What the Heart Keeps

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What the Heart Keeps Page 22

by Rosalind Laker


  It was her full intention to carry out the task. When morning came she began stacking the cancellation notices into a basket and was interrupted briefly by the Saanio daughters. They had come to ask if they might take Harry on a picnic, which meant keeping him for the rest of the day as they had done on previous occasions. With their round Finnish faces and sweet smiles, they were already as maternal as their mother towards younger children and were destined to be the bearers of large families themselves when they grew up. She contributed some cake for the picnic, and the girls promised to bring him home before his bedtime.

  After seeing off the little procession, Harry beaming with delight at his friends, she went back to finish getting the notices ready. Her task was just completed when a knock came at the front door. She had been half expecting that a movie distributor’s agent might call that day, and a list of the films she wished to order lay on the parlour table. Briskly she went to open the door. The man standing there was Peter. He swept off his hat and the sunshine went leaping into his fair hair.

  “How are you, Lisa?”

  For a few suspended moments the sight of him seemed to fill her whole being. His height and breadth and his well-remembered smile eliminated all else. The greatest impact of all came from his fjord-blue eyes holding that tender, penetrating look that had once been there all the time before the painful quarrel had dashed it away.

  “Peter!” She could only say his name. Maybe it was enough. Her voice had made mellifluous song of it on the overwhelming gush of love from the depths of her heart.

  “It’s been a long time,” he said, not taking his eyes from hers. “I searched half of Canada for you after returning to Toronto a week after our parting to find you gone.”

  “I never knew.” Again an involuntary inflexion revealed her emotions all too nakedly.

  “That’s what I assumed, when no reply ever came to the letter I left at Sherbourne Street.” He crossed the threshold, for she had drawn back in silent invitation that he should enter, holding the door still wider. “I was sure that however much I deserved it, you would never have ignored the request I had penned.”

  She had closed the door and taken his hat to hang it on a peg. They faced each other there, in the white-walled hallway of the quiet house. Outside, the everyday din of the sawmill seemed remote and far away. The years that had passed might have been as many minutes. There was no strangeness between them.

  “What was that request?” she asked almost inaudibly.

  “I wanted your forgiveness.”

  Her long-lashed hazel eyes gleamed sadly in the paleness of her face. “You always had it.”

  His voice was low and heavy with regret. “It was the greatest mistake of my life not to have let that train leave Toronto without me.”

  “I waited in case you came back to look for me.”

  His face tightened painfully. “If only I’d known.”

  She clasped her hands together, leading the way through to the parlour. “How did you discover I was here?”

  “Business kept me at Dekova’s Place overnight. I stayed at the hotel. This morning when I was paying my bill, Mrs. Remotti mentioned seeing me with my horses on the lantern slides. Almost in the next breath she asked if I knew an English woman by the name of Lisa Fernley. Although the surname was not the same, I was certain it would be you.”

  “Then you know I’m married.”

  “Yes.”

  “Still you came?” She sat down on the sofa and he took a seat beside her.

  “I had to see you. Nothing could have kept me away. God knows how many miles I’ve travelled, or how many questions I’ve asked while looking for you. It’s only a couple of months since I came back from Canada again. I never imagined I’d find you in the States.”

  At her request he outlined the route of his long search for her. When she realised they had both been in Calgary at the same time, she exclaimed with surprise. “I was working there then. Where did you stay?” She gave a nod when he told her, knowing the place well, for she had walked past it many times. “To think we might have met nearby, outside the Imperial Bank or by Doll’s Jewellery Store, or any of the emporia in that street. I went that way almost every day.” Her fingers laced themselves together restlessly. “So near and yet so far.”

  “I put inserts in the local newspapers wherever I went.”

  She gave a regretful shake of her head. “I rarely saw a newspaper. I couldn’t afford to buy them and where I worked nobody was interested in reading.”

  “What happened to make you leave Toronto as you did?”

  She told him everything as it had occurred. When it came to her marriage to Alan she made no secret of how it had come about for reasons of companionship and protection. “Alan is good to me,” she concluded. “I could not wish for a better husband, and I think of his child as mine.”

  He leaned forward from the waist with some abruptness. “Do you love him?”

  “You have no right to question me about my feelings.” Her face was half turned away from him as if she were afraid of what he might read there.

  “I have every right, because I love you.” His passionate declaration sent her rising hastily to her feet, still turned from him.

  He stood up and moved close to her. “Lisa. Listen to me. I have to know.”

  She closed her eyes almost with despair as he took her by the shoulder and gently brought her around to him again. To say what she wanted to say would release a situation that must be kept at bay at all costs. But when she did raise her eyes again to look up into his face all was said between them without a word being spoken.

  Spontaneously he reached for her and she fell against him with a soft cry of home-coming. Their kissing was wild, adoring, and insatiable. His crushing embrace absorbed her into him and all else was obliterated except the miracle of his mouth on hers. She felt split asunder by the wonder and marvel of his kisses and clung to him frantically, only wanting their passionate contact to last forever. When eventually he did draw back to gaze at her again, he continued to hold her pressed against him, his hands spread across her back, strong and caressing.

  “I’m never letting you go now that I’ve found you again,” he said with such worship in his expression that she was dazzled, still held in thrall by the spell of their reunion. “You’re in my blood. You have been since that day in Liverpool. I love you more than ever.”

  “I love you, too.”

  They kissed again. She felt as if she was slipping down into a well of desire for him from which there was no escape now or ever, all the restraints of their past meetings lost to her. She had waited for him without knowing she waited. She had continued to love him more than she had ever realised. Her heart had kept watch for his return while she had made herself believe that it could never be.

  “Leave this house with me now,” he urged. “Just as you are. Bring nothing with you. I want to get you away from here.”

  She almost said yes. The affirmative reply trembled on her tongue and how she did not utter it was a mystery to her. But his passing mention of the house had been a lever back to reality. He saw and felt the change that came over her. She leaned back against his supporting hands and pressed her own onto his arms to bring some small distance between his body and hers.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, with a catch in her throat.

  He thought he understood. “Where is Alan Fernley now? I know he’s away because Mrs. Remotti told me you were here on your own at the present time. I’ll go and see him first if you wish. I didn’t intend to snatch you away without some confrontation with the man. As you say, he’s been good to you and for that reason alone I respect him. I’m even grateful to him for taking care of you. God knows what would have happened otherwise.”

  She regarded him tenderly. “I never thought you could be so changed.”

  He compressed his lips together wryly. “Losing you taught me many things. I was bigoted and jealous in those days. I’ve learned wisdom if nothing
else, my dearest love.”

  “Compassion, too?”

  “I like to think I have.”

  She placed her hands lightly on the sides of his face and spoke imploringly: “Then show me compassion by not trying to force me into any hasty decisions.”

  “I was patient all the time I was searching for you, but now that I’ve found you again my patience has run out completely.”

  “Then I beg you to make a special effort to bide your time a while longer. I have others to think about besides myself. Alan is coming home from Seattle today with Minnie, a former Home girl like myself, and she is looking forward to living here. I couldn’t leave within days or weeks of her arrival. She has suffered too many disruptions in her life. Then there is little Harry. I could never give up my right to care for him in any way that Alan would allow, and how would you feel if he came to stay with me for weeks or months at a time?”

  “Anything you wish is agreeable to me.” He covered her hands with his own to draw them down from his face and implant a kiss into both of her palms. “I like children. You know that. I’ll enjoy teaching him to ski and fish and climb and handle a boat.”

  She smiled, a docile prisoner in his clasp. “Thus speaks the true Norseman of his favourite pursuits.”

  He smiled at her. “Those pursuits will make a man of the boy here in the States as in my homeland.” His eyes grew serious again in his love for her. “I want you to bear my sons, Lisa. I want to love you as my wife until the end of our days.”

  She gave a long, blissful sigh. Her head eased into rest against his shoulder and he enfolded her in a quiet embrace. She was too moved for further speech, needing to let all he had said sink wonderfully into her and to contemplate life at his side with no more partings to tear either of them to shreds. He kissed the top of her head, almost in reassurance that he was going to make all her hopes and dreams come true. She felt safe and protected and secure within the curve of his arms, able to withstand any forces that might rage against her. When she raised her face to his again, they kissed lovingly with a soft exploration of lips until such an onslaught of passion for each other assailed them that it was only the anchor of being in Alan’s home that kept her from surrender to him. She broke from his arms and moved away breathlessly, a long strand of her hair disarranged and lying across her shoulder.

  “Not here,” she beseeched, shaking her head as if he might argue with her.

  “I agree.” He was not insensitive to their surroundings and fully comprehended how it was for her.

  “In fact, not until I’m free,” she insisted vehemently. “I won’t deceive Alan.”

  He had always known her to be a woman of conscience. “Then tell me when I shall speak to him. Tonight?”

  “No.” She was adamant. “I’m the one to explain matters to him and ask for a divorce.”

  “I should be with you.” He was anxious for her. “We must see him together.”

  Again she shook her head determinedly. “He’ll not become violent, if that’s what you’re thinking. You see, he loves me.” Her voice wavered and she stood almost helplessly, her arms limp at her sides. When Peter moved forward to offer comfort, she withdrew from him before he could reach her. “Don’t hold me anymore. Not today. I lose my head when I’m close to you and I have to think carefully. I’ll have no chance to talk to Alan this evening with Minnie only just arrived, and he’s leaving again early in the morning. I’ll have to wait until he comes home again.”

  “When will that be?”

  She shrugged in her uncertainty. “Six or seven weeks.” “Are you saying we mustn’t meet during that time?”

  She hugged her arms as if suddenly chilled. Now that they had found each other again she did not know how to endure six minutes or six days without him. Six weeks stretched ahead interminably. “Shall you be coming back to the sawmill before then?”

  “More than that. There’s something you don’t know yet. I’ve been needing a depot not far from Seattle and within easy reach of the lumber camps. That’s why I stayed overnight at the hotel. I’ve rented stables in the settlement and fixed everything with the owner of the property only yesterday. I’ll be moving a new shipment of horses in there before long.”

  A warm wave of relief swept over her. He would be near. She would see him. Times of parting would only be short. “What would you have done about the stables if I had agreed to go away with you today?” she queried.

  He looked amused that she should imagine they would have presented any obstacle. “I’d have soon found some other place. Something nearer Tacoma, perhaps. Who can tell? That doesn’t have to be considered now. I’ll be organised nearer the time you’re ready to leave with me.”

  She closed her eyes briefly in blissful anticipation. “It’s hard to believe I’m not dreaming. Oh, there’s so much I want to hear about your travels and how you started horse-dealing on your own. Why don’t we go for a walk and you can tell me everything on the way?” She felt a great need to be out of the house, wanting to be released from its fetters for a little while. Fetters? She had never thought of her home before in that light. Somehow it emphasised how greatly everything had changed for her since she had opened the door to Peter and had known how it was to have love in her heart again.

  They followed a path well used by local people that took a semi-circular route through forested land to reach the settlement. It took a little longer than walking along the road, but it was more pleasant and they were in no hurry, only happy to be together. She asked about his brother Jon.

  “He’s in a lumber camp not far away. Yes, he’s still in this country. His son is eight years old now and he’s never seen him. It wouldn’t do for me.”

  “Why doesn’t he send to Norway for his wife and child?”

  “Because it is still his intention to return to the farm there one day. It’s greed that keeps him here. He keeps saying he will have one more season before he goes home, but when that season ends he signs on for another. At least he saves what he earns and transfers it regularly to a bank in Norway. Well, most of it anyway. He keeps back some for a binge once in a while.”

  “Do you see him occasionally?”

  “I met him in Seattle only recently. He was wearing a good suit of clothes, but he was still bearded from the forest with his hair down to his shoulders and already drunk. I sobered him up and took him to a barber’s where other loggers were getting trimmed. The floor, gouged over the years by those spiked boots that some of them always wear, was inches thick in hair-clippings. Then my brother found when he came to pay the barber that a poke of golden dollars had been picked from his pocket before meeting me and he was broke. I lent him sufficient to have a good time and get back to camp afterwards. I might as well have saved my money. Can you guess what happened?”

  She smiled at his twinkling glance. “I’ve no idea.”

  “Half an hour later I was having a whisky in Joe’s Saloon. It is always crowded with lumbermen and is reputed to be the longest bar in the West. The doors suddenly burst open and in reeled my brother, drunker than ever and shouting: ‘Everybody have a drink on me!’”

  She tilted her head back and laughed with him. They were holding hands as they always had done when walking side by side. The path was dusty underfoot, for the weather had been consistently hot and sunny for quite a while. When he kissed her before they left the seclusion of the trees, the dust motes hung in the sunshine about them and the air was fragrant with the forest scents of leaf and bark.

  She took her hand from his as they emerged into Dekova’s Place. Gossip flourished as it always did in close communities and for Alan’s sake she wished to give no cause for it. She knew the farrier from whom Peter was renting the stables, which were located behind the smithy. The three of them chatted together until Peter went to check on the property where some feed for the horses had been delivered earlier that day. A loft above the stables would be his sleeping quarters whenever he had to stay there and she resisted the temptation
to go and view it.

  They lunched together at the hotel in the section of the saloon reserved for ladies with escorts or family parties. Risto Saanio waited on them, quick and efficient. Mae came to see that everything served was to their liking.

  “My hunch was right then,” she commented, only able to take a guess at what the reunion might mean to them from what she had observed of Lisa’s reaction to the lantern slides and then the Norwegian’s fierce excitement upon hearing the young woman’s name. “I figured you two must be acquainted.”

  “It was kind of you to put us in touch with each other again,” Lisa said evenly.

  Mae eyed her curiously. She was kind but not wise. The un-spoken words hung in the air. “How long since you two last saw each other?” she inquired casually.

  “Nearly five years,” Peter replied.

  “Five years!” Mae almost gaped. That long a time and they could still look at each other as if their eyes were made of velvet, no matter how they might try to disguise it. If there wasn’t some kind of lasting love between them, then her name wasn’t Mae Remotti. Maybe she had interfered unwisely. Alan Fernley was a man she liked and admired too much to want to cause him personal trouble. If he had had a wandering eye she would have directed it towards herself, for he had that look about him of being good in bed, which was instant attraction for her, but he never cast a glance beyond his beautiful wife and she couldn’t blame him for that. Yet had Lisa’s beauty ever bloomed as much as on this day when she sat opposite a man from out of the past? Mae did not think she had ever seen her looking more radiant.

  “Try a slice of the cherry pie,” she advised them as Risto cleared plates away. “It’s fresh-baked.”

  But they only wanted coffee. And each other. Mae could read that thought as she busied herself looking after other customers, her covert attention drawn time and time again to the couple talking quietly together, believing it wasn’t noticeable that they were holding hands. Dear God! What had she started? There was enough misery in this world without stirring up any more. Why hadn’t she kept to the good sense of the old adage about letting sleeping dogs lie?

 

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