“Oh, my goodness!” Marty exclaimed in shock. “I could never tell my son such a cruel thing.”
“Well, it turns out,” he clarified with a sad look on his face and with an explanation that would exonerate his mother’s actions. “Consumption was killing her and I guess she didn’t want me to watch her die. It was her way, I suppose, of sparing me the heartache of seeing her life drain away from her.”
“Still,” Marty argued. “To tell you that she never wanted to see you again? How sad it must have been for you, to hear such an awful thing from your own mother, the woman who had nurtured you. How could she not assure you that she loved you?”
Touched by her concern and without thinking about how she would take the gesture or how it would look to the others, he enveloped her in his strong arm and squeezed her into his side. With his other hand, he lifted her face toward his and drank in the blue depths of her eyes while he fought the urge to merge his lips into the inviting petals of hers. He eased his face closer to hers and when his heartfelt words echoed upon her lips and returned to his, he beseeched with melancholy, “How can I ever again be assured that someone else loves me?”
Taken aback by his embrace and sudden nearness, Marty drew in a breath and, equally surprised that she had placed her palm upon his chest where love would abide and by her own audible admission, which she had hoped to keep to herself, advice that she knew was also meant for her own observance, she whispered into his lips, “Listen with your heart. It hears the unspoken truth.”
For what seemed like an eternity, they listened together, while their eyes locked in a silent conversation and their hearts spoke volumes of words that were unheard by their ears but consumed by their starving souls. And in that fleeting instant, love was perceived as the sudden yet ceaseless and unyielding constant that supersedes all of life’s afflictions and leaves nothing but affection behind.
But then, as if suddenly realizing that this woman could not, as instantaneously as he had with her, fall in love with him, for she was obviously still captivated by her love for a dead man, he lowered his chin. He could see it in her eyes, eyes that still reflected a deep-down love that he comprehended could not be erased in one moment. Caid moved his head away from her before he said gruffly and haughtily, “Thanks for your concern but I’ve heard all I can stand to hear.”
Wriggling from beneath the arm that he removed without a struggle, Marty gave him a sideways look before she said, “I’m sure you are mistaken—by thinking that your mother hated you. As I said before, a mother loves her children, no matter what they do to disappoint her.”
He looked away from her, wanting her to feel the same agony of an empty heart that he was enduring while impressing upon her the need to fill it with new love and he growled, “A mother’s love is no substitute for true love, something that you seem to be afraid to feel again.”
Marty drew in a breath of indignation before she admonished, “How dare you insinuate that you know anything about my heart and how I chose to preserve the love that I had with my Elias? You know nothing about me. All you know is that I am too hard on my animals.”
Vindictively pleased that he had evoked anger from her and hoping to stoke the fire in her heart just a little bit more, he growled, “I know you don’t have any experience in motherly love either.”
From deep inside her broken heart, the tears gushed to her eyes, filling them with both anger at this man and the agony of losing her babies and the undying knowledge that she would never be a mother, would never be allowed to love a child, much less be disappointed in its actions. Trying desperately to compose herself, she tugged at the knot at the end of her braid and unwound the auburn curls. Then she twisted them into a tighter braid that pulled at her scalp and she welcomed the pain that took the place of the agony that twisted inside her heart while she blared, “How could you know such an intimate thing about me? You had never set eyes on me before you took over my wagon the other day.”
She turned her back to him, covering her eyes with her fingertips and sucking in a breath of growing indignation while she rose to leave him, to climb back into the sanctuary of the wagon bed and to cry her misery into the blankets that her mother had stitched with all the love in her heart.
But Caid’s hand gently pulled her back onto the hard bench of the wagon and held her there while he contemplated the pain that he had inflicted in her. His mind reeled with finding a way to fix the offensive words that had escaped from his mouth.
There was no time to think or react, for Marty turned her face toward him again and her blue eyes swam with both indignation and hurt, a blending of emotions that plunged a tremendous agonizing dagger deep into his chest. And then she uttered the words that would cut deeper than any blade could.
“You have no right to assume anything about me or my past. You’re a stranger who couldn’t care a whit about me. You only saved me from drowning to be a hero to everyone.”
She curled her fisted into her eyes and wept, pulling away when he tried to console her. Then she dropped her hands and let the emotions flow with words that hurt him even more than he had hurt her, “I wish that you had let me die!”
Chapter Eight
Caid’s heart melted. He was a breath away from telling her that he had seen her before and that, in the flash of an instant, he had fallen madly, obsessively in love with her, but instead, he whispered, “Ah, don’t say that!”
Then, he reached for her, clenching his mouth shut and cursing himself for taking the argument too far. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t feel the same way about him. He should not have punished her for the fact that she still loved her husband by reminding her that she could never be a mother if she would not give her heart away again. Tenderly, with regretful emotions rising into his eyes, he pulled her back into his embrace where he held her, caressed her and whispered soothing words to her.
“I know about the babies,” he whispered into her hair with wavering words. “Greta told me."
Marty pulled from his embrace and uttered as if her sister had committed some unforgivable deed against her, “Why would she?”
Caid shook his head and placed a hand upon hers; enveloping it with his warmth as if that gesture would ease the pain in her heart and he whispered, “Don’t be angry at her. It’s my fault. I asked her so many questions while you slept.”
“Why?” Marty wondered aloud, staring at his face for an answer.
He turned away from her then and stared at the grassy horizon before he sighed and admitted, still watching the waves of lush tendrils, “I wanted to know more about the woman I saved and who saved me in return.”
“H-How could I have saved you?” Marty asked while she blinked away another tear.
Caid pulled in a breath, deciding whether or not to tell her how she had saved him from an endless empty heart just by looking at him with gratitude in her blue eyes that night when he’d scooped her from the grip of that river. He wondered if he should explain to her that he knew in his soul that she was meant for him long before he had taken control of the oxen that she had been so hard on. He let the breath out and chose not to divulge either significant element that could forever change the way she felt about him. He knew that she was not ready to hear such a profound declaration. Not yet anyway.
He took her into his arms again and was surprised that she did not push him away. He pressed his palm against the back of her head while he groaned with emotion clearly in his raspy voice, “I’m sorry I said such a hateful thing to you. God, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He kissed her forehead, searing his lips to her skin for as long as it took in order to convey his heartfelt apology to her while he fought back the unshakable tears that he had brought about in his own body by his terrible words and the heart-wrenching look that they had caused on her beautiful face. Then he encased her in his arms again, pressing her face into his chest where his heart beat the expressions that he longed to utter. I love you, I love you, it repeated over and
over while he searched for the courage to say the words aloud. And inside, he admonished himself for making the one woman, the only woman that he loved and would ever love; feel as if he hated her.
Marty clutched her fists beneath her chin and let the tears fall unchecked upon Caid’s shirt. How could he say such a hateful thing to her? How could he insinuate that she never wanted love again? And why did that hurt her more than the fact that she could never be a mother?
She felt him pull her away and then felt his palms against her cheeks while he held her face in his hands and declared to her, “I’m so, so sorry, Marty.”
She blinked hard, rolling her eyes against her lids and trying to hold back the tears now; but flow they did, breaching the confines of her lashes and streaming down her cheeks and into the palms of his hands. This must have revived his sorrow, for he groaned inwardly and clutched her to his chest again. For some reason, that tender gesture broke the wall around her heart and she wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him as if he were her lifeline. And in that moment, her heart heard what his was conveying to her and it sang back in harmony the words that she had thought would never be uttered by her lips. In that enlightening flash of realization, she knew that he had truly been correct in his accusation that she feared love.
But all that had changed in an instant. Her life, her love, her future all seemed to be going in a whole new direction and she was now filled with fear that it would just as suddenly be changed back again to the agonizing pain of losing that which she now craved more than life itself. And that, she knew, would ultimately kill her.
Caid pulled her to arms’ length again and touched his lips to her forehead again, this time trying to lighten his voice and the mood when he drawled, “Next time I should take my boot off before I stick my foot in my mouth.”
Marty could not help but giggle and she ducked her head but he caught it in his hands before Caid promised, “There won’t be a next time.”
She smiled at him then and placed her hands upon his before she said, “We seem to get off on the wrong foot a lot.”
To that, they both laughed, pulling away from each other and realizing inwardly that they had only just met and already, they had shared both tears and laughter. In their own minds, they pondered the question of whether they were thrown together so that love could blossom or if the thorns of discontent would halt that union.
To Marty’s budding love, it was the former that was her definitive fate because she was tired of fighting the urge to fill her heart with that which God intended man and woman to enjoy. Her heart was ready, but her pride and her modesty made her reluctant to act upon that inclination, at least for the decent interval of time that a widow must endure before allowing another man to take her husband’s place. Then, almost laughing aloud, she realized that plenty of time had passed since Elias had died, but not enough time had passed since she had met Caid and a proper widow must watch her reputation before giving her heart to a new love.
Caid broke the silence that seemed to last a lifetime when he looked at her flushed face and referring to her almost drowning in the river, he said, “It looks like you are almost recovered from your near-fatal encounter.”
Near-fatal, her mind reeled. Life-giving was more the words that came to her mind as she recalled his strong arms around her while he rescued her from the depths of despair and delivered her to the heights of delight. And his touch seemed to heal her—body, heart and soul each time his skin, his very presence, came into contact with hers.
Caid touched the back of his hand to her forehead and shook his head and said, “But you still have a fever. You’d better get back in there under those blankets until you’re well.”
Closing her eyes against the warmth of his hand, she sighed and suddenly felt very tired, utterly consumed by the wave of emotion that enveloped her. With a faint smile, she agreed, “I guess I should.”
She climbed back into the bed of the wagon, but poked her head out and said quickly, not realizing that her words meant more to her, to him, than she had intended, “Thank you for saving me.”
Caid winked and smiled brightly at her, his face reflecting the true feelings in his heart, while he declared the words that he had decided against expressing earlier, “It was my pleasure, Marty.”
She did not realize, at that moment, that his words had a double meaning too, and that the pleasure that Caid had experienced was not of the chivalrous kind. It did not occur to her that his starving heart had been nourished by the close proximity of her shivering body against his that night when he had plucked her from the depths of destruction and when she’d clung to him just moments ago. And her naive mind never realized that his mesmerized gaze, which he cleverly disguised as worry that night, and which was truly filled with apology after he’d said the words that could have torn them apart forever, was gushing with the desire to envelop her in the heart-stopping embrace of his loving arms again and to make all of her pain disappear.
She did, however, want to admonish him for speaking to her, for touching her, in such a familiar manner for propriety’s sake. But she was tired, too tired for an argument that she knew that she would not win. He had saved her life, had warmed her with his body and had encircled her with his arms and he would certainly argue that they were close enough to be acquaintances that were on a first name basis, if not soon to be very close friends.
Marty sat, snuggled into the blankets next to her sister’s knees and was filled with the warmth that mere man-made materials could not provide. She closed her eyes against the reality that only a friend was not what she needed Caid McAllister to be. The memory of his warming arms around her and the searing stare that he had stolen at her fueled a fire in her that she had thought had been dowsed long ago.
But she knew that the few times that they had touched, had exchanged glances, had spoken polite words through courteous conversation, had aroused a myriad of emotions in each other, including anger, and had indulged in a luxuriously languid embrace, were not enough to bind their hearts together with the infinite love that withstands life’s tribulations. Only time and Heaven’s affectionate intervention could unify their hearts and seal their fate. And only when she was finally willing to allow such a life-changing event to occur, despite the fear of lost love and disregarding society’s rules, would she ultimately find the true and unending love that she needed so desperately for her very survival.
Chapter Nine
Caid drove the wagon while Marty recovered, which gave her time to get to know the man who had saved her life. Within a few days after he had rescued her from the river, she had felt well enough to ride beside him on the seat of the wagon where they would talk, but he seemed to be less forthcoming with information about his life than she was with hers. She told him about their voyage across the ocean when she and Greta were seven years old and how Papa had died and how sad that had been for her, for which, she received a quick sympathy hug. Then she elaborated about Elias and how very distraught she had been to be a widow at such a young age, which got her a nudge on the shoulder and an insistence that she was not like any widow that Caid knew. She reminded him of her miscarriages and confided that she was more than a little jealous of Greta, who had Seraphina, but he furrowed his brows and reminded her that Greta was not as strong as she was and that such a loss to her twin would quite possibly kill her sister, to which, Marty agreed with a resounding sigh that puffed around her face in the cold morning air.
Greta, having no reason to stay inside, walked along with their cousin Elsa and the children. She had not heard the conversation and was not privy to the fact that she had been the subject. She twirled her daughter around, igniting excited giggles from the curly-headed girl who held onto her mother with adoring arms.
Elsa stumbled on a rock with Baby Jake in her arms and fell to her knees, keeping the infant safely in her arms but scratching her leg on a mesquite bush. Caid stopped the wagon and helped Elsa to her feet while Marty took the baby and climbed
back onto the wagon seat. Caid walked Elsa to her own wagon where her husband carried her to the back and bandaged her leg. She rode there for a few miles while the train went forward and while Marty held Baby Jake in her arms next to Caid, who seemed to her to sneak peeks at the little pink face wrapped in a bundle of blankets.
Jake’s little arms popped out of the warmth as if they had a mind of their own, stretching and balling the tiny fists and then flopping back to his body. Marty captured them and snuggled them back into the blankets before she nuzzled his little nose and said, “He certainly is a Hirsch.”
Caid looked at the child and then at her, wondering what she had meant. Marty, remembering that she had only told him her married name, explained, “My father’s name was Hirsch. Elsa’s mother was Papa’s sister, but Baby Jake has Hirsch blood in him.”
“He does look like his mother,” Caid said offhandedly.
“In English, Hirsch means deer,” Marty said.
Caid tilted his head and smiled, quipping, “Which one?”
Marty narrowed her eyes at him, with a questioning look, so he clarified, “I mean, does it mean ‘deer’ the animal or ‘dear’ the endearment?”
She had to giggle at his question and then she said, “The animal.”
“Do they have deer in Germany?” Caid asked while he moved the blankets away from Baby Jake’s little rosebud mouth.
“Yes,” Marty said quickly. “They are strong and resilient and not afraid of anything, even men.”
The way in which she had said this made Caid chuckle and wrap his arm around her before he said, “You are certainly a dear.”
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