Hawkins' Grove

by Graeme Bourke

  * * *

  Jim Hawkins helped Lillian down from the carriage. He passed her the walking stick he had made for her as she steadied herself against the carriage. Her leg would never be right, and she would have to walk with the aid of a stick for the rest of her life. The brown woolen cape covered her head, hiding the hideous wounds to her face. One eye would forever remain partially closed, and the scars on her face would be a constant reminder to her of her plight.

  “It’s only a humble cottage, Lillian, but I will build you a house to be proud of, I promise you that much.”

  “Mary, you must learn to call me Mary,” said Lillian as she looked at the quaint log cabin. How her life had changed in the last few months! She now had a husband, a man she respected but did not love, a man she had come to rely on. He had nursed her and encouraged her as she struggled to walk again. She could never go back to her old world.

  Before accepting Jim’s proposal of marriage, she had told him everything he needed to know, the father of her child, and who it was that had chased her over the cliff. It was important to her that Jim knew everything.

  She accepted Jim Hawkins’s proposal, but she made one proviso. Jim had to promise to keep their secret as no one must ever know who she really was. Lillian knew that her brother would hunt her down if he had any inkling that she was alive, because she knew too much about his other life. He would not tolerate her surfacing to wreck his long term plans for greed and debauchery. If Robert thought her dead then she and her child would be safe.

  “What do you think?” Jim asked as they stood in the middle of the sitting room.

  Lillian could sense the pride in her husband as she peered around the cabin. He had worked day and night for the last month to have this ready on their wedding day. It wasn’t what she was used to but it was a place she could call home.

  “I must have some proper curtains for the windows. Then it will feel like home,” said Lillian, making her way over to the wood stove.

  “You will have them tomorrow. I had Billy bring some wood and light the fire so the place would be nice and warm for us.”

  “Someone has made us some stew.” Lillian lifted the lid off the blackened pot that was bubbling away on the stove.

  “Billy made the stew. Don’t ask me what’s in it though?”

  “It smells all right.”

  “I’ll bring in the cases and see to the horses,” said Jim, taking Lillian’s cape from her and hanging it on the wooden peg at the door. As he stepped outside, he paused on the verandah to look across the wooded valley before him. He found it hard to believe that he was now a married man and that all the land as far as he could see was his to work. If he worked hard enough, he would eventually own all this, and more. The bank manager had hinted that the owner could be interested selling the property at sometime in the future.

  There was money to be made in wool. He had been given approval to clear some of the land so he could run a bigger herd of sheep. The extra money from the timber would come in handy.

  It still hurt Lillian to move around on her bad leg but she tried not to let it hinder her as she proudly walked around her home. She checked the cupboards and found some blue and white plates. She would dish out some food for her husband. At first she had been somewhat apprehensive about her marriage with Jim Hawkins. But now, she realized that Jim Hawkins was the perfect husband for her. He was kind, thoughtful and gentle, and he would protect her from the past, while at the same time giving her a future.

  Jim returned with the two cases, his had very little in it, a few clothes, shaving gear and some papers for the lease of the farm. Lillian’s had even less. Teresa Henderson had gathered a few spare dresses from her wardrobe and bundled them into a suitcase.

  As they sat down and ate their tea, Lillian could sense the nervousness in Jim. Later, they washed up the dishes and then sat down in front of the fire. They didn’t bother to light the lamp, there was enough light from the fire.

  “Mrs Henderson gave me a bottle of wine. It’s in the case.”

  “What about the baby?”

  “Jim, a couple of glasses of wine won’t hurt the baby,” said Lillian with a smile as she snuggled further down in the soft chair.

  Jim rose from his chair, found the bottle of red wine, popped the cork, and poured it out into two tumblers. “I will buy us some proper wine glasses when we sell our first load of timber.”

  “What are you going to call this place?” asked Lillian, taking hold of one of the tumblers in her slim fingers.

  “I hadn’t even thought about that,” said Jim as he sat down in the chair next to Lillian.

  “What about Hawkins Grove?”

  “Sounds all right to me,” replied Jim, sipping at his wine. He wasn’t a wine drinker, but he could get used to it.

  They sat quietly sipping at the wine and talked of the future, what they could do with the land, and the design of the new house that Jim wanted so badly to build, and of course, about the baby.

  “What do you want, a boy or a girl?” asked Jim.

  “It is not important to me, but a girl would be nice.”

  Lillian stared into the flickering flames as she enjoyed the warmth. How her life had changed she thought to herself. Strangely, she did not miss the lavishness of the life she used to have. She felt very comfortable. It was as if she belonged here. The only thing she missed was her mother. She would dearly love to let her know that she was alive, but that would mean exposing herself, and she couldn’t take that risk. Besides, she had her own family to think about now. The wine was beginning to take affect as she felt herself becoming drowsy. She looked across at her husband. He was almost asleep in his chair. It was late, and Lillian knew that it was up to her to make the first move. Jim was too much of a gentleman to impose himself upon her. She drank the last of her wine and then with the aid of her walking stick she stood up, at the same time she reached across with her free hand and took the tumbler from her husband’s hand.

  “Jim,” she said softly. “It’s time to go to bed.”

  He opened his eyes. “I can sleep out here.”

  “You are my husband, we will sleep together,” said Lillian, taking hold of his hand and leading him to the bedroom.