Because of You

by Cathy Maxwell

  “Yes, that might be where he is,” Marion agreed.

  But Samantha had her doubts. Since his influenza and the brandy bottle, Yale had shown a singular lack of enthusiasm for strong spirits of any sort.

  Marion insisted on lunch trays being brought to them, since she and Samantha had not yet eaten. But Samantha was too worried to attempt even one bite.

  Standing by the window overlooking the winter garden, she racked her brain, trying to think of where Yale could be…and came up with nothing. The only thing left for her was prayer. She said the same prayer over and over, “Dear God, please send him home to me.”

  In late afternoon, Twyla joined them. “I came as soon as I heard. Harold said rumors are flying. They say Yale is bankrupt. Is it true?”

  Wayland nodded.

  She approached Samantha. “Last night, I was a bit churlish. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Certainly I did not wish something like this to happen. Will you forgive me?”

  Samantha didn’t know what to say and then realized that Twyla was apologizing to her because Yale wasn’t there. “He will be back. You can say this to him when he returns.”

  Twyla and Wayland exchanged glances. Samantha turned to her brother-in-law. “What is the matter? Why do you look at each other that way?”

  “It’s nothing, Samantha,” Wayland assured her. “We just worry because this is so much how it was years ago.”

  “We even waited in this same room, didn’t we?” Twyla said.

  “No, the library.”

  “Yes, I remember now,” Twyla said.

  “Waited for what?” Samantha demanded.

  Wayland didn’t answer. Twyla suddenly studied the pattern of the carpet.

  It was Marion who had the courage to say, “They are talking about the first time Yale disappeared. The old duke had been certain that Yale would come home with his ‘tail between his legs,’ as he put it. But he didn’t; he vanished. My father-in-law set up a vigil in the library. He did wait in this room at one time, Twyla. You were right about that.” She said to Samantha, “One of us was always with him. On the third day, he sent out runners. That’s when we learned he had boarded some ship as nothing more than a crew member and left England.”

  “But he wouldn’t leave like that now,” Samantha said firmly. “Not without saying something to me first.”

  Marion was by her side in an instant. “You are right, he wouldn’t. He’ll be home. We must just wait a little longer.”

  But Samantha couldn’t wait. The seeds of doubt had been planted. Her trust in Yale was too new. She asked Wayland to take her down to the docks: “I want to see his ship.”

  He reluctantly agreed.

  The twilight gloom was cold and wet and suited Samantha’s mood perfectly. The hours of the morning when she had lingered in Yale’s arms seemed almost a lifetime ago.

  “The Wind Eagle,” Samantha said, reading the name in gilded letters across the bow.

  Wayland knocked for the coachman to stop, and they went aboard. The captain was a young man with a gruff bearing. He was honored to meet Mr. Carderock’s new wife.

  “I have a wife and three children of my own,” he said.

  “Are they here in London?” Samantha asked, more out of politeness than genuine interest. She studied the piles of rope and the orderly confusion of the deck. A ship seemed much larger from a distance than it did when one stood on board.

  “No, they were in Trincomalee.”

  “Trincomalee? Isn’t that where the typhoon hit?” she asked.

  “Aye. I pray they are alive.”

  His words brought the force of the tragedy home to her. Samantha reached out for his hand. “I am so sorry.” The man’s eyes misted and then he looked off from her.

  “No need to be sorry. It’s God’s will,” the captain said. He took a moment to gather himself. “It’s hard, not having word. Mr. Carderock was by here as soon as he heard. From what he says, a good number of lives have been lost on land. I can only pray until I return home.”

  “I shall pray with you,” Samantha promised. “Tell me about your children.”

  “Oh, I’m not the only one,” the captain said. “A quarter of our crew has family back there. It’s a good place to live if you don’t mind giving up the English winter.”

  “I know my brother will do everything he can for you,” Wayland said somberly.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” the captain answered. “But we all know that. He’s a rum one, he is. Best man to work for in the Orient.”

  Samantha and Wayland returned to Penhurst after that. Both were silent, lost in their own thoughts.

  Yale had not returned home in their absence. It was already dark. Marion and Twyla still waited up in the sitting room.

  Samantha didn’t go with Wayland to join them. Instead, she went to her room. A fire had been laid in the hearth, but it hadn’t been lit. She set the candle she’d carried with her on the chest of drawers.

  “Dear God, where can he be? Please bring him home to me.”

  At that moment, a small draft eased open the door leading to the sitting room. Samantha went to close it and stopped.

  He was here.

  Pushing open the sitting room door with the palm of her hand, she looked into the darkness of the room.

  Yale sat on the settee, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his boot heels resting on the table. He twisted the green glass paperweight in his hands. She could see the flash of glass as he turned it over and over. If he knew she was there, he gave no indication.

  And then he looked up. “You’ve heard.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I’ve been worried about you. We’ve all been waiting for you.”

  “I needed to be alone,” he answered.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since after I called on the banker.”

  “The servants—”

  “I came in the back way, Sam. No one saw me. I needed time to think.”

  She entered the room and crossed to him, kneeling on the floor beside where he sat. “What did you need to think about?”

  He surprised her with a smile, “About what an unlucky bastard I am.” He kept flipping the paperweight, first in one hand, then the other. “Not even pixies could save me, Sam. Everything I worked for is gone.”

  She placed her hand over his, halting its movement. “Not everything, Yale. I’m still here.”

  Their gazes locked.

  “You shouldn’t be,” he said. “I’m no good, Sam. My father was right. I am a wastrel.”

  “Your father never thought any such thing.” She came to her feet. “He loved you. He didn’t always do what was best for you and maybe he didn’t understand you, but he did love you. And I love you. I will not let you push me away, Yale Carderock.”

  He set the paperweight aside and came up to take her in his arms. “Sam, I love you. I want nothing more than to be with you.”

  “But?” she asked, holding her breath for the answer.

  “I must leave,” he said dully. “The bankers think I’m finished, but that isn’t true. I have a warehouse and one ship. Plus a plantation in Ceylon. I will rebuild my company.”

  “Then why are you sitting here alone in the dark?”

  He placed his hand against the side of her cheek. “Because I don’t want to leave, Sam. By rights, I should be gone on the morning tide…but I can’t. I want to be here with you.”

  “Would you stay and work with Wayland?”

  He laughed. “No. I could never do that…and yet I can’t leave you either, but I must. The worst part is that I don’t know when I will return. It depends on the island and how bad things are. I could be gone for well over a year or more, Sam.”

  “A year or more,” she repeated, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  His arms pulled her close and she rested her head against his chest, her arms around his waist. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath. He was so warm, so real, so
secure. “A year,” she repeated again.

  His arms tightened. He rested his chin against her head. They stood this way in the dark, holding each other as if they would never let go, and then Samantha heard a small, distinct voice inside herself.

  It spoke clearly. It was not her voice. She knew it…and she heard it as plainly as if someone was in the room with her. The voice said, “Go with him.”

  Go with him.

  Of course she could go with him. “I’m going with you.”

  “What?”

  It was so simple! “I am going with you,” she said, and turned toward her bedroom. “I must pack if we are going to leave in the morning. My packing will be easy. I don’t own much.”

  He caught her hand before she’d taken two steps. “Sam, you can’t go. I won’t take you with me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it is dangerous.” He took ahold of her by both arms and bent to look in her eyes. “You don’t know what a storm of that magnitude is like. Trincomalee is a safe natural harbor. For it to be destroyed, the typhoon could have leveled the whole island. Until you experience a typhoon, you can’t imagine how much destruction Nature can wreak. Food, and even water, may be scarce. Disease will run rampant.”

  “All the more reason for me to go,” she said calmly. “Yale, I am a healer. From what you have described, my skills will be needed.”

  “It’s too dangerous. If something happened to you, my whole life would be meaningless. I have to believe that you are safe here in England.”

  She almost laughed. “This sounds like what we were talking about this morning—only then I was the fearful one. What is it you said? A hundred accidents could befall one right here in London?” She pulled back from him and he released his hold. “Yale, I want to be by your side. Together we will rebuild Rogue Shipping.”

  “Sam, it isn’t an easy life. The tropics claim many lives.”

  “Oh, pooh, I’m a bonny North Country lass. I’m strong, Yale. Furthermore, you might as well resign yourself to the fact that I won’t let you leave without me. Ever. Do you understand? I want to swim in a pool at the base of a waterfall. I want to see everything you described to me, including those giant stone gates shaped like a lion’s paws.”

  He studied her a moment and then, to her relief, he smiled and she knew she’d won. “I’ll take you with me,” he agreed. “But I will never forgive myself if anything happens to you.”

  “It won’t, Yale. This is how it was meant to be. I know it in my soul. Now come, let’s tell Wayland and Marion our plans.”

  She held out her hand and he took it. But instead of leaving immediately, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “With you, I can do anything.” They left the room then, arm in arm.

  Samantha had no regrets over her decision. She told Yale that she felt as if it was meant for her to go to Ceylon with him. Maybe it had been preordained from the beginning, she told Yale, when they’d first met in the Ayleborough vault.

  Yale’s family did not want them to leave, but they understood, and supported, Samantha’s decision to go with her husband. “He needs someone,” Marion assured her. “You will help him build a good life there. But please do not forget us.”

  “I could not,” Samantha said. “You are my family.”

  Once word was out that the Wind Eagle would sail immediately for Ceylon, those with friends and relatives on the island petitioned Yale to take messages, clothing, and presents to their loved ones. He promised to deliver each and every one.

  The morning papers wrote about Yale’s confidence in making the return trip. To his surprise, bankers were not as reluctant to extend credit as they had been immediately upon hearing the news. There was a very good possibility that Rogue Shipping would survive with little trouble.

  Samantha laughed and claimed the pixies living in the green glass paperweight must be working magic. Marion agreed and insisted they take it with them.

  Three days later, Samantha and Yale stood side-by-side on the dock, prepared to board the Wind Eagle. Wayland and Marion and the boys had come to wish them a safe voyage. Even Twyla had come to see them off, although she said she had never in her life risen before dawn for anyone.

  “Thank you, sister,” Yale said.

  For a second Twyla’s lower lip pushed out, and then she answered, “You’re welcome, brother.” She reached up and gave him a hug.

  Yale looked over to Wayland. His brother stood a little apart from the others, his arms crossed against his chest. Yale walked over to him.

  “Thank you for all you’ve done for me and Samantha.”

  “You are family,” Wayland said curtly. He looked away a moment and then said, “I wish you would stay. Who knows when we shall see each other again?”

  Yale placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “I will return. The last time I left, I did so in anger. I left with nothing, and to my surprise, I returned with nothing. Now I leave with everything that is important to me—my wife and the goodwill of my family. You are my brother, Wayland. You’re a good man, a fine father, and the most worthy one to head up the family and be the duke. I respect you. I love you.”

  Marion took Samantha’s arm and both of them held their breath, waiting for Wayland’s response.

  “Brother,” was all he said, before he reached out and hugged Yale.

  Samantha’s eyes filled with tears. She glanced at Marion, who was similarly affected. They hugged each other.

  Wayland stepped back and cleared his throat. Samantha thought she could see his eyes water a bit, but he held true to himself. “Don’t forget us,” he told Yale.

  “Never. Samantha and I will return for a visit.” Yale clapped a hand on Matthew’s back. “Perhaps someday you can send one of your sons to me and I can show him a bit of the world.”

  “I will do that. And perhaps you will be sending one of your sons to me someday,” Wayland said.

  Yale laughed. “I pray that happens.” The two brothers stared at each other a moment and then Yale added softly, “Take care of Beast for me.”

  “Come back and ride him from time to time.”

  “I shall.” Yale turned to Samantha. “It is time to go.”

  There was flurry of last-minute promises and kisses, and then Samantha found herself walking up the ship’s gangway. Her stomach was nervous, but not from fear. She was excited.

  Once they were on board, the captain gave the order for the ship to be prepared for voyage. Yale and Samantha stood side-by-side and watched as the Wind Eagle pulled away from the dock.

  Matthew and Joseph charged along the dock, racing the ship and shouting to their uncle Yale, who’d become a great favorite in a short time. Marion held Charles’s hand and made his tiny arm wave good-bye. Even Wayland waved.

  “I still think he is an ugly baby,” Yale whispered to Samantha, as he gave one last farewell salute to his family.

  “Aye, but he has character,” she assured him. “You can see it in his nose.”

  The two of them laughed before Yale turned serious. “Any regrets?” he asked her softly.

  “None,” she replied.

  He kissed her hand and led her to the bow of the ship and their future together.

  Epilogue

  Ceylon

  1808

  Yale paced the covered walkway between the main house and the lush garden. His plantation was located in the hills, where it was a touch cooler than the tropical heat of the coast. A soft, steady rain pattered against the red tiled roof and ran in a stream off the ends of the gutters.

  The rain was left over from the thunderstorm the night before.

  The change in the barometric pressure had started Sam’s labor. Her pains had been coming at regular intervals since one in the morning. Now, almost ten hours later, Yale was growing concerned. Certainly it couldn’t take this long to have a baby.

  The walkway passed the shuttered windows of their bedroom. He could hear Samantha’s heavy breathing and her soft whimpe
rs. A Tamil midwife calmed her in a low voice.

  Yale wished he’d been able to send for the British doctor in Trincomalee instead of relying on the local midwife, but the heavy rain had prevented it. Not only that, but Sam had assured him everything would be fine. And he’d listened because she was so often right.

  Over the past year and a half, they had built a good life for themselves. His fortune still wasn’t completely restored to its former glory, but in Ceylon, he was a wealthy man. Besides, money didn’t matter as long as he had Sam by his side.

  Contrary to his fears, she’d blossomed in the wild beauty of the tropics. His vicar’s daughter who had grown up knowing only the boundaries of Sproule had developed an insatiable curiosity about everything. She’d attended a Hindu marriage ceremony, climbed Adam’s Peak and seen the indentation in the shape of a giant foot that the Buddhists believed had been created by Buddha, and had explored the sacred city of Anuradhapura.

  But Yale’s favorite memory was of taking her to the waterfalls hidden deep in the jungle. They’d camped out under the stars. When the moon was high, they had swum in the pools’ cool depths and felt the spray of the waterfalls.

  That was the night the baby had been conceived. They both knew it. It had been a magical moment between them.

  Now, Yale wished he’d never touched her. For the hundredth time, he turned on his heel and paced the length of the walkway.

  Just as he came even with the shuttered windows, Samantha cried out his name.

  Enough with waiting!

  Yale dodged into the house and hurried to their bedroom. He burst in unannounced.

  Samantha’s face was so sweaty and pale, he feared she had to be sick. She cried again, her knees bending. Two household servants were holding her in a seated position.

  He rushed to her side. “What is it? What can I do?”

  The midwife answered him in Tamil. “This is the way it is,” she said. “Missy wife is doing well.”

  Yale didn’t think Sam was doing well at all.

  “Yale.” Sam’s voice was weaker than he’d ever heard it.

  He knelt by the bed and took her hand. “What is it, darling?”