by Sara Donati
He said, “Let me give you fair warning, Mrs.—” He waited until Missy croaked her name.
“Mrs. O’Brien, then. If you finish that sentence and accuse my wife of crimes she did not commit, I will sue you in a court of law for libel.”
His tone was perfectly reasonable, and his tone utterly serious. Missy was nothing if not courageous, and she tilted up her chin at him in a way that put Elizabeth in mind of an affronted and overfed cat.
“And your name, sir?”
“Hamish Focht.”
“Mr. Focht,” Missy said, her voice wobbling ever so slightly. “I know a thing or two about the law myself, and I’m not the only one in Paradise who does.”
There was a short silence, and then Jemima said, “We must find a solution to this problem, Charlie. We are here to conduct important business and we will not leave until we have done so.”
A small hand touched Elizabeth’s arm and she turned. Becca’s two youngest girls, twins, were so alike that she couldn’t be sure if this was Maggie or Kate. Whoever it was, she crooked her finger toward the hall. Elizabeth caught Nathaniel’s eye and he nodded.
Out of the room the girl said, “I’ve got a message from Callie. She cleared out her room and she’s gone off. She’ll stay out of the way until Jemima’s gone.”
Elizabeth tried to make sense of it. “She saw them arrive?”
Maggie—now Elizabeth saw the small letter M embroidered on her bodice—nodded eagerly. Clearly she was enjoying her part in the drama. “It wasn’t five minutes before she had her things tied up into an old pillow slip and off she went.”
“She didn’t say where?”
“She said Ethan would know where to find her, if you needed to talk to her.”
“Ethan,” Elizabeth echoed. And then: “Why don’t you tell your ma that the big front room is available for the Fochts now?”
Maggie’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You want them to stay?”
“What I want is beside the point,” Elizabeth said. “What I know is somewhat simpler. Jemima won’t leave Paradise voluntarily, and certainly not today.”
In the common room the discussion was still revolving around Jemima’s demands and Becca’s steadfast refusal, with Charlie alternating between looking sheepish and chagrined. No doubt it would have gone on all day in the same way if Maggie hadn’t announced the new vacancy.
Becca cleared her throat. “Well, then. I’ll see that it’s cleaned and aired straight away. If you’ll take a seat, it will be a half hour or so.”
She didn’t wait to get an answer from the Fochts before she turned and walked into the kitchen. Charlie followed her, glancing behind himself as if he still couldn’t believe it was Jemima Southern standing in the middle of the common room.
Elizabeth raised her voice just to that point that people would have to be quiet to hear it; an old schoolteacher’s trick.
“Now that this problem has been settled, may I ask everyone to leave so that Nathaniel and I can speak to Mr. and Mrs. Focht?”
From the corner of her eye she saw Jemima bite down on the impulse to say something cutting. In fact, everyone fell into an uneasy moment of silence, but then people began to move. They had been her students once, many of them, and they were still inclined to follow her instructions. And as much as they wanted to see Jemima dressed down and hear all the news there was to hear, they remembered her too well to relish what was to come. In a word, she frightened them.
As she does me, Elizabeth admitted to herself. Nathaniel squeezed her elbow and she was glad of him. More than that, she was happy to let him take the lead in this conversation.
When the room had emptied Jemima said, “Where are my daughters?”
“Hello to you too, ’Mima,” Nathaniel said. The use of her girlhood name struck almost visibly; two bright red spots appeared high on Jemima’s cheekbones.
“Ain’t you going to introduce us to your husband?”
One side of the stranger’s mouth curled up. “I am Hamish Focht,” he said. “Attorney-at-law.”
“And the boy? Your son, Mr. Focht?”
Jemima jerked as if stung. “This is my son, Nicholas Wilde. Named after his father.”
The boy raised his head and looked at them. Elizabeth was struck by his expression, which was not exactly empty, but perhaps best described as confused. Nothing of suspicion or caution or worry; a child sure of his place and people. The boy smiled, and the whole face was transformed, as bright as the summer sky. That smile turned an ordinary face into something otherworldly.
Elizabeth studied him and couldn’t decide if he favored the Wildes or not. Certainly his coloring was like Callie’s, but there were thousands of children between New-York City and Boston exactly like this: about nine years old, brown-haired, brown-eyed. She admitted to herself that she had hardly any memory of Nicholas Wilde’s face and could not judge who the boy favored. If anyone.
He said, “Hello.” Jemima’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, not to quiet him but simply in a protective gesture any mother must recognize. There was something about the boy, something Elizabeth couldn’t put her finger on. She would most likely never have the chance to talk to him alone, but she would have liked to do that. Very much.
“I know who you are,” Focht was saying to Nathaniel. “You claim guardianship rights over my stepdaughters Martha and Callie.”
“Where are my daughters?” Jemima said again. “I’d like to see them now. I’d like them to meet their brother.”
Elizabeth caught the twitch at the corner of Nathaniel’s mouth. He was as surprised as she was to hear Jemima claim Callie as her daughter. According to the law she had that right, of course, but why she should want it, that was the question. A demonstration of motherly concern was so out of character for Jemima as to be unimaginable. But then there was the boy. Could one child have had such an effect on her?
“I don’t know where they are, exactly,” Nathaniel said. “Elizabeth?”
She started out of her thoughts. “Nor do I. If they want to see you, Jemima, I’m sure they will come by.”
Jemima said, “It would be best for everyone concerned if you could convince them that they should do just that.” Her tone was chilly now. More of the old Jemima.
“We won’t be put off,” said her husband. “The law is on our side.”
Nathaniel shook his head in the way that meant he was sorry to see somebody make a fool of themselves.
“You’re a stranger here, Focht, but I guess your wife could tell you, I don’t scare so easy.”
“You mistake me, Mr. Bonner. I have absolutely no interest in you. I couldn’t be bothered to exert myself so far for such little reason.”
Oh, how he reminded Elizabeth of her uncle Merriweather. That twitch of a sneer, and the cool efficiency with which he could take apart an enemy’s arguments. Except of course Uncle Merriweather had never dealt with Nathaniel, who could remain—had remained—steady in the face of much worse.
“Well, then,” Nathaniel said, not in the least ruffled. “Maybe it’s Callie and Martha you want to scare, could that be it? Because let me tell you plain, I have been guardian to those girls since your good wife there deserted them. All done legal, with attorneys before a judge.”
Jemima blinked but otherwise she seemed unsurprised.
Focht said, “We will go to law if we must.”
There was a small silence. Elizabeth fought for something to say, but Nathaniel was ahead of her, as he usually was in such situations that aroused emotion.
“Now you see, we do have business,” Nathaniel said. “We’ll just call on our attorney before we take this any further.”
Curiosity turned the trap onto the lane just in time to see Birdie’s ma and da come out of the Red Dog. Before Birdie could even wave to catch their attention they were surrounded by a crowd—thirty people or more, and most of them looked angry or worried. No sign of Hannah or Jennet, who were probably inside. There was no time to ask one of the byst
anders for information, because Curiosity was calling out to a group of boys who stood by, watching.
Her grandson Leo heard her voice and came trotting straight over. Curiosity’s grown grandchildren loved her only slightly more than they held her in awe. Which Birdie understood, because she felt the same way. Or had felt the same way, for all of her life until last night. Now she didn’t know exactly what she should feel. Odder still, she had no sense of her ma’s feelings about the whole business. It had happened so long ago, but then again it was her own ma who had suffered.
While Leo helped Curiosity—mostly by lifting her like a small child and setting her on the ground—she told him what she wanted him to do with the horse and trap, and with Birdie too.
“Take the girl on down to the smithy with you,” she said. “This ain’t no place for a child, not right now.”
Birdie’s surprised squawk didn’t even give Curiosity a moment’s pause, and before she could think of how to protest, Ginny lurched into a walk.
“Don’t fuss,” Leo said to her. “It won’t do no good.”
It was irritating to be told things you already knew, but Birdie held her tongue. For all his quiet nature, Leo was as stubborn as his grandmother, and the only thing to do was to wait until her chance came. Which didn’t take long; as soon as the wheels came to a standstill outside the smithy Birdie’s feet hit the ground and she sprinted off, back the way they had come. She would get a closer look at Jemima Southern. The only way Leo could stop her was to tie her hand and foot. If he could catch her first, which would be hard as she wasn’t so foolish as to go right up the road.
Birdie slipped along behind the schoolhouse, mud sucking at her bare feet. Just as she came to the spot where she’d have to walk into the open she heard familiar voices. She pressed herself to the wall and held her breath.
Curiosity was coming along between Birdie’s ma and da, gripping their arms so that her feet barely skimmed the ground. They went into the schoolhouse and the door closed firmly, the latch catching with a sharp click.
A great stroke of good luck. Now Birdie could go see what was going on at the Red Dog and get a look at Jemima and the boy while her people huddled together on the other side of the very wall where Birdie stood and talked about what was to happen.
Jemima could wait a few minutes. From what Curiosity said of her, she wasn’t the kind to tuck tail and run at the first sign of trouble.
Birdie slipped around to the rear door. She knew which steps creaked, and how to slip the latch so quietly that no one—not even her father with his hearing like a bat—would know.
Once in the hall she had little choice. The only place she could be sure of hearing them talk was the cloakroom, which opened onto both classrooms. She hesitated for less than a heartbeat before she made up her mind.
Jennet said, “Well, is this no a fine mess? What a good thing Daniel kept Martha behind. Jemima willna dare step foot on Hidden Wolf.”
“Please Jesus,” Curiosity said. “Now I’m wondering where has Callie got to. Do you know, Ethan?”
“I have a good idea.”
“We have to have some kind of plan,” Elizabeth said. “Some unified approach.”
“I wish Ben would get back,” Hannah said. “I’d like to know what Martha wants.”
“To be free of her mama,” said Curiosity. “Same thing Callie want.”
“I wonder if he’s really a lawyer,” Luke said.
“Or if the boy is who she say he is,” said Curiosity. “I don’t know what to make of any of it. You saw the child, Elizabeth. What do you think?”
Elizabeth drew in a noisy breath and let it go. “I have no idea, and I doubt there’s any way to prove or disprove her claim about the boy’s parentage.” She thought about saying more and realized that her impressions of the boy were so vague and unsettling that she could not express them to her own satisfaction.
“We really do need a lawyer,” she said.
“Well, now,” said Curiosity. “Here come John Mayfair. Ethan, you sent for him?”
“I knew we’d need an attorney, and John is very good. I believe we can trust him.”
Birdie had to be very still to hear, but she had had a lot of practice and she knew how to be patient. When she paid calls with Hannah to see how a wound was healing, or went with her father to check his trap lines, everything required patience. A hunter had to disappear into the woods, and Birdie could disappear into dim corners.
They were talking to John Mayfair, who sounded weary but very sure of his facts.
For a moment Birdie wished she had just gone on her way. Much better to be at the Red Dog, waiting for a fight to break out between Becca LeBlanc and Jemima. Maybe Missy Parker would come by too, or even Baldy. There were many stories about Jemima and Baldy O’Brien, and at least a few of them had to be true.
But she had come here to sit on the cold floor—still damp too—with her ear pressed to the crack in the door. Ten minutes just like this and she was no the wiser. What she wanted to do was ask a question. Or many questions, because she wasn’t even sure what John Mayfair was talking about, or what it had to do with Jemima. There were words like ecclesiastical and tenancy and tort. The others did ask him questions, but most of those didn’t mean much to Birdie either.
Hannah was saying, “There really is no other option?”
“Not if it is important to thee that Martha and Callie keep their independence,” John Mayfair said. “If ye are agreed, I will write the document for your signature, Nathaniel. Two must sign as witnesses.”
There was a lot of talking and moving around but in the end Jennet, Hannah, and Luke went back home to see to the children, and they took Curiosity with them. Finally there was only the familiar sound of pens scratching. Now and then John Mayfair asked a question and got his answer, and then the scratching started again.
“This is very hard,” said Birdie’s mother. “To send them off like this. It’s not what I imagined at all.”
Birdie sat up straighter. If only someone would come out and say the word elope, so she could be sure of what she was hearing. It was an exciting idea but it frightened her too, hearing the tone in her ma’s voice.
“We don’t know that they will go off, Boots. It’s their decision. Or better said, it’s Martha’s decision. Daniel knows what he wants.”
“But it’s all so rushed. You and I, we had the whole winter before we—” her voice trailed away.
“When it’s right it’s never too late, when it’s wrong it’s always too soon,” Ethan said.
John Mayfair let out a small laugh. “True words.”
Ethan said, “Come, let’s get this done. I’ll go fetch the things they’ll need and saddle horses. Then I’ll take the letters up to them, unless you want to do it, Uncle.”
Birdie couldn’t help herself anymore. She opened the cloakroom door and peeked out.
“Finally,” said her da. “I thought you fell asleep in there.”
He was smiling, but there was sadness in the way he looked too.
“I’m sorry,” Birdie said. “I shouldn’t have done it. But Ma, I’m as worried about Daniel and Martha as you are.”
“And we’ve shut you out, haven’t we.” Her mother held out a hand, and Birdie went to stand beside her. The urge to put her head against her mother’s breast was very strong, but she was too old for such things.
“I want to be there when they get married.” Her voice came a little hoarse.
“If they do get married,” said her da.
“Of course they’ll get married,” said Birdie. She leaned into her mother and was glad of it. “Martha tries to hide it but she’s crazy about Daniel. And he doesn’t even try to hide it.”
“You think they are a match, then.” Her mother’s hand smoothed her hair, and Birdie could have fallen asleep right there, though it wasn’t even noon. “I said so from the beginning. Didn’t I say so right from the start?”
32
Martha had no sense
at all of the time; whether it was twenty minutes or two hours later that they closed Daniel’s cabin door behind themselves and set out for the village. She was so tired that she was lightheaded, and how could she be anything else after the events of the last twenty-four hours? She had come up the mountain an unmarried girl essentially alone in the world but for her stepsister, Callie, and now here she was, on the brink of getting married. Again. So soon. Maybe too soon.
It was what people would say, and there was no use pretending otherwise.
But she would be one of the Bonners. It was a thought so odd that she might have laughed aloud. She had never imagined herself as a Bonner, though they invited her into their home and treated her with such kindness.
“When I was little,” she told Daniel, “I used to hope that your ma would want me as a servant one day. So I could be near all of you.”
He only smiled down at her when she told him that, which was enough. To have the right to say the things she was thinking—no, it was more than that. He liked it when she talked to him, as odd as that seemed. She wondered if she would ever really understand what he felt, and what he wanted from her.
Martha cast a small look out of the corner of her eye, suddenly shy but needing to study him nonetheless. Unshaven, his clothes the worse for two days’ or more wear, weapons hung all about him and his left arm in a sling, he might have stepped out of one of Jennet’s pirate stories. There was white in his shorn hair and deep lines bracketed his mouth and eyes, but he still had that way about him, the look of all the Bonner men. When he smiled some of those years fell away. It made him almost beautiful; Martha could find no other suitable word. He was tall and lean, hickory hard. When he turned his head his neck reminded her of an elk’s, which was such an odd idea that she was too embarrassed to pursue it.
His mother would ask hard questions that would require answers.
Why? Why him, why now? What was it she hoped from marriage to Daniel?
The first word that came to mind was not one she was proud of.