Finally, peace returned followed by the sound of male voices drifting in from outside. She spotted James and Robert from the window and hurried downstairs to greet them.
Breathless, she met them at the door. “Is everything all right?”
The brothers exchanged a look before Robert answered. “Joseph is with Father. Everything is under control, I think.”
James, uncharacteristically quiet, simply nodded.
Relief poured out with a sigh. She pulled each son to her and hugged them in turn. “Tell me what happened.”
The brothers stared at the floor. She’d seen that look before. Back when two naughty boys got caught swiping one of Josephine’s apple pies. Louise again felt concern rise. This was more than a childhood prank.
“Robert… James… Tell me what happened.” Would she ever stop feeling like a parent to them?
“I’m not sure what happened, Mother. I arrived in time to see James and Joseph scuffling a bit.” Robert rubbed his knuckle against his cheek. A dead giveaway, that. Even as a boy, if Robert began rubbing his cheek, something wasn’t right.
She sighed. “James? How did this start?” She couldn’t let this go. Her hands went to her hips, her feet stubbornly planted in place as she stared up at her silent son. Hadn’t she prayed for their safety? She would understand what happened. And he would explain. Now.
“I just went to see him. Nothing of importance.” James scuffed his shoe against the floorboards as if he were ten years old.
“Well something must have been important in order for two grown men to come to blows. Now start talking.” She stared.
He ran his fingers though his hair and squeezed his eyes shut before taking a deep breath and letting it whoosh out. “I saw Wee Joseph and Sarah. I just thought I’d look in…my first nephew and all.”
She cleared her throat.
James glanced at her before continuing. “She mentioned that Joseph never goes to see the baby. We talked about the possible reasons.” He paused again, and stared at his boots.
She motioned with her hand to get on with it.
Bit by bit, James’s poured out the story.
She needed air. Even Robert turned a serious face toward his brother. When he opened his mouth as if to say something, she firmly motioned him quiet. Inwardly she wanted to throttle James but remained silent, praying for divine guidance.
James’s eyes revealed true pain, but she wasn’t sure whether it stemmed from guilt or from her assumption he had caused the problem.
Lord, give me the words. She took a deep breath, stared him square in the face, and plunged.
“Do you still think Joseph blames his son for Kathleen’s death?”
James winced. With head bent low and voice soft, he whispered. “No, not now I don’t.”
She stood on tiptoe and gently stroked his cheek before lifting his chin to look into his eyes. She didn’t have to reach so high the last time she did this.
“Jamie, he sees his wife when he looks at his son. In time that will be a comfort, but right now it is painful. He has come in to see Wee Joseph. It is usually when no one else is around, and he only looks. I’ve heard him in the hall and caught him watching. For now, that is all he can do. But the time will come when he will be able to hold his baby boy.”
“How do you know, Mother? How do you know that he won’t just go off one day, leave and never look back? If the pain is so great, what keeps him here?” James pleaded for an answer, his eyes moist with his need to know for sure.
She cupped her hand to his cheek. “I know.” She stated it with calm assurance. “I know.” And she knew that she did. The peace God had begun to pour out while she prayed now flooded her entire being.
James gazed into her eyes; he craved her guarantee.
Louise remembered back to when she had held James as a baby, just like Wee Joseph. He, too, had held her gaze with complete trust.
A smile flickered to her lips. She patted the now manly cheek of this impetuously passionate son, all the while gazing as deeply into his eyes as possible. She spoke the words he needed to hear.
“I know.”
* * *
Joseph trekked back to the house with his father. A mixture of anticipation, embarrassment, and dread churned in his stomach. He knew he’d gone too far. He needed to stay strong, for his son. The sooner he got over this guilt and fear, the sooner life would have some semblance of order.
His mother greeted him at the door with a brief hug, almost like she wasn’t sure if it were the right thing to do or not. Wonderful. Now everyone would be concerned about doing the wrong thing, maybe causing him to do something stupid again. Did she breathe? Then the door opened wider.
James stepped into his line of sight. He resembled a kicked puppy as he chewed his bottom lip.
“I’m sorry.”
They both said the words at the exact same moment. Joseph pulled James to him and then they were in each other’s arms, both repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The rest of the family huddled around them.
Joseph pulled back. “I’m going to do it. I am going to hold my son.” He spoke as much to himself as anyone.
“Would you like someone…” Mother put her hand on his arm, but Father shook his head.
“No. Thank you, Mother, but no. I need to do this myself.” Joseph leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek before ascending the stairs.
* * *
With Samuel back to sleep, Sarah gave her full focus to Wee Joseph. Oh, how she loved caring for this sweet baby. He was as good-natured as any. She longed to be his mother. She even caught herself envying Shannon the ability to nurse him because that was something she couldn’t provide. She loved him as if he were her own and, in her mind, Kathleen had given him to her. “Ah, Wee Joseph, I am tightly wrapped ʼround that baby finger of yers.”
Now fed and changed, he alertly lay in her arms, his tiny fist tightly clamped about her right pinky. She whispered endearments to him as he cooed back.
She felt another presence though she never heard the door. She couldn’t say how long the person stood there, and probably never would have paid attention if not for Wee Joseph’s eyes darting up and over her shoulder.
Without looking up, she spoke in the singsong voice she used when speaking with the baby. “I just now got ’im to meself, Jamie. Aye, that I did. And I’m not ready to be handing him over to ye yet. No, I’m not.”
“I’m not James.”
Joseph’s voice startled her. She jumped to her feet.
Wee Joseph whimpered at the sudden movement, drawing her attention back to him.
“Here, I’ll take him.” He reached for his son.
She pulled the baby closer. “Are ye sure?” She stammered, confusion and concern dancing all about her brain.
“Aye, Sarah, I’m sure. May I hold my son?” His arms were still outstretched.
She reluctantly put Wee Joseph into his father’s arms.
“Make sure ye got yer arm under his head now. And put yer hand here…”
“I’ve held babies before, Sarah. I’ve got three younger sisters, not to mention Robert.
“Aye, yer right, I know, but he’s so little an’…”
“He’s my son, Sarah,” His tone was firm. “I can do this. You’re not his mother, Sarah. You’re not Kathleen.”
Her world tumbled about her. She returned his pointed gaze. If he wanted a battle, he would get one.
“Yer right, I’m not Kathleen. I’m Sarah, yer friend. And I’ve been the one tending yer son. I’ve been the one to rock him and hold him and wash him and change him. I may not be Kathleen, but I’m as close to a mother as he’s got. And don’t you forget it.”
“I’m not contesting that, Sarah. I just want some time alone with him. Please.”
Wee Joseph started to cry.
Joseph expertly cuddled the baby, closing her out.
She watched, helpless to do anything but stand. Seeing the two of them together, not needing
her, proved more painful than she could bear. Without another word, she slipped from the room, shutting the door on her way.
* * *
Joseph turned in time to see the door close after Sarah.
“Seems I’m off to a brilliant start, son. Aye, sir, I’m your father and you are my son. You probably don’t recognize me. But we’ve been needing to talk for a while, and it looks like the time is here.”
Gaze locked with his son’s, protective love for the miracle in his arms overtook Joseph. His mind flooded with all he would need to do to keep this sweet innocent from harm. Now that the moment he had feared was here, he found he had no words, only wonderment.
Fear evaporated. Instead he found love, perfect love. Overwhelming, fierce, protective love growing stronger as the gaze grew longer. Never before had he known anything so powerful. It shocked and thrilled him to his core. “This is my son.” No longer a word, but a relationship. He was a father holding his son. The words weighed profound.
He sat and rocked away time, unaware of its passing. Wee Joseph gently cooed and gazed, seemingly content to let time pass by them, as well. So this was fatherhood.
“Let me tell you about your mother. A lovely lass with raven hair down to her waist and eyes the color of robins’ eggs.”
Joseph closed his eyes, Kathleen’s smiling face danced before him. He let the wave of grief wash over again. There had to be an end to it. There had to be.
“And she glowed more lovely each day she carried you, son. There was nothing she wanted more than to hold you in her arms.” That wasn’t exactly true. There was one other thing she longed for but could never have no matter how they both tried. Again, guilt assailed him, but he focused on his son.
“Your mother used to sit and rock you, while she still carried you, and would sing you lullabies. She said it made you kick in time to her singing.” That memory made him smile. Maybe if he could focus on the good things. And there were good things.
“I know, I will tell you the story of how we met. It was a warm July evening…”
Chapter Eight
The brisk walk to the cottage helped Sarah work out the anger threatening to overwhelm her. With each step she picked up speed while her mind spun out defensive accusations. The beauty of the countryside—the wildflowers, neat hedgerows, pastures dotted white with sheep—all blurred by angry tears until she burst through the cottage door and slammed it shut.
Why did he throw Kathleen back in her face?
She was his wife.
Couldn’t he see that she and Wee Joseph were bonded together like any mother and son?
But he is Wee Joseph’s father.
How many times did she have to lose?
What exactly have you lost? Was it ever yours to lose?
She gazed around the small, neat cottage. It was hers, yet not hers. She became acutely aware she had been so diligent in her duty, she’d lost sight of an important fact. The family she cared for as her own did not really belong to her.
“But I love him.”
Which one?
A long pause allowed her time to sit in the hand-carved rocker and ponder that one. She finally answered back. “I love them both, Father. I love them so much it hurts.”
Her statement, though whispered, resounded in her heart like an echo. Sarah realized she felt more hurt than anger.
Why are you hurt?
That took some thought. Through her tears, Sarah realized the hurt stemmed not from what Joseph said or did, but from the letdown of reality. He hadn’t reacted the way she had imagined he would. Ever since she began to care for Wee Joseph, she had secretly dreamed of the day Joseph would come to the nursery and see how well she saw to his son. As time went on, she understood he avoided the nursery. She had prayed that one day he would come in. She would help him hold his son. He would be grateful and love her for her attentiveness. Their eyes would meet over the baby’s head and he would know, as she already did, they were meant to be a family.
Only that didn’t happen.
What had happened proved he didn’t need her.
She wasn’t needed.
The thought slapped her in the face. For so long he hadn’t even been able to enter his son’s room, and yet when he finally came, he made it clear he didn’t need her at all.
Some dreams die painful deaths.
You lose him every time you allow yourself to get close to him. He never cared for you. He never sees the real you. He doesn’t appreciate all you’ve done. He will never see you or love you the way you want him to. This new voice called to her aching soul, threatening to drown out the gentle guiding whisper, feeding the self-pity beginning to take hold.
But the tender whisper continued to speak to her, though self-pitying loudly taunted. A corner of her heart heard the gentle request. Release them into My care, Sarah. Trust Me. Hold on to Me.
“Father, hold me.” She cried out with the last of her strength. “I feel so lost. I don’t know what to do. Hold me close. I surrender… it all.”
And though nothing in the outside world changed at that moment, the peace that flooded her aching heart stilled the cloying self-pity and held her in a comforting embrace. In the smallest of whispers, she voiced her gratitude, leaning her cheek against the back of the rocker, almost feeling the reassuring arms of her Heavenly Father as He gently comforted her.
* * *
Shannon decided she could get used to this alone time. She could even imagine sometimes taking Samuel with her and basking in the joy of seeing him toddle among the spring mayweeds, and purple toadflax. He might spy a bird or butterfly and try to capture it in his baby hands. The thought made her desperately wish for Sean to share in Samuel’s growing up. Her heart ached for about the hundredth time that day.
She stood, stretched and shook tiny floral remnants from her apron. The act returned her to the responsible present. Off in the distance the large house rose vigilant over the land. It marked the spot where now her world lived. Her ears couldn’t hear Samuel’s voice, but her heart surely knew his unmistakable summon.
Joy of anticipation filled her. She suddenly felt younger—much closer to her true age of nineteen. Being off by herself had done her a world of good, and she started back toward the house feeling more like her old self.
Out of nowhere, Shannon heard her name. Alain-Robert de Grillet waved a hand and called to her. She stopped, letting him catch up, all the while puzzled as to his greeting.
Though she had met Alain-Robert, Albert and Mimi’s eldest, in passing, he was more stranger than acquaintance.
“Hold up, Widow O’Connor.” Alain-Robert, slightly out of breath, pulled alongside Shannon.
“G’day to ye, Master Alain-Robert.” Not sure which he preferred, she went with the English pronunciation rather than the more musical French.
“Good day to you, Widow O’Connor.” His slight French accent still soft in his speech.
He fell silent. His eyes seemed to light everywhere but her face. Shannon waited patiently, then figured it must be her turn to say something. “Tis a lovely day, aye?”
“Oh, ouí, it is, that it is.”
He again became silent. She hadn’t a clue why he had called to her. Finally, her desire to return to Samuel overtook her curiosity.
“If there’s nothin’ more, I’ve a need to be back at th’ house.” She hated being blunt, but she had a place to be.
“Oh, a… no. I— I just…” He stammered, turning beet red, then stammered all the more. With flaming cheeks and downcast eyes, he eventually managed to get out, “No… I saw you walking and just thought to join you. That is all.”
“Ye know the way, I’m sure.” She started off at a steady pace toward Edenmore.
The rest of the walk proved silent. Alain-Robert was either the strangest or shyest man she’d ever met.
Ten minutes returned them to where Shannon had left but an hour before. As much for superstition’s sake as for propriety, she made sure to return through the bac
k door. Twouldn’t do to enter by way of another door when she’d left this way. And she was merely the wet nurse.
Shannon turned to the man to express gratitude for his company—silent though it was. He halted at the bottom of the steps. “Master Alain-Robert, I thank—”
A thud pounded her back and launched her off the three back steps. She landed in a heap on the grass. A twinge in her ankle sent a wave of pain through her system. Shannon gasped for breath, stunned. At her side, Alain-Robert helped her to sit up. The burn in her lungs rewarded her first taste of air. As breath came easier, she became aware of the silence. All eyes focused on her.
It was at that moment she recognized Master James, sitting on his bottom in the doorway, an expression of horror on his face. She knew what happened. His habit of throwing open the door and tearing out of the house without looking about him just landed her on her backside on the lawn. This time it also found James on his backside as well.
With both men looking so stricken and concerned, an irrepressible urge to giggle bubbled, making its way up to the top of her head, followed closely by another and another, faster and faster, until she laughed uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.
Both men gazed from her to each other and back in stunned silence. Then James’s face broke into a smile. He roared out loud with her, his eyes brimming. The more Master James laughed, the harder Shannon laughed. Her sides desperately ached, yet she couldn’t stop.
Alain-Robert stood to his full height, again staring at his two laughing companions as if they had grown extra heads. With a shrug, he turned and walked away.
“Alain-Robert. Hey,” Master James called out between giggles. “Come back. Alain-Robert.”
But he never turned around.
The sight of the dejected shoulders headed down the path sobered her.
The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection Page 34
