After what felt like an eternity to him, the nurse approached their group, and he was granted permission to see Savannah. He followed the nurse down a brightly lit hallway that smelled of antiseptic. His footsteps echoed off the walls, enhancing the sense of forced quiet in that part of the hospital.
The nurse opened a door, and he entered. Three other women were in the room, although Savannah had a bed by the window. She rested with her eyes closed.
“My love,” he whispered, tracing his fingers over her hand. Her eyes opened, and he smiled at her. “Oh, my love.” A tear leaked down his cheek as he saw her, healthy after the operation.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her gaze remote.
“For what?” he asked, raising her hand to kiss it. “You are alive and well. I could ask for no more.” He saw her battling tears and frowned. “We have a healthy son, Savannah. I’m sure they will bring him to us soon.”
Her gaze flew to his, filled with a fearful hope.
He nodded as he stroked her cheek. “The doctor told me that we have a beautiful baby boy.” His breath hitched as she let out a sob, her hand clutching her waist.
“I couldn’t remember,” she whispered. “When I saw you there, … I thought I’d, we’d, lost our baby.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “No, my precious darling. No,” he said as he kissed her and then dropped his head by her neck. “God, I want to hold you in my arms and never let you go.”
She ran her arms over his shaking back. “I love you, Jeremy,” she whispered. “So much.”
“And I you. Thank you for being brave. For risking everything for our child.” He sniffled and cleared his throat as the nurse gave an “Ahem.”
“Your son,” the nurse said with a broad smile, picking up the sleeping baby from the bassinette and placing him in Savannah’s waiting arms.
Savannah lost her battle with tears, and they streamed down her cheeks. She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his nose and then played with his hand that had come free of the swaddling. “Our son,” she said as she met Jeremy’s dazzling smile. “Our son.”
He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close, his head against hers as they gazed at their baby, his hand over hers as they held their child to her chest. “Our son.”
Chapter 16
Missoula, Montana, October 1918
“What happened between you and Rissa?” Patrick asked. He sat on Colin’s porch the night before Araminta’s wedding in early October, his feet balanced on the railing. “I never thought I’d arrive to find the two of you fighting.”
Colin closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the back of his rocking chair. “I love nights like this. The weather is still mild enough to enjoy being outside, even though there is the promise of the changing seasons.” He jolted when Patrick belted him on his shoulder.
“I’m serious, Col. What happened to cause such disharmony between the two of you?” He watched his brother with confused brown eyes. “You’ve always been close to Rissa.”
“Ha, that’s what I thought.” Colin shook his head in disgust as he surveyed the street with unseeing eyes.
Patrick frowned further at the rancor in Colin’s voice. “When I saw her today, it was evident she’s as upset with you as you are with her. This can’t continue.”
Colin opened blue eyes filled with a steely determination. “I will never apologize to her. I did nothing wrong.” Soon the only sounds enveloping them were those of the soft evening. The sounds of a squirrel scurrying as it prepared for winter. A soft breeze, the creak of a rocking chair. “She believes I attacked Ari. That I did to Ari what was done to her by Cameron.”
Boots hit the wooden porch boards as Patrick sat upright. “What?” He stared at his brother with incredulity. “How could she ever think that?” He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. “Why would she ever think that?”
Colin looked at his brother, a deep sadness in his gaze. “I can’t say I didn’t touch Ari. That I didn’t try to convince her to be my wife, rather than that bastard’s.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands. “But I swear to you, I never forced her.”
Patrick stared at him for many moments, his gaze distant before he met Colin’s gaze. “Of course you didn’t. That’s a preposterous accusation. The question is, why does Rissa believe it? That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Colin shook his head. “I guess Ari went to Rissa’s house after she spurned me and said unintelligible things as she cried in Rissa’s arms.”
Patrick sat in silence for a few moments. “I know you supported Rissa after her attack. That you helped her escape Boston.” He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair again. “But, after living with Fee and seeing how she fights her demons every day, I don’t know if you can understand what seeing Ari so distressed could have done to Rissa.” Patrick paused as he met his brother’s hurt gaze. “You know she counts on you. You know she trusts you. You know she loves you.”
Colin’s eyes flashed with pain.
“But some terrors are nearly impossible to put behind us. And I would guess that Rissa lost her balance with that battle for a moment.”
“How could she think that of me, Pat?” He shook his head, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.
“I doubt she truly did, not after she thought it through. By that time you were too stubborn and pigheaded to listen to anything she had to say to you. This is as much your fault as hers.”
Colin sat in silence for many moments and then nodded. “I’ve rebuffed every attempt she’s made to reconcile with me. I’ve treated her abominably.”
Patrick kicked Colin in the foot in a brotherly way. “Then you must hope she’ll forgive you as you must forgive her. Do you think that is possible?”
Colin shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He took a stuttering breath. “And tomorrow I lose Ari.”
* * *
Araminta stood in front of the mirror in Clarissa’s bedroom, her gaze somber and mouth unsmiling as she watched Clarissa fuss with her veil. Araminta ran a hand over the simple cream-colored dress, having resisted pressure from Bartholomew’s family to buy a more elaborate gown. Her future aunt-in-law Mrs. Vaughan had protested at the plain design of her wedding ensemble but had grudgingly admitted she had to agree with Araminta’s sense of style. As Araminta beheld herself in the looking glass, she nodded with approval. Nothing too fancy for a woman from an orphanage.
Sunlight streamed in on this bright Saturday morning in October. Although fall, the crisp morning air would give way to a warm afternoon. However, no wedding festivities would occur outside, even though Araminta had argued for a gathering in the park she and Bartholomew had circled innumerable times during their courtship. She dreaded feeling caged inside during the wedding celebration. As she glanced outside, the sunlight seemed to mock her false serenity and her overruled desire.
“You look beautiful, Minta,” Clarissa murmured. She gripped her friend’s fingers and shook her hands in the space between them, as though preventing herself from shaking sense into her friend. “I’m so happy for you.”
Araminta watched Clarissa with an impassive expression, as though all emotion in her had been frozen. “I hope Bartholomew is correct and that the guests will know to arrive at the church early.”
Clarissa eyed her with concern. “It seemed rather inconsiderate of the priest to change the time at the last possible minute.”
Araminta took a deep breath. “In the end, all that matters is that the two marrying are there.”
The knock at the door had Clarissa giving a disgruntled grunt as she dropped her fluttering hands and moved to open the door. She wore a blue dress that matched the color of her eyes and a hat at a jaunty angle. “Gabriel,” she said with a broad smile tinged with relief.
“I’m here to see the blushing bride to the church.” He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “I wouldn’t want any others to get a sneak peek of you.” He winked at Araminta.
“Has everyone gone ahead to the church?” Araminta asked. She watched as Gabriel and Clarissa shared a long look.
“Hester, Patrick and Fiona have taken the older children to the church, while I’ll arrive with Little Colin,” Clarissa said.
Araminta nodded her understanding at what they didn’t say. She took a deep breath and approached Gabriel. “I’m ready.”
Gabriel smiled at Clarissa as she slipped from the room, closing the door softly behind her, and then he stepped in front of Araminta, preventing her from rushing from the room to her future. He held her by her shoulders and bent his knees to meet her eyes. “Are you sure?” When she remained silent, he squeezed her shoulders. “I don’t want you to make a mistake.”
“I’m not. This is what I want.” Her voice cracked on want, but she maintained her composure and met Gabriel’s gaze with a calm serenity.
“Well, if you’re sure,” he murmured, holding his elbow out for her. After he opened the door for her, he flushed. “I have a surprise for you.” On the table in the hallway, a small bouquet of yellow and white roses was perched precariously in a pitcher. “Here. A bride should have flowers on her wedding day.”
Araminta bit her lip as she fought tears. “You shouldn’t have, Gabriel.” She met his worried but proud gaze. “Thank you.”
“I think of you as my little sister, Minta. I hope you know you can always come to me, no matter the time of day or the cause of your distress.” He patted her hand when it tightened on his arm. “It’s to church for the two of us.”
Upon arrival, Araminta looked around, but no one was outside on the sun-drenched steps to the church. She smiled at Gabriel and walked up the steps with him. However, upon entering the church, she yanked on Gabriel’s arm and paused at the back of the church, near the door. For a moment it appeared she would run, but then she firmed her shoulders and gave a nod.
Araminta smiled bravely at Gabriel a moment before they walked down the aisle, her subtle trembling more pronounced the closer she came to the altar. Gabriel kissed her forehead, placed her hand in Bartholomew’s with a glower for him and then moved to take a seat beside Clarissa.
When the priest finished his lengthy sermon about the sanctity of marriage, the organ player blasted out an off-tune piece, more appropriate for a funeral than a wedding. After a few moments, those gathered murmured and chuckled at the ominous notes. When the priest was about to begin the exchange of vows, the door at the rear of the church clanged open. “Stop. This wedding cannot proceed,” a man’s irate voice sounded.
“Oh, no,” Araminta breathed.
Clarissa turned and gasped as she saw Colin striding down the aisle, ignoring the hissing from Mrs. Vaughan. Mrs. Bouchard belted him with her hefty eggplant-hued purse. He grunted as the purse made contact with his stomach, but he continued moving forward.
“She should have aimed lower,” Gabriel muttered to Clarissa, earning a tap on his arm. His son Billy jumped with excitement on the pew, and Gabriel corralled him with an arm to prevent him from joining Colin as he made his way down the aisle.
Araminta stood stock-still, her hand in Bartholomew’s. Colin came to a stuttering stop on her other side. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“You know damn well and good what I’m doing here. Stopping you from making a terrible mistake.” He looked at Bartholomew. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, but she refused to see sense.”
“I believe she knew what she was doing, choosing one such as I am rather than a lowly blacksmith.” Bartholomew looked Colin up and down with disdain at his disheveled clothes. “If you will please cease with the dramatics and allow us to continue? We are getting married today.”
“You are correct. This is no better than a play, and I’ve yet to determine if this one is a comedy or a tragedy.” Colin gripped Araminta’s free hand. “Ari, please come with me. Cease this lunacy.”
“Colin, I’ve given my word.”
“And that means more than …” He broke off as he looked at the priest watching them with avid interest. “May we talk in the apse over there?”
As Bartholomew opened his mouth to protest, the priest speared him with a fierce stare. “I think you should, young man. I will not marry you unless I know there is full consent from both parties.”
Bartholomew snarled at Colin and dragged Araminta to the side of the church, with Colin following. Araminta tripped as her weak leg was not strong enough for such fast, erratic movements, and Colin caught her. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
“Get your hands off my bride this instant,” Bartholomew barked, reddening as Colin held Araminta.
“If you treated her with any sort of regard, you’d know you can’t tow her around like a prized mare,” Colin snapped. He ran a hand down Araminta’s back before releasing her. They stepped into the apse and away from curious eyes.
“Why do you believe you have the right to disrupt my wedding?” Bartholomew demanded, tugging Araminta to his side.
Colin frowned at Bartholomew’s possessive treatment of her. “Ari made a promise to me, and I would like her to keep it,” Colin murmured.
“Colin, no,” she whispered.
He met her pleading gaze with his wounded, wild gaze filled with desperation. “You’ve left me no choice.” He held up his battered hands from his work at the smithy. “I know of no other way, Ari.”
Bartholomew watched the two of them and sneered. “She made a promise to me first,” he boasted. “And I plan to ensure she keeps that promise.” He pointed toward the filled pews. “That church is filled with my family. With the most important businessmen of this town and state. With my friends. I will not allow your family to humiliate us Bouchards again.”
“You’re delusional if you think that my aim in all of this was to, in any way, affect your family or your perceived esteem among the community,” Colin snapped. “My sole aim is to protect Ari from a man such as you.”
“Oh, a man who is successful? A man who has prospects? A man who knows how to treat his wife?” Bartholomew yanked on Araminta’s arm, provoking a small shriek of pain.
Colin took in a slow breath and watched him with a deep, calculating look in his eye. He ignored Araminta’s pleading gaze. “Would you still want her if you knew she’d already been mine?”
Colin had no chance to catch Araminta as she was thrust to the floor. He was too busy fending off Bartholomew’s vicious uppercut. Colin barely danced out of the way as Bartholomew screamed, “You defiler!” Colin absently heard Araminta’s moan of distress and the murmur of titillation from the gathered wedding crowd. Colin landed a punch to Bartholomew’s midsection, and soon they were kicking and grappling with each other in an ungainly, undignified scrapple. He tripped Bartholomew but was pulled down with him as Bartholomew held on tightly to his shirt.
A loud rending sound was heard as Colin was yanked off Bartholomew. Patrick wrapped strong arms around his middle while Gabriel held a hand to Bartholomew’s chest, a warning gleam in his eyes daring Bartholomew to take him on. With heaving breaths, Bartholomew wrenched himself from Gabriel and spun to glare at Araminta. “Harlot,” he hissed as he stormed from the apse.
The word “Off!” was yelled a few times, and then excited voices were heard in the central area of the church. Gabriel and Patrick patted Colin on the shoulder and moved toward the entrance of the apse in an attempt to give Colin privacy with Araminta. She sat, crumpled on the floor in her fine wedding dress, her bouquet clutched in both hands. A stream of tears poured down her cheeks.
“Ari,” he whispered. He held up his arms as she pummeled him with her bouquet of flowers. He grunted as the thorns bit into him but did nothing to prevent her from venting her anger. When she lowered her arms, he lifted and dropped his hands twice, uncertain if he should touch her.
“How could you do that to me, Colin?” she breathed in a broken voice. “All I’ve ever wanted was to belong.”
“How could you do that to us?” he dema
nded. “Do you think I relished prancing down the aisle to stop you from marrying him?”
She glared at him, her air of fragility fading as anger replaced despair. She refrained from belting him again with her flowers. “You could have come by the house this morning. You could have asked to speak with me like an adult.”
Colin gripped her ankle, keeping her from moving away from him. “I was barred from Rissa’s house, or don’t you recall that?” He removed his hand and looked at the floor but not quickly enough to hide the hurt flashing in his eyes. “The only reason I came in when I did was because I was tired of waiting outside. I was told the wedding started at one, not eleven.”
“Oh, dear,” she whispered, her mouth falling open.
“I’d hoped to catch you outside when you arrived. I finally heard the organ, and I realized you were already in here. I had no desire to become this month’s—this decade’s—gossip.” He shook his head ruefully.
“The time was changed at the last minute,” Araminta breathed, her eyes rounded and her tears falling again.
His eyes flared. “Either that or you were misled because he was afraid I’d do something like this.” He ripped a piece of linen from his torn shirt to swipe at her eyes. “I forgot a handkerchief.”
She gripped his hand to her cheek, sobs bursting forth at the contact. “How did you know the original time? Clarissa?” she whispered.
He scooted forward and gathered her into his arms, pulling the pins from her hair which held the veil in place before stroking a hand over her head. “Yes, she sent me the invitation. Said in her note that, if I wasn’t a complete idiot, I’d know what to do.” He shuddered in her arms. “I never got word the time had changed.”
“We didn’t know until this morning.”
A deep voice cleared from a few feet away. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’d suggest continuing this in a more private locale,” Patrick said. “We have an automobile waiting out front for you.”
Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight Page 31
