A Handful of Heaven
Page 9
The heat in his whiskey-colored eyes made her stomach somersault. He was looking at her as if they were alone. . . .
No. She couldn't think like that anymore-not if she wanted to make it out of this post with some modicum of pride intact. She broke eye contact. "What's this all about, Father?" She hoped her voice sounded light.
Midas and Cornstalk pushed to the front of the crowd. Midas cleared his throat, and the men around him quieted. "When we heard you was leavin', we all got together and decided to give you this." He shoved a small piece of wood at her.
Oh, God, not a going-away gift. Her fragile self-control couldn't handle it now. The last thing in the world she needed was for someone to be nice to her.
Reluctantly she took the brown square. It shook in her hands.
"Turn it over, miss," Cornstalk prodded.
After a heartbeat's hesitation,*she did, and the moment she saw the other side a huge lump lodged in her throat. It was a makeshift plaque, and carved onto the dark surface were the words: To Devin. Thefurst womun to winter among us. We 'II miss you.
The words blurred. Her throat constricted. "Oh, my. . ."
"Read it out loud!" yelled someone from the back of the crowd. Immediately the crowd started buzzing in agreement.
Midas put up his hands for silence. "She don't have to read it. We all know what it says."
Devon offered the old man a grateful smile then turned her attention to the men around her. "I-I don't know what to say
. . . except thank you." She pressed the plaque to her breast. "I'll treasure it always."
The sternwheeler's horn blared. The sound sliced through the men's boisterous cheers. Devon felt its impact right down to her toes.
Midas clapped her on the back. "We'll wait outside for ya, Devon. We want to walk you to the boat. No need to hurry. It don't leave for an hour yet."
She nodded distractedly. "All right. I'll only be a minute."
The men shuffled out, leaving in their absence a groaning silence. She stared at Stone Man. He stared back.
"Nice plaque," he said finally.
"Yes, isn't it."
Again the silence. The awkward, yawning silence that was a slap in the face to everything they'd shared. Devon pressed her hand to her stomach, forcing herself to remember why she was going. How noble her reasons were.
Right now she didn't feel noble. She felt cowardly and lost and alone. She swallowed hard, keeping the tears at bay by sheer force of will. "I guess I've got to go . . ."
"Guess so."
"Are you going to walk me to the ship?"
He looked pointedly at the shadows huddled just outside the flaps. "Looks to me like you've got a whole bunch of escorts. One more wouldn't even be noticed."
She forced a shrug. "Guess not."
He pulled a small brown package out from under the couater. "Here," he said gruffly, "this is for you."
"I didn't get you-"
"Just take it." He looked away quickly. "You've given me plenty."
He handed her the gift. She untied the knot with shaking fingers and ripped off the brown paper wrapping.
Her breath caught in her throat. It was a framed photograph of her dented Campbell's soup can full of wild poppies. The picture wobbled in her hands; the flowers blurred. She swallowed hard. "It's perfect. Thank you." Even to her own ears her words sounded horribly stilted and distant.
"You're welcome."
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"Well," she said awkwardly, "I'd best be going."
He nodded.
She tried a lighthearted smile and failed."I'd say I'd write, but a letter would never find you."
"Nope."
"So, I guess this is good-bye."
"Good-bye, Dev."
She meant to walk out the door, to walk away. But she didn't. Instead some deep, instinctive need drew her to him.
He didn't back away. He just stood there, waiting for her. The minute she stepped into the circle of his arms, he hugged her with a fierceness that left her breathless. She fitted her body to his, reveling in the wonderful, welcome feel of him. The achingly familiar smell of him surrounded her. His heart hammered beneath her cheek.
"I'll miss you," he said above her head.
His words, spoken in a broken, whisper-ragged voice, severed her final shred of self-control. That was it; the only declaration of love she'd ever get from him. He'd miss her- but not enough to ask her to stay. God help her, it wasn't enough.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, burrowing into the corners of her mouth. She wrenched out of his embrace. Clasping the photograph to her breast, she rushed headlong out of the tent.
She pushed through the flaps and landed smack in the middle of the crowd. The men squished in around her, cutting off her every avenue of escape. The thick, pungent odor of unwashed bodies clawed at her nostrils. Panic seized her.
An arm curled around her waist, squeezing. "It's all right, lass. Take a deep breath. Relax."
She sagged against Father's small, comforting body, letting him protect her. Concentrating on each breath, she felt some small amount of control return. "Sorry, Father," she said with a trembling laugh, "I don't know what came over me."
"Don't ye?"
"Come on, come on!" Cornstalk's voice rose above the men's chatter. "Let's go, miss."
She pulled away from the priest slowly, unfurling until her
back was ramrod stiff. She pasted a thin-lipped smile on her face and then faced the boys. "All right, fellas, let's go."
Tilting her chin, she took her first step toward the stern-wheeler. Her first step away from Stone Man.
Around her the men chattered like locusts, but she couldn't hear a thing over the pounding in her chest. She was surrounded by a dozen friends, and never in her life had she been more alone.
Every step took her farther away from the man she loved. With each footfall she thought it's not too late. Just turn back around...
But it was too late. Way too late.
"Good-bye, miss." Cornstalk's high-pitched voice sliced through her jumbled thoughts.
She jerked her head up. She'd reached the end of the boardwalk, and Digger and Cornstalk were right beside her. Both were grinning. She offered them a tremulous smile.
"Good-bye, Cornstalk. I'll miss you." She laid a hand on Digger's dirty sleeve. "I'll miss you, too, Digger. You changed my life."
Digger's Adam's apple did a swift bob. "You changed mine, too, miss. Your share of the gold IVe found is already on board. I'll send the rest of your gold to San Francisco. I'll send you a telegram when it gets there."
Before Devon could respond, Midas pushed Digger aside. " 'Bye, Devon," he said in a gruff voice.
"Good-bye, Midas. Thank you for the plaque. I'll treasure it always."
"Yeah," he grumbled, melting back into the crowd. In an instant the whole crowd was talking at once, yelling, shouting, wishing her well on her journey.
Father materialized at her side. Taking her hand, he walked with her across the newly-constructed wooden dock and up the wobbly ramp to the sternwheeler. When they reached the puckered metal decking, he stopped.
"You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "He loves you."
The tears she'd been holding back squeezed past her lashes and slid down her cheeks.
"Once this boat pulls out. . ."
click, click, click
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were
I love you. Good-bye.
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what if.
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tonight.
Author's Note
The Science of a New Life
About the Author
Kristin Hannah received an undergraduate degree from the University of Washington and a degree in law from the University of Puget Sound. It was during the first magical- sleepless-nights of motherhood that she began writing fiction. Two years later A HANDFUL OF HEAVEN won the Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award for Best Hi
storical Romance by an Unpublished Author. Two months after winning the RITA, the book won the Georgia Romance Writers' coveted MAGGIE award. Kristin lives with her husband and son in the Pacific Northwest.