Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight

by Flightner, Ramona

  “No, that’s Cambridge. Harvard University and MIT are there.”

  Her wistful gaze wandered over the visible buildings. “Imagine going to school there.”

  “You could attend if you wanted to. You’re smart enough.”

  She smiled and squeezed his arm. “Thank you, Gramps, but I think I’d miss my family too much. And Montana. I can’t imagine not seeing mountains every day.” She raised an eyebrow as Martin grinned. “Tall buildings do not suffice.” She sniffed at the air again. “I’ve never seen the ocean. Can we see it today?”

  “I’m afraid not, darling Melinda.” He coaxed her along the promenade by the river. “I’m to deliver you to a friend’s house for tea with your mother. However, you will see the ocean daily from the house your uncle has rented in Newport.”

  That mollified her, and they turned toward the Back Bay again. As they walked along Charles Street, the streets to the left were cobbled and steep as they climbed a hill. The brick homes had black shutters and polished door knockers. “What is this area called?”

  “It’s Beacon Hill,” he said. “The State House is up there, along with big old homes owned by the oldest families in Massachusetts. Although some have been turned into residences for multiple families.”

  She stared at him and frowned at his poorly veiled disdain. “Who do you dislike who lives up there?” She watched in fascination as an automobile attempted to climb the hill and sputtered to a halt as it stalled. “If an automobile has that much trouble here, it will never function in Butte!”

  “How often do you see your uncle Lucas?” Martin asked, adroitly sidestepping her question about who he did not like on Beacon Hill.

  “Not nearly enough. I’ve only met their baby, Lizzie, once. We traveled there for the christening.” Her eyes lit with delight. “Oh, you must come visit us so we can have a huge gathering and celebration! Now that I know you, I’ll never be happy you are so far away.”

  He had turned them up Beacon Street and paused in front of an imposing bow-fronted home with green shutters. “Thank you, Melly,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead before knocking for admittance.

  * * *

  Sophronia rose as the door opened. “At last, you are here,” she said in a scratchy voice. She pulled Savannah into a long embrace. “I know you wanted time with your family, but I have been impatient to see you.”

  Savannah laughed and sat across from Sophie in a comfortable butter-yellow camelback settee. “I thought you had this room redone in blues.”

  Sophie waved away the comment. “Worse than a mortician’s dream,” she said. “I had it decorated again a few months ago, and it is finally light and airy, as I prefer.” Zylphia’s painting of waves crashing on the seashore hung over the mantel. “Now tell me. Are you traveling to Newport with the rest of the McLeods?”

  Savannah nodded. “Yes. Jeremy and I have visited a few specialists, and there is no reason we should not travel. Besides, I think the break from the heat and humidity will do me good.”

  “Yes, and the ability to go on walks along the seashore. You must remain active for as long as you can.” She shared a long look with Savannah. “Zylphia was here yesterday and explained to me the concerns you and Jeremy have.”

  Savannah sighed. “We are trying to take hope from the confidence displayed by the doctor we saw yesterday.”

  “Does he have reputable credentials?”

  The younger woman smiled. “Yes, although he prefers to work with the poor and indigent. I find I admire him for that. He’s also one of Teddy’s few friends.” Her smile broadened as Sophie harrumphed. “I can’t believe I have missed that noise.”

  Sophie laughed. “Well, if Teddy likes him and has sought out his advice, then I would have more confidence in him.” Her aquamarine eyes shone with curiosity. “What was he like when you spoke with him?”

  “Courteous, as I would expect from a doctor.” She paused. “What I appreciated was that he spoke to me. Listened to my fears. Didn’t ignore me for Jeremy.” She sobered. “He recommends I have a surgery rather than risk a birth.”

  Her friend frowned. “Seems a risky proposition.”

  “Birth is a risky proposition,” Savannah whispered. “However, I believe I will follow his recommendation as I want the greatest chance at surviving. Jeremy agrees, although he is as terrified as I am.”

  “I’m glad to hear you are both being sensible. Zylphia mentioned that you were to meet with Dr. Eliza Taylor Ransom. Did you speak with her?”

  Savannah nodded. “Yes. However, Jeremy understands my fears about not remembering another birth. I liked her, and I trust in her competence, but I don’t want Twilight Sleep.”

  “I see. It sounds like you have found a doctor you have confidence in.” When Savannah nodded, Sophie said, “If you ever need anything, all you must do is ask.” She paused as Savannah nodded again and then asked, “How is Clarissa?”

  “Very well. She delights in her children and greatly enjoys her work at the library.” Savannah smiled at Sophie as she thought about her cousin who was more like a sister.

  “I have read in her letters that she and Gabriel are doing well. Is that true? The last time I saw them, they could barely mutter a civil syllable to each other.”

  Savannah sighed. “Sophie, you are overprotective of us. That was five years ago when we met in Washington for Alice’s march!” She sobered. “I think the death of their son Rory will always haunt them, but they have found peace and the comfort of having the love and support of each other to survive such a difficult time.”

  “I’m glad they are showing sense again.” Sophie tapped her cane on the floor. “I blame you Montanans for this abominable law we are all living under now. It was bad enough imagining one state living under such an edict, but for the entire country to be subjected to a Sedition Act?” She harrumphed her displeasure.

  “Sophie, you really shouldn’t speak in such a loud voice,” Savannah whispered. “They might arrest you.”

  She squinted as Savannah fidgeted on the settee. “Is the law that fiercely implemented in Montana that you are in fear while speaking in your own home?” At Savannah’s nod, Sophie’s gaze turned mournful. “To think this is what our country has come to. We have a president who spouts his ‘Making the world safe for democracy’ speech, and then he condones such treatment of citizens here in the United States. To strip us of our rights to freedom of speech and press is not democracy!” She thunked her cane down in agitation. “And, if they want to arrest me for speaking my truth, I dare them to come.”

  Savannah’s eyes shone with admiration. “I’m afraid we have allowed our fear to silence us. Jeremy has told me how upset Gabriel is by what he sees but that he keeps quiet because he dreads a twenty-year prison sentence. That he bites his tongue so that he will not be separated from Clarissa and the children.”

  Sophronia’s gaze became mournful. “That’s dreadful. What a horrible dilemma.”

  Savannah nodded and sniffled.

  Sophronia looked to the door. “Now, when am I to see Melinda? It’s been too long since I saw her.” At that the door open, and the butler intoned her arrival.

  Melinda entered, her cheeks rosy and blond hair slipping from pins as she kissed her mother and plopped down next to her. “Hello,” she said with a friendly grin. “I’m Melinda McLeod. You have a nice home.” She stared around the newly refurbished room with blatant curiosity.

  Sophronia’s eyes sparkled with delight as she beheld Savannah’s daughter. “Oh, you are a wonder, child.” She poured her a cup of tea and handed it to her. “I met you when you were only a few years old. You’ve grown into a fine young woman.”

  Melinda made a face. “At least you didn’t say pretty or beautiful. It’s as though that’s the only thing valued. I’m as intelligent as I am pretty.” She smiled as Sophie stared at her a moment before cackling with laughter.

  “Oh, you are a joy, child. Tell me. What did you think about your short walk around town
with your grandfather?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve never been to a big city before. I guess it’s nice, although there are too many people, and it’s always noisy.” She trained her curious gaze on the older woman. “Doesn’t it make you agitated, all those people rushing around, and the automobiles and streetcars zooming by? I’d want to escape it as often as I could.”

  Sophie smiled. “This is the life I am accustomed to. I rather like it.” She tilted her head as she heard the distance noise of the front door opening. “I was informed that you hoped to dance at a ball in Newport. I spoke with a dance instructor, and he agreed to come here and meet with you. You’ll have to spend most of tomorrow trying to learn how to dance properly. Even then, you will be little more than a novice.”

  Melinda sat up eagerly, her tea forgotten. “How wonderful!”

  Sophronia shared a smile with Savannah. “These are the sorts of contacts Aidan wouldn’t have.” She smiled as the door opened and then glowered at the woman who marched inside. “I’m uncertain as to why you believed that you would be welcomed in my drawing room.” Sophie’s warm tone had transformed to glacially cold in an instant. Sophronia waved away the affronted butler who stood behind the interloper.

  Savannah froze next to her daughter at the sight of the woman, and gripped her daughter’s hand.

  The woman, now rail thin and leaning heavily on a cane, ignored Sophronia and cast her gaze over Savannah and Melinda. “I thought we’d raised you better, Savannah. You should rise to greet your grandmother.”

  Savannah shook her head. “I have nothing to say to you, and I will never rejoice in seeing you. If you have any sense, you will leave now.”

  Instead, Margaret Thompson, one of Boston’s elderly elite who shared a home with her husband in Louisburg Square on Beacon Hill, collapsed into a chair. “No, I will join this tea party. I will meet my great-granddaughter.”

  Savannah glared at her. “You have wanted nothing to do with me or Clarissa since we left Boston years ago. Why are you here now?”

  “You are family. Family must always come first.” Her avaricious gaze traveled to Melinda. “There is a new generation to mold.”

  Savannah shook fiercely. “Stay away from my daughter. You did enough damage to me. To Clarissa. You won’t have the opportunity to wreak your influence on the next generation.”

  Sophronia’s eyes flashed with malice. “I find it interesting you only have an interest when you believe you can exert your influence. Not when they needed your support. Not when they needed your love.”

  Mrs. Thompson flitted her hand in the air. “Bah, love. Highly overrated and an unnecessary addition to any worthwhile marriage.”

  “For a harpy who has no heart!” Sophie snapped. “You should know by now that we do not share your sentiments.”

  Mrs. Thompson ignored her granddaughter and great-granddaughter to focus on Sophronia. “Why should one such as I be concerned with what you believe? You are not a member of my family, nor will you ever be.”

  Savannah spoke, her voice cold. “Sophie is more a part of my family than you have been in fifteen years. She supports me and takes pride in what I have done. She does not sit in her mansion with an imaginary abacus, tallying up my faults to determine if I am worthy of support, money or affection.”

  Her grandmother sniffed with distaste. “I see you continue to be without sense, Savannah. I had hoped your time away from society had shown you what you had missed. Your uncouth, classless husband will never be anything more than a boor.”

  “How dare you speak about my father in such a way?” Melinda asked, her eyes round. “He’s never done anything to you!”

  “Except entice my granddaughter away from a respectable man.” Mrs. Thompson’s lips turned down in a grimace. “You will never be accepted back into society.”

  “You no longer know me if you believe that is my concern,” Savannah said. “I had hoped never to see you again.” Her eyes shone with sadness and disappointment as she looked at her grandmother. “I had hoped my daughter would never have the misfortune of meeting you. For I have always tried to instill in her that generosity of spirit, kindness and love are the values to be emulated and celebrated. Characteristics lacking in everything you do.” She looked to the door. “Please leave.”

  Her grandmother’s hands shook as she looked from Savannah to Melinda. “I will not attempt to aid you again. I will not help your daughter.”

  Savannah’s eyes sparkled with bitterness. “If only you had shone me such consideration before I married Jonas.” She watched as her grandmother frowned and then heaved herself up, exiting the sitting room.

  After a long moment’s silence, Sophie said, “That is not how I had planned this afternoon.” She stared at Savannah, whose hands shook as she attempted to raise her teacup. “You did marvelously, and I would not fear that she bothers you ever again.”

  Melinda looked from her mother to Sophie and then back again. “Am I really related to her?”

  Savannah gave a mirthless snort of laughter. “Unfortunately, yes. She is your great-grandmother, and she believes that social standing is more important than anything else.”

  Melinda gripped her mother’s hand. “Then I feel sorry for her. She missed out on a wonderful life.”

  Savannah blinked back tears as she squeezed her daughter’s hand and shared a thankful smile with Sophronia.

  Chapter 9

  Perry Hawke stood in a secluded alcove in one of the mansions off Bellevue Avenue in Newport, Rhode Island. Although hidden from prying eyes, he still had a vantage point of the ballroom. He leaned against a pillar, sipping a glass of champagne as he watched guests gossip, flirt, dance and ignore those they considered beneath their notice. Although Zylphia and Teddy Goff were too important to directly snub, the guests showed their disdain for the couple by ignoring their cousins from Montana. He watched as the young girl, who had entered the mansion with a vivacious sparkle, stood on the side of the ballroom with a brittle smile as another dance started without being asked to join in. He had heard snippets of conversation that she was distantly related to Lucas Russell.

  He sighed and set down his glass, abandoning his hideaway with great reluctance. Ignoring the calls of those around him, he headed straight for the young woman with blond ringlets in a demure mauve dress. “Might I have this dance, miss?” He paused as she gaped at him. “Unless your card is full?”

  “Oh, no, and thank you, sir.” She placed her hand in his, her brows furrowing as though trying to remember all the proper steps of etiquette.

  “Just follow my lead and smile,” he whispered as he placed a hand on her waist and whisked her into the opening strands of a waltz. He grinned at her as she tripped over his feet. “One, two, three,” he murmured into her ear. After a moment, she relaxed and followed his movements around the dance floor.

  “I tried to master these steps, but I always fumbled the beginning.” She bit her lip. “I beg your pardon.”

  He frowned. “Why? You’re blunt and honest, like your cousin Lucas.” He smiled as her eyes lit with joy at the mention of Lucas. “He is a good friend of mine, although I haven’t seen him for far too long. I hear he is content in his mining town with his wife and child.”

  She lost any timidity and spoke in hushed tones as she had been instructed. “I’m his niece, Melinda McLeod. My mother is his sister. Did you know he has a daughter, Lizzie?”

  Perry smiled. “I know. We write frequently. He likes to tease me about my constant touring—I am a singer—and tempts me with invites to stay with him.”

  Her eyes lit with joy. “Oh, you should! That way we could see you too. Maybe you could put on a performance together.”

  He chuckled at her innocent comment as he realized she did not know who he was. “Perhaps,” he said. “Are you enjoying the ball?”

  She shrugged, some of her youthful vivacity dimming. “It’s not what I expected.”

  He raised an eyebrow as though mocking her. “You tho
ught those who have more money than sense would welcome a young woman from the wilds of Montana with open arms? They are not so forward-thinking, Miss McLeod. However, I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leaned forward, his smile widening as the murmuring in the room escalated. “You are a delight and not what they expected.”

  Her eyes shone with happiness.

  “Never allow these jaded men and women to make you feel inferior.”

  Their dance came to an end, and he led her to the side of the ballroom where her father waited. Perry smiled at him as her father battled a glower. Perry released her and held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Perry Hawke, and I’m a friend of Lucas’s.” His grin broadened as Melinda’s mouth dropped open at his name.

  Jeremy beamed and gipped his hand. “A pleasure. I’m Jeremy McLeod, and, as you know, this is my daughter, Melinda.” He looked around. “I’m uncertain where my wife has gone.”

  “I’m sure she’s off with Zylphia and her suffragist friends, plotting to have me perform again to raise money for their cause.”

  Jeremy watched him in confusion.

  “I’m a singer, and I performed for them in January in Boston. I presumed you were related to Mrs. Zylphia Goff.”

  “Oh,” Jeremy said, understanding dawning. “You’re that Perry Hawke. It’s nice to meet you.” Jeremy watched as a few men approached Melinda and gave Perry a quick smile before striding over to stand beside her.

  Perry’s gaze moved around the room, and he walked with purpose, smiling impersonally to those he passed as he approached the alcove again. “Blast,” he muttered when he found it occupied.

  “I’m willing to share,” a woman with a soft voice said.

  He focused on the alcove’s occupant and smiled. “Miss Clement, I had thought you unable to attend tonight.” He frowned at her. “Why are you always hiding?”