattered throughout. “This is my favorite room in the house,” Delia said. The entire back wall bowed out to floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Soon iced tea had been delivered. “It’s terribly hot, but that is to be expected in July,” Delia said. “Now, what brings you to Boston?”

  Jeremy gripped Savannah’s hand. “We did not write to tell you as we wanted to inform you in person. We are to have a child. In October.” He smiled as Aidan jumped up to pull him into a bear hug while Delia gave a delighted squeal before embracing Savannah and then Melinda.

  After they had finished with their congratulations, Aidan sat next to Delia with her hand clasped in his, a bright smile on his face. “Why are you here, rather than in Montana?”

  Savannah put an arm around Melinda’s shoulders as she moved into her side. “There is a chance I will have a difficult delivery, and Jeremy wanted me to visit the doctors in Boston for a second opinion.”

  Aidan’s smile dimmed as he noted the veiled tension between Jeremy and Savannah. “Very astute of him.”

  Delia nodded. “Yes. We have wonderful doctors, and I am certain they will help you.” She smiled at Melinda. “And now that you are here in July, perhaps Melinda would be permitted to travel to Newport with us? I think she would enjoy seeing the cottage we rented for August.”

  Savannah relaxed next to Jeremy. “Oh, you rented a place? Is it large?” She flushed at the impertinent question. “Might we all come?”

  “Delia chastised me for renting so large a place, but I thought perhaps Zee would fill it with her suffragists. Now we will fill it with family,” Aidan said with a pleased smile. He shared a long look with Savannah. “I hope your father will join us.”

  She nodded and then laughed as Melinda bounced with excitement next to her.

  “Will there be parties and sweariees? Will I dance in a ballroom?” Her eyes gleamed at the prospect.

  Delia giggled. “Soirees, darling, and I fear there aren’t as many festivities now that we are at war. However, I’m certain you will have a full dance card.”

  “Will Richard come?” Jeremy asked.

  “I’m attempting to convince him to take a vacation with his family. He worries that baby Agnes is too young.” Aidan shared a look with Jeremy. “Perhaps you will have more luck than I did.”

  * * *

  Jeremy left the linen shop early to avoid the midday heat. Rather than take the elevated train that ran down Washington Street, he decided to walk to his brother’s forge. He remembered Clarissa’s words, that everything and nothing seemed to have changed.

  The trees in the Public Gardens were taller, and the Gardens seemed more ornate than he remembered. However, the people strolling through them seemed the same, only in different clothes. He continued past the Common, through a bustling Scollay Square and the steaming teakettle at one of the teashops and on toward the West End.

  Rather than head directly to Richard’s forge, Jeremy detoured down a side street and took a left. Rows of three- and four-story brick buildings, one after another, lined the street. He supposed they were called tenements. To him, it had been home.

  His pace slowed as memories returned of a cold night and rushing from a burning building. Of standing on the street between Richard and Gabriel, waiting in vain for their parents to emerge. He paused, his gaze roving over the four-story brick building with sheets and linens hanging from the windows to dry. Passersby spoke in Italian, Russian and Yiddish, and he frowned as he didn’t hear German. Children played with rocks and makeshift balls in the street, dodging the rare car that passed. Mothers sat on front steps with younger children on their laps for a momentary respite from the constant work of caring for a family, chatting with their neighbors and fanning themselves as the day warmed.

  Little remained that reminded him of the place that had been home. No fruit peddler wandered the street. Horses were rare. He closed his eyes and inhaled. The scents of boiling cabbage mixed with anise and too many people living in close proximity provoked a smile. “Home,” he whispered.

  After a moment, he shook his head and walked at a brisker pace to Richard’s nearby forge. Jeremy paused outside his destination and took a deep breath. After a moment, he pushed open the door and flinched at the sound of metal striking metal. He tugged at his neck cloth as a wave of heat enveloped him, as though he were in an inferno. A quick glance at the men working the forge showed none were his brother, and so he banged his fist on the closed office door.

  Canting forward in an attempt to hear if he
had been called to enter, he took a step back as the door wrenched open. “Rich,” he breathed before pulling him into a bear hug.

  “Jer!” Richard McLeod returned the hug and rocked side to side with him. After a moment he stepped back and shook his head “What are you doing in Boston? Is everyone all right? Savannah? Gabriel?”

  He stopped his litany of names as Jeremy nodded and pushed him into his office. The relative silence was a relief, and Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know how you stand the racket.” His middle brother shrugged, and a deep joy filled him at the sight. Gray peppered his black hair, and he had fine wrinkles at the corners of his expressive icy-blue eyes. He remained as strong and lean as ever, although, from his recent letters, Jeremy knew he rarely worked the forge. “Everyone is fine. I’m here with Savannah and Melinda.”

  “For a vacation?” Richard asked as he sat behind his desk, his brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t you write that you were coming?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I … I wanted to surprise everyone. And tell you my news in person.” He paused as Richard watched curiously. “Savannah is expecting.”

  “Oh, God,” Richard rasped. “I’m sorry. Congratulations.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk as his gaze sharpened to take in the worry and despair well hidden in his brother’s eyes. He waited for Jeremy to speak, gifting him with his silent understanding.

  “The doctor she visited in Montana, he thinks … he thinks she’ll die with the delivery,” he whispered, the torment plainly visible in his gaze. “I couldn’t accept that fate without a fight.”

  Richard nodded. “Of course not. It will be hard for her to be back in Boston. To face the past as she fears the future.” He paused as Jeremy nodded.

  “She went to her old house yesterday. Uncle Aidan’s house.” He shook his head. “I hadn’t fully realized how difficult that would be for her. How many memories she would have to battle.”