Triumphant Love: Banished Saga, Book Nine

by Flightner, Ramona

  Shrugging, Gabriel murmured, “It’s what an older brother does, Jer.” He paused and looked at his beloved sibling. “Will you tell her about your past? About what you suffered when you were in the army?”

  He shuddered and closed his eyes again with a sigh, as he leaned his head against the chair. “I wish I didn’t have to. But I know I do.” Jeremy tapped his fisted hands against the arms of the rocker. “I want to know everything about her, and it’s only fair I allow her to know everything about me.”

  Gabriel gave a grunt of agreement. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.” He waited and then asked in a hesitant voice, “Do you believe that the men returning from the War don’t deserve their chance at happiness now, after what they were forced to do by circumstances, by order, or by pure instinct to survive?”

  Jeremy shook his head instinctually. “No.” When he met his brother’s patient gaze, he smiled wryly. “And I know what you’re doing. You’re showing me that I’m being foolish. But pride and a sense of self-preservation almost always are.”

  “I’ve found love has very little room for pride,” his brother murmured. “Not if it’s to be the lasting kind of love.” Gabriel massaged the muscles of his nape. “I need your help too, Jer.”

  Jeremy sat up, focusing on Gabriel. “I’ve been so worried about my own problems that I’ve ignored how you’re out of sorts. What’s wrong?”

  Gabriel played with his wedding ring, turning it around and around on his finger as he looked into the distance. “Clarissa and Geraldine fought last night. Rissa found a letter and couldn’t help herself from reading it, once she saw who it was from.”

  Jeremy motioned for Gabriel to keep talking. After a moment, Jeremy murmured, “I spent time with Rissa this morning, waiting for Ellie to awaken. I know about the argument with Geraldine, but she never said who the man was.”

  Gabriel stared at him with bleak resignation. “Did you know that Nickie is writing my daughter? Courting my daughter?”

  “Our Nickie?” Jeremy asked, his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened, as he let out a huff of surprise. “But they’ve known each other forever.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Who says friends can’t become romantically involved?” He gripped his thighs and then loosened his hold, as though attempting to relax. “I’m not ready for my girl to have any romantic entanglements.”

  Jeremy let out another huff. “What does Geraldine say?”

  “That she’s old enough to fall in love. That she doesn’t need our permission to love the man she chooses. That we violated her privacy by reading her letter.” He rolled his eyes and made a dismissive motion with his hand. “None of what she says is a lie, but she’s my daughter. My eldest child. My firstborn babe …” He sputtered to a stop a moment and then whispered, “I still remember holding her in my hands when she was just minutes old. I … How would any man be good enough for her?”

  Jeremy nodded. “I can imagine what you are going through. I used to dread the day Melly informed me of a beau.” His eyes gleamed with sadness as he thought about his daughter who died a few weeks before Savannah in the Spanish influenza outbreak of 1918 in Boston. “Now I wish that was all I had to worry about.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d think you’d prefer a man you know, trust, and love to a man you don’t.”

  Gabriel groaned. “I’m a hypocrite. I tell all my children that I want the best for them. When the time is right, that I want them to find men and women who they will love. Jobs they enjoy. Have homes and children.” He shook his head ruefully. “I never realized how quickly my advice would come back to haunt me.”

  Jeremy stared at his brother in confusion.

  “I want them to remain children forever. Mine to love, cherish, and protect.” Gabriel rubbed at his head, disheveling his salt-and-pepper hair. “I’m not ready for them to grow up and to want wings.”

  Jeremy smiled and gave his brother a pat on his arm. “That’s not like you, Gabe. You always encouraged Rich and me to dream big, and you never held us back.”

  Gabriel laughed. “You have no idea how much I wanted to. How much I wanted to protect you and Richard from every imaginable harm.” He sobered as he thought about the time he had lived and worked in Boston, struggling to support his two younger brothers after their parents had died, when they finally moved out of their aunt’s house. “I should remember how Rich suffered from my meddling in his relationship with Flo and trust that Geraldine knows what is best for her.”

  “You raised her well, Gabe. And she’s chosen well.” Jeremy lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “There’s no way of knowing if this will last between them. Nickie’s still adjusting to life after the War, and she has another year of school.”

  “I know.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Is it wrong of me to have hoped that Geraldine would attend university, like her mother did? Like I was never able to?”

  Jeremy laughed. “Of course not. And she most likely will. She’s as curious as you are about the world, Gabe.”

  With a long sigh, Gabriel smiled ruefully again. “I must allow her the freedom to live the life she wants but with the knowledge that I support and love her.”

  “Oh, no need to worry on that front. I’m certain she already knows that.” Jeremy sat in contemplative silence for a few moments, the rocking chair moving forward and back soundlessly. “Can you imagine how Mum and Da would have been had they lived?”

  Gabriel smiled at his youngest brother’s whispered question. “They would be so proud of all of us. And doting.” He chuckled. “I often imagine what they would have been like as grandparents.”

  Murmuring his agreement, Jeremy said, “They were wonderful parents and would have adored our children.” His green eyes lit with joy. “Mum would slip them treats, read them stories, and soothe any hurts, while Da would take them fishing and on walks and have tickling contests.”

  Gabriel’s eyes glowed with the memory of scenes just as Jeremy described. “A day doesn’t pass where I don’t miss them.” He looked at his youngest brother, seeing the lingering sorrow in his gaze. “I hope I’m half the father Da was.”

  Jeremy nodded and gripped Gabriel’s shoulder. “That makes two of us.” After a pat to his eldest brother’s shoulder, Jeremy rose, and they continued their work.

  Chapter 17

  The following week Jeremy knocked on Colin’s door. It was a lovely evening after a warm day. A breeze blew; birds chattered in tree branches, and children laughed as they played outside. He smiled as his spirit was fully filled with joy for the first time since Savannah had died. When Colin answered his door, Jeremy clapped the man he considered his brother-in-law on the shoulder and entered. “Where’s Ellie?”

  Colin shrugged. “I just got home and washed up. I think she’s in the backyard with Ari and the baby.” He made a motion with his head to follow him, and they traipsed through the house, into the kitchen, and out the back door. “There they are,” Colin said, his voice rising with pleasure at the sight of his wife and child.

  “Ellie,” Jeremy murmured in a husky voice. His avid gaze took her in, crawling on the ground, as she tickled and played with Colin’s child. He had a sudden desire to have brought Breandan, so she could play with him too. Instead Breandan was home with his grandfather, being spoiled rotten.

  “Jeremy,” she breathed, flushing as she saw him. “I hadn’t expected to see you tonight.” She brushed at her cheeks, speckled with dirt and grass, and ran a hand over her head. She grimaced as her fingers tangled in her tousled hair.

  “I’ll call every evening I can,” he said, as he dropped down to join them. He fought an urge to kiss her hello and gripped her hand instead. “I hope you had a good day.” He scanned her face, any tension easing at seeing the bruises on her face fading under her cosmetics.

  She sat up, tucking her legs underneath her in a more dignified manner, and nodded. “Yes. I enjoy my work with Clarissa.”

  Colin muttered, “For the love of God,” then rose and ushered
Araminta and their baby into the house.

  Jeremy ignored him. “What’s the matter, Ellie?” he whispered. He froze as she jerked away from his touch.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, her head lowered. A lone tear coursed down her cheek.

  He knelt in front of her, cupping her cheeks and tilting her head so he could better see her. “Did your mother say anything?”

  Closing her eyes in defeat, she shook her head. “No. My aunt Vaughan did.” At his patient silence, she continued, “She said I was a horrible excuse for a daughter. That, if I acted in such a shameless manner, it would have been better for the family had I never been born. That she’s mortified she must acknowledge me as her niece.” Eleanor’s voice broke as she lost control, and a sob burst forth.

  “Oh, my darling,” Jeremy soothed, then pulled her into his arms. He held her tight, his strong hands running over her shoulders and kneading her back. “She’s as vicious and vile as your mother. Don’t let her persuade you to change with her words.”

  Shaking her head, Eleanor leaned away to meet his gaze. “I try not to. But it’s hard. They’re my family.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Let me be your family. Let my family be yours too.” He swiped at her sodden cheeks and smiled at her with joy, hope, and fear mingled in his gaze. “Marry me.”

  “I don’t want you to marry me out of pity.” She hiccupped and tried to pull away.

  He growled with frustration and pulled her closer. “When have I ever treated you with pity? With anything other than adoration and love?” He flushed as he spoke his true feelings. “For I love you, Eleanor Bouchard. God knows life would be a lot easier if I didn’t. Your mother and aunt will make life a living hell for us.” He smiled and shook his head. “But I don’t care. I want you in my life, and I will accept whatever and whomever comes with you.”

  She stared at him in wonder. “I had hoped and then had chastised myself for hoping.” She ran her fingers through his hair as she arched up to kiss him. She gasped as his fingers dug into her and pulled her closer.

  The slamming of the neighbor’s back door made them jerk apart, and he toppled onto his back, tugging her down to rest her head on his shoulder. “Will you forgive me for being a fool in love and blurting out a proposal with no romance or finesse?”

  She ran a hand over his chest and made a shushing sound. “There was plenty of romance.” She leaned on one elbow and traced a finger over his eyebrows. “Do you know how many times I fantasized about a man loving me enough that my family connections weren’t that important?” Another tear coursed down her cheek. “I had long given up hope that it would ever come true.”

  “It has,” he murmured, as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Be patient with me, as I have no ring yet.”

  She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t need a ring. I just want you.” Her hand on his arm tightened as she whispered, “I love you.”

  His muscles went taut underneath her, and he urged her to rise up to meet his gaze. “Can you look at me and say that again?”

  She bit her lip as she stared deeply into his green eyes, shining brightly with hope and adoration. When she realized they shone for her, she sighed and cupped his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “I never thought I could love someone as much as I do you and after knowing you for such a short time. But I do.”

  He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “I wish we were alone. In my large house.” He groaned, as he peppered kisses over her cheeks, neck, and back up to her cheeks again. He chuckled. “Even there, we wouldn’t be alone.”

  Her smile, filled with joy and devotion, met his amused gaze. “I’d have you no other way. You have no idea how much I appreciate your kind, large, loving family.”

  He sighed, flopping to his back again as he urged her to rest on his shoulder, while they stared at the clouds overhead. “They adore you too,” he breathed. “Relax with me, Ellie. Enjoy this moment. For I know we will have challenging times before we are married.”

  * * *

  June 15, 1920

  My Darling Geraldine,

  I was sorry to hear of your argument with your parents. I never meant for my interest in you to lead to problems with your family. If I were a true gentleman, as my father believes me to be, I would say that I would cease writing you and leave you to find another, more acceptable man.

  But I can’t, Deena. The thought of never receiving another letter from you fills me with panic. The thought of traveling to Missoula at some point and having no right to speak with you, other than as a distant friend, angers me. I want to have more time with you. I want to discover what this growing attraction between us means.

  Is it the same for you?

  I miss you, Deena.

  Nickie

  P.S. Your scented handkerchief rests under my pillow, and my night terrors are much less frequent. Thank you for finding a way to help calm the nightmares, even from such a distance.

  * * *

  Clarissa worked in the library on a quiet mid-June afternoon, while Eleanor took a lunch break. She had agreed to meet Jeremy for lunch, and Clarissa smiled as she thought about the growing relationship between them. Although she missed Savannah every day—and had frequent one-sided conversations with her—Clarissa knew that it was unfair to consider Jeremy living a solitary life. Not after she had seen how he had blossomed under Eleanor’s subtle, gentle love.

  Listening for the door that would herald another patron, Clarissa moved the cart full of books among the aisles. She slid books into place as she continued to ponder Jeremy’s situation. Eleanor seemed to truly care for Breandan, and Clarissa hoped that Eleanor would love Breandan as her own one day. Although she knew that was a lot to ask of another woman, Clarissa sensed that Eleanor was just such a woman.

  When the entrance door squeaked, Clarissa moved away from the cart to approach the front desk. Her steps stuttered, and she did not attempt a forced smile. “What are you doing here?” she asked in an icy tone.

  The woman in front of her wore a finely sewn dress in the latest style, although it was not flattering to her full hips and bosom. The fashion of the day favored a slender woman and a corset that did not exaggerate curves. Her hair had been dyed a bright yellow, although gray shone through at the roots. Her long thin face had more wrinkles, and her brown eyes shone with curiosity as she glanced around the library.

  “Well, I thought I was obvious, dear,” she said in her singsong voice, looking around, as though to see if anyone else were present. “I’m here for a book.”

  “I’ve never known you to read. Unless it was the society column,” Clarissa snapped. “And, as you know, there isn’t much society in Missoula.” She bit her tongue, not wishing to engage further with her former stepmother, who she had disrespectfully referred to as Mrs. Smythe, even when Clarissa should have called her Mrs. Sullivan. “We do not cater to such interests here.”

  Mrs. Smythe laughed in a grating manner. “No, I suspect you encourage those entering to put on airs and graces as you do, acting as though they are more intelligent than they truly are.” Her brown eyes shown with unconcealed loathing as she looked over her stepdaughter. “I’m always so disheartened to find you so well. Why couldn’t you have died? Or one of your children?”

  Clarissa clenched her fingers together until she formed fists and took a deep, bracing breath. “Not that you are concerned about my welfare, but I did lose a child. In 1912.”

  “Pish, what is that now, after all this time? It’s not as though his or her memory would still haunt you,” she said with a wave of her hand, as though swatting away a gnat. “You always were overly sentimental, Clarissa dear.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me what I was or wasn’t. You never cared to know me or my brothers. Or my father. All you wanted was his money.” She looked her stepmother up and down. “It seems you’ve found another man to swindle.”

  She shrugged. “Men are such simple creatures. They want very little. A finely co
oked meal. A warm bed. A soft voice.” She ran a hand over her hips. “I can offer all that.” She looked at Clarissa with abject pity. “It’s such a shame your husband has had to suffer your presence in his life for nearly twenty years. I’m surprised the poor man hasn’t strayed.” She raised her eyebrows in a manner, as though to say it were inevitable in Clarissa’s case. Or that Clarissa was a fool not to realize her husband had already strayed.

  “What do you want?” Clarissa demanded, unable to hide the loathing from her voice, then flinching as her voice shook.

  “I wanted to inform you that I have returned. And I am so looking forward to reacquainting myself with my family.” Mrs. Smythe smiled with venomous intent, before spinning on her heel and exiting from the library.

  Clarissa watched her go and then collapsed on a chair, her mind racing with all that had been said and inferred.

  * * *

  June 20, 1920

  My Most Cherished Nickie,

  Oh, to receive such a letter today. It brightened my spirits. My mother and father have both expressed their concern about my interest in you, but mainly because they believe I am too young to show any interest in any man. They concede that you are a wonderful man. My father went so far as to say that he could wish for no one better for me than you, but he simply wished that we had waited a few years before acknowledging the attraction.

  How is your life in Darby? How is your family? Life continues in its usual pattern here, and I find comfort in that. The big news I forgot to share with you in my last letter is that Uncle Jeremy’s friend, Eleanor, was thrown out of her mother’s home. She’s now living with Uncle Colin. My most fervent hope is that she will marry Uncle Jeremy. Do you think your family would come here for the wedding?

  I miss you, Nickie.

  Your,

  Deena