by Pam Crooks
He frowned, stepped closer. “What’s the matter, Hannah? I was only teasing.”
“I have to leave,” she blurted.
“What?”
“I’m leaving Quinn. At--at least for now.”
“You’re what?”
“A stagecoach will depart within the hour. I’ll be on it.”
“Are you crazy?” His jaw dropped. “What happened? Did you two fight? Did he lose that temper of his again?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.”
He stared. “Quinn doesn’t know you’re going, does he?”
She shook her head; her lip quivered anew.
“He’ll be furious.”
“He’ll understand. He knows--he’s known all along that it would come to this.”
Jody peered at her doubtfully. “So you’re going to just take off when he least expects it.”
The words stung. “He would never agree any other way. You know that.”
“And you want me to just let you go?”
“You have no choice.”
“He’ll kill me!” Jody raked a hand through his hair and began to pace the hotel room. He stopped. “When are you coming back?”
“I--I don’t know.”
“Wait a couple of days,” he pleaded. “Talk it over with him.”
“We’ve talked before, Jody. He promised me once he’d take me back. A long time ago. But now”--she halted, miserable--“now the deal’s off.”
Everything had changed. Quinn had fallen in love with her. She’d fallen in love with him. Glory, their lives were different than they were when they’d made their bargain that day at the stream.
“You can’t ask this of me, Hannah,” Jody grated.
She gathered her resolve about her and clung tight.
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. And you must promise not to send word to Quinn. He’ll find out soon enough.”
“And then it will be too late,” he said in despair.
Hannah closed her eyes and turned away so he wouldn’t see her own despair.
“Yes,” she said. “By then, it will be too late.”
Jody’s office door burst open. He’d been expecting it to. For three long days.
“Where is she?” Quinn demanded.
Jody set the pen down and carefully moved the letter he’d been writing aside to dry.
“Gone,” he said.
“I know that.” Quinn choked the words out. “Wesley said she left the hotel with you and never came back.”
“Yes. Would you like a drink, Quinn?”
“No, I don’t want a drink,” he thundered. “I want my wife!”
Jody went to the cabinet anyway and poured them both a couple of stiff whiskeys.
“She went to the convent, didn’t she?” Quinn seemed on the edge of control.
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Your wife is a very determined lady.”
Quinn took the glass and threw back a gulp. “Christ.”
Jody waited, letting him work through the pain.
“We were happy. I never thought she’d do it. With Briggs and Fenwick gone, our lives were perfect. Why did she have to ruin everything?”
“She had her reasons. It wasn’t easy for her. She was hurting as much as you are now.”
“No.” Quinn’s lip curled. “She can’t possibly hurt as much.”
Jody moved away from the cabinet.
“When you stop feeling sorry for yourself, you can go after her.” He set his glass down on the desktop, opened a drawer and removed a map. “This is a sketch of the fastest route to the convent. There’ll be fresh horses waiting for you at the locations I’ve marked. Take the big bay tethered out front. He’ll get you started. There’s food and a change of clothes in the saddlebags.”
Quinn stared at the map.
“I’ve arranged a carriage to take you to the convent. We can’t have Hannah riding back on a tired horse, can we?”
His throat worked. “She might not come back. She--.”
“You won’t know until you ask.”
“God, Jody.”
He’d never seen Quinn so unsure. So afraid.
“If I have to leave her behind, if she refuses--.” He halted, shuddering.
Jody gripped his shoulder, turned him toward the door. “You’re wasting time, Landry. She’s got three days on you.”
“It was always there, in the back of my mind, you know. Hannah leaving me.”
Jody pulled the whiskey glass from Quinn’s unresisting fingers. “She’s probably watching out her window right now. Looking for you.”
Quinn frowned, dubious, but he started walking, his stride growing longer with each step.
“I’ll let Bobby know,” Jody called after him. “And Quinn?”
He halted on the door, his hand on the knob.
“There’s a razor in the saddle bag. Use it. You’ll look like hell at the end of the ride. It wouldn’t do to scare the nuns when you come calling. They might not give her back. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
A slow grin curved Quinn’s mouth.
“No,” he said. “We wouldn’t.”
He disappeared behind the door and slammed it shut.
Jody leaned against the wall in his office, and for the first time in three very long days, he grinned, too.
Within moments of her arrival at the convent, Hannah knew everything was the same. The austere walls. The plain stone floors. The dim halls.
The silence.
Why hadn’t she noticed the starkness of it all before?
Sister Mary Margaret answered the bell tolling at the gate and ushered Hannah into Mother Superior’s barren office. If the young, shy nun recognized her, she gave no indication, but kept her eyes downcast. She seated Hannah politely, and with her sandals echoing her departure, she hastened to fetch Mother Superior.
Hannah clasped her hands in her lap and tried not to think of all she’d left behind.
Soon, the door opened, and the abbess walked in. Her brow furrowed beneath her wimple.
“Hannah?” she asked. “Hannah Benning?”
Hannah’s heart lifted, and she rose, embracing the old nun warmly. She smelled clean, like starch and freshly laundered wool.
“Yes, Mother,” Hannah said softly. “It’s me. I’ve come back.”
The abbess pressed a hand to her bosom. “You gave me a start. I hardly recognized you.”
Her gaze dragged over Hannah’s travelling cloak, silver-gray vigogne trimmed in deep red velvet. It had been expensive, a gift from Quinn, and Hannah endured a twinge of guilt for wearing it.
“I’ve thought of you so often,” Mother Superior said fervently. “Oh, how I’ve worried for you.”
Hannah hesitated. “You know of Warden Briggs’ accusations?”
Her lips thinned in blatant disapproval. “Yes.”
“Surely you believed I was innocent, that I couldn’t possibly have killed Sister Evangeline and Father Donovan?”
“Did you think I didn’t believe in you? For a single moment?” The abbess appeared astounded. “I have long known of the warden’s black soul, my child. When he came storming into this convent to tell me what happened and that you were responsible, why I--.” She drew herself up, regained her usual calm. “I’m afraid I lost my temper and threw him out. I spent many hours in the chapel after that, I must tell you, seeking forgiveness for my actions.”
Hannah’s head lowered. “I’ve been guilty of many crimes in my life. I thought . . . I was afraid--.”
The abbess made a sound of compassion. “It was an unnecessary penance for you to endure. I have always believed in you, my dear Hannah.”
She was moved beyond words. “Thank you, Mother.”
The abbess smiled and indicated a plain wooden chair. “Tell me about that horrible night at the penitentiary and everything since.”
Hannah poured out her soul, then, about Quinn’s desperation in taking her hostage, their fight to survive, their f
orced marriage. Briggs and Fenwick. Elliott and Jody and Loretta.
The abbess listened patiently, lovingly.
“Now you are married in the eyes of God,” she said when Hannah had finished. “You say your husband loves you and you love him. Forgive me if I don’t understand, but . . ..” She hesitated, as if choosing her words with care. “Why are you here? You’ve shared the vows of matrimony with him. Do you wish to divorce?”
She sounded perplexed, and though she spoke in her calm, even voice, the question seemed harsh to Hannah.
Divorce Quinn?
She left her chair and stood at the window. Null their marriage and end the happiness he’d given her?
Her heart constricted. Glory. How could she think it?
“I was content here, Mother,” she said softly. “There is great peace within these walls. A serenity that I have not found anywhere else. I felt my place was here with you.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Mother Superior’s gentle hand rested on Hannah’s shoulder. “You are not the same girl who came to us all those months ago. You were frightened, then. And grieving for your father. You were tormented from the life you’d led with him and the crimes you committed together.” She shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”
“Have I failed the test you gave me, Mother? Am I not to be a Daughter of Perpetual Glory?”
“It is not for me to say, my child. You must say it to yourself.”
Hannah bit her lip. “But I’ve taken vows to be a novitiate here.”
“Temporary vows. They allow you to follow the calling in your heart, whatever it might be. But realize, Hannah, your decision must be firm. If you decide to stay at the convent, you cannot go back to your husband and his ranch. Ever. The solemn vows taken here are a perpetual obligation. Whatever you decide, you will have truly earned the name Sister Ariel.”
Hannah swallowed down a knot of misery. Who did she want to be?
Sister Ariel?
Or Hannah Landry?
“Stay with us as long as you must, my child. You are welcome. Who knows? The decision may be easier than you think.”
Hannah peered at the older woman doubtfully and wished it would be so.
Serene, Mother Superior gently took her arm. “Come, my child. I will show you to your room. I have kept it ready for your return.”
Hannah knelt in the garden and plucked at the young weeds daring to grow between the tender plants of spinach, peas, beans and tomatoes. The perfectly cultivated grounds within the high walls of the convent promised to be lovely. Another month, and the roses, peonies and lilies would bloom in riotous color.
She didn’t think of next month, next week, or even tomorrow. She could only think of today. Of this hour.
And endless series of Divine Offices left her weary. Restless. She seemed always on the verge of tears, and the peace she’d sought in the nuns’ humble routine proved frustratingly elusive.
She didn’t belong within these walls anymore. Only now, after her time here, did she know the certainty of it.
She missed Quinn, more than she’d ever dreamed. She ached to run her hands along the contours of his hard, muscled body, to feel his arms tight about her. She wanted his kisses and the pleasure of waking up next to him each morning. She wanted to hear bawling calves and smell manure and see cowboys hard at work outside her kitchen window.
The convent could give her none of these things.
As if it floated down gently on angel’s wings, her decision came. Hannah stopped weeding and stood. Once, Mother Superior and her gentle nuns had been the center of her world. Their peace and serenity had healed the wounds of her past.
Now, Quinn was her future.
The aroma of simmering vegetables wafted through the quiet garden. It would be time for lunch soon, meatless and simple as usual, and the nuns had prepared squash.
Again.
Her belly lurched alarmingly at the thought. Hannah pressed her fingers to her mouth and fought the nausea. A clammy sweat broke out on her forehead.
Her eyes widened.
Glory. Oh, glory.
She clutched her belly. The nausea and despair dissipated like clouds following rain. In their peace, exhilaration swept through her.
Outside the block walls, a carriage rumbled to a stop. Hannah clung to the sound, a rarity for the convent. Her steps quickened through the back door, the kitchen, and past the sleeping quarters. She lifted her skirt hems and broke into a run down the hall.
The bell tolled, once, twice, and she flung the door open wide.
Quinn stood at the gate, tall and powerful and handsome in his black suit and white cotton shirt. He’d recently shaved. His hair was still damp from a washing.
His dark eyes melted with hers.
Her heart leapt at the glorious sight of him, swelled with a joy so supreme she feared she’d burst.
“Oh, Quinn,” she cried. “We’re going to have a baby!”
“A baby!” he said, clearly stunned by her greeting.
His fingers closed over the iron bars, yanked on them hard, as if he meant to wrench them apart to get to her. Laughing, she threw the gate open wide and spared him the trouble. She hurtled into his arms.
“Yes, a baby, my love. A darling little baby!” She peppered his face with ardent kisses.
“Let’s go home, Hannah,” he said, his voice ragged between his own kisses. “Now. This minute.”
“Yes, yes,” she said and reluctantly pushed away. “Stay here, Quinn. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Mother Superior appeared at the entrance way, her eyes twinkling.
“Is this the savage prisoner who took you as his hostage, Hannah?” she teased.
“Yes. Isn’t he wonderful? Watch him, Mother. Don’t let him out of your sight. I have to get my things.”
She bolted into the convent, and returned a short time later with her satchel and new travelling cloak. The nuns followed her out, a sea of brown wool and wimples, all of them curious and smiling.
Hannah bade them each good-bye with fervent hugs and kisses and returned to Quinn beaming and radiant. He opened the door to the carriage, an elegant brougham in deep plum, trimmed in gold. A grinning driver waited patiently on the box.
Hannah paused and turned to the abbess.
“Have I passed the test, Mother?” she asked, breathless.
The wimpled head bowed. “With top marks, my child.”
Waves of pleasure and satisfaction soared through Hannah. She embraced the abbess one last time and stepped into the rig.
Quinn moved to join her, but Mother Superior laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“She is a treasure, Mr. Landry. The convent has never seen such exuberance.” Intense and wise, she gazed up at him. “You must honor your vows with her. She deserves to feel safe again.”
“I want her more than anything. She’s my reason for living.” He covered her hand with his. “If not for you, I would never have known her.”
“It was her calling to go to the penitentiary. I played only a small part in her test.”
He hesitated. “The deaths of Sister Evangeline and Father Donovan--.”
“--are difficult to understand.” The abbess showed no sadness. “They are in a better place. We should envy them. They’re watching us now, you know. And they are happy for both of you.”
Smiling, he inclined his head. “Thank you. For everything.”
Hannah made room for him on her seat, and he latched the carriage door shut. The driver pulled away, and they left the convent behind forever.
Quinn pulled the woven curtains over the windows. In the privacy of the coach, amidst the lulling sway of the ride, he loved her with his body and his heart, and Hannah knew, with glorious certainty, he would keep her safe and secure.
Always.
The End
Write a Review!
If you’ve enjoyed Hannah’s Vow, please take a moment and write a r
eview on Amazon. We authors depend on them. Thank you!
Newsletter
Sign up for my Newsletter. I’ll never share your information or sell your email address to anyone. You’ll only receive my newsletter once or twice a year. Promise!
Author’s Note
Dear Readers,
A trip by my parents to Roswell, New Mexico, and the Poor Clare Monastery of Our Lady of Guadalupe proved to be an unexpected inspiration for Hannah’s Vow.
My parents’ friends had a daughter entering the monastery. They would never see her again, nor would they ever hug or kiss her after she took the final solemn vows and retreated behind the monastic walls. What kind of woman would leave her family and the modern world to live a life of almost constant prayer, obedience, poverty and chastity?
A woman who craves serenity and peace, but most of all, oneness with God.
These questions and answers spurred my imagination. And Hannah Benning was born.
The Order of Poor Clare Nuns was founded in Assisi, Italy, by St. Francis and St. Clare in 1212. The Order has grown to about 18,000 nuns in monasteries throughout the world. Their daily routine varies little from what I’ve depicted in this book.
I hope you’ve enjoyed Hannah’s story.
My best,
Pam Crooks
www.pamcrooks.com
WYOMING WILDFLOWER
Pam Crooks
Copyright 2013 by Pam Crooks
All rights reserved. No portion of this ebook boxed set may be reproduced, re-sold, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the copyright holder.
Wyoming Wildflower is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in these works of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by, the trademark owners.