The first two days she rarely saw him, except at Eleanor’s putting to bed, which he never missed. Even then they exchanged looks more than anything and Annabel knew the truth of love.
On the third day she happened to pass the library and heard the Laird and Fergus arguing.
“And if I order it?” The Laird said loudly.
“Aye, I will not obey.” Fergus shot back.
Annabel stopped walking and listened.
“You will not obey your Laird, then?”
“Aye, I will not.” Fergus answered.
Annabel tiptoed past the library and headed straight for the kitchen.
“Phoebe. Come.” She whispered. Phoebe dropped the apple she was peeling and wiped her hands on her apron.
“What is it?” She asked worriedly.
Annabel drew Phoebe by the arm and motioned for her to be quiet. They waited beneath the stairs where they would not be seen. “I cannot hear.” Phoebe knew Fergus’ voice but could not understand the angry words that were passing between him and the Laird.
Phoebe loosened Annabel’s arm and whispered. “I shall walk past quietly as though I’m dusting.” And she was gone.
Phoebe’s eyes grew large at the words she heard.
“You have never disobeyed an order. Why now?” The Laird questioned.
“I will not go first. Ye will have to give me lashes.” He said stubbornly.
Phoebe worked her way to the door and peeked as she walked by ever so discreetly and found her way back to Annabel.
“They each stand at a window with their hands behind their backs.” She said. “And they are both very angry.” She looked into Annabel’s worried face.
“Shhh…they speak.” Phoebe said and carefully tiptoed closer, Annabel at her back.
“”Tis not that I thank ye, but I will not do as you bid.”
“That is the way of it then?”
“Aye.” Fergus answered.
“’Twas you and Phoebe that chose Spring for ye’re wedding and now…well as ye know when the Laird marries there lies the people’s hearts. I would not have ye and Phoebe standing in the shadows on ye’re own wedding day.”
“Makes no matter. Phoebe and I will still be married.” He shot a grin at the Laird, then turned back to the window.
After a lengthy pause, the Laird spoke quietly. “I am a peaceful man. I shall go first, then.”
“Aye.” Fergus took a deep breath.
“Annabel and I shall be married first and ye and Phoebe will stand beside us. Will ye agree to that, then?”
“Aye. ‘Tis agreeable with me.” Fergus said solemnly. “If ye command it.” He finished lamely.
“I command it, then.”
Fergus slapped his Laird’s shoulder. “Aye. All will be well.”
Phoebe pulled Annabel back into the corner and watched Fergus as he walked by.
The women smiled at each other, holding their hands over their hearts…for they could not abide the men they loved to be at odds.
“Oh tis only that.” Phoebe said. “The Laird thinking we’d precede him. Tut, tut, I’d not agree to it as well.” She said over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. “I have work to do.”
Annabel was left to her own thoughts.
Annabel smiled. Foremost at the thought that her dear one would want Fergus and Phoebe to marry first. Then that he had allowed Fergus to disagree with him…the Laird of the clan.
The eve before the wedding as the Laird placed Eleanor in her bed, already asleep, Annabel motioned for him to wait. She ran to her things and brought back something in her hand and held out her palm. The Laird picked up his mother’s wedding ring.
“Where did you find…I thought it was lost forever.” He looked at Annabel.
“Helen gave it to me for Eleanor.” She said quietly.
“Aye. It would be I’m thanking ye for your kindness.” He whispered and placed a soft, chaste kiss upon Annabel’s lips. “On the morrow ye will be mine.” The soft words stole away into a secret place in her heart.
On the fourth day of May the wedding vows were said underneath the white birches near the River Tweed. The wind blew lightly as the two couples came forward, Laird Carmichael and his bride, then Fergus and Phoebe. Standing side by side they were married.
And not ten months later screams for assistance could be heard throughout the castle for both women had come to their times at the same moment. “See to Annabel first.” Phoebe ordered the servants through clenched teeth. “Tell the Laird Annabel’s time has come.” She yelled.
Fergus was already at her side and his face was turning the strangest sort of red and then she heard a loud thump. “Oh dear.” She laughed between pains. “Someone get the smelling salts.”
A floor above, word got back to Annabel that Phoebe was to deliver her child the same day…if the little ones didn’t take too long.
“Oh please tell Phoebe…I am thinking of her.” Annabel gave word to her servant as the door burst open and her husband blew in. “It is time?” He shouted. “Is all well?” he dropped to his knees next to his wife’s bed.”
“All is well. The babe is big…but I shall do…” she stopped.
The Laird stood and paced frantically. “Aye, I am too big…and ye too small…ye’re going to have a bad time…” he could not bear the thought.
“I will have this child out.” She said firmly. “I will.” She bore down as another pain hit her.
Phoebe’s babe came first. Fergus woke up in time to see his lass. The mid-wife handed the tiny pink bundle to him and he held her, a look of fear coming to his face, tears following. She looked no more than the size of a kitten as she rested against his huge arm. Phoebe lifted her head.
“Annabel?” she said tired, but smiling.
“Not yet.” One of the servants, breathless from running between floors carrying messages, announced tiredly.
It took another four hours for Annabel to deliver her son. He arrived dark haired and very big. “Oh my.” She said as they handed the heavy child to her.
“Just like you.” She smiled at her husband who stood above her weeping as he first laid eyes on his son. And she slept.
The End
Thank you for reading Wedgewick Woman. I would love to hear from you, how this story may have touched some area of your life.
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Titles
Edwina
Cecelia
Ireland Rose
Rose’s Legacy
Beyond Forgiveness
Cadence
A sneak peak at CADENCE:
by Patricia Strefling
Copyright © 2012 by Patricia Strefling
Cadence
by Patricia Strefling
Graphics and book formatting by Leah Banicki
www.patriciastrefling.com
www.facebook.com/patricia.strefling.author
All rights reserved solely by the author. The author guarantees all contents are original and do not infringe upon the legal rights of any other person or work. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work.
Chapter 1
May 2011
* * *
Cadence Walker David strode out of his jail cell Friday evening reluctantly accepted Sinner’s card and left him to finish his business. One night in the clinker brought back too many memories. Memories Cade would rather not think about.
Still reeling from the fact that Frank Sinatra Kincaid, an old street pal they’d nicknamed ”Sinner” had showed up and offered to bail him and his brother Cordell out of jail made his stomach hurt. Sinner was in a back room negotiating his brother’s bail. Cade knew Cord wo
uldn’t get out tonight. They’d keep him overnight to sleep it off. How and where Sinner had come from played like an old scratched up record in Cade’s mind. He didn’t like the sound of this song one bit.
Cade had to get out of the too small space and picked up his pace, found a seat in the waiting room, wondering what additional “payment” their old street buddy would require of them. He didn’t trust Sinner for one second but didn’t have the money to post bail for himself, let alone his brother.
“David, Cadence.” The man at the counter called out and slid a large envelope across the counter. Cade snatched it up and headed for his 2010 black Ford-150 parked in the lot, hoping it hadn’t been stripped of its brand new rims. But then he remembered he was in Grand Rapids, not Detroit.
He needed a smoke. Bad. Slowing his stride, he reached into the envelope containing his worldly goods; keys, two half packs of cigarettes, a book of matches, driver’s license and wallet. He glanced over his shoulder, glad to be walking away, stopped momentarily to pull a cigarette from a smashed pack, then snapped the match. The scratch of it sounded in the night as the bright tip lit the end of his cigarette. The smell of sulpher that followed gave his heart a jump-start. He’d gotten off drugs, slowed his drinking to an occasional beer every now and again, but smoking was his lifeline. Taking a deep drag, he pulled the nicotine into his lungs and passed the smoke out through his nose. The familiar motions soothed his spirit.
Cade’s eyes narrowed against the smoke as he made a thorough check of the truck, unlocked the door and reached back in the cargo seat to feel for his guitar, hidden, he hoped, well enough, under a black towel. It was there. His heart beat again.
* * *
The familiar touch unearthed a desire to grab it and play, right out here in the dark parking lot, but the May evening was unusually cool for Michigan and he shivered in his t-shirt. Freedom had a lot going for it, he decided, thankful his guitar was still there, and he was out of that stinking jail cell. Smashing the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray, he started up the truck and dug in the envelope for his wallet.
His younger brother, Cordell, was still incarcerated and Cade needed to get him out before he went crazy needing a fix. Sinner had promised to pay bail for the two brothers in exchange for some guitar playing at a local church. Cade would have to keep the promise, because Cordell was in no shape to do anything worthwhile.
It would mean finding a place to stay for a couple of weeks. Why Sinner was involved in guitar playing at a church stumped the heck out of Cade. But bail money was an offer he couldn’t afford to turn down. Besides how hard could it be to play guitar for a bunch of holy do-gooders?
Cade counted out the last of his cash, one hundred eighty dollars, and drove until he found a cheap hotel room in what he hoped was a decent part of town. The blue sign flashed Vacancy. Another read, special low price of forty-nine dollars. The neons blinked too brightly in his blood-shot eyes as he pulled in and parked near the office.
“One night?” The lady, already in night clothes, croaked, as she walked into the light of the small lamp on the office counter.
“Yep.” Cade pulled a fifty out of his wallet.
She grabbed the money and turned the book for him to sign. Cade slashed his signature somewhere near the line and waited while the lady held up the cash to the light. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected his bill.
“Looks good.” She said and tossed a key over the counter to him. “One-eighteen.” She called over her shoulder, already on her way back to bed.
“Thanks lady.” He growled and walked back to his truck, cold, tired and hungry.
He drove slowly until he found one-eighteen, parked in the narrow space, keyed the door and stepped into the shabby room.
Cade stuck the envelope under his arm and hoisted his guitar. The feel of it reminded him he’d been called away from the band last evening as they played at a local tavern and wondered how the guys had finished out the night without him.
Cordell had called his cell phone in the middle of a set. He’d been picked up for drugs. Again. It had taken two hours to drive from Detroit to Grand Rapids. Plenty of time for Cade to think.
Family came first, but Cade was getting tired of baling his younger sibling out of trouble, especially now that Cordell had a wife and two kids.
Tossing the envelope on the bed, he put his guitar on a chair next to the bed, picked up the phone and ordered a large cheese pizza. An hour later he’d eaten half the pizza then laid back on the bed still dressed in his tattered jeans and black t-shirt. Intending to have another smoke, he fell asleep, the unlit cigarette still between his fingers.
Sun fell across his face between the open crevice of the discolored, misshapen curtains. Cade groaned from a stiff neck as he turned himself off the mattress.
The plan was to show up at place called Sinner’s Church and find out how he’d earn the money used to pay their bail last night. Sinner’s Church? Could that be…no way he decided and shook the cobwebs from his brains. Didn’t make sense, but making sense was not what he was here for.
Sinner promised to pay for his and Cordell’s release, if Cade showed up a couple weeks and played his guitar. Seemed way too easy. Cade knew one thing. Sinner could not be trusted. Maybe he was acting like a churchy sort and robbing the people at the same time. Would be just like Sinner’s old ways. Maybe he hadn’t changed like he claimed. Still, there had been something different, very different about Frank “Sinner” Kincaid last night.
Cade only hoped he hadn’t made a bigger mistake by letting Sinner pay their bail. He’d been double-crossed in street deals gone bad more than once. Caution was the plan here. He needed to watch his back. It was too easy to slide into his old habits.
Accustomed to rising before the sun came up, Cade rubbed the sore muscles in his neck, showered and dressed in the same clothes. He had his guitar, the clothes he wore and enough money for gas and food for two weeks. Maybe Sinner would let him use the laundry facilities at his…home. Did Sinner have a home? Cade hadn’t talked to him long enough to find out. And…he figured back…was what? Eight years since they’d last seen each other.
After heating up leftover pizza in the room’s tiny microwave, Cade checked his watch and snapped up Sinner’s card from the table. On the back was a map to the church. His pickup needed gas. He stopped and filled up, which left just under eighty bucks.
Wasn’t hard to find the church. Cade thought it looked more like an old warehouse, but sure enough the words across the double doorway said, “Sinner’s Church.”
Well if that don’t beat all…. He whispered as he gazed through the windshield.
Cade drove through the parking lot. Looked like a lot of activity going on for a Saturday. Big parking lot, people coming and going. Ten big Harley’s parked at angles were lined up like gems in a jeweler’s glass case. The sun reflected off the shiny chrome in a hundred different places. Harleys? At church? Cade shrugged. Must be some kind of Hell’s Angels’ meeting or something.
Well, he knew where the church was. Now what? With nothing else to do, he couldn’t afford to waste gas, so he parked and moseyed inside with dozens of others who hurried around like they were going somewhere important. No one gave him a second look, which suited Cade fine. He looked like hell after jumping in his truck to drive down and get Cord out of jail. And after spending the night in there himself, he wasn’t too anxious to meet up with anyone. He still wore his black Natural Fear t-shirt with his band members’ faces, and his favorite pair of worn out jeans.
People scurried everywhere. Young families with babies. Where did all these babies come from? Then he laughed at himself.
Most of the folks dressed casually enough. Shorts, tennis shoes, flip flops. Some had straight hair, some crazy hair. Some even wore t-shirts with scenes and words splattered on them…mostly religious stuff, he noted.
After a slow walk-through he stopped, leaned against the door frame and gazed into the auditorium. This must be where the
y do their thing, he decided. It was big enough. Not like a regular church with pews and colored windows, though. It had a big round stage in the middle of the place with seating coming out in all directions from it. Four back-to-back huge screens sat high up so folks in the back could see. Looked like a good place to hold a heavy metal concert. The acoustics would be great in here….
He wondered what Sinner’s job was. Must have something to do with the music, because he seemed confident enough he could hand out free money to get bad guys out of jail and trade off for some guitar playing.
Cade shrugged. It wasn’t his problem how Sinner got him out. He had enough problems of his own looking out for Cord and his family. If something didn’t happen soon, the next stop for Cordell David was one of three places. A rehabilitation house. Prison. Or the grave. After seeing two of his friends and two family members die from drug overdoses gone bad, he was going to make sure Cord was not headed for prison or the grave. His little brother was only twenty-two, too young to die, if Cade had anything to say about it.
A couple of freaky guys with spiked hair and a few baby-sized tattoos strode by, their swagger-like walk unconvincing impersonations of bad guys. He smirked and turned away.
Cade felt a sense of uneasiness as a man in a suit and tie headed straight for him. He wasn’t used to the holier-than-thou type and needed to get out of there fast. He turned, picked up his pace toward the door and just as he reached for the exit handle, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey, you new here?”
Cade turned and stared into the face of a yuppie. Clean cut. White shirt. Tucked in. Khaki pants. Ironed. And baby soft loafers.
“No.” Cade shot back over his shoulder.
“Glad you stopped in,” the voice said from behind.
Cade waved without turning and got out of there. Freaky. A coldness settled in his heart.
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