When his voice broke, it took a moment to compose himself before he could go on. “I couldn’t do that to them, Arth, and I won’t do it to myself. I think I’ve known these past few months that my time on earth is short, but it’s so hard to think of leaving Joanne and our children. But I’ll have to! Dear Lord, somehow I’ll have to.”
When he now turned to look at Arthur, the latter saw the sorrow in his eyes and the bitterness in the hard edge of his mouth. “You above all people know I can’t do it,” Barney confided. “I can’t not bring in the harvest or go out in the tractor when the earth is just waking, seeing the dew sparkle like jewels on the ground and the night creatures running before me as I plow the furrows.”
As he spoke his eyes lit up. “The joy of my life is bringing in the sheep, collecting the apples from the branches where Joanne can’t reach, tending the land from first light to darkness. It’s in my nature, it’s in my blood, Arthur—you know that! If I can’t do it, my life might just as well be over.”
As he stood up to leave, Barney placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “This is just between you and me, old friend,” he said quietly. “No one else need ever know.”
Slumped forward, shocked by Barney’s news, Arthur was lost for words. There was no man on this earth could change Barney’s mind once it was made up.
He knew Barney better than most, apart from Joanne who knew him like she knew herself. And he was aware that, whatever Barney decided to do, he would not embark on it without a great deal of thought and much agonizing.
Fixing his gaze on the clumps of mud he had earlier walked onto the path, Arthur nodded. “I shall be here if you need me,” he said simply.
It was little enough, he thought. But at a time like this, what else could he do?
Fifteen
Throughout the following week, Barney carried on as usual, though sometimes when he was out in the fields alone, he would take time to rest, not because he wanted to, but because he was tired, and ill, and stubborn as he had ever been.
He had always loved the onset of winter, with the crisp clean air coming up the valley to pinch his face and make him feel alive, but on this particular day he found it all too much. His whole body ached, and for the first time in an age, he had felt the need to wear an overcoat.
“Things aren’t the same, are they, old fella?” He wrapped his arms round the thick hairy neck of his four-legged pal. “I thought I had years to go yet. I’m not old, only in my mid-forties, and I still have ambition in me. I thought I might be going on the greatest adventure of my life, taking the whole family to America and starting all over again. But I’m useless now, and growing more useless by the day.”
His voice carried a sense of irony. “In horse years, you must be as old as the hills.” He gave a wry little laugh. “But summat tells me you’ll still be here, long after I’ve gone.”
Drawing away, he went to the back of the cart and took down a nosebag of hay. After he’d tied it round the horse’s ears, he walked to the top of the hill, where he stood and gazed around him, imprinting that familiar, magnificent panorama in his mind, in case he might never see it again.
Lost in memories and regret, he did not hear the footsteps drawing closer. “Hello, Barney. Joanne told me where I might find you.”
Startled, Barney swung round to find Dr. Lucas there. “I was out walking,” he told Barney. “Being that it was on my way, I thought I’d call in at Overhill Farm and have a little chat with you, but you’d already gone.” He glanced at the cart, which was loaded down with branches, half-trees and all manner of debris, and wagging a finger at Barney, he said, “I sincerely hope someone helped you on with that load?”
Barney didn’t answer. His mind was still with the doctor’s greeting, and he was horrified. “You say you’ve been to the house?”
“I called in, yes.”
“You haven’t told Joanne anything, have you? She doesn’t know yet.”
“No, Barney. I haven’t told anyone. You specifically asked me not to betray your confidence, and I won’t. I can’t.” Raymond Lucas knew how badly Barney had taken the news—and who could blame him? “It’s you I’m concerned about. Twice now, over the course of the past week, I’ve seen you from a distance, standing up here, on the edge of this very hill.” He frowned. “Today, I thought I might come and chat awhile.”
Barney couldn’t help but chuckle. “You thought I might throw myself over the edge, is that it?”
Dr. Lucas shook his head. “I would never think that of you, Barney. Whatever obstacle life puts in your way, I know you’ll face it head on.” He smiled. “Given the same disturbing news, some people might well throw themselves over the edge. But not you.”
Looking down, Barney nodded. Then: “Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” he said truthfully, kicking the ground. “Because I have.”
The other man said nothing. Instead, he walked back to the cart with Barney, and listened to what he had to say.
“It’s the family I fear for,” Barney confided. “I don’t know how to prepare them. I know I should tell them, but I don’t want them to know. We’ve allus been close—too close, mebbe, because that makes it all the more painful. As for my Joanne …” He sighed heavily. “She’s been my reason for living ever since the day I first saw her.”
When his voice began to waver, he stopped, composed himself and when he was ready he looked up at Dr. Lucas. “I’ve searched my heart and I’ve turned every which way, to think of how I might break the news. Then I imagine what it will do to them, and I can’t … I just can’t do it!”
They walked on in silence for a moment, the doctor filled with sadness, and Barney hurting like he had never hurt before. “I’m not sure yet how to deal with it all, but I will,” he said softly, as though talking to himself. “I’ll find a way!”
Not for the first time, Raymond Lucas felt helpless. In latter years, there had been significant strides forward in medicine, but as yet, there was no way to renew a heart that was damaged beyond repair. “I’m sorry, Barney. I hope you know that.”
Barney slowly nodded his head. “So am I,” he said, and then he had a question. “If I had come into the Infirmary like you wanted, could you have made me healthy again? Would I have come home, being able to do all the things I’ve allus done?”
The other man shook his head decisively. “No.”
Barney smiled. “Thank you. That’s what I thought.”
Dr. Lucas had heard the exciting news, about how the Davidson family were off to America. “Have you decided what to do about Mr. Maitland, and his offer of taking you all to Boston?”
“I’m working on it.” Barney climbed onto the cart, took up the reins and reminded the other man about his promise. “Don’t you worry your head about that,” he said firmly, but not disrespectfully. “It’s my business and I’ll deal with it my way. Your part is to say nothing. That’s our agreement as I understand it. Am I right, Dr. Lucas?”
“Yes, you are, Barney. But you mustn’t leave it too late before you tell them. It would not be fair—not to you, or to them.”
That said, he waved goodbye and took the path to the forest, while Barney went the long way round, through the valley and down by the river.
He wasn’t ready to go home just yet.
He had a lot to think about.
By the time he got back to the farmhouse, Barney was his usual self. “What’s all this then?” The dining-table was piled high with all manner of things—clothes and papers and odds and ends he had never seen before; even a leather football he had bought years back to teach his young sons the game.
“I’m clearing out what we won’t be taking to Boston with us.” Flicking the dust from her hair, Joanne gave a muffled sneeze. “You would not believe the things that have turned up,” she chuckled. “I even found that cowboy hat you wore to the first barn-dance we ever gave.”
Grabbing the hat from the table, Lucy plopped it on Barney’s head. “It suits you,” she laug
hed. “You should wear it when you’re bringing in the sheep.”
“Why don’t I wear it to the celebrations?” he suggested cheerfully.
“Great idea!” Smiling, she turned to Lucy. “I’m glad you decided to have the child christened the day before his second birthday.” Having both celebrations on the same day would have been too much.
Lucy was looking forward to it all. “There you are, Barney,” she cried. “Two parties in one. You’ll never have a better excuse to wear that hat.”
Barney took it off and placed it on the pile. “Look at this!” Certain articles had slid to the floor and there wasn’t a single spare inch on the table. “It looks like a rag-shop in here,” he said jokingly. He picked up a pair of trousers some two sizes too big for him now. “I hope you’re not expecting me to wear these an’ all,” he said, making a face.
“I might, if you don’t stop complaining,” Joanne answered with a click of the tongue.
Seeing the garments and artifacts piled high on the table was like the remnants of their lives together, and it shook him deeply. “Why you felt the need to clear out wardrobes and such just yet, I’ll never know,” he declared. “The ship doesn’t sail until the sixth of November … that’s still well over two weeks away.” If things had been different he might have been helping but now, it was too frightening how fast the days were rushing by.
“That’s not long,” Joanne argued. “Not when I need to sort every drawer and cupboard, throw some stuff away, give some to the church for the needy, and get the rest washed and ironed to come with us. It can’t all be done in five minutes.”
“Joanne’s right.” Lucy had been helping all morning and still they had hardly started. “Then there’s the whole house to be gone over—floors so well-scrubbed you could eat your bacon and eggs off them, cupboards washed and lined with fresh newspaper, and every window-pane polished to a brilliant shine …”
“And that’s only the inside!” Joanne was beginning to panic. “You men haven’t got a clue, have you?”
“I’ve got a thirst though.” Barney made his way to the kettle. “I expect you could both do with a cuppa?”
“You two sit yourselves down.” Bringing him back, Lucy sat him in the chair. “I’ll mash the tea.”
Tired and weary, Barney didn’t argue. “I wouldn’t mind a piece o’ that fruit-cake, if there’s any left?”
There was, and when Lucy brought it in along with the tea, Barney wolfed it down. “By!” He washed it down with a gulp of hot tea. “I reckon my girl is the best cook in the whole world,” he said, smacking Joanne’s bottom as she walked by.
“Enough o’ that, Barney Davidson,” she reprimanded. But there was a twinkle in her eye, and the twitch of a smile on her lips as she turned away.
“I wouldn’t mind another piece o’ cake if you’re going to the kitchen?” he called out hopefully.
“I am going to the kitchen,” she called back, “but it’s no cake for you.”
“Aw—why’s that?”
“’Cause your dinner will soon be on the table, that’s why.”
For the next few moments while Joanne was clattering about in the kitchen, Barney and Lucy sat together as they often did, talking and planning and wondering what the future held.
“I’ll really miss you, Barney,” Lucy told him shyly. “I know I shouldn’t say it, not when you’re all so excited and looking forward to it, but sometimes I wish Mr. Maitland had never asked you.” She was instantly mortified. “Oh, that’s a terrible thing to say! I’m sorry, Barney, really I am.” She almost hero-worshipped this man, and didn’t want him to think badly of her.
Instead, he said kindly, “I wish you were coming too, you and young Jamie. You’re part of the family now. As you know, I even asked Mr. Maitland if there might be a place for you, but he’s already altered the contract of sale on our account.”
Lucy understood. “He’s done a generous thing in leaving me secure with a job and a home. You’re not to concern yourself about me,” she said. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Bridget, and I’ve got little Jamie, and to tell you the truth, I’ve never been happier—though it will take some getting used to, not having you Davidsons just up the road.”
Reaching forward, she slid her hands over his. “I’m really glad for you, Barney … all of you. It’s wonderful what’s happening!” She allowed herself a little daydream. “I don’t know anybody who’s gone to start a new life in America.” Feeling the warmth of his hands through hers, she drew away.
It was strange, the way she sometimes felt a thrill when he looked at her; and unforgivable, how she had come to think of Barney as more than a friend.
Just then, Barney felt the pain beginning in his chest. When he tried to take a deep breath it sounded like a strangled cough, and now the pain was spreading, like two mighty hands squeezing the life from him. Bending forward, he got out of the chair, his face drained and his mouth half-open as though he was having difficulty breathing.
“My God, what’s wrong?” Lucy was quickly on her feet and helping him. She would have shouted for Joanne, but Barney gave her a warning glance.
As quickly as he could before Joanne came back into the room, he brushed past Lucy and stumbled outside. Frightened by what she had witnessed, Lucy ran after him; thankfully, Joanne neither heard nor saw them as they went out through the front door.
Lucy found Barney in the wood-shed; leaning over the pile of stripped saplings, he was still gasping for breath, but seemed to be recovering by the minute. “I’m sorry, lass.” He afforded her a smile as she came rushing in. “It were a raisin or summat out o’ the fruit-cake. Went down the wrong way, I reckon.”
“Don’t lie to me, Barney,” she warned him. “I’ve seen you like this before. You’re ill, aren’t you? Tell me, Barney … what’s wrong? What’s happening to you?” Fear struck at her heart. She could just about cope with the idea of him going to America, but if anything bad should happen to him … no! The prospect was unthinkable.
“It’s summat and nowt,” he wheezed, trying to sound casual. “It’s just an upset. It comes and goes.” Another spasm gripped him and he gasped.
“Have you seen the doctor?”
“I have, yes. And if you don’t believe me, ask Arthur Chives.” A thought occurred to him; he must remember to warn his pal not to let Lucy know the truth. “You mustn’t mention any of this to Joanne,” he wheezed. “She’s got enough on her plate at the minute, without worrying about me.”
Lucy came closer. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”
Barney appeared shocked. “Good God, woman! Why would I do that, eh?” He stretched his arms out either side, inviting her to, “Look at me, Lucy. I’m fit and strong, and like I said, it were summat and nowt.” Taking her by the arm he turned her round and walked her back to the house. “Any minute now there’ll be a houseful. Happen you’d best give Joanne a helping hand with the dinner, eh?”
Over dinner, Lucy watched Barney closely; he laughed and chatted and played with young Jamie and she began to wonder whether she’d imagined it all. In the end she gave up the worrying and joined in the excited chatter about the forthcoming adventure.
“I mean to be a millionaire before I’m thirty,” Thomas declared.
“Not before me,” Susie butted in. “Miss Dandy showed me a map. She thinks I could have at least ten shops in Boston, before I start on New York.”
“Lucy, will you dance with me at the party?” Ronnie asked. “I’ve been let down and now I’ve nobody to partner me.”
“Well, thank you, I’d be honored, sir.” Lucy laughed. She was thrilled. It was a long time since anyone had whisked her round the dance-floor. She thought of Frank Trent with a familiar flash of anger. All along she had loved him, and all along he had told her how much he loved her back. Like a fool she had believed him, and he let her down badly.
Now, though, because of what he had done when she lay injured, she could walk by him in the street and not even turn a h
air. Gently, unconsciously, she fingered the scar by her hairline where she had smashed her head against a rock.
“That reminds me!” Barney had completely forgotten. “First thing tomorrow, I need the pair of you lads to help me set out that wooden floor in the barn. It hasn’t been used since me and your mam had our twentieth wedding anniversary. With all the invites that have gone out, I’ve an idea we might need to make a couple or more extra squares.”
The excitement mounted. “Christenings, birthdays and sailing off to a new land … whatever next!” Joanne raised her wine-glass for the umpteenth time. “To the future!” And everyone drank heartily.
Everyone except Barney, who touched the wine against his lips and pretended to drink; Lucy, who saw him do it, wondered if he was hiding something after all.
In that worrying moment he glanced up and smiled at her; and the smile was so beautiful and easy, it took her breath away. She smiled back and raised her glass. “All right, Barney?” She mouthed the words. He nodded, raised his glass and took a sip. Soon he was laughing, and all seemed well.
The christening went even better than planned.
The sun came out to brighten the day and the service was simple, yet awe-inspiring. Even when the sacred water was poured over his forehead, Jamie did not flinch. He seemed to enjoy the whole thing.
Barney picked him up and held him; Bridget and Arthur swore to be godparents, and the child was blessed.
“Now, how d’you feel about it?” Barney asked afterward, and Lucy told him she felt it had been the right thing to do.
Joanne said he was now a child of God, and they drank to his future.
Then, in all the excitement, Jamie wet his pants. Lucy changed him and he promptly fell asleep, exhausted from being the center of attention, while family and friends held a simple little lunch. “We’ve still got the birthday party tomorrow to look forward to,” Ronnie said, and Susie ran upstairs to check that nothing had happened to the pretty dress Joanne had bought her for the occasion.
The Journey Page 22