Distant Thunder

by Lisa Bingham

  As the day wore on, Daniel’s services were once again enlisted to help prepare for the reunion. First he helped Donovan assemble the spare bedsteads that had been stored in the attic. Then he cleared some of the furniture from the parlor to make room for dancing. Later the two men took the spare pieces into the barn and hoisted them into the loft.

  Daniel worked throughout the afternoon, enjoying the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen. Essie had been baking since dawn while Susan bustled about the house supervising the work and helping the older children decorate the doorjambs and windows with pine boughs, red ribbons, and dried roses and statice. But Susan took great care to avoid any contact with Daniel. A grin spread over his lips when he thought about the reason why. After catching an eyeful, she was probably too embarrassed to face him.

  A little after two a rider galloped into the compound searching for Esther Reed.

  “Mr. Gibby’s place caught fire, and he was burned real bad,” the young man told Esther. “Doc Patterson is up at the Fullertons’ and won’t be back until dark. We need you to come and help.”

  After nursing countless wounded during the war, Esther had grown used to being summoned to the town to help during emergencies. She quickly gathered her supplies and mounted the horse Daniel had saddled for her. “See to your own supper. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And, Susan, make sure Donovan and the boys finish the list of chores we outlined for today.”

  Susan nodded, caught Daniel’s glance, and flushed. Picking up her skirts, she hurried back into the house.

  At five the men and boys were served a quick meal of cold meat and huge hunks of corn bread, augmented by tidbits of sweets and batter as Susan offered them samples, ordering, “Taste this and see if it’s got enough molasses… . Taste this and see if it needs more spice.”

  After dinner Daniel noted that a few of the older boys had mysteriously disappeared. Looking at Donovan with a raised brow, he heard the older man murmur, “Grab that rug and meet us in the loft.”

  Curious about what secret activity was taking place, Daniel grasped the rolled-up floor runner and headed for the loft. The area was crowded with furniture, but he saw no evidence of Donovan or his helpers.

  “Psst! Over here.”

  Daniel saw one boy peek around the edge of a breakfront. He set the carpet down and moved toward him. Once he reached the other side, he grinned.

  Donovan and three adolescent boys lay sprawled on mattresses. On a dish towel between them lay two loaves of bread, a bag of raisins, a pile of walnuts, and a half dozen pieces of vinegar taffy.

  “It’s time we took a break from all that feminine nonsense,” Donovan stated, his lips tilting mischievously. “Take a seat, Daniel, and cut the cards.”

  They’d only managed to play a half dozen hands when they heard someone in the barn below. Donovan held his finger to his mouth, motioning for them all to be silent.

  “I know you’re up there,” Susan called.

  One of the boys grimaced and threw down his cards.

  “Miss Essie left instructions for the chores she wanted you to finish while she’s gone.”

  The men looked at one another consideringly.

  “All five of you.”

  “Damn,” Donovan muttered.

  “It will be dark in a few hours, and we need more pine boughs and firewood. And someone needs to start mucking out the stables, since the games will be held here.”

  “Dibs on the pine boughs,” one boy challenged, gathering his sizable booty. His friends scrambled to follow.

  “Now wait a minute!” Donovan threw down his cards and took his hat. Turning to Daniel he said, “I think that means you’re in charge of the stables.”

  “Me?”

  Donovan grinned. “You’re the one who’s losing.” Gathering his own winnings he left Daniel with a measly half dozen raisins and a few pieces of taffy.

  “Daniel?”

  Susan’s soft query stroked his senses like a subtle invitation—and not for mucking out stables.

  “Daniel, I can find someone else to help—I know your wound must still pain you. I’ll get one of the boys to—”

  “I’ll be right down.” He stuffed his makeshift poker chips into his pockets and climbed down the ladder. As soon as he turned, Susan’s face flushed to the color of a ripe tomato. She edged toward the door.

  “You’re supposed to be recuperating, perhaps it would be better if—”

  “I’m not that sick.”

  “Maybe you should take some medicine first.”

  “Later.”

  “Daniel—”

  “Later.”

  As he walked forward, she retreated until her back was pressed against the first stall. When she would have dodged past him, he grabbed her elbow. That single point of contact brought a rush of memories to them both.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  He noticed the way she couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him. “No, I—”

  “Yes. And not just today. You haven’t really talked to me in some time.” He took her other arm and turned her to face him. “Why?”

  She touched her hair in a nervous gesture he recognized, but there were no stray strands to brush away. She had savagely combed the tresses and hidden them beneath the black scarf.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Not that busy.”

  She took a step back. “I’ve got to go … change. I need a work apron.”

  Reluctantly he released her. “Fine. If you want to hide away from what’s happening—”

  She whirled in indignation. “I am not hiding!”

  He felt a burst of irritation. “Then what do you call it? Damn it, Susan, I’m not any more comfortable with what’s happening between us than you are. But something is happening.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!” He took her face between his palms, and his grip was not entirely gentle. “You feel it, I know you do.”

  She shook her head in denial.

  “Hell and damnation, Susan, passion isn’t a sin!”

  “It is for a woman who’s taken vows against the indulgences of the flesh.”

  “You haven’t taken any vows yet.”

  “I will.”

  At her insistent reply, a spark of fury ignited in his gaze. “Why are you so hell-bent on that idea? You won’t listen to reason. You won’t even allow yourself to consider the other side of the issue.”

  He knew he had struck a nerve because she wrenched free. Her cheeks grew flushed with an emotion that could only have been guilt. The familiar ghost of panic appeared as well. “I have to take my vows, Daniel. I have to.”

  “Why? What sins are you trying to atone for? What in the hell have you done that could be so bad you’d give up your entire life?”

  When she would have fled, he grabbed her waist and hauled her close. Before she could escape, he caught her and tipped her head back so that his lips could slant over hers.

  She grew still, quiet, then shifted to participate in the intimate contact.

  A burst of need centered low in Daniel’s loins. She didn’t know how her innocence and vulnerability stoked the fires in him even as his common sense begged him to take each step slowly. When her fingers curled over his shoulders and her breasts flattened against his chest, he couldn’t think. He could only feel.

  Lifting her off the floor, he backed her up to the stall, pressing his hips more firmly against hers. His mouth opened; his tongue sought entrance into her sweetness.

  When she refused to part her teeth, he lifted away, ever so slightly. “Please, Susan. Let me taste you.”

  A broken moan burbled from her throat, but she did as he asked. Savoring each texture, each flavor, he took her mouth in a searing kiss.

  Susan wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him with all her might.

  Daniel’s hands explored her back, her spine. He memorized each subtle curve. He wallowed in
the fresh scent of her skin. Then, when he thought he had broken through the walls she’d erected around her heart and her senses, she froze, so instantly, so completely, that he knew he’d gone one moment too long.

  In a split second she became a terrified wildcat, wrenching free of him, her knee barely missing his groin.

  “Damn it, Susan, stop it!”

  Her glazed eyes were a rich black-green. But this time the fear and panic he saw were coupled with an overwhelming guilt.

  Damn it. All her life Susan had been coddled and shielded—and Daniel had been her primary champion. But she had not emerged from her self-imposed isolation as he had hoped. Rather, she had retreated even deeper into her protective cocoon.

  Daniel raked his fingers through his hair. He was tired of the way she kept fleeing—not only from him but from the truth. Even now she stood trembling, staring at him as if he’d become some sort of monster. AH he’d done was kiss her, for hell’s sake!

  She wasn’t meant to be this way. She’d been born with a passionate spirit. She deserved all the joys and desires inherent in daily living. She wouldn’t be happy sequestered in a convent, shut away from life and love.

  Advancing, Daniel stabbed the air with an accusing gesture. “If you take your vows, you’ll be lying to God and to yourself,” he warned. “You want more. Though you might not admit it, you want more!”

  Susan glared at him, refusing to answer. And Daniel knew there was no response she could give him—without admitting he was right.

  This time it was Daniel who turned and walked away.

  Chapter 16

  How dare he! How dare he!

  Susan marched to the stable door with the intent of finding Daniel and giving him a piece of her mind. But she had taken only a few steps when she stopped.

  What could she say? He was right.

  She did want more.

  Guilt rode hard upon that thought. How had she allowed her devotion to flag? When had she abandoned the precepts of God for the precepts of men, or the precepts of one man—Daniel?

  Doubt warred with responsibility, responsibility with self-recrimination. She rushed to the back of the barn and saddled one of the mares. Not bothering to adjust the stirrups, she swung onto its back and galloped the animal into the snow, skirting the well-trammeled areas for the deep powder of the valley and the huge stands of pine.

  Daniel had been standing in the kitchen, peering out the window to see how long it would take Susan to follow him and admit that she had come to her senses. But she didn’t confront him with her temper aflame. She didn’t return at all. The minute he saw her racing out of the stables he knew he’d once again made a mistake.

  Damn. When would he learn that he would never figure that woman out. He should just leave things well enough alone?

  Ducking into his room, he collected his rifle and calfskin coat. Then, remembering that Susan had ridden away with little more than a sweater over her shoulders, he made a quick stop at her room, where he snatched her voluminous black cape from the back of the rocker. Still swearing under his breath, he hurried after her, hoping she hadn’t gone so far or so fast that it would take him the rest of the afternoon to find her.

  Susan didn’t know where she was going until she arrived. Her horse trembled and snorted beneath her as she drew back on the reins and came to a stop in front of the high stone walls surrounding the convent of the Immaculate Heart.

  She had returned to the arms of the church, where she had always felt comfortable and secure. The building itself didn’t matter so much as the people inside. The sisters accepted her despite her deficiencies and never ceased to care for her welfare.

  Susan slid from the saddle and, lifting her skirts free from the drifts, slipped and slid toward the front gate. She tugged on the chain that would summon one of the nuns.

  Susan heard the rustle of skirts on the icy inner courtyard long before a cloaked figure appeared to answer her summons.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve come to see Sister Mary Margaret.”

  It wasn’t until the words fell from her lips that Susan remembered this was a cloistered order. Except for infrequent interaction with the Ursulines, these nuns rarely had contact with outsiders.

  Either Susan’s uniform or her desperate expression eased the woman’s qualms, and she inclined her head and bade Susan come inside.

  The iron gate squealed shut in harsh protest, testifying that very few people were allowed to enter, and even fewer left again once they’d come inside. Susan watched the solid metal shiver until it lay quiet next to its frame. She belonged here. It was her duty to stay. She couldn’t allow Daniel’s sweet temptation to draw her away from her original course. But a heavy pressure squeezed her heart and she experienced an overpowering urge to throw herself at the spiked bars of the gate and shake them until they opened and allowed her to escape into the sun and snow-drenched field beyond.

  The sweetly smiling sister was waiting for her to follow, and Susan hurried across the compound. No words were spoken. The nun led her into the arched sandstone entrance of the cloister and through the thick double doors. Their wet shoes scuffled on the stone as they walked down the corridor.

  With each step, Susan was plunged back into the world that had enfolded her in its gentle wings so long ago. Automatically, her footsteps lost their hasty gait. She pushed her shoulders back and adopted the regal posture she had admired in the nuns at the academy. She folded her arms, slipping her hands into the deep cuffs of her bodice.

  She belonged here.

  Didn’t she?

  She wasn’t sure what she would say when she saw Mary Margaret. She didn’t know why she’d come. To confess? To reaffirm her devotion? To hide?

  The guilt grew stronger, more bitter. She shouldn’t have come here until she had made peace with herself and with God. She knew that the doubts and feelings churning inside her would disappear once Daniel abandoned her again and she returned to the academy.

  If she returned, a tiny voice taunted.

  “Here we are.” The nun’s voice was little more than a breath of sound. “Please wait here and I’ll tell her you’ve come.”

  The woman disappeared behind the heavy oak door, and Susan was left to wait in the hall like a penitent child summoned to face the headmaster. But she hadn’t done anything wrong, had she?

  Yes. She had. She had succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh. She had taken joy in the arms of a man. She had learned to care so deeply for Daniel that she couldn’t imagine a day without him. She couldn’t imagine years spent locked inside the walls of a convent.

  Her heart continued its thunderous beat. She wanted to run outside and fill her lungs with a huge gulp of air. She wanted to hide inside the cloister in shame.

  “She’ll see you now.”

  Susan started. She had not even been aware that the tiny nun had returned.

  “Thank you.”

  Hesitantly she stepped into a simple wood and stone cell. Except for a plain bed and a crucifix, the room was devoid of decoration. Susan had forgotten how bare a nun’s quarters could be.

  The door closed behind her, and Susan stood in indecision when she saw that Sister Mary Margaret knelt on the floor praying. But the other woman must have sensed her presence, because she crossed herself and rose to her feet.

  A welcoming smile spread over her features. “I thought you would be the one who had come to visit me.” Her eyes twinkled. “Daniel would not have done anything quite so conventional as announcing himself at the gate.”

  “Daniel?” As far as Susan could remember, Sister Mary Margaret and Daniel had met only once at Susan’s graduation. Susan had sensed a rapport between the two at the time, but she had never thought Sister Mary Margaret would remember him years later.

  “Never mind. Tell me why you’ve come. The reunion is about two weeks away, isn’t it?”

  Susan nodded. “Yes. I think preparations are going qu
ite well. There’s to be a huge celebration. I’ve been helping to decorate the barn for the children’s games. And I’ve baked refreshments and …” Her words trailed away. This wasn’t why she had come. But she didn’t know quite what to say or do, especially since Mary Margaret always managed to strip through any kind of pretense. But how could she seek reassurance about her calling to the church when she wasn’t quite sure that was what she wanted anymore?

  Sister Mary Margaret patted the edge of the bed. “Tell me what has you so upset.”

  Susan sank onto the mattress, then bolted and crossed to the window, where she stared out at the courtyard and the play of blue and black shadows on stone and snow. Colors in the convent were muted because of the high wall that kept out a good deal of the sunshine. Yet, she couldn’t deny the peace. The solitude.

  But how much longer would she allow herself to feel trapped… .

  Trapped? Was that how she saw her future in the convent—as a trap? If so, she wasn’t serving God, she was hiding—just as Daniel had accused her of doing.

  But she was meant to stay with the church. All her life, she’d known she would have to serve God. There were debts that needed to be paid. She’d been content with her lot.

  Until Daniel had stormed back into her life.

  “What is it you wanted, Susan?”

  “I just …” She rubbed the frigid pane of glass. She knew Sister Mary Margaret watched her keenly, but she still didn’t know what to say.

  “Tell me. I think you’ll feel better.”

  When Susan didn’t speak, Mary Margaret sighed and motioned for her to kneel beside the bed. Susan approached and sank to her knees on the hard stone.

  “He can be very persuasive, can’t he?”

  “Who?”

  “Daniel.” Mary Margaret tipped Susan’s chin up to the light. “Well, my dear, tell me what he’s done to make you feel so confused, so unhappy, and so terribly alive.”