by Betty Bolte
Sawyer inspected the red line when Emily pulled the makeshift bandage away. "He'll live."
"Fine. I'll see to the body." Dirk patted Frank's good shoulder. "Glad the better man survived, friend."
"I think I need a doctor." Frank grimaced.
"I could call for Samantha," Emily suggested.
"I'd rather a man handle this, Em." Frank studied her face, then shook his head. "He'll understand the situation. Nothing personal against your friend."
"If you're certain." Emily smiled weakly at him, torn between loyalty to Samantha and to Frank.
"Dr. Trent is proving to be a better doctor than his father," Dirk said. "And that's saying something."
Enough chitchat. Emily's love might have died, and they all hung around in the fog talking. Emily stood up, avoiding looking at the body nearby. "Sawyer, help me get Frank to his feet and then send for Dr. Trent. Ask him to meet us at my house."
Through both of their efforts, they managed to help Frank stand. Once his wobbly legs steadied, he walked slowly beside Emily down the quiet street toward her home, not leaning on her but holding her hand as though it alone kept him on his feet.
"What excuse will you give for your injury?" It seemed unreal to be walking serenely down the street beside Frank. Visions of much worse endings to this morning's tale sped through her mind. Fortunately he had survived the duel and received his satisfaction to the challenge. What if Frank had died? A chill raced through her at the thought. Life without him seemed impossible now. Is that what love did to a person? She glanced at him and warmed when he smiled her way.
"Misfire during drills," Frank said after a beat. "Happens all the time."
Emily squeezed his hand. "I've not heard of any drills recently. Definitely not for a newsman, either."
He shrugged and continued walking. "I'll think of something; do not fret."
The sun edged out from behind the morning clouds and fog, finally beginning to chase away the misty morning. A pair of bluebirds darted past and disappeared into the bushes beside the road.
"Emily, you must tell me. Did he kiss you?" Frank appraised her reaction. "He wasn't lying, was he? Did you want him to?"
Heart in her throat, Emily swallowed. How much should she reveal? "Many years ago, when we were teens, yes, I wanted him to. But not this time."
"I see." He walked in silence, his steps sluggish. "The man died over a kiss."
"He was not the same person as the boy I knew," she said, trying to soften the hard reality. The vision of John's face when he searched her in the prison sent tremors coursing down her back. "He meant me harm, one way or another."
"Aye, better he's dead at that." Frank stopped and turned her to face him, lifting her hand to his mouth for a long kiss. "He wouldn't have left you in peace otherwise."
They finished the walk home in silence. As they neared the house, Samantha appeared on the street, hurrying in their direction.
"Emily, Sawyer said Frank had been shot. What happened?"
"An early morning mishap with an imported pistol," Frank said quickly before Emily could form a coherent reply. "Nothing for you to worry about. The doctor is on his way."
"I'm already here. So let's go inside and I'll take a look at it." Samantha herded them through the piazza and into the house. Setting up in the dining area, she indicated a chair for Frank to occupy.
"If you insist." Frank sank onto the chair obediently.
Glad to see him reviving from the shock of the wound, Emily gathered the items needed to properly clean and bandage the gash while Samantha inspected the damage to his upper arm. Emily returned as Samantha finished her examination.
"It's not deep, fortunately." Samantha sat back and gazed at Frank. "Are you sure this was your gun that did this?"
"Yes. Can you hurry? I need to meet Benjamin soon to run an err—" Once more the front door opened, surprising Frank into silence. Dr. Trent strode into the room, a black leather bag in hand. Sawyer hovered in the door behind him until Frank motioned for him to enter as well.
Emily greeted the doctor, who frowned at her before staring at Samantha as though she'd sprouted two heads. Samantha looked up at the intrusion, a flash of resentment in her eyes before she turned back to her work. Nervous for her friend, Emily quickly intervened. "Dr. Trent, thanks for coming, though as you can see Samantha has things in hand."
"Isn't this the healer you summoned to assist with Tommy's injury as well?" Trent asked, critically watching Samantha's ministrations.
How dare he challenge her abilities? Emily regarded the young doctor, wondering how best to respond. After all, Samantha's salve had not helped Tommy as much as the doctor's medicine but who was to say the two treatments had not worked together? Doubt crept into Emily's mind. She waited to see how her friend responded to the challenge. Samantha turned from where she dried the wound prior to applying a healing herbal salve.
"My methods have worked for years," Samantha said, "and are proven by many other healers before me. But herbals have some variability in effectiveness depending on the type of injury and the position of the celestial bodies. What of your methods, new ways based on what? People in other lands with fancy instruments and books?"
Trent's eyes flashed and his mouth tightened, but he remained calm. "Based on scientific methods and evidence. Not old wives' tales and astrology."
The tension in the room increased to suffocating proportions as the two healers glared at each other.
"You believe in their abilities more than your own." Samantha shrugged, breaking the stare, and resumed her work. "I trust in myself and my abilities."
"I'll not have you attempt to kill another of my patients." Trent crossed the room to inspect Frank's shoulder. "Humph, that will work. Good thing it was a clean shot and didn't leave the lead ball embedded in it. It's uncomfortably close to the heart, but fortunately missed anything that would prove fatal."
Frank really could have died. The bleak horror of that thought made Emily suddenly dizzy, and she sank onto a nearby chair. Spots formed before her eyes, and she put her head in her hands to steady herself as the room swayed. Dark shadows floated around her. Thoughts whirled in her mind as quickly as the spots came and went. Her breath caught in her lungs at Frank's near miss with death. If John had aimed a little more to the left, the deadly lead ball would have struck his heart instead of his arm.
Pain rippled through her at the thought of losing Frank. His smile. His eyes filled with laughter. And love.
Losing the man she'd grown to love despite all her protestations. Could she endure the eventual pain of loving him and watching him die? She'd survived her sister's death but not without a persistent void in her life.
She groaned aloud, attracting the sudden attention and concern of Samantha. Her friend poured water into a glass and hurried to Emily's side.
"My goodness, you look like you've seen a ghost," Samantha said. "Here, drink this."
She sipped, glad to have something to fill her mouth so her newfound discovery stayed inside for a bit longer.
She must make a terrible choice, one that sent echoes of fear shooting through her. Stick with her safe path and her vow, or take the risk and follow her heart?
Chapter 19
"There, I think that does it." Emily placed the bowl of colorful gourds on the dining room table and stood back to critique the overall effect. "We're decorated for the party tonight. I love the scent of the pinecones and cinnamon, don't you?"
Amy crossed her arms and surveyed the room. "It's lovely. The food is ready, and the guests should arrive shortly."
"I've already ensured dear little Tommy had his supper," Emily said with a grin, "and is tucked in with Mary upstairs in his room." She'd given him a kiss on his sweet forehead, happy that he'd finally accepted her attentions. "I think he may even like me a bit."
"He'll be calling you mother in no time." Amy hugged Emily and stepped back to look over the room where the feast, such as it was, would take place. "All that re
mains is to set out the chairs in the upstairs parlor and make sure the fire is stoked."
"I'll see to that, and then we need to dress for dinner." Amy crossed to her and squeezed her shoulders before leaving Emily alone to finish in the dining room.
Emily paused to peruse the decorations, then caught herself staring into the fire as thoughts swirled in her head. Her father planned to return this evening, in time for the festivities. How would she express her disappointment and resulting lack of trust in him? She prayed for courage and strength to say what needed to be said.
Booted footsteps echoed on the stairs prior to Frank entering the room, resplendent in his evening attire. Emily's breath hitched at the sight. Frank stood tall and handsome in his midnight-blue evening coat and trousers, the dark broadcloth emphasizing the impressive breadth of his shoulders. Good, he'd managed to run whatever mysterious errand he'd set out to do and made it home in time for dinner. The bulge of the bandage protecting his shoulder strained the fabric. That deep-seated emotion she had experienced in her dreams blossomed within her. An ache no salve or herbal could assuage settled inside. She loved him. It was that simple and that complex. What would the future bring? She smiled at him, and he nodded at the silent compliment.
"My darling, you are enchanting this evening." He sauntered across the room and kissed her. "I could grow accustomed to seeing your smile every day."
"And I yours." She meant it, too.
The back door opened, allowing a blast of cold air to rush through the house. "Hallo! I'm back."
Her smile froze before melting into a frown. "Will you accompany me to speak to Father?"
Silently she left the room, Frank following. When he took her hand, her heart skipped, then settled into its normal rhythm.
"Welcome home, Father." She met him in the hall. "Was your voyage successful?"
Something flickered in his eyes as he removed his cloak and handed it to Jasmine. Emily focused on the man in front of her. The man she had trusted all her life.
The man who challenged her trust.
"Very successful, thank you." He glanced at Frank. "The contact I spoke to you about awaits further orders."
What was that about? Emily cleared her throat drawing her father's attention. "I've returned from an adventure of my own." Wait until you hear where I've been while you've been roving around on some secret mission. Anger seethed inside at how easily he lied to her. She never suspected until recently, and then to have John throw it in her face, adding insult to injury. "Would you join me in the library for a sherry?"
"I'd like to freshen up first, if you don't mind," her father said warily.
"I do mind, Father. Come, there's not much time before our guests arrive, and we must talk. Now." She ushered him down the hall and into the library, keeping Frank's hand securely in her own until they all crossed the doorsill.
Emily positioned herself in front of the fireplace. Her father stood impatiently in front of her. Frank closed the door behind him. The fire hissed and popped in the background as she stared at her father, silently trying various phrases before she dared to speak them. He gazed back then opened his hands in a questioning gesture.
"What is this about, darling? I must dress for dinner. I'm much later returning than expected due to some rather unexpected complications."
"I'm enthralled and would love to hear about your trip. After you explain why you lied to me." There, she'd said it. Confronting him felt good, to challenge him on his actions.
"Lie? When did I lie to you?"
"Did you think I wouldn't discover the truth? The entire town knows, including the British. That's why I've spent two days held prisoner, being groped and kissed by John Bradley. All thanks to you."
She ignored Frank's startled look, though she'd likely have to explain her comment to him later.
"You were in the dungeon?" Her father stepped to her and hugged her. "Because of me? Oh God, I didn't know."
"Of course not, you who've been privateering and hoping nobody would catch on. But they did. And they imprisoned me for it."
"Why would they think you were involved?" He set her away from him and gazed at her face.
"I went to your shop to prove your innocence in your own ledgers."
"Tell me you didn't go by yourself?" His grip tightened on her arms. "I warned you to stay home."
"I took her," Frank said. "She didn't venture out alone."
"Major Bradley found me there, where I read through your ledgers and finally understood the deceit you engaged in."
"You should not have gone there. I knew someone in town asked questions, and suspected that Bradley boy. Why else do you think I wanted you to stay home but for your safety?" He peered into her eyes, searching for she knew not what. "I did not want you to be involved in any of this."
"Easy to say now." A tear threatened to show itself, and she swallowed. "Why, Father? Why did you do this?"
"I've done nothing but try to protect you by not revealing everything to you. That way, if they discovered how I supported our new government, the British could not implicate you as well." He hugged her to him, and his heart beat against her cheek, strong and even. "You must believe me."
"It's hard to when the father I knew and trusted did not also trust me in return." She pushed away from him. "How am I to trust you?"
He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head slowly. "You have no need to be ashamed of me. What I've done, I'd do again without qualms. I love our new America and will do anything within my power to fight for it and all it stands for. I am an American, not a British subject. I'm working for our government. Would you have me do less than that?"
A soft knock on the door echoed in the ensuing silence. Amy's voice quietly called through the door. "Emily, we must dress. Our guests will arrive soon."
"A moment." Emily glanced at Frank, then her father. He had done his duty for their newly formed government, helping turn the tide of the war in their favor. Sometimes a good reason existed for not telling the whole truth. She moved to him, searching his eyes for understanding. "No, sir, I would not have you do less than to defend our country. I had not understood your reasons. Will you forgive me?"
"There is nothing to forgive, dear." He kissed her forehead lightly and smiled. "You are a true patriot and loving daughter who demonstrates a deep caring for her old father. I love you. Shall we prepare for our guests now?"
Emily smiled at him and took his arm. "Yes, we shall."
"Sir, a word with you?" Frank asked.
"Now?" her father replied. "What is it with you two?"
"It will only take a moment." Frank smiled at Emily and motioned with his head for her to excuse them.
Emily slowly removed her hand from her father's arm. "Please do not linger long."
She eased the door closed behind her. What did Frank need to say to her father in private?
* * *
"The sun had faded long ago, hiding behind the ominous clouds sweeping across dead trees. A rattle and clatter echoed through the bare limbs, chilling the three travelers to the bone, but it was only the long claws of the trees scraping against each other in the biting wind."
Emily appreciated the new story Amy had written for her father to read. Apparently the crowd gathered around the fireplace did as well, for they intently listened to each word.
"An enjoyable evening as always." Frank handed her a cup of warm apple cider.
She sipped and smiled. "Thank you, Frank, for everything."
He kissed her hand. "My sweet, it is entirely my pleasure."
Jasmine appeared in the door of the upstairs parlor and caught Emily's eye as she glanced past Frank's shoulder. Emily nodded at the silent message.
"Only one man survived that horrifying night, and he never spoke of what happened. The end." Her father leaned back in his storytelling throne and smiled at the applause he received at the conclusion of the story.
As the commotion died down, Emily stepped forward and clapped
her hands twice. "Dinner is served, everyone. If you'll make your way down to the dining room, we'll eat momentarily."
Samantha appeared at her side, smiling. "That was a wonderful story."
"Be sure to tell Amy," Emily replied. "She has such a gift for stories."
"I'll thank her for your release from prison as well. She had a hand in that, employing her gift, from what I hear."
Frank winked at Emily. "Perhaps a little stretching of the truth is more like it."
"I do not know what she said to Colonel Balfour to make him order John to release me," Emily replied honestly. "Nor do I care at this point. As long as I am home among my family and friends for the holidays, I'm content. Shall we join the others?"
After they took their seats at the expansive table laden with savory meats, vegetables, relishes, and fruits, the sound of laughter and conversation filled the cheery room.
Emily perused the faces around the table, smiling at each in turn. Her father sat at the head of the table, holding court over the proceedings. Emily sat at his right hand, with Frank beside her. Frank's leg casually rested against hers, keeping a constant intimate touch between them. Samantha and Amy sat across from her, with Uncle Richard and Aunt Lucille beside them. She noticed an empty seat beside Frank.
"Who is late for dinner?" she whispered to Frank. "I cannot think who it is."
"Benjamin will join us shortly." He sliced through the roast duck on his plate. "He is anxious to become reacquainted with Miss Amy."
"How intriguing."
"Isn't it?" Frank chewed with a knowing smile.
"I dare say Amy will not be pleased with such an event." Emily sipped her wine and watched her cousin engage in an animated conversation with the older man beside her.
"I suppose we shall find out, since he has just arrived."
Benjamin moved lithely through the arched opening. Frank stood, drawing his attention, and motioned for Benjamin to join them. Frank remained standing until his friend reached the empty seat.
Amy looked at Emily, dismay haunting her eyes. Amy did not want to reconnect with Benjamin, although Emily only had her suspicions as to why. Now Amy had no escape. Emily gently shrugged at her cousin and best friend, apologetically indicating her predicament. Amy closed her eyes briefly in resignation, then shrugged as well, though her posture remained rigid.