Julianne was already at the tea shop when she arrived, and welcomed her with a hug. “I told Ariadne that we wanted to chat privately, so she gave us the corner table,” she said, leading the way. “This is a private chat, isn’t it? Your message sounded a little cryptic.”
Lydia sat down at the table and gripped her hands together tightly. “Yes, and I appreciate you for meeting me here.”
“What is it?” Julianne looked concerned. “Is something wrong?”
Ariadne came up to the table and placed a cup of tea in front of each of them, then stepped away quietly. Her obvious attempt at remaining discreet made Lydia smile, but just as quickly, the nervousness returned.
“Ever since we were held captive in that cellar, I’ve been afraid of the dark,” Lydia began, looking at her cup and not at Julianne. This would be easier if she pretended she was talking to herself. “It’s difficult for me to fall asleep at night, and I often wake up before the sun and can hear my heart rattling around in my chest. This isn’t like me—I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life, but that whole experience . . . it changed me. I don’t associate with the other girls much, but they all seem to have moved on, and I’m jealous at how they’ve done it. And you . . .”
She took a sip of her tea. “You were so kind to all of us and led our escape, and I owe you every debt of gratitude that can be imagined. But instead, when I see you, all those fears come rushing back to me, and I can’t breathe. And it’s not fair to you because you’ve never been anything but kind, but I’ve kept you at arms’ length and I haven’t accepted the friendship you’ve tried to offer me.” She finally glanced up to see a tear roll down Julianne’s cheek.
“Oh, Lydia. I’m so sorry—I had no idea you’ve been suffering like this. I thought I’d offended you in some way, and I planned to come here and apologize to you.”
“No, not at all. This has all been because of me, my own weaknesses.”
Julianne reached across the table. “Lydia, you must understand that this isn’t a sign of weakness. We were in danger for our lives, and at the very least, our virtue, which is no small thing. I deal with memories and insecurities all the time, and if I appear to have come away unscathed, I must be better at pretending than I give myself credit for.” She squeezed Lydia’s hand. “It’s a daily battle, but I know you. You are so much more than capable of conquering this, and I’m so glad we’re talking about it openly because I’m sure it’s something we all need to do.”
Lydia sniffed. “I’m not the only one who’s gone through this?”
“No, you’re not. One day, Hugh came home early and walked up behind me while I was at the stove. He put his arms around my waist, and I whirled on him and started beating him with my soup ladle before I realized what was actually happening. He forgave me immediately and we both laughed, but my heart wouldn’t stop pounding for an hour afterwards. Just little things like that send me right back into the cellar.”
Lydia smiled to think of Julianne attacking her husband with a ladle. Hugh was a good man—he would have understood. “What do I do now?” she asked. “How do I move on?”
“I think that talking about it is an excellent step in the right direction. I don’t know how many times my poor husband has sat by me and listened to me pour my heart out, but it helps.”
“I don’t think he’d want to listen to me,” Lydia replied, keeping a straight face.
Julianne caught the joke anyway. “Well, we could ask him, but you’re likely right.” She smiled, then went on, “Have you spoken with a pastor? I don’t mean Reverend Theodore—I know he’s over the church here in Creede, but talking to him is like . . . well, I can’t even draw a proper analogy. I think Reverend Bing would be a very good choice.”
“I like Reverend Bing. I could talk to him.”
“Good. And please, please talk to me as often as you need. What about the other girls? Do you trust them?”
Lydia pulled in a breath. “It’s never been about not trusting them. It’s been about the memories, being reminded of what happened.”
“I’m going to tell you something that will probably not make you very happy. You always will remember. There’s no such thing as forgetting entirely. But as time goes by and the more you share your feelings with people who understand, you’ll find that the sting of it lessens. We were treated horribly, Lydia, and we have to work through that so we can find peace on the other side. Pretending it didn’t happen or trying to push it aside forever won’t bring us that peace.”
Everything Julianne was saying made perfect sense. “Thank you,” Lydia said at last once she’d swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I didn’t realize that anyone would want to talk to me about this. Right after it happened, people here seemed ashamed of us.”
“I think they didn’t know how to treat us because they were so worried about hurting us further,” Julianne replied. “We can’t expect everyone to understand what we’ve been through. We have to show them that we’re still ourselves—we’re just a little older and wiser now.”
Lydia soaked in everything Julianne said like dry ground during a rainstorm. She’d needed this kind of frank conversation for so long, but she’d held herself back from it because she was afraid it would be too difficult for her. In reality, though, shutting herself off from help had been the most difficult and painful thing of the last eighteen months, and she felt ridiculous that she’d put herself through that. She’d been victimized by her kidnappers, but she had added to her own pain layer by layer.
But no more. She deserved better than that. She was going to honor her feelings and talk about them when they became too much to bear. Being strong didn’t mean being alone—it meant knowing when to reach out and grasp on to help.
Chapter Eight
Lydia had arranged to have the entire afternoon off, and she was glad of it. Julianne wasn’t expected back for a while either, and they sat and drank tea and laughed together for quite some time. It was wonderful to get to know each other in a setting that wasn’t shadowed by fear. Lydia went with Julianne to run a few more errands, and they waited together for the three o’clock train.
“I’ve been looking for this shade of yellow fabric for months,” Julianne said as they watched the horizon for tell-tale smoke. “Toria found it for me in a catalog—I hope it’s the right color. I’ve had a picture in my head of what I want my kitchen to look like for so long.”
“I’m sure it will be beautiful,” Lydia replied. Yellow curtains in a kitchen sounded so cheery.
At last, they saw smoke in the distance, and the train chugged in to a stop minutes later. The porters got to work unloading the bags, and Julianne squeezed Lydia’s arm. “They’ll do the freight car next,” she said. “Keep your fingers crossed for me.”
“I will, but that would be easier if you weren’t cutting off circulation to my arm.”
Lydia let go and laughed. “Sorry. I’m just excited.”
Lydia watched the passengers bustle around on the platform, picking up their bags and looking around for their loved ones or for rides. It was fun to wonder who they were visiting and where they were going next. The last time she’d stood on this platform was when she herself arrived, and it was on this platform where she was abducted, but she was choosing to create a new memory here—one of waiting with her friend for ten yards of beautiful yellow fabric.
The last of the passengers stepped down, and she noticed a tall young man among them. Then her breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.
“Lydia? Are you all right?” Julianne asked.
“I . . . I’ll be back.” Lydia stepped through the crowd, trying to keep an eye on that figure. Was it really Bradley? And why would he be here, of all places? She followed at a distance as he walked to the edge of the platform and looked from side to side, probably trying to get his bearings. She was close enough now that she knew it was him, and she wanted to approach him, but she had no idea what she should say.
Then, as if he sensed that she was there, he turned, and their eyes met.
“Lydia?” His bag fell from his hand and dropped to the platform with a thud. He took a step toward her. “Lydia!”
“Hello, Bradley. What are you doing here?”
He shook his head slightly and gathered her up into a hug. It caught her off guard and she wasn’t sure what to think—being hugged in public wasn’t exactly appropriate—but she returned it, glad to see him even though it was confusing.
At last, he let her go and took a step back. “I’ve been looking for you for days,” he said. “I thought something had happened to you.”
“I . . .” She glanced around. This wasn’t the time or place. “Could we go somewhere to talk?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I’m here.”
She turned and sought out Julianne, who was walking toward her with a bundle in her arms. “Julianne Fontaine, this is Bradley Murdoch, an old friend of mine. I thought I’d take him over to Hearth and Home so we can get caught up.” It was hard to make her voice sound normal when she felt anything but normal at that moment. “Do you need help with that?”
“Oh, no. I’m fine.” Julianne smiled at Bradley. “Welcome to Creede, Mr. Murdoch. I hope you have a nice stay.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fontaine.” He touched the brim of his hat.
With the pleasantries out of the way, Lydia led Bradley over to the Hearth and Home, where Rhona showed them to a table. Lydia asked Rhona if they could have a few minutes to talk before their order was taken. As soon as they were alone, Bradley said, “What happened? Where have you been? I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to start.”
“I have plenty of my own. Why are you here?’
Bradley sat back and exhaled. “It’s been difficult for me to forget about you. I know that’s what you wanted, and I tried to honor that wish, but it was impossible. The fact is, Lydia, I’ve loved you since I first met you, and that’s not going to change. I went to dances, I socialized, I tried to find someone else, but there is no one else for me. That has become very clear.”
Lydia looked away. She didn’t know how to respond. She’d tried so hard to change his mind about her so he wouldn’t be hurt when she left—her plan hadn’t worked at all.
“Go on,” she said at last.
“After wrestling with it all this time, I finally wrote to the address you left me, thinking that would help me put my feelings to rest, but they said you’d never arrived. That threw me into a panic, and I decided the best thing would be for me to follow your tracks and see if I could find you. I’ve asked at every train station between here and Ames, and now, to find you right there on the platform . . . You have no idea how good it is to see you. But why are you here? Why aren’t you in San Francisco?”
Lydia pressed her lips together. Yes, she could answer this question, and she could do it bravely. “I had stepped off the train here just for a moment to stretch my legs. Before I could get back on, I was grabbed from behind and dragged away.”
Bradley’s breath caught, and she saw his face go pale. She went on.
“I had been abducted by a group of men who wanted to sell me into prostitution. I was put in a cellar with several other young women who had been abducted in a similar way. Shortly before we were to be transported out of town, there was a fire, and we were able to escape.”
Bradley closed his eyes, then opened them again. “Are you all right?”
“Mostly. I’ve had some anxiety since then, and fear about being in the dark, but I have a job and a place to live, and I’ve been saving money to continue on my way to California.” That actually hadn’t been as difficult to say aloud as she’d anticipated. Perhaps admitting to a weakness wasn’t so shameful after all.
Bradley passed a hand down his face. “I can’t even comprehend . . . I feared that something had happened to you, but I kept telling myself that I was being too dramatic, that you were actually fine. I’ve never wanted to be wrong more in all my life.”
“I’m all right now. The men responsible have been dealt with, and I’m actually ready to buy my ticket to San Francisco now. It’s lucky you came when you did so you could catch me here. Otherwise, you might have had to chase me all the way out to the coast.” She spoke lightly, but then she realized that Bradley must be the surprise Madeline had told her about. Was there some sort of cosmic conspiracy to bring them back together after all this time?
“You still want to go to San Francisco? After everything that’s happened?”
She smiled and shook her head. “You don’t think a little kidnapping and captivity would stop me, do you?”
“It would certainly stop me. Lydia, that’s no small thing you’ve described. I’m amazed that you’re handling it so well.”
He thought she was handling it well? Even though she’d confessed to her anxiety? That brought her up short. He was looking at her with admiration, something she hadn’t anticipated at all.
“You’re obviously seeing me differently than I see myself.” She chuckled. “You have no idea the mess I’ve been.”
“What I see is a woman who has been through something horrible, but is still trying to find the light despite all of it. Lydia, this is why I love you—your very essence, the person who you are. And I came all this way to find you and to tell you that.”
“But what now?” She looked at him, feeling hopeless. “Are you hoping that I’ll go back with you?”
Bradley pressed his lips together, something he did when he was thinking. “I’ll be honest with you and say that yes, I was hoping you’d come back with me. I’ve built a nice house on the edge of town, my business is going well, and I believe I could provide for you comfortably. We might never be wealthy, but I would do whatever it took to make sure we had enough. There’s something else, though.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Everything I’ve just said sounds like a business proposition, and that’s not how I mean for it to come across. Lydia, in case I haven’t already said it a dozen times, I love you. You’re worth fighting for, you’re worth searching for, and you’re worth sacrificing for. If you were to love me in return, if you wanted to marry me but you still wanted to move to California, I would sell my house and my business and move there with you.”
To that, she had absolutely no words.
Could he really mean that? Could he really love her that much? How was it possible? She’d always thought that when a woman married, that meant she went where her husband went and did what he wanted her to do, but this . . . He was actually offering to give up everything he’d worked so hard to build so she could have her dream. Her dream, which would never make as much money as his.
Granted, he could likely start up his company again in California, but that wasn’t guaranteed success. He was willing to risk it all . . . for her.
“I need air,” she said, fumbling for her cloak, which she’d draped over the back of her chair. Bradley tossed some coins on the table and then rose, helped her with her cloak, and escorted her outside, where the air was definitely less cloying and she could draw a deep breath.
***
Bradley was so glad Lydia had asked to leave. Everything was closing in on him—all his emotions were on the surface, and he needed space to sort through them. He’d found her. He’d actually found her. His relief had been overshadowed by his concern, though—she looked so thin, and her clothing was almost in rags. When he’d hugged her, she felt like nothing more than a straw doll wrapped in a handkerchief, and he wanted nothing more than to whisk her back home, tuck her away, and coddle her until she had completely recovered.
He knew that’s not what she wanted, though. She’d never been the type who asked to be coddled. She wanted to be treated as an individual, and she would push him away if he tried too hard to influence her life. What he could do was offer her his love, and so he did, coming from a place so deep inside him that it was almost painful to speak it.
As th
ey walked along, his arm brushed against hers every so often, igniting sparks that flew through his entire body and buzzed in his brain and made him feel like he was watching a meteor shower. Yes, he would move to San Francisco for this woman if that’s what she asked him to do. He needed her in his life—he’d tried living without her, and it was dull and flat and gray. He needed color, he needed vitality—he needed Lydia.
They walked until they came to a little wooded area with a bench. It was nicely secluded, much better for the sort of conversation they were trying to have. She stood there for a moment, her arms wrapped around her middle, looking off into the mountains. He couldn’t help but join her—they were the most majestic-looking things he’d ever seen.
Finally, she turned to him. “Why? Why would you give all that up for me?”
“Why?” The answer was so obvious to him that the question seemed silly. “Lydia, how could I not?”
For all his determination to give her some space and to let her work through this on her own, he couldn’t help himself any longer. He stepped forward, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. He expected her to slap him, and he probably would have deserved it, but instead, she grasped his lapels and held on to him. He slid his arms more fully around her, never wanting to let her go, wanting this feeling of rightness and completeness and utter happiness to last forever. This was what he’d dreamed of day after day. This was all he’d ever wanted—Lydia in his arms.
When at last he let her go, she looked up at him, dazed. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to let me breathe,” she said.
He laughed. “It was a tough decision, but I decided it was for the best.”
She sat down on the bench. “I hardly know what to say. You’ve just offered me everything that you are, and I feel insufficient to accept it.”
“What do you mean?” He was startled that she’d feel that way.
“You’re giving me so much more than I could ever give you. I have nothing to bring to a marriage—no money, no property. I don’t even have a decent dress, for goodness’ sake.”
Defying the Darkness Page 6