Love Is Patient Romance Collection
Page 6
A smile tugged at Durant’s lips. “Go on.”
Jane added flour to the dough and kneaded it vigorously, rolling it over and over on the board. Why hasn’t he come to see me? Has he forgotten me entirely? She punched her fist into the soft mass.
“Jane, are you listening to me at all?”
Lucretia’s voice penetrated her mental fog. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
“I asked you how long I should boil the beef before I add the vegetables.”
“I believe it has boiled long enough. Have you washed the new potatoes yet? We could add the carrots we thinned yesterday, though they are small. Add as many vegetables as you like. It is so good to have fresh produce again after that long winter.” She and Lucretia had spent the morning working in the fort’s produce garden at the base of the bluff.
Jane set the dough to rise and covered it with a cloth. The muscles of her neck and shoulders felt like taut wires, and a permanent knot weighted her chest.
“Father will be here soon for dinner,” Lucretia remarked. “Jane, I don’t mean to pry, but has he mentioned anything to you yet about … about marriage?”
Jane’s hands stilled. “About marriage?”
“Yes.” Lucretia’s voice sharpened. “He asked Jordan months ago for permission to court you. More than once, he has spoken with you alone, yet no announcement has been made. Father says nothing, but he seems unhappy. Jordan and I don’t know what to think.”
Jane tried to smile. “Wouldn’t it trouble you to think of your father marrying again, Lucretia? I am scarce five years your senior, hardly of an age to be your stepmother.”
Lucretia set down her knife, caught Jane by the arms, and stared into her face. Two vertical lines appeared between her brows. “Jane, I must be honest with you. Jordan and I wish you would marry my father and make him happy again. He is lonely, and you are lonely; despite the difference in your ages, I believe your union would be felicitous. Do you want to stay here forever? Much as Jordan and I care for you, these quarters will become crowded once we begin having children.”
Jane lowered her gaze and felt Lucretia’s grasp tighten. “I do not wish to stay here forever, but I have other options.”
“Other options? You cannot live alone, Jane. You are too young, and rumors would abound.”
“I might marry—”
“Yes, you might marry my father. He is easily the most eligible man on the island. Your options are limited. An army private? A trapper or an Indian? I hardly think so. Jordan would never allow it. You are incredibly blessed that my father even noticed you.”
Jane lifted her chin but kept silent. Until and unless August approached her again, she could say nothing. But what if he never returned? Would it be so terrible to marry Mr. Henderson and move into his fine home? Better than living and dying a pitiful spinster.
Lucretia gave her a little shake. “Jane, you begin to anger me. What is wrong with my father that you refuse to consider marrying him?”
“I don’t love him, Lucretia.”
“You would come to love him in time. He is a good man and fine looking.”
Tears pricked Jane’s eyes. She wanted to tell Lucretia about her dilemma, but would the other girl understand?
A commotion at the front door announced the arrival of Jordan and Mr. Henderson. Jane encouraged Lucretia to entertain the men while she finished preparing the food.
Lucretia’s mood turned shrewish, and Jordan spoke too loudly. Only Mr. Henderson seemed calm during the meal. As usual, he praised Jane’s cooking. Jane handed the praise on to Lucretia, who merely glared at her.
“I spoke with McNaughton and Armbruster today in town,” Jordan said. “The believing trappers wish to resume Bible study this summer. Have you the time and interest?” he asked Mr. Henderson.
With a loud clack, Mr. Henderson appeared to chew on the idea. “I might have time to teach a few of them.”
“McNaughton and Durant surprised everyone by purchasing a boat a few weeks back. It seems they have taken up fishing. Like the apostles Peter and Andrew, I suppose.” Jordan laughed. “McNaughton tells me they have a ready market for their catch, both here and in Mackinaw City. A half-breed guides them to the best fishing spots, and Durant preaches to the savage while he works. They say Durant preaches the gospel everywhere he goes. Can you imagine?”
“More of his mad ventures,” Mr. Henderson said with a humorless chuckle. “One must wonder what distorted version of the gospel such a man preaches. Despite these rumors we hear of Durant’s supposed evangelistic fervor, he seems as foolish as ever regarding business. I had offered him a steady job as a clerk at our headquarters, but he chooses instead to buy a boat. He has also set up shop as an independent fur dealer.”
Lucretia gasped. “An independent—? After all you’ve done for him, Papa! How could he do such a thing?”
“It is legal for him to do so, though some might consider it unethical,” Mr. Henderson remarked. “I fear the man lacks a conscience as well as any semblance of business acumen. Truly, one can expect little better. Much though I respect Rev. Ferry, he and other such zealous missionaries blind themselves to the fact that the lower strata of society are born lacking what we would consider a basic moral code. The trappings of religion are like whitewash on a sepulcher, to borrow our Lord’s apt simile.”
“If this is your opinion, why bother teaching them the holy scriptures? You cannot deny that the Lord has transformed Mr. Durant and Mr. Armbruster and the other saved trappers from the inside out. It is common knowledge,” Jane protested, no longer able to hold her tongue. “And Rev. Ferry supports Mr. Durant’s evangelistic efforts, so he must be preaching the true gospel of Jesus Christ.”
“Nevertheless, I fear the transformation is incomplete. Not long ago, I met a trapper named St. Pierre who claimed Durant as his brother-in-law.”
“Durant has a wife?” Jordan asked.
“We can only assume so.”
“Unless that man married Mr. Durant’s sister,” Lucretia suggested.
“That’s my daughter—always believing the best of people,” Mr. Henderson said in a pitying tone.
Jane caught his meaningful gaze. A wave of loathing swept over her. Even spinsterhood was preferable to life with a man like that.
Chapter 12
As the summer dragged on, hope withered in Jane’s heart. News of August Durant occasionally reached her through Jordan or through one of the other trappers, but she saw her former beau only at church. He sometimes caught her eye, but she always looked away quickly and hid her feelings.
Had he completely forgotten his marriage proposal? Had all memory of Jane slipped from his inadequate brain during the long, icy winter? Or maybe he truly did have a wife somewhere, a poor abandoned woman, and maybe some children.
Jane’s emotions ranged from hot fury to cold hatred, from fiery resentment to icy disdain. She cried herself to sleep, beat her fists into her feather tick, and screamed into her pillow. Night after night, she prayed for God to help her forget that unworthy, faithless excuse for a man. Some days, she thought her heart had healed, but one glimpse of August in town or at church was enough to reopen gaping wounds of hurt and resentment.
Why had Durant entered her life only to destroy her meager happiness? Could she ever return to a state of fulfillment in the role of spinster midwife? He had awakened longings and sparked fires that she could never again ignore or suppress.
One morning, Lucretia felt peaked and remained abed. Housework kept Jane’s hands busy, but her mind was free to brood and analyze and fret. Outside, the sun shone brightly, yet strong wind gusts howled around the house.
Last evening, while walking home on a side street after assisting at a birthing, Jane had passed Durant’s new cottage. Smoke trickled from the chimney, betraying his presence. A shingle before the door advertised his fur-trading business.
So, he had moved in and established himself as a prosperous citizen. Her little dream house was now th
e headquarters of his upstart company. She tried not to stare at the cottage or admire its simple charm, but her lips quivered and a tear escaped down her cheek. Turning away, she had rushed up the bluff and hidden away in her tiny attic bedchamber, unable even to wail out her fury for fear of being overheard.
Chop. Chop. Chop. Slices of potato fell away from her knife. Between chops, she heard an echo. Pausing, she listened. The knocking continued. Someone was at the front door.
Wiping one sleeve across her brow to remove sweat and clinging hair, she dried her hands on her apron and hurried to the door. A broad back met her startled gaze, and her heart skipped a beat. August turned around. “Jane.”
She stared. Shiny boots on his big feet, woolen trousers, his shirt and waistcoat buttoned, his coat neatly fitted and clean. A beaver hat, which he removed. And, biggest change of all, clean-shaven! His eyes studied her with an apprehensive yet hopeful gleam. “May I come in?”
“My brother is out, and Mrs. Douglas is indisposed.”
“It’s you I came to see.”
Jane stepped back, almost too numb to speak. He was so very grand. She felt shabby in her old work gown. “Come into the sitting room, please.”
In the sitting room, he turned to face her. Rubbing the brim of his hat with both thumbs, he tried to smile but failed. “You don’t seem pleased to see me.”
The mantel clock ticked off long seconds. “Why have you come?” Her voice wavered.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “You must know why. It’s been nearly a year, and I’ve come to—to repeat my offer of marriage. I’ve built you a house, and my income is steady with the prospect of growth in the future.”
A wave of emotion slammed into her heart—relief tumbled and blended with anger and fear until she could think of nothing reasonable to say. “I hear you’ve become a fisherman and that you’ve set up a fur-trade business. Mr. Durant, do you consider me a mercenary woman? I asked only a house and some evidence of responsibility and commitment. I require neither wealth nor consequence.”
He blinked. “I know that.”
“Then why did you turn down the position Mr. Henderson offered at the Company only to set up a questionable rival fur trade, and then purchase a fishing boat when you knew nothing about fishing? Am I to view these wild speculations as evidence of steadiness and careful planning for the future?”
He took a step toward her, but she raised her hand to warn him away. “I await a convincing explanation, Mr. Durant.”
What she really wanted was assurance of his passionate devotion! Why didn’t he see that? Why didn’t he ignore her stupid objections and sweep her into his arms? He was so big and fine and wonderful!
A puzzled look flickered across his face. “I plan to give you one. I fully intended to take a job as clerk at the Company when I returned to the island, but there were no available positions. The only business I know is furs, so I started my own trade. McNaughton and John Wildcat asked me to join them in purchasing a fishing boat. From Wildcat, I’m learning the skills of it, learning how to read the lake and find fish, and I get a good return on my investment. I wanted to have something solid to show before I came back to offer for you again. I’m far from rich, but God has blessed my efforts.”
She compared his story to Mr. Henderson’s version and recognized contradictions. “Mr. Henderson says you turned down a job at the Company to join this wild venture and then set up a competing trading firm. How could you be so ungrateful?”
August’s chin and brows lowered. “There was no job waiting for me.”
She flung up her hands and huffed. “Why would he lie?” Of course he lied!
“He’s my rival for your hand, Jane. He told me himself when I returned in May, and he tried to make me believe that you were already planning the wedding. But when I thought it over, I knew you would keep your word and give me my year to make good. So I fixed my sights and forged ahead. As far as my setting up a rival fur trade, there’s no law on the books or anywhere else giving the Company a monopoly. I’m not the only independent dealer on the island. A few trappers prefer working one-on-one with an equal, a man they know will give them a fair deal.”
“You’re saying the Company cheats trappers?”
He sighed. “I’m explaining my business, not accusing his. Jane, I’m no catch as a husband, and I can see you’re set against me.” He rubbed one hand down his face. “I knew the odds were against me but figured you were worth the risk.”
Her heart pounded in response, yet doubts remained. “Mr. Henderson told me he met your brother-in-law, a Mr. St. Pierre.”
A thread of anger sharpened his voice. “Mr. Henderson says a lot of things, and you seem to believe them all. I married young, but my wife died. I’m hiding no secrets or vices from you. You are the only woman I’ve asked to marry me since Harriet died.” A rueful expression crossed his face. “In fact, you’re the only woman I’ve ever really asked to marry me.”
Jealousy surged and bubbled around her ears. He had been married before!
“You loved your wife?”
He hesitated. “We grew up as neighbors, and I guess I loved her in a way. A poor way. I didn’t really want to be married; it was all her idea. I was only nineteen, weak and irresponsible and stupid. She was a year older and bossed me, but once we were married, I hated being tied down. Then she died.” He bowed his head and grimaced. “She needed a midwife, but none was near. The baby came too soon, and it was dead. Harriet just kept bleeding, and I couldn’t stop it. I nearly went crazy with guilt.”
Jane laid her hand on his forearm. “It wasn’t your fault, August. Things like that happen sometimes. I doubt even Dr. Beaumont could have saved her.”
He covered her hand with his and pressed it. His keen eyes searched hers, probing, questioning; then his gaze lowered to her lips. Heat swept through Jane’s body. She wanted to touch his face and sing sweet songs and surrender herself as his woman. She wanted him to hold her and kiss her and claim her.
But he hesitated.
She jerked away and took refuge in resentment. “Why would you want to marry me? You scarcely know me, and today is the first time you’ve spoken to me this year. I have difficulty believing that you care for me at all. We’re virtual strangers and entirely unsuited to each other.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then caught and held her gaze. “I love you, Jane. I love everything I know about you, and I long to know you better. You’re cold to me now, but I’ve seen the beauty inside you, and I crave more. A year has passed since you prayed me back to life, yet still I dream of your singing and your touch. I believe God brought us together, and through you, He returned love and purpose to my life.”
Jane’s knees quaked beneath her. “You simply felt gratitude toward your nurse, nothing more. I cannot be the purpose for your life, or all these changes you’ve made mean nothing.”
“I’ll admit that I began to change with you as my goal, but somewhere along the line, God swapped goals on me. If you won’t marry me, I’ll probably sell the house and my share of the boat and move off the island, but I’ll never return to my old life, Jane. If God wants me to continue as an evangelist, then that’s what I’ll do. If He wants me to serve Him as a fur trader, that’s what I’ll do. My only certain goal is pleasing and serving Jesus Christ. I can do that with you at my side, or I can do it alone.”
Jane stared at him in awe. She didn’t deserve the love of a man like this.
“I built your house, Jane. Please come see it,” he pleaded.
“Go away and … and just go away!” Her face crumpled.
He paused for a long minute. “Forever?”
“Yes! No … I don’t know.” She began to cry.
When he spoke, his voice was husky. “I will go away for a few days, as you ask. We’ll be taking the boat up north to look for whitefish. Please pray while I’m gone, Jane. If you haven’t changed your mind by the time I return, I promise I’ll never bother you again.”
Jane shut the door, leaned her back against it, and slid down to the floor. Her hands shook, her body shook, and tears gushed from a bottomless wellspring behind her eyes. “Lord Jesus, please help me!”
Chapter 13
Jane stood on the overlook near the fort’s cannons and shaded her eyes. Wind whipped at her shawl and tried to rip off her bonnet. Out on the lake, it puffed the white sails of a Mackinac boat and sent it skimming over the lake’s choppy surface. Three dark figures were aboard. Jane waved, but none of them looked back.
“I’ve seen the beauty inside you, and I crave more.”
What beauty had August Durant seen in her? The beauty of God’s love, yes—but he now carried that love inside himself. Why did he still pursue Jane as his wife?
She slowly turned back to the fort and returned to her brother’s house. Work always awaited her there. While working, she felt important, useful.
But August had said nothing about valuing her work skills, her cooking, her physical strength. He craved her beauty.
Tears welled up and spilled over. What beauty? Standing before Lucretia’s fine walnut sideboard, she inspected her appearance in its mirror. Sad brown eyes met her gaze. Shining hair capped her head, pulled straight back into a thick knot in back. A severe gray wool gown skimmed her figure. Her complexion was clear, her features relatively even; her body curved everywhere a woman’s body should curve. Studied feature by feature, or even as a whole, her appearance presented nothing objectionable. She was nothing particularly special to look at, perhaps, but neither was she disagreeable.