Triumphant Love: Banished Saga, Book Nine

by Flightner, Ramona

  “I … I’m not the man I was when I left, Deena.” His eyes filled with torment and frustration. “I …” He shook his head and closed his eyes.

  “What, Nickie?” she asked.

  “I wish I were. I wish I were the sort of man …” He shrugged. “The sort of man who’s mind didn’t play tricks on him.” A tear leaked down his cheek. “I hate that I am thrust back to those battlefields. That there are moments I don’t know where I am.”

  She made a soft sound to calm him. “I promise you that there are so many of us who care for you and will always be there for you, who will only be too glad to help you back from the darkness.” Her eyes filled. “For life would be so much worse if you weren’t here, Nickie.”

  His tormented gaze met hers. “Truly?” A tremulous smile emerged. “I’ve often feared I’m a burden. That others would wish … wish life were easier if I weren’t …” He swallowed and shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

  She made a low sound in her throat and rushed to him. She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her passionate gaze. “No, Nickie,” she said in a low voice, laced with panic. “Promise me, no matter what, that you understand how much you are loved. How much you are cherished. We would mourn forever without you.” Her eyes filled, and tears coursed down her cheeks. “Please.”

  He pulled her into his arms, holding her close again. “I would be lost without your friendship, Deena.”

  She sniffled, resting her head on his shoulder. “As would I. These days with you here have been wonderful. Laughing, telling stories, reading aloud our favorite poems and novels. Talking about the concerns of the day.” She sighed as she held him close. “I’ve already lost Melly. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you too.”

  “Shh,” he murmured as he comforted her. “I’m so sorry about Melinda. We were friends since the day she arrived in Missoula. We played with Uncle Colin, and I shared my toy soldiers with her.” He let out a stuttering sigh. “I keep expecting to see her and Aunt Sav walking through the door as they tell me about their latest adventure.”

  Geraldine settled into his arms as her hold on him loosened to one of comfort rather than panic. “I was like that for the first six months. And then I realized they were never coming home.” She closed her eyes as tears continued to leak out. “Like when Rory died. I kept expecting to hear his voice or his laugh. To hear my father laugh. And then nothing.” Her gaze was distant as she thought about her younger brother who had died nearly eight years ago in a tragic accident on his birthday.

  Nicholas eased her away and used his thumbs to swipe at her tears. “Do you think Jeremy will recover?”

  She shrugged, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Theirs was a wonderful love. But I’ve heard my mother murmur to my father that, when one is capable of such a love, one has the capacity to love again.” She sniffled. “And I hate to think of him alone forever. He’s not that old, and Breandan needs a mother.”

  “While that’s true, I’d hope he’d also marry to please himself. I’d hate to marry where there was no affection.” He frowned as Geraldine shook her head. “You disagree?”

  “There can’t just be affection, Nickie. There has to be love.” She took a step away, breaking contact with him. “For I’ve seen what my parents have suffered. What my aunts and uncles have suffered. And, if there is only affection, a marriage won’t survive. Only with a deep, abiding love, will all the challenges that must be faced by the couple allow the union to be triumphant.”

  He chuckled. “I never knew you were so philosophical about marriage.”

  She shrugged. “I have no plans for marriage anytime soon. I want to go to university. To determine what career might interest me.” She smiled. “And then, if I’m so inclined, then I might marry.”

  He watched her with a fierce intensity for a moment and then smiled. “Whatever you desire, I know you will accomplish, Deena. Come. Will you help me soothe over any troubles with Billy?”

  Geraldine nodded and led the way to the kitchen. When she pushed open the door, she found Billy sitting at the kitchen table, working on his arithmetic. “Billy-boy,” she said. She smiled when he raised guilt-ridden and heartbroken eyes to meet her gaze.

  “Nickie!” Billy cried out when Nicholas stepped into the kitchen. He dropped his pencil, the eraser worn to the nub, and wrapped his arms around the man who he considered his honorary elder brother. “I never meant to give you a fright!”

  “It’s not your fault, Billy,” Nicholas rasped. “I …”

  Clarissa cleared her throat and smiled tremulously at Nicholas, her gaze filled with love. “As I told you, Billy, sometimes our reactions are out of our control. Your sister helped Nickie regain his sense of place, and he’s much better now.”

  Nicholas nodded as he ran a hand over Billy’s silky black hair.

  “Can you help me with ’rithmetic? I ain’t no good at it, an’ Mama says I can’t play ’til it’s done.” His shoulders were stooped in defeat.

  “Billy,” Clarissa said, a warning note in her voice.

  “I’m not any good at it,” Billy said with precise diction and a sly look at his mother as a half-smile played around his lips. “Mama doesn’t like it when I speak like the boys at school.”

  Nicholas winked at him. “Come. Let’s tackle your arithmetic. If I remember correctly, I was winning the last battle.”

  “No! I was!” Billy said, as he ran to his chair and looked to Nickie to sit next to him. “You can’t win the Battle of San Juan Hill. You aren’t Teddy Roosevelt!”

  Geraldine stood beside her mother to help with the preparations for dinner while Billy and Nicholas chatted behind them. Their voices, one deep and one higher pitched, brought solace after the distressing scene in the dining room. She leaned into her mother’s side a moment and then hummed her favorite song, all well in her world again.

  Chapter 3

  Although winter maintained its harsh hold on the region, the blistering cold winds from the east eased. Travel resumed; children bundled up for their walk to school, and Missoulians attempted to continue with life as usual in the middle of winter. By midmonth, Nicholas had been with the McLeods for nearly two weeks. He knew he must travel to Darby to reunite with his family, but he felt an odd reluctance to make the final leg of his journey home. With the excuse of remaining in Missoula for one final weekend to celebrate Little Colin’s birthday, Nickie forced aside imaginings of his homecoming.

  This evening he sat on the floor of Jeremy’s large living room, playing with Little Colin and Breandan, as Clarissa, Geraldine, Fiona, and Araminta prepared a feast. Gabriel, Jeremy, Patrick, and Colin had just finished putting up streamers of paper for decoration, while Billy and Myrtle ran around, calling out advice. Lucas, Genevieve, and Lizzie were to arrive shortly with Uncle Martin.

  Jeremy plopped down beside Nicholas, smiling as Breandan raced to him, holding out a car for him. He rolled it for his son, chuckling as Breandan snatched it away to play with it himself. “How are you, Nickie?” Jeremy asked. “I haven’t had a chance to speak with you since …” Since their last conversation where Nicholas had talked about a recent night terror and his fear of never overcoming them. Jeremy’s solemn green eyes met Nicholas’s, and he left the sentence unfinished.

  Nicholas let out a deep breath, forcing a smile, as Little Colin beamed at him in triumph. “I’m adjusting.”

  “Enough to return home?” Jeremy asked. “I can only imagine how frantic your mother is to see you again.” He paused a moment. “She suffered with your departure.”

  Shaking his head, Nicholas closed his eyes a moment. “I can’t shake the feeling I shouldn’t be here. Waiting to celebrate my young cousin’s birthday. Eating cake and laughing and telling stories.” His gaze filled with self-recrimination and shame. “Why should I be here when so many others aren’t?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “There is no answer to that question. As you well know.” He leaned on one elbow, his long legs stretched out in front of him,
acting as a cage for his active son. “I will continue to hope that you will overcome your guilt and will find joy again, Nickie.” His gaze shone with passionate sincerity. “Live your life to the fullest, with abandon and optimism, for those who no longer have such a chance.” He smiled ruefully and shrugged. “Some days I struggle with my own advice, but it does become easier as time passes.” He patted Breandan’s bottom as he fell and then hopped up again to continue to play.

  A fierce pounding on the front door sounded, and Jeremy pushed himself to his feet. “Watch Breandan,” he murmured as he walked to the door. He eased it open with a frown, shivering as frigid air entered the front hallway. “Yes?” he asked the couple who had turned to face away from the door. “Seb!” He pulled Sebastian Carlin in for a quick embrace and then opened his arms to hug Sebastian’s wife, Amelia. “Oh, you are most welcome to our celebration.”

  “Is it for Nickie?” Amelia asked, her gloved hand gripping Jeremy’s with a fierce intensity.

  “No, Little Colin turned four, and we’re celebrating his birthday a little late. Everyone is here.” He paused as he looked into Amelia’s frantic gaze. “Including Nickie.”

  “Oh, bless you,” she whispered, as tears coursed down her cheeks. She hugged Jeremy again as she was eased into the hallway and out of her heavy outerwear.

  “Mother?” Nicholas whispered as he stood at the entrance to the living room. “Seb?” He stood frozen, his gaze darting from one to the other. “You’re here.”

  He grunted when his mother threw herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she held on to him, as though afraid he’d disappear like a ghost. “I’m here,” he whispered through his tears. Looking over his mother’s shoulder, he saw Sebastian, who had been like his father since he could remember, wiping at his eyes. “I’m here,” he repeated as he fought a sob. Lowering his head, he buried his face in his mother’s hair, breathing in her fragrance. In that instant, he felt as though he were finally home.

  When she pushed away from his chest, he released her with reluctance. He grunted when she hit him on his shoulder and glared at him through her tears. “What?”

  “Don’t act innocent,” she stammered out. “You’ve been here nearly two weeks. Two weeks.” She clamped her mouth shut as it trembled, and tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “How could you not come to us, son?” Sebastian asked in his deep voice. New worry lines had appeared to circle his eyes, and his red hair held a smattering of gray. “You had to know we’d want you with us.”

  Nicholas looked from his mother to the man who’d only ever treated him as his son and shrugged helplessly. “I … I couldn’t.” He tried to turn away from them, but his mother kept a strong grip on his shoulders, preventing him from hiding his emotions. “I … How could you want me at home after all I did and saw? How could you rejoice?”

  “No, Nickie,” Amelia demanded as she cupped his face. She tilted his face down to meet hers. “No.” She stared at him with a mother’s devotion and love. “You stop that right now.” She met his confused gaze and smiled at him, her tears forgotten and drying on her cheeks. “You stop doubting your worth. Your reason for being here.” Her grip on him tightened when his muscles grew taut.

  “It’s very hard, Mother,” Nickie murmured, a tear coursing down his cheek.

  “Oh, my precious son,” she whispered, then pulled him to rest his head on her shoulder. “I hate that you suffered. I hate that you’ve doubted, for one second, that we would find joy in your homecoming.” She rocked him in her arms, while he clung to her and cried. “Never doubt our love for you.”

  * * *

  Amelia wandered into Jeremy’s kitchen and stilled upon finding Clarissa alone. Amelia frowned to see her friend smearing away tears. “Rissa?” she asked.

  “Oh, Amelia!” Clarissa exclaimed, throwing her arms around her friend. “How I miss you, even though you’re less than a hundred miles away.” She looked deeply into Amelia’s almond-shaped hazel eyes. “Are you well?”

  Amelia beamed at Clarissa. “Now that Nickie is home, and I’ve held him in my arms, I’m wonderful. I can imagine that he has memories that torment him, but there’s nothing that can’t be faced now that I know he’s safe.” She gripped Clarissa’s arm and whispered, “Thank you for writing to me. For insisting I travel here.”

  Nodding, Clarissa leaned against the counter. “I fear Nickie would have put off his reunion with you for a while. He’s been speaking with Jeremy, and I believe that helps. However, no matter how much we love him, he needs his family.” She paused. “As a mother, I can’t imagine being separated from my child any longer than necessary.”

  Amelia’s gaze filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and frowned. “Why were you crying?”

  “Oh, I’m being foolish.” When Amelia shook her head at the weak explanation, Clarissa murmured, “I’m still having trouble accepting that Little Colin will never hear properly. I find that a very cruel twist of fate.” She closed her eyes, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “After losing Rory, no words can express my gratitude that Little Colin lived through that horrific fever last year.”

  Amelia clasped her hand. “But, as his mother, you always want the best for your children. You want everything for them.”

  Clarissa nodded. “And I worry about what sort of life he will live, when I’m not here to help him.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gabriel wants to go east this summer. To pursue other treatments. It’s difficult convincing Gabe that we must accept the realities that Little Colin will face.” She sighed. “I should give thanks that he has somehow learned to read lips, especially of those he spends a lot of time with. And that he is such a mild-mannered boy.” After a moment, she pasted on a smile. “But ignore me. We should celebrate your reunion with Nickie!”

  Amelia nodded. “We will. I think my arrival with Sebastian came as a shock for him, and he’s adjusting to our sudden appearance.”

  “Never doubt that he wanted to see you, Amelia,” Clarissa said, as she pulled her friend close. “He has doubts and terrors that he must constantly battle.”

  Amelia swiped at her cheeks as she gave her good friend a hug. “I tell myself that, but it is difficult knowing he has been with you a few weeks, when I wish he’d been home with us.” She let out a deep sigh.

  Biting her lip, Clarissa murmured, “I fear he would have had an even more difficult time at home had he returned to you immediately. He’s finding tremendous solace with the hours he spends with Jeremy.” She nodded as Amelia seemed to understand what she implied. “As soldiers, they share an understanding of the suffering each lived through.”

  “I know you are correct. It is hard, as his mother, to accept that I can’t make everything better for him, as I did when he was a child.” As their names were called, she shared a rueful look with her friend and returned to the festivities.

  * * *

  That evening Sebastian sat with Nicholas in Jeremy’s study. It had been decided that he and Amelia would stay with Jeremy, and that Nicholas should spend the night here too, to be near his parents. The extended McLeod family had departed, and the house was quiet, except for the soft sound of Jeremy singing, as he walked around the upstairs while he lulled Breandan to sleep.

  “Breandan is a beautiful boy,” Sebastian said, smiling, as though recalling when his children were small. “I fear Jeremy is spoiling him by coaxing him to sleep like this.” Sebastian shrugged. “They’ve been through enough that they both deserve a little coddling.” He focused on the man he considered his son. “As do you, my boy.”

  Nicholas flushed and ducked his head, leaning forward to avoid making eye contact with Sebastian. “I’m fine, sir.”

  “I know you’re not. So does your mother.” Sebastian let out a deep sigh. “I’m only grateful she did not fight my insistence that I traveled with her today.” He paused as he waited for some emotion from Nicholas. “I hate that you saw such horro
rs while you were in France.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “No more than anyone else.” He looked at Sebastian. “Far less than many.”

  Sebastian stretched his long, lanky legs in front of him, having finally mastered the art of sitting still at age fifty. He crossed his legs at the ankle and let out a deep breath as he waited for whatever would burst from his son. For he knew Nicholas, and he knew the son of his heart would not maintain his silence for long.

  “The forests in France are remarkable. The woods are so different from the woods here. Large oak mixed with pine, covered in moss. They have a lot more rain there than here.” Nickie paused. “When I first got to France, I never thought to see a forest. When I was at the Front, it was”—he paused—“beyond anything I could describe.”

  He closed his eyes for a long moment. “After I’d been there a few weeks, they realized there’d been a mix-up, and I was supposed to be working in a sawmill, due to my experience. They shipped me to a nearby forest, and I thought I’d spend the duration of the war working there, making boards for the trenches. But then they needed more men.”

  Nickie glanced at the man who he’d always considered his father, ever since he was a boy. Only blurry images remained of Liam, his real father, killed in a mining accident in Butte. “I was terrified. I remembered too well the Front. I had no desire to repeat that experience.”

  Sebastian made a noncommittal noise, his alert gaze watching his son as he spoke.

  “I was thrust into the ongoing fighting in the Argonne Forest.” His gaze became distant, as though seeing scenes from battle. “The Germans were good fighters. Almost always had the high ground. And so many of the men fighting with me had never held a rifle before.” He shuddered. “I’m thankful for all the times we went hunting near Darby. For the basic knowledge of how a gun worked. It saved my life at least once.”