by Lori Benton
“I wonder . . . ,” he said.
“Whether your parents might come for Catriona’s wedding?” she finished.
He leaned back to look at her and grinned. “Ye thought of it too? I’ll ask them when I write. But I was thinking . . . with Ned in Deerfield, all of us here, I find myself hoping my parents might consider quitting Boston altogether, moving a little nearer.”
“Like Albany? If I mind aright all that distance we came, that’s smack in between Shiloh and Deerfield.”
“Near enough,” Ian said with a wink. “I’ll make the suggestion.”
The idea of Ian’s parents living closer added another layer of joy to the day. Seona was about to spring from her chair when the music ended, thinking Hector Lacey would dive into another reel. But he set his fiddle on the stump where he had stood to play and came shuffling over to their place at the table.
While Goodenough glowered at the man’s grizzled beard scraggling to his waist, he pulled off an old knit cap, revealing a head as round and bald as a pumpkin, and made them a surprisingly graceful bow.
“You aren’t done fiddling, are you, Mr. Lacey?” Seona asked. “I’d like at least one dance on my wedding day.”
“No, ma’am.” Lacey bobbed his head again. “Just taking a break so I could give you’uns this.” The old man dug into a trouser pocket, rooted around, and pulled out a folded scrap of leather Seona instantly recognized. “Found this in the yard when I went back to rescue my things, after all the hullabaloo got past. Reckon it for your’n—and what’s in it.”
Seona let Ian accept the folded leather, which he opened to reveal a scattering of tiny gold nuggets and a few flakes, still encrusted with earth. The gold they had meant to ransom Gabriel and Catriona—dropped and trampled underfoot, Ian had told her when she had finally thought to ask whether Aram Crane had taken the gold Cecily Reynold sent.
“Thank ye, Hector,” Ian said, smile sobered by the memories of that perilous day.
“That’s all I found, down on my knees in the weeds and mud. Would’ve missed it altogether had the sun not popped out long enough to cast a shine. Might be there’s more.”
Ian stood to shake the man’s hand. “I meant to go back before the snows come down so far, and maybe I will. But I appreciate ye bringing me this.”
Hector Lacey grinned, his wiry beard parting to bare a set of startling teeth, large and brown as a horse’s. As the man grabbed a biscuit off the table and went back to his fiddle, Goodenough was heard to mutter, “Maybe best he keep them whiskers . . .”
Ian tucked the gold into his coat pocket and slanted her a grin. “Ready to dance?”
Seona stood and took his proffered hand. “What will you do with the gold?”
“Put it with the rest,” he told her as Hector Lacey drew his bow across the fiddle strings, warming to another tune. “Come spring when these beeches are budding again, we’ll build a house with it.”
“Spring,” she said and stopped in her tracks at the edge of the assembled dancers. “Beech Spring!”
Ian turned back, head tilted in question. “What’s that?”
“I been thinking on it. This place—our place—needs a name. Like Mountain Laurel. I’d like it to have a name.”
“Beech Spring, did ye say?” Ian said as they took their positions among the dancers, grinning at Lem and Matthew, who had switched partners for another spin around the cabin-yard. And at Gabriel and Mandy, standing up together, ready to dance. Or try to.
Still grinning, Ian looked at her, contentment warming the blue of his eyes. “Aye. I like it.”
45
They had gathered in Malcolm’s cabin to wait. Naomi with her never-idle hands turned to mending. Ally with his big frame folded up, perched on a block chair by the bed where his grandfather lay, too tired to read his Bible. Ian seated at the table, doing the reading that morning, from the book of Jude. It was another one of those autumn days that dawns chill but clear, holding the sun-drenched memory of summer, if not its warmth.
A fire blazed in the cooking hearth, yet the cabin door stood partly open. Joseph Tames-His-Horse filled that space, leaning against the doorframe while he waited for his bride to return from walking with her daughter and grandchildren, over by the lake. Saying goodbye.
The horses were saddled and waiting. Joseph and Lily would leave for Grand River once Catriona returned with Matthew, bidding his family farewell. There was still the hunting to do. Lily would spend those months in Grand River with Joseph’s Mohawk kin while he and Matthew came and went, though from the way the man’s gaze was fixed toward the lake, Ian predicted a shorter hunt than in years past.
Nip and Tuck came to the door to peer inside, looking for Ally, usually out with the cattle by this hour. But Ally was watching his grandfather’s still face. Now and then Malcolm would open an eye, see his grandson there, and the two would share a grin. Tuck poked his nose into the cabin and whined.
Joseph kneed the collie gently back and said a word in Mohawk. “Satien.”
The collie sat and quieted himself, save for a sheepishly thumping tail.
“‘But ye, beloved, building up yourselves on your most holy faith,’” Ian read, “‘praying in the Holy Ghost, keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. . . .’”
He paused to clear his throat. Life eternal had found him on earth, as had the Almighty’s mercy and love, even with the pain this day would bring. Especially to Seona.
“I’ve never seen Mama this happy,” she had admitted that first morning they awoke together, husband and wife, languid and secluded as night lifted and dawn began to gray, revealing them to each other through shutters left open an inch. There had been frost that night—Ian had smelled it—but they had been warm, snuggled under quilts, beneath the covers all their limbs entangled.
“And ye’re happy for her?” He had kissed her brow, knowing the question unnecessary but thinking she needed to say the words.
“I am. I rarely thought what it must have been like for Mama, going without this kind of love so many years. God be thanked I didn’t have to.”
“God be thanked,” he had agreed with a grin that made her squirm with laughter in his arms, and there had been no more talk of anyone’s love but their own.
No more talk at all for a spell.
“‘Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and for ever. Amen.’”
Having reached the end of Jude’s book, Ian raised his head and took the measure of his listeners. Ally and Malcolm shared another smile; Malcolm closed his eyes.
“Keep us from falling, amen,” Naomi murmured, not looking up from her stitching.
Joseph gave no sign he saw Lily and Seona returning.
Ian dove back in. “‘The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to shew unto his servants things which must shortly come to—’”
“Mister Ian?” Malcolm’s voice softly rasped. “’Tis enough. I’m ready to be done.”
That snapped Naomi’s head up. “Daddy? You ain’t done yet. You still got Revelation to go; then you’ll have read that whole Bible.”
“Mister Ian can read the rest to me later,” Malcolm said. “Or Jesus will Himself.”
Ally stood, his large frame a contrast to the wasting one in the bed. “Granddaddy?”
Malcolm looked at his grandson. “Will ye do a thing for me, Ally?”
“Yes, sir, I will,” Ally said.
“Go fetch Lily and Seona. I’d say goodbye to Lily . . . afore I sleep.”
With an uncertain glance at Ian, Ally went out of the cabin, collies rising to meet him, tails swiping. Ian was dimly aware of Joseph stepping away from the door too.
Naomi set aside her mending and crossed to the bed, brow creased. “What you mean by sleep, Daddy?”
Ian felt alarm prickle through him when Malcolm hesitated. “I’m just verra tired,” he said at last. “Joseph and Lily need to be on their way.”
Ian closed the Bible and started to rise, thinking he would go out and meet his own bride returning, until Malcolm said, “Would ye bide, Mister Ian?” He raised a knotted hand to take Naomi’s in his grasp. “Leave us a moment, mo nighean? I’ve things to say to Mister Ian, while we wait for the lasses to come.”
Ian rose and took a seat on Ally’s vacated chair as Naomi left her mending and went out. Knowing she wouldn’t go far, he rested his forearms on his knees, studying the old man’s beloved face as he spoke of things long past.
“I’ve had time for thinking, these days. Thinking back o’er my life, afore ye came riding into it on your bonny red horse—and after,” said the man who had served his uncle, and old Duncan Cameron before him, nigh the whole of his long life. “I dinna like to think what might have befallen me and my kin had ye no’ stayed at Mountain Laurel, even married Miss Judith to hold ye to that choice, though I ken more heartache flowed from it. But so did grace. Many’s the time I’ve thanked the Lord Jesus for the work He’s done in ye.” The old man paused, breathed. “Where would we be had ye no’ allowed that work? Where would we be wi’out ye?”
“Malcolm . . .” Ian took the old man’s hand between his own. “It’s I who should be thanking ye. For giving us the shelter of your heart, your wisdom. For being the father, the man, I long one day to be—a man after God’s own heart. Where would any of us be without ye?”
Though it must have hurt, Malcolm’s knotted fingers gripped his firm.
“And thank ye, for Judith’s sake,” Ian added. “For the comfort ye gave her before I was man enough to even try.”
Malcolm’s smile held his memories of Judith Cameron, gentle as the soul she had been. “I will speak wi’ her again in a garden . . . the garden of our Lord.”
“Soon, d’ye think?” The words half choked him to say.
Malcolm closed his eyes, brow furrowed, as if inquiring of a soul making ready to depart. Finally his head moved across the pillow. “Like as no’ I’ll rise again from this bed, but if I dinna . . .” Still holding his hand, he fixed Ian with a gaze full of promise. “Then I will walk wi’ ye again in glory, too, Ian Cameron. With ye and all our kindred.”
Her mama’s new name was Roussard, the surname Joseph Tames-His-Horse claimed from a grandfather met but once before the man, a fur trader, went back to his home in France.
“Lily Roussard.” Seona was still murmuring it to herself a week after the wedding, a day that had been filled with all manner of delights. Perfect but for knowing her mama and Joseph would soon be leaving for Grand River.
That day had dawned. They were headed back around the lake, Gabriel and Mandy dawdling behind, trying to skim a stone across the water’s surface like their daddy could do, each determined to succeed first. Observing their efforts, Seona thought it could be some while before that contest was decided.
Lily paused to watch Gabriel’s stone plop into the lake with barely a ripple. Her mama wore a simple braid for the journey, her feet clad in moccasins beaded in a flower design, a gift from Willa MacGregor. They were wrapped in shawls presently, for it was cool over by the lake, but a new wool cloak and hood waited for her mama, back at the cabins.
“Still surprises me to hear it,” she said of her name.
“I’ll miss you, Mama.”
“I know, girl-baby.” Lily took her hand as a breeze stirred strands of hair across her sculpted cheekbone. “Otherwise . . . are ye glad now we didn’t stay in Boston?”
Seona couldn’t help grinning. “You know I am,” she said, minding something Ian said on their wedding night, alone in their cabin.
I cannot promise ye no evil will ever touch us again, that there will never be disappointments or losses. But I promise ye I’ll fight to defend ye with all that I am and have, and what I cannot prevent I’ll walk through with ye, reminding ye always of God’s good plans for us.
The truest vow a man could make. One she had made her own self, to him.
“If I’ve learned anything this past year,” she added, holding to her mama’s hand, “it’s that this life is the only chance we get to walk by faith, trusting the Almighty.”
“Aye,” Lily said. “We’re always wanting to see what’s coming down the road, when what we need is deeper trust in Him for the grace to meet it.”
Behind them the children squealed. They turned to see the pair, stone skimming abandoned, hunkered over something at the water’s edge that had caught their interest.
“Come on, you two!” Seona called, knowing Joseph waited, that Matthew, journeying west with his uncle and new auntie, would arrive any moment.
They couldn’t put off the inevitable.
“It’s going to be a long winter, but after . . . ,” Lily began, a new note in her voice—eagerness or some deeper joy—then both yelped in surprise as Nip and Tuck rushed past their knees to meet Mandy and Gabriel as they came running.
“Lily . . . Seona!”
They turned to see Ally trotting toward them across the harvested field. He stopped and waved them in, waiting until they reached him, his broad face troubled. “Y’all need to come on. Granddaddy wants to say goodbye.”
“All right, Ally, we were coming.” Lily spoke calmly enough, but Seona caught her faint frown.
Matthew and Catriona were riding up the track when they reached the cabins, leading a string of packhorses. Naomi and Joseph were in the yard.
“Mister Ian in there,” Naomi said. “But Daddy wants you two now. I’ll mind the babies. Go on in.”
Seona felt unease descend. It deepened when she stepped into the cabin doorway and heard Malcolm’s reedy voice: “. . . then I will walk wi’ ye again in glory, too, Ian Cameron. With ye and all our kindred.”
Ian sat on a block chair by the bed, holding Malcolm’s hand. He straightened and stood, giving place to Lily. Malcolm sat up a little higher. With a swift breath of relief, Seona decided he didn’t look like passing right that minute. Just on the near edge of sleep. Ian’s face lit up as she tucked herself against his side, but she saw he had been crying.
“It’s all right,” he said, an arm coming around her. He kissed the top of her head and briefly her lips when she raised her face. Then Malcolm was talking to her mama and they quieted to listen.
“Mister Ian’s been reading to me, and we’ve talked a wee while. I’m gi’ out for the present but wanted to see ye afore ye go awa’ west to Joseph’s people, to lay my hand upon ye as my daughter. For that’s what ye’ve been to me, Tsigalili.”
Never had Seona heard Malcolm call her mama by that name. It startled tears from her mama’s eyes that ran down her cheeks. Lily didn’t speak a word, but her love filled that cabin, warmed by the hearth fire as Malcolm rested his hand on her bowed head.
“The Lord Almighty bless and keep ye, Lily Roussard, as ye step into this new life He’s given ye,” Malcolm said, voice husky with fatigue and emotion. “May He gi’ ye and Joseph safe journey, then a long and fruitful life together. May He gi’ ye blessings in proportion to all the years ye’ve waited in hope to see them.”
It seemed to Seona that these weren’t the parting words of those who expected to see one another again. At least on this earth. Ian’s arm tightened around her as Lily drew a shaking breath and asked, “Malcolm? Should I not go with Joseph? Should I stay?”
Malcolm wasn’t quick to answer, but when he did so, his words were certain. “Ye’ve found a husband to care for ye and love ye, but he has other kin dependin’ on him, aye? ’Tis as it should be. Go wi’ him.”
Lily wiped at her tears, then sat up straighter, a light returning to her features. “What I meant was, go with him for now.”
“Mama?” Seona asked.
Lily turned to her. “I was about to tell ye, girl-baby, when Ally’s dogs came rushing up. Joseph and I have been talking over something these past days
, praying about it. We discussed it with Neil and Willa this morning. It’s decided. We’ll be back in spring.”
Seona felt her sorrow lift to hover over her heart, uncertain now of its place. “For a visit?”
There would be that to look forward to, through the long winter.
Lily’s smile was as radiant as on their wedding day. “More than that. Joseph needs to speak to his kin, but come spring, summer at latest, he and I plan to return to you here, build ourselves a cabin at the north end of the lake—if that’s agreeable to ye, Ian?”
Some of her own joy was breaking over Ian’s face now. “Ye’d be more than welcome.”
Seona felt suddenly like a little girl, wanting to jump up and down where she stood. How fitting, her mama and Joseph living on that spot between his sister’s farm and theirs, where he had stepped from the trees and turned her mama’s mourning into dancing.
“Joseph’s willing?” she asked, hardly daring to believe it.
Her mama didn’t answer, for Joseph had come in, Ally and Naomi behind him, and spoke for himself. “Among the Kanien’kehá:ka, a man goes to live with his wife’s clan. It is right and good that I do this.”
They all crowded into the cabin then, even the collies, and for once Naomi didn’t shoo them back out. Catriona and Matthew stood with hands clasped. Gabriel and Mandy dashed through crowding legs. Ian scooped up Gabriel. Seona held Mandy.
Malcolm looked up from his bed, around which they gravitated, his gaze passing around their circle, pausing at each face. Brown and amber, copper and white.
“I may yet live to see ye all together like this again,” he said, “but even so . . . Ian, would ye hand me that Bible?”
“I thought you were too tired for reading, Daddy,” Naomi said as Ian reached back for the Bible left on the table behind him.
“Never mind tired,” Malcolm said, eyelids drooping like a little boy fighting a nap. “Find the Psalms for me?” he asked Ian, who opened the Bible near its center and placed it on Malcolm’s lap. He turned crinkling pages, upon which fell the window’s light. “Thank God He left me eyes sharp enough to see this tiny print. . . . Here we go. I wanted these verses before me to be sure I dinna misspeak them. Get them down into your hearts, children. Take them wi’ ye, ye who go. Hold them fast, ye who stay.
