The older man kept his gaze fixed on the grinder. “And ye love Tavin MacLachlan.”
Emmalyne leaned back against her heels as she thought on that statement. She finally allowed her heart to declare the truth. “I do, Father. I love him more today than I did eleven years ago. I will go on loving him . . . for as long as I have breath.” She paused and reached up to gently touch his cheek with the back of her fingers. “But so, too, will I love you and Mother . . . and Angus. I will never allow you to go in want if I have anything to offer. I will always care for you and Mother, not just because it’s my right and duty, but because I want to.”
Wordless, he turned to look at her. Emmalyne thought it might just be a trick of the lantern light, but she thought she saw moisture in his eyes. He did nothing but gaze at her for several minutes. Emmalyne had never known a moment quite like this with him. The silence offered her a glimmer of hope—hope that things could change. Hope that her father might yet learn to love again. Love his God and his family.
Chapter 22
“Mr. MacLachlan, I don’t believe I understand the purpose of your visit today,” the union official said. “If you aren’t here to join, then what can I possibly do for you?”
“You can get your men to stop causing problems at my father’s quarry. Someone’s going to get hurt or killed. In fact, someone already has.”
“What you talking about?” The man stood to his feet, a scowl on his face.
Tavin tossed his hat to a chair. “I’m talking about the vandalism and tampering going on at the MacLachlan Quarry.”
The older man stared down his nose at Tavin. “This has nothing to do with me or the union. We do not approve bullyragging of any kind.”
“Well, somebody apparently does, and it would seem my father’s quarry has been targeted. Who but union supporters would be out to cause problems for us?”
“That, sir, is a question you should ask yourself.” The man sat down again and leaned forward in his chair. “I have encouraged your father to join the union for the sake of protection, as well as coming under its hospices of scheduling and rates. We are honorable men. I respect that your father wishes to give his men the right to choose. I can’t say that I agree with it, but I do respect it.”
Tavin got the distinct impression that the man was telling the truth. “But what of some of the union members?”
“My men are used to following orders. I have made it clear that we are not in the business of causing problems for our fellow stonecutters. However, I have clearly stated the advantages of joining our union to any man who would listen. Your father might even be persuaded to change his mind.”
“And force his quarrymen to join your union?” Tavin raised a brow. “I thought the attraction of America was freedom to choose whatever is right for each individual. In the old country, a man was under the limits set by the queen or king. Even owning land was impossible without the approval of someone else. Here in America, if a man has the will to work the land, he can own property. If he has enough money, he can own most anything. Why should he be put back in the chains of having to bow and scrape to somebody else’s decision?”
The man sputtered and coughed. “Mr. MacLachlan, no one is bowing to anybody else around here. The union is here to provide help. Protection and provision are our main focus. You would do well to better understand our organization before condemning it.”
Tavin shook his head. “I do not condemn it. I have, in fact, at times paid my dues to belong.”
The man calmed down and seemed to reconsider Tavin. “Then you are not opposed to your father unionizing his quarry.”
“Not at all. I’m opposed to being forced to do so or having men threatened until they comply. We’ve had a variety of so-called ‘accidents’ at the quarry. The last one could have killed several men. A derrick cable was cut just enough so that when strain was put upon it, it snapped. It was just the . . . well, the grace of God that kept death at bay. I intend to see that these events end . . . here and now.” He paused, hoping his declaration would be understood and heeded. “Even if you aren’t the one behind it,” he said, looking directly at the union boss, “I would appreciate it if you would put the word out that whoever is responsible should cease. My brother-in-law died in one of those accidents a year ago, and I want to prevent another loss of life.”
“I am sorry for your loss. Sorry, too, for the accidents. Tell your father I had nothing to do with those events. If he decides to join the union, I will see to it nothing like that happens again. We take the protection of our members very seriously.”
Tavin retrieved his hat and headed for the office door. Before stepping outside he looked back at the union leader. “I’ll tell him. I hope, however, that should you get wind of something planned against us, whether union members or not, you would do the right thing in seeing us forewarned.”
“We do not support violations of the law, Mr. MacLachlan. You have my word.”
Back out on the street, the last person Tavin wanted to encounter was Dr. Jason Williams. But that was exactly who now stood before him, looking equally surprised.
“Dr. Williams,” Tavin said, inclining his head.
“Mr. MacLachlan. I had no idea you were in town today, but I’m glad you are. I wonder if you might join me at the café for the noonday meal. I have some things I’d like to discuss about your sister’s transfer to St. Paul.”
Tavin had no desire to share a meal and conversation with Williams, but he nodded and followed the man to the nearby restaurant. They were seated immediately, and both men ordered the special of the day, German sausages and sauerkraut. As they waited for the food, Dr. Williams began to speak.
“The doctors in St. Paul are quite encouraging about your sister’s condition. They believe the shock of her husband’s death can be overcome in time. They feel she will need some very special care, however.”
“She’s already been receiving special care,” Tavin muttered.
“Yes, but I’m referring to professional care that will differ from the care your mother has been giving. With a focus on the proper balance of medication, therapies, and encouragement, the consensus is that Fenella might well recover.”
“But she also might not,” Tavin replied. “Isn’t that just as true?”
“Yes,” the doctor said, nodding. “Only God knows for sure. But I like to keep a positive outlook. Life without hope is no life at all. We must have faith that God can help your sister recover.”
“I believe God can do anything He chooses,” Tavin spat out. “I just don’t pretend to know what that might be.”
Dr. Williams leaned forward. “You seem quite angry. I suppose I offended you at our previous meeting when I mentioned Miss Knox. I want to apologize for that. I was wrong to speak in such a manner.”
Tavin was surprised at this confession. He didn’t know what to say in return and remained silent. When the food arrived, he pretended great interest in salting and peppering the dish.
Dr. Williams began to speak again. “The fact of the matter is that I’ve come to care a great deal about Miss Knox. I believe that she deserves to be happy, and I know she is not. I can clearly see that you are just as miserable. What I cannot come to terms with is how you could just walk away from such a woman.”
Tavin’s head snapped up, and he fixed Williams with a glare. “I didn’t just walk away. Her parents drove me away.”
“Ah, yes. So I’ve heard. But even so, a man who really loved her would have fought for her, no?”
Tavin wasn’t about to just sit and take such talk from a man who knew nothing about him. “You’d do well to drop the subject, Doc. You can discuss my sister’s move to St. Paul all you like, but leave Emmalyne out of this.”
“Emmalyne. Such a beautiful name,” Williams murmured, cutting into his sausage. “I’ve always thought so.” He took several bites before continuing. “Mr. MacLachlan, I realize your anger is borne from the fact that you still love her. I believe this anger w
ill ultimately destroy your health and well-being, and because of that I feel it only right that I speak to you . . . as a concerned physician and, I hope, a friend.”
“Well, I don’t.” Tavin had lost all interest in the food and pushed the plate back. “It’s none of your affair who I love or don’t love.”
“But because you love Emmalyne, and I have made Emmalyne my business, I feel it is somewhat my affair.” He smiled. “Her happiness is most important to me. And to you also, I believe.”
“Well, you can forget about courting her,” Tavin said, certain that was where the conversation was headed. “Her parents won’t hear of it. They have a tradition that forbids it.”
“Ah yes, the tradition. Well, can’t new traditions be made?”
Tavin got to his feet and looked down at the doctor. He wanted to rage at the man and tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about. But he held his temper in check. “Good luck with that. The day you can get Luthias Knox to do anything other than exactly what he wants will be the day St. Cloud is made the capital.” With that, he threw down the coins for his lunch and went to retrieve his horse. Why couldn’t folks just leave well enough alone?
“Do it again! Do it again, Auntie Em,” Gunnar called to Emmalyne.
They were enjoying an unusually warm fall day at the pond, and Emmalyne had just showed Gunnar how to skip a stone on the water’s surface. Lethan clapped and squealed as his brother jumped up and down enthusiastically. Emmalyne picked through several rocks and found one that was just right.
“It’s all about finding the perfect rock, and then holding it just so.” She demonstrated. “Your hands are small now, but when they grow you will be able to master this without any trouble.” She positioned herself and drew back her arm. “Now watch how I hold my hand and how my wrist moves.” She let go, and again the stone danced across the water.
“Let me try!” Gunnar picked up a random rock and heaved it toward the pond. It sank immediately, and he frowned. “I did it just like you.”
Emmalyne rubbed his head. “You’ll get it in time. Just keep practicing. For now, however, what do you say we take off our shoes and socks and wade in the water for a little while. The sun is high and hot. I don’t think there’s anything quite so pleasurable on a warm day.”
Gunnar didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped to the ground and began pulling his shoes off in wild abandonment. Lethan, seeing this display, was not to be outdone. He plopped down and started pulling at his own shoes. Emmalyne sat down and helped him before removing her own shoes and stockings. She held on to Lethan’s hand as they waded into the water. Gunnar, however, was already splashing around.
“Uncle Tavin sailed on a big ship,” he told her. “He went out on the big lakes.”
“I’m not surprised,” Emmalyne said, laughing as Lethan bent to slap his hand on the water’s surface. He giggled with delight and did it again and again.
“Sing that song again, Auntie Em,” Gunnar called as he waded a little deeper into the pond.
“Don’t be going out too far. We don’t want your clothes to get too wet.” Of course, Emmalyne could see that it was a bit late for that concern. Gunnar and Lethan were doing a fairly good job of drenching themselves.
“I’m not too far. Sing that song about Jenny in the rye,” Gunnar demanded.
Emmalyne laughed and began to sing.
“O Jenny’s a’ weet, poor body, Jenny’s seldom dry:
She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie, Comin thro’ the rye!
Comin thro’ the rye, poor body, Comin thro’ the rye,
She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie, Comin thro’ the rye!
Gin a body meet a body Comin thro’ the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body cry?”
She leaned down and kissed Lethan on the top of his head and tickled him under his chin. The boy gave a shriek of pure joy and rewarded Emmalyne by throwing a handful of water at her.
“Oh, ho wee man,” she said, feigning her best Scottish accent, “I cannae leave that go unpunished.” She splashed him back, and soon all three were laughing and assaulting each other with handfuls of water.
“I’m gonna get you, Auntie,” Gunnar declared. “You aren’t hardly wet at all.”
She chuckled and moved away easily. “I can outrun you, little man. Better still, I could catch you and cover your face in kisses.”
Gunnar screwed up his face. “No! No kisses!”
“One day you’ll cherish the kisses of a girl,” stated a male voice.
Emmalyne stopped abruptly and whirled around. She caught only a glimpse of Tavin sitting on the grassy bank just before she lost her balance and fell backward into the water.
He was up on his feet and down to the pond’s edge in a single motion . . . or so it seemed to Emmalyne. Gunnar was babbling on about something and running toward them. Emmalyne struggled to get to her feet and Tavin reached out to help her up, stretching as far as he could so as not to get his boots overly wet.
“Thank you,” she said, grasping his fingers. But as soon as she was standing again, dripping like a wet hen, Gunnar came flying at her like a barn owl swooping down on prey. Once again she fell into the water, only this time Tavin was very nearly a dead weight atop her.
Tavin maneuvered quickly, however, and pulled Emmalyne up without delay. He drew her to her feet. “Are you all right?” He looked her over carefully. Emmalyne nodded, stunned by what had happened.
Letting go of Emmalyne, Tavin turned toward Gunnar. “Come here, you.” Tavin raced after the giggling boy, caught him, and hoisted him high into the air. “It’s the water for you.”
“Don’t throw me out there, Uncle Tavin! I can’t swim,” Gunnar shouted, his tone caught between gleeful and fearful.
“Well, don’t you think it’s time you learned?” Tavin asked. “Since there are lakes and ponds all around here, seems like a reasonable thing to learn. Let me get you started.” He rocked the boy back and forth in his arms as if gaining momentum for the throw.
“No!” The boy laughed and squirmed against Tavin’s hold.
Emmalyne noted that Lethan was taking it all in from where he sat in the water. Apparently he had given up on wading since everyone else was taking a swim. She moved over to where he was watching Tavin and Gunnar’s clowning in silent awe.
What was Tavin doing here? Where had he come from? She’d planned to be long gone before the men returned from work. Feeling rather self-conscious, Emmalyne surveyed the damage to her clothes. She was drenched, and the bodice of her gown clung to her most conspicuously. She pulled at the material and pressed as much water from it as possible. Next she tried to do the same for her skirt. Goodness, but she was a mess!
She walked to the grassy bank and sat down to deal with her hair. Somewhere along the way she’d lost several hairpins, and now her braid dangled awkwardly to one side. Releasing the rest of the pins, she let the braid trail down her back. She didn’t dare look to see what Tavin was doing. His unexpected presence had so confused Emmalyne that she wasn’t sure whether to gather up Lethan and hurry back to the house or force herself to wait and see what Tavin might have to say. The choice was quickly made for her.
“Are you hurt?”
Tavin left Gunnar at the water’s edge and made his way to where Emmalyne sat. He seemed so different than their earlier encounters. The bitter, hateful look was gone, and there was a mischievousness in his expression that reminded Emmalyne of the good old days. “No—no, I’m fine,” she finally answered.
He extended his hand to her once again. “Well, we’re far enough from the water that I don’t think there’s a chance of repeating that earlier mishap.”
Emmalyne nodded without looking up. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, more than a little aware of the touch of his hand. When he said nothing but continued to hold her hand, she forced herself to look into his eyes. In that moment, the terrible years of loss and loneliness fell away, and she couldn’t help but wish he
would kiss her as he once had. Her wish was quickly granted.
Tavin pulled her into his arms and kissed her with the lost passion of eleven years. Emmalyne could scarcely breathe, but she didn’t care. If she should die in that moment, she would go happy to her reward.
“See, Uncle Tavin, I told you Emmy was nice.”
They looked down to find Gunnar and Lethan, hand in hand, watching them most intently. Emmalyne put her hand to her mouth and backed away as Tavin gathered up his nephews.
In his clear baritone, Tavin began to sing, “Gin a body meet a body, Comin thro’ the rye, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body cry?” He threw Emmalyne a wink and headed for the house.
Chapter 23
Tavin walked along briskly, each boy’s hand tucked into his. He had not intended to kiss Emmalyne Knox—at least not then—but at that moment he’d found it impossible to restrain himself any longer. His actions confused and intrigued him, however. His last words to her were that he hated her, and now he was behaving as though they’d never been apart. What in the world had come over him?
After his noontime encounter with Dr. Williams, Tavin’s long ride home had given him much to think about. He couldn’t fault the man for his obvious attention and concern for Emmalyne’s happiness. He couldn’t even fault the good doctor for interfering as he did. The more Tavin had pondered the man’s comments, the more he had come to realize that Dr. Williams was not a threat to him. It appeared that the man was actually attempting to encourage Tavin to reclaim his lady. This on its own was truly amazing, and he didn’t know, had their roles been reversed, that he could offer the same gracious and unselfish attitude.
The longer Tavin thought about Emmalyne, the more determined he became to resolve the past. He wasn’t sure how he would manage to go toe-to-toe with Luthias Knox, but Tavin realized it was now impossible to do otherwise. He loved Emmalyne. He’d loved her faithfully through all these years of separation. Why had he ever agreed to Knox’s preposterous rule? Why hadn’t he found a way to reason with the man—to assure him that he wasn’t of a mind to take Emmalyne away from them, but rather would share her with them?
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