Ford, Jessie

by Remember Me Love

  Shortly after Louisa heard the clock announce 4 A.M. she heard her door open. With her back to him, she listened as Aaron slowly undressed, discarding his garments recklessly. He walked unsteadily around the bed and stood before the windows, his slim body etched against the glass in the moon-bright night. Louisa stiffened against the familiar rush of feeling, the warmth that washed over her. When he turned toward her, she closed her eyes, seeming soundly and peacefully asleep.

  He watched her for what seemed an eternity, then went to the empty side of the bed where her back faced him, and sat heavily, remaining motionless for several minutes. Louisa's nostrils were assailed with the odor of liquor, which, with his very slow movements in the night, told her his consumption had been excessive. Then another scent came to her and left her feeling sick and somehow violated. It was the heavy musk fragrance Marguerite always wore, and Louisa struggled desperately to keep from retching. It was only outrage that prevented her from crying aloud and letting Aaron see the tears which poured out of her eyes. Louisa did not want his attention as she lay inhaling the scent of another woman, who only recently had lain with the man to whom she had given herself so completely, and to whom, truthfully, she could gladly give herself forever―if only circumstances were different. And although she could say logically that Aaron did not deserve her love, or the depth of her feeling, the wounds and the pain were not diminished. In those moments before Aaron lay with his back against hers, and those few minutes with his wakeful body touching hers, Louisa thought her lungs, if not her heart, would burst. And when she heard his heavy breathing and she knew he was lost to sleep, her agony slipped from her in tormented, overwhelming tears, and only Aaron's drunkenness spared her from discovery.

  From the dullness of her body and the numbness of her spirit the next morning, Louisa would have sworn she had not slept at all. But in fact she had drifted off to sleep once her tears were spent. She woke to an empty bed, and to burning eyes, which Loa Kim soothed with cool, mildly scented cloths pressed against her eyelids. Louisa bathed and dressed for travel, eating a light breakfast in her room, sitting as she had the first morning of her arrival at Crane's Nest, alone and wondering where Aaron was at this moment.

  He joined her before she was finished, looking none the worse for wear, and she marveled at his capacity for self-abuse. He seemed untouched by the late hours he'd been keeping lately, or by his heavy consumption of alcohol. He looked wonderful―dark and lithe and powerful. Part of her couldn't believe she would separate herself from this man; another part could barely wait the hour more it would be before she would bid him good-bye, hopefully for the last time.

  Silently he worried about her. She didn't seem well, but she seemed strong enough to travel, and there was no persuading her to wait for a ship, if she didn't wait for him to travel with her. So determined was she to be out of his presence, he guessed she would walk south if there were no other way to go. For several days, they had barely said anything to each other in private. There seemed nothing left to say. Actually he only came to her now because he felt failure to do so would cause comment.

  "It won't be long now. The captive bird will be set free within moments." He looked at her light eyes with their dark shadows under them, at her very pale skin, at her slenderness, and wanted to forbid her to leave; then he laughed at himself. He had no such power over her. "For the sake of the charade, see if you can muster a show of regret when we part this morning," he said, taking her face gently but resolutely in his hands, bending to kiss her tenderly at first, then savagely. She struggled uselessly. "You were right about one thing, Louisa. I'll never be finished with you. You can expect to see me again." It was a threat, his dark eyes looking into her fury without the slightest concern.

  "You'll never have me again, except by force."

  "That can be arranged," he said casually, watching her eyes widen. Then she lowered her gaze, seeming to ignore him, and he walked away from her.

  Soon Samuel came for her trunk and handbags, and it was time to go. Aaron offered her his arm a last time and they descended the staircase. Easton, Franklin Carson, and Alex met them at the door, bidding farewell and wishing her a safe journey. She was gracious and cheerful. Embracing Franklin Carson warmly, she said, "I expect to see you soon."

  "Maybe," he replied. "Maybe."

  She also hugged Alex without regard for the curiosity of onlookers. In this instance she truly didn't give a damn. "I'll miss our outings," she said warmly. "I hope Mary arrives safely and soon," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

  With her good-byes said, Louisa descended the front steps of the house with William and Marshall. "Personally, I'm very sorry to see you go, Louisa, but I understand how you would wish to be with your child." Finally he extended his hand to her. "We will meet again soon." He smiled at the young couple. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to say your farewells in private." He climbed the steps again, leaving them alone but within his observation.

  "We've said all there is to say, haven't we, Louisa?" Aaron's face was seen only by her, and his words were for her ears alone. And where there was sadness, she read only hostility; where there was warmth, she felt his bitterness. "Give my love to 'my' baby, and to 'my' mother," he said, kissing her with gentleness, holding her beautiful face in his hands. Then quickly he opened her cloak and pulled her against him, his kiss turned passionate, his hands drawing her forcefully to his hard male body. "Only you will know how much, and in what ways I'll miss you," and she heard arrogance and insult in his voice, not the anguish he carefully controlled in his harsh whisper.

  Tears of fury and humiliation spilled onto her face, but Easton and the others who looked on from the windows of the great house, and the men who waited for her, saw only a husband and wife whose separation would be difficult. For Marshall's sake, Louisa did nothing to dispel the illusion, taking Aaron's hand for assistance into the carriage, instead of slapping away what she believed was a hateful smirk. But when she stepped inside and seated herself in the carriage, withdrawing to privacy, she returned his final lingering kiss with a warmth she forgave herself under the circumstances.

  "Hasta luego," he said, slamming the door abruptly; waving the carriage on, and when the coach turned and she should have had a last glimpse of him, she only saw his back as he entered the house, and she knew it was finished. She might see him again as he had threatened rather than promised, but she had no hope the future for them held any suggestion of happiness.

  Chapter Seventy-one

  EXHAUSTED, Louisa closed her eyes and tried to get accustomed to the motion of the carriage. She'd had little sleep the last few nights, and, as she tried to relax, recent scenes filled her mind, as did memories of other retreats from grand estates. Now would begin the process of forgetting Aaron. "The process of forgetting," she sighed. It was a skill she'd refined to an art.

  As soon as she settled down, Louisa felt cramping in her abdomen. Over recent days the pain worried her increasingly, but nagging discomfort was set aside, and she dozed exhaustedly, adjusting to the rocking, occasionally jolting motion of the ride. Sometime after noon the carriage pulled to a stop, and Louisa and the men hired to see her safely on the road ate a light lunch.

  "We'll be stopping for the night in about four hours. That'll bring us to a place you can put up." It was Ben Patrick who informed her of their itinerary. He was a stocky man of medium height, slightly taller than Louisa. In general, his appearance was loathsome to her. Even though he appeared to be freshly washed and shaved, he had an unkempt, ragged look. In spite of his appearance, his reputation for hard work, knowledge of the road they would travel, and skill as a driver and general hired hand, had recommended him for the journey. It outweighed his infamy for periodic disappearances, because he always turned up, usually none the worse for wear, ready to engage wholeheartedly again in his more usual pursuits. His absences rarely interfered with any but his own life. They seemed merely to be a part of his basically unsociable nature. Sometimes he returned to his no
rmal haunts with pockets full and with tales of his exploits along San Francisco's Barbary Coast. These outbursts of confession followed particularly jubilant bouts of gambling, carousing, and other pleasures whose adventure seemed to need repeating. Usually, however, his return was noted, but not discussed.

  Louisa's exhaustion was pronounced. She felt drugged and very lethargic, blaming these sensations on the monotony of the long ride, looking forward to a good night's sleep in a bed some distance from Crane's Nest and that much closer to home. But she was not removed enough from awareness of the things around her to ignore the stares of the men who accompanied her.

  Ben Patrick regarded her more casually then did Jack Herbert, his younger companion who watched her with undisguised interest. He was dark-skinned and dark-clad, appearing slim and wiry, his wide hat covering thick blond, almost white hair and shielding pale blue eyes. He had a dark blond mustache, which cut across his narrow face handsomely. His general appearance was much neater than Patrick's, but there was no mistaking he was as coarse as his mentor.

  In the past, Ben Patrick had been a loner, but for the last year Jack Herbert and he were rarely seen separately. Herbert was new to the state and had attached himself to Ben almost immediately. It was an unlikely father-son relationship, yet the older man shepherded the younger, though his instructions degraded rather than uplifted him.

  Louisa tried to dismiss her uneasiness, and was relieved to be on the road again after a short stop. Even though she slept, she didn't feel rested, and she was very ready to stop for the night. They pulled up to an unpretentious but comfortable-looking house, and Louisa was given a small but tidy room for the night; Ben and Jack accommodated themselves outside, not far from the house.

  Louisa enjoyed a simple evening meal with an ordinary family, an experience almost entirely foreign to her. The house was cozy though sparely furnished, and the people who occupied it seemed much the same: polite and modest, but apparently happy. It was an existence for which Louisa would have gladly traded the sum of her inheritance. The family was small, the two children reserved, the young girl, perhaps eight years old, extremely curious about Louisa. She stared at as elegant a woman as she had ever seen, from time to time lowering her eyes in embarrassment. Louisa smiled warmly at the child and willingly answered her shy questions.

  But she did not linger with the family after dinner, retreating to her room, seeking the soft bed early and gratefully. She slept several hours, waking late in the night, listening to the night sounds, feeling peaceful in the quiet house. The night was mild and her window was open. For a while she propped herself up in the dark, and looked out the window. She saw the carriage waiting next to the bam, and nearby two seated figures, presumably. Ben and Jack. Louisa saw the glow of their cigarettes in the gray night, and from time to time she could hear a faint rumble of the men's voices. There seemed to be some topic about which they could not agree, but eventually their conversation stopped and they bedded down for the night.

  Still Louisa lay sleepless. A dull, despondent ache in her abdomen had been with her all evening, and now it gave way to extreme tenderness deep inside. She felt a dampness against her thighs and feared the bleeding had started again. Louisa was suddenly cold with fear. What would the outcome be, she wondered. When she rose to look after herself, she nearly fainted from a knifing pain in her womb, then sunk onto the bed again, sorry for an instant she had left Crane's Nest so hastily. But the cramps subsided and she slept again.

  She woke the next morning to a gentle rapping at her door, and greeted Mrs. Adams cheerfully. The woman carried a hearty breakfast tray, and Louisa ate ravenously of the simple food. She was served eggs and freshly baked bread, even bacon and a mug of truly delicious coffee topped with heavy creamless elegant fare then she'd recently grown used to, but definitely more satisfying.

  "I hope all the places I stay on my journey measure up to your lovely home," Louisa said with genuine respect.

  "Why, thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I only wish every one of our guests was as nice as you," she cried, clearing away Louisa's tray. "They said to tell you they'll be ready to go soon," she added, gesturing to the window.

  Louisa followed Mrs. Adams' hand to see Ben and Jack harnessing the team of horses. She frowned. "Tell them I'll be ready shortly."

  Louisa dressed with care. The morning was crisp, and she felt very chilled, and, in spite of a good night's sleep, listless. Why should I feel wonderful? she asked herself frankly as she tied her hat over her curls. There's little cause for rejoicing, she noted. Not when I find I both love and hate in the same breath.

  She took a final look at herself in the mirror. In spite of the depression hanging over her, and the heaviness in her womb, she looked beautiful even to her critical self. She sighed, hoping her uneasiness about her guides on this journey was only a factor of her weariness. Surely she was only distraught because of her unhappy affair with Aaron; surely the company in Monterey would not send her away in the hands of truly dangerous men. Surely they only looked menacing.

  Chapter Seventy-two

  LOUISA read most of the morning" taking her pick of several volumes Easton had insisted she take in her traveling bag. In that manner, she tried not to dwell on thoughts of Aaron, tried to think of how the house in San Diego would look to her after all these months of absence; tried to imagine how wonderful her baby would feel in her arms. She deplored the months of separation, feeling the bitterness of her experience with Aaron to her core. It was right for her to assist him; wrong to have left her child behind.

  Tears of regret slid down her face; all at once turning into tears of severe pain. Louisa held onto the dangling support straps fiercely as the carriage swayed on the rough road, and drew her legs up, sweat suddenly drenching her body, her mouth very dry as she gasped tormentedly for breath. But just when she thought she could endure the pain no longer, it subsided, and if she thought she'd felt exhausted before, she found new meaning in the word.

  Louisa trembled from weakness. She was very frightened, and she was unable to decide what she should do. Should she stop the carriage? Should she go back to the Adams place? Should she return to Monterey? No answer was forthcoming, and she leaned against the carriage's velvet-cushioned interior, and tried to rest.

  When the men stopped to eat the lunch Mrs. Adams had packed, Louisa asked for a piece of fruit, a small portion of cheese, and some water, refusing to leave the coach.

  "You feeling all right, Mrs. Hudson?" Ben Patrick inquired. "You look a little peaked."

  "I'm fine," she answered coldly.

  Ben and Jack ate hastily, glancing in her direction as they talked. They spoke heatedly, but were not overheard, and Louisa felt increasingly uneasy. She prayed this journey would not turn out to be one she would regret, but her thoughts didn't remain with Ben and Jack for long, as she abandoned the largest share of her small lunch to attend to what she now recognized as the beginnings of a siege of intense pain.

  The carriage started up again before the full force of agony broke, but again its duration was not more than a few minutes, and she was left numbly weary. This time she abandoned her concerns and fell asleep in the rocking motion, holding onto the support straps with one hand, stretching out as much as possible on the carriage seat. When she woke her outstretched arm was asleep, and she spent several minutes restoring normal feeling to it. When she felt her limb revive Louisa noticed it was late in the afternoon. She hadn't been informed of the day's plans, but from the lengthening shadows, she suspected they would be stopping for the night very soon.

  But the carriage traveled on into the dark. She grew apprehensive, losing track of time, having no sense of the direction they were traveling. Finally she rapped soundly against the front of the coach, and shortly, after an obvious turn off the main road, the steadily rocking motion ceased.

  Jack Herbert came to the door. "Guess this is as good a place as any," he said, opening the door for her.

  "What do you mean?" Louisa inquired more
calmly than she felt.

  "Just what I said," was his curt reply, stepping into the coach, reaching roughly for her arm.

  Louisa wrenched her arm from him, and he grabbed her roughly. "There's been a change of plans, Mrs. Hudson," he said, dragging her with him as she tried vainly to resist.

  He was not much bigger than she was, but he had incredible strength, and there was no possibility of struggling from his grasp.

  "Careful with her," Ben growled at his comrade. "She'll not get us what we want if you mangle her."

  "What is it you want," Louisa demanded as soon as she recovered in Jack's tight grip.

  "Let her go!" Ben demanded with authority. "Rest yourself," he offered, pointing to the trunk of a fallen tree. He spoke quietly to her, slowly, softly, as one might address an overwrought animal. "We've been considering your assets."

  "My assets?"

  "Yes. Don't see a lady the likes of you very often. Not just pretty like you are, but smellin' o'gold."

  Louisa's eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing as she tried desperately to focus on the man's words, almost but not quite able to overlook the now familiar cramping in her womb.

  "You see, we been watchin' the comings and goings at that fancy house where you come from, and we couldn't help but notice a few things. First, nobody but the richest sort ever seems to set foot in the house for more than a few minutes, and you been there quite a spell. And treated like the high an' mighty while you was there."

  Louisa was undeniably intent on Ben Patrick's words, and he smiled at her obvious interest. "I ain't sure just what's going on, but I smell gold, and lots of it. Know for a fact a Mr. Peter Melville's got a heavy interest in the mines out here, and in Nevada, too. And Mr. Easton, queer sort he is, has his share of money, from the looks of it."