by Mercy Levy
Worse was that whenever they did speak, her pulse fluttered and things low in her stomach tightened and warmed, until she was driven nearly to distraction by the scent of his skin and the coarse stubble that he could never quite shave smooth. His brown eyes haunted her dreams, and when she taught Finn his math and reading, she was often distracted by the sight of his older brother walking past the house with long, purposeful strides.
Still, Laurel passed the time with ease, happiest when she was cleaning the spacious farmhouse or baking and cooking in the modern kitchen. Water had been brought into the house from the well so she didn’t have to gather it throughout the day, just pump the lever and whatever she needed would splash into her basin or her pot for cooking.
But Laurel wanted the home to be hers. She wanted to be the lady of the house, not just the maid, and with every hour that Derek avoided her, she grew more concerned that he would find another, and she would end up unemployed and homeless. With that thought eating at her, she decided to confront the captain and demand an explanation. Then if she must, she could return home with her honor intact, having fulfilled her duties as a housekeeper without being sullied by a man who did not wish to be her husband.
Hands trembling, Laurel carefully packed Derek a lunch to take to him. Fresh baked bread and cold sliced meat from the roast she had put in the cold cellar after supper the night before, a jar of tea that she had brewed and sweetened with sugar she’d negotiated from their grocer, Mrs. Taskey, and the first berries harvested from the garden went into the basket.
Derek appeared briefly, framed in the kitchen window, before disappearing into the barn. Laurel took a deep breath, flashed a smile at Finn, and squared her shoulders before heading out to meet him before he could vanish into the hundreds of acres of farmland again.
As the kitchen door shut behind her, young Finn ran to the window and watched her stride into the barn with her quick, confident steps. He was fond of the girl, who wasn’t much older than himself, but seemed so wise and grown up to him, that he’d started to think of her as his older sister. He’d overheard her practicing her speech for his brother and Derek’s treatment of her made Finn wish he was old enough to marry his tutor and guardian himself.
“Good luck, Laurel,” he whispered as he watched the doors, anxious to see who exited first, and how they looked when they did. The world seemed to slow to a halt as he watched and the only sound he heard for an age, was the pounding of his own heart.
Inside the barn, it was not at all still, as Derek tried to storm away from Laurel and she held her ground, standing between him and the doors. He refused to speak, but scowled at her as she laid out her demands.
“If you want a housekeeper, fine. I will be your housekeeper. But if you are looking for a wife elsewhere, if I am so flawed that you can’t afford me the safety of the position I came here for, then how am I to know that when you bring her home, she won’t remove me? I only wish to serve as best I can. But, I’ve grown so fond of Finn, and this place, and my garden,” she sniffed as her resolve failed her and tears stung the backs of her eyelids.
“I have no intention of bringing home a wife and turning you out into the world with no home or employment!” Derek was almost shouting at her as he paced in front of her. “You claim I lied to you to bring you here, but this,” he gestured at her, “this is not how you represented yourself to me!”
Laurel rocked back on her heels and gaped at him.
“You did not ask for a beauty. You asked for loyalty and work ethic and honesty,” she gasped, tears now running freely.
“And yet, here you are, demanding what I am not comfortable to give.”
“Demanding what you promised me when I left the only home I’ve ever known and crossed the plains with only faith in your integrity to sustain me.” Laurel shoved the basket into his hands and ran out the back door, away from the house and the man she wanted to serve, who only rejected her in return.
Wearily, Derek took the full basket back into the kitchen where an angry thirteen-year-old boy met him, red-faced and scowling. He set the basket on the table and turned to leave before he had to endure another scolding, but Finn grabbed his arm and jerked him around with more strength than Derek had given him credit for.
“You know she loves us, don’t you?” Finn asked with an unmanly tremble in his voice that reminded his brother that the boy had lost almost everything only the year before.
“You don’t know what love is, Finn,” Derek sighed.
“Why, because I haven’t lost a wife? I lost everyone who actually cared about me, and now I’m going to lose the only person here who does, because you’re nothing but a lying scoundrel!” Finn rubbed his sleeve under his nose and released the hold he had on his brother’s arm. “Fine. Make her leave. I’m sure you’ll find an excuse to make me leave too. If you want to be all alone and feel sorry for yourself, just be honest and we’ll both go.”
Derek shook his head. Every day he was out before the break of dawn, because the first day he hadn’t been, and Laurel had done the milking and mucked the stalls before he could get to it. Each night he returned long after dark, because if he didn’t then she served him like the lord of his manor, and he didn’t want to take advantage of her.
Even old Mrs. Taskey had mentioned what a fine woman she was, negotiating down the prices of sugar and flour, then spending the extra on sweets for Finn, or shirt fabric for her men. Laurel was sweet to the townsfolk and gossip had floated on all the way out to the farm, that she had stood between old Mrs. Stackhouse and her domineering son, and backed him down from his drunken demands for more money from the sickly woman.
She was more adept in the kitchen than Derek had realized was possible, and every moment they came in contact, she gazed at him with those long-lashed violet eyes and his resolve to stay out of her bed began to crumble.
“You don’t understand the ways of adult relationships, Finn. I’m doing what’s best for us all.”
“I’m pretty sure that what is best for us all, is for you to let yourself love her, instead of clinging so tight to your dead family and neglecting the living.”
Finn’s words pierced him in the heart with painful truth. He’d not just let his bride-to-be down. He had pushed away the only family he had left, preferring to be alone with his grief than to help his brother heal from his.
Finn turned away, but not before Derek saw the pain and disappointment. He ran his hands through his raven hair and sighed. He’d gone from contented husband to widower to parent all so fast, he’d never had the chance to figure out how to do any of it the best way. He had to admit that bringing Laurel to the farm had been his first wise choice. Marrying her was the only honorable option. He ruffled Finn’s hair and sighed.
“I’ll go get her, and I’ll do right by her. But, you need to show me you’re really trying too. I need you out working the fields with me, every morning before your lessons. If I must move on and start living again, so must you.” Finn turned and hugged his brother so tightly, Derek couldn’t breathe.
“I’ll be up before dawn, and I’ll muck out the stables so Miss Laurel doesn’t have to.”
Derek grinned. So, he hadn’t been the only one to notice how hard Laurel worked.
“Next time you see her doing work you should be doing, stop her and finish it yourself,” he chided the boy, who managed a sheepish grin.
“Thanks for going after her, I’d hate for her to get caught in the rain.”
Derek frowned and looked out the kitchen window. The clouds that had threated from the horizon had blown in while he argued with his brother, and he could smell the coming rain. With a curse, he scanned the tree line for Laurel, then took his jacket from the peg near the kitchen door and pointed at Finn.
“Have blankets ready when I return, and get that fire stoked nice and high, even if you have to chop more wood.” Irritated and with guilt sitting heavily on his shoulders, he saddled up his old bay and headed out to search for his bride just as
the rain began to pelt the ground all around him.
7.
Laurel shivered and took shelter under a willow tree as the rain beat down on her. She hadn’t had much time to explore since she arrived, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her bearings in the quick flashes of lightning that arced across the sky. The mountains seemed to hem her in, and with a roar, the stream widened to a river. She jumped back and ran from the floodwater that was rushing toward her and managed to get high enough that while she was soaked through, she didn’t get washed downstream.
“You stupid, stupid girl,” she cursed herself. What had she been thinking, running off into unfamiliar woods? No wonder Derek didn’t want her. He’d seen through her hard work straight to her stupidity. “No,” she sighed to herself. “It’s just a storm. Wait it out and walk home when it’s through, He probably won’t even notice, and I’ll be home in time to feed Finn supper.” She curled up in a ball to stay as warm as possible and closed her eyes against the onslaught of rain and hail.
It wasn’t until she heard someone shouting her name that she realized that she’d lost consciousness at some point. She tried to call out, but couldn’t make any sound come from her throat. When she tried to stand, she trembled and fell back against the stone where she rested, too weak from the cold that invaded her body to move.
When Derek found her, she was pale, her blue lips trembling as her teeth chattered. Soaked to the bone, her dress made it difficult to lift her, so he cut her out of her clothes and wrapped her in the one blanket he’d shoved into his saddle bag. He tucked her frigid little body into his chest and wrapped his duster around them both to hold his heat around her and raced toward the warmth and light of the farmhouse.
Finn threw the door open and raced out into the wind and rain to help bring Laurel inside, and together the men set her up by the fire, wrapped in blankets, as Finn brewed tea and Derek paced. Her hands and legs were like ice, but her face was getting warmer by the minute, and Derek feared that if a fever overtook her, she could die. Like his parents had. Like Alice and the baby.
Guilt wrenched his gut and he slammed a fist into the wall before racing out into the storm to fetch a doctor. Finn stood, helpless and alone, as Laurel began to thrash and fight the blankets, too lost to the fever already to know where she was or what she was doing.
He pulled her off the couch to the floor and rewrapped her in the blankets so she couldn’t harm herself. He watched fitfully by the window for his brother to return, while Laurel cried out for her father, begging his forgiveness for running away.
It took over an hour for Derek to return from his stormy ride into town. When he did, he rode in the doctor’s buggy with the bay tied to the back, Doc Harper whipped the carriage horses with the reins. Finn jumped up and hurried to Laurel’s side and told her help had arrived. She shook him off and tried to stand, but weak and burning to the touch, she listed and fell to the side before Finn could stop her. He picked Laurel up and carried her to her bedroom at the back of the house and called out to his brother when he heard the front door bang open against the wall.
The doctor treated her as best he could, and Derek stayed by her side until morning. Finn helped by making a supper of bread and cold meat for himself and Derek, and rubbed down his brother’s horse so he wouldn’t get sick too. It was a long night for all of them, but finally, Derek ordered his brother to bed and pulled a chair up to Laurel’s bed so he could doze a little while he waited for her to wake up.
When he heard her voice, he opened his eyes with a smile, expecting to see her better and the fever broken. Instead, she was weeping and tangling her fingers together, asking him for forgiveness for running away and not telling him where she’d gone. In her fevered state, she told him everything, confessed that she hated her younger sister Priscilla for getting all his love, and begged him not to hate her for dying like her mother had. Derek realized that she must think he was her father.
Derek held her hand and let her talk to him, telling him all the things he would’ve known about her if he hadn’t pushed her away for being sweet and beautiful, for having eyes that told him everything she felt. She fell back into unconsciousness. When she awoke, he was Thomas, her first love. Tears trailed down the farmer’s face as she spoke to him, and begged him not to hate her.
“Tom, I could never love anyone more than you,” she said weakly, as Derek plied her forehead with cool, damp rags. “But I loved him enough for him to hurt me.” He tried to pull away but she clung to his hands and wept while she spoke. “I wanted so much for him to be happy. I wanted to be part of his happiness, but I made him hate me.” Her voice trailed off and Derek sighed and leaned over her, kissing her hot, damp forehead. “He hates me and now I have to go. Papa will be so angry that I’m ruined. How will he ever forgive me, Tom? How could you?”
Derek smoothed her soft brown hair back from a pale face.
“I forgive you, Laurel,” Derek said, “No one is meant to be alone. I will always be with you,” he whispered the platitudes he’d heard from his friends and family members for months. Now he repeated them to her and watched her body visibly relax, until she sank into the down comforter beneath her and slept soundly for the first time. His heart ached for her, so young and so kind to others, while shouldering so much pain of her own without complaint or a friend to talk to.
He didn’t sleep again that night, watching over her and pacing the floor of her room between applications of cold compresses to her neck and chest. No matter how she had surprised him by being the tiny, sweet flower of sunshine he’d never wanted, she deserved more than the distance he’d continued to put between them.
When Finn finally finished taking care of the animals so Derek could stay with Laurel, he bathed quickly and ran down the stairs to the servants’ quarters where Laurel slept. Bursting through the door, he skidded to a stop when he saw the bed empty and the basin and jug turned over to dry.
He searched the house, calling for Derek, who met him outside his bedroom door with a finger to his lips.
“Shhh. She’s finally sleeping soundly again. Moving her so soon was not as wise as I hoped, but she’ll be more comfortable in there,” Derek spoke quietly, and Finn narrowed his eyes at his brother.
“Where will you sleep?”
“In her old room, for now. Once Laurel is better, we will see what she would prefer me to do.” Finn nodded and relaxed.
“So, she’s okay?”
His brother nodded and ruffled his hair.
“As well as can be expected, but the fever is down, and she’s resting, which are both good things.” The younger boy sniffled, and sighed deeply. Derek prayed that Finn didn’t lose Laurel. She was good to the boy, teaching him so he didn’t have to ride across the valley for school, sewing his clothes and repairing them when he tore them, as teenage boys were wont to do.
She’d been good for Derek too, when he was willing to admit it. The house still held ghosts for him, but the most difficult part about her being there, was that the longer she cared for them, the more those ghosts faded. Even now, his memories of Alice were less painful and sweeter, while the thought of Laurel dying from a fever he’d caused tore through him with vicious precision.
He heard a sound from inside and rushed to her with Finn on his heels. There in the bed was a pale, thin slip of a girl with damp hair clinging to her forehead. She was shaking from the chill of the open window and quickly covered herself with her coverlet when the men rushed to her bedside.
“Laurel, are you better?” Finn asked, his young face drawn with worry.
“I must be. I’m starving. But, I don’t remember much of being ill. Just that I was hot and cold at the same time, and I thought I saw…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, leaning back in bed as even that small movement made the room spin.
“You had a pretty good fever. I thought we’d lost you,” Derek confessed as he gently pushed the tendrils of hair away from her face. He turned to Finn and sent
him for Doc Harper, and sat on the edge of the bed while they waited.
“You seem different. Was I really so sick that you were afraid? I didn’t think it would matter to you if I was gone.”
He shook his head and clasped his hands in his lap.
“I wanted you to go before you made my home a happy place, and chased away the memories of my family. I never wished you sickness or death,” he sighed. “Especially not for Finn. He loves you. If you died the way our parents did, it would destroy him.”
“I only came to help.”
“And to get away from your sister and her cruel words?” he countered. She gasped and colored, and he chuckled without mirth. “We really are a pair. Both of us running from something and refusing love that’s given to us as punishment for things we had no control over.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your fiancé fell from his horse because two boys scared it. You had nothing to do with his death. Yet, you asked for forgiveness for even caring about Finn and I.” She moaned and covered her face. “I think it’s time that I meet your father.”Laurel looked up at him with wonder. “Because you want to send me back?”
Derek shook his head and turned to face her, amazed at how disruptive such a tiny thing had been in his life. “No, because I have to meet him if you still want to marry me. I can’t force you to, but the past two days have been almost more than Finn and I can bear, and we don’t want to lose you.”
She sat up in the bed and he took her hands in his. “You want me to stay?”
“I want you to be Mrs. Binder. Anything that comes after, I will need to earn from you. But, I promise, never again will you be out in the cold because of my stupidity or unkindness. You are worthy of all the care in the world, and I promise, I will never let you down again.”