by BJ Hoff
As for his daughter, Eva Grace kept falling into fits of weeping. And when he so much as asked the girl a question, she looked as if she feared he might strike her.
What had he ever done to make his daughters fearful of him? He had never laid a hand on Kate or any one of the girls. Nor Ray either, for that matter, although it wasn’t because the lad didn’t test him often enough.
He was no Richard Barlow, after all. He would never touch one of his own in anger. He’d had enough of that madness as a boy from his own father.
With a defeated feeling that sank deep into his soul, he recognized that his girls had grown up thinking him hard-hearted. They couldn’t know why he was the way he was, could never have understood that their father was in many ways two men, one who had grown up amid violence and was himself as volatile as a keg of dynamite, the other a man who found it impossible to open himself to anyone except his wife.
He had been a boy, and then a man, who guarded himself from becoming close to anyone, from exposing whatever gentleness might be a part of his nature, and so had become hard and lived at a distance from everyone, even his children. Only with Kate could he be soft, even weak. He didn’t intentionally hold himself apart from the ones he loved more than anything in the world. Matthew had simply lived within himself so long he knew no other way to be.
And so they all sat watching him now, obviously wondering what to expect. Even his wounded, battered daughter couldn’t look at him. Father in heaven, he would die for any one of them! And his own daughter couldn’t look him in the eye for fear of what she might see.
He swallowed down the taste of regret and a wrenching sadness. A moment more, and he reached for his daughter’s hand and held it carefully in his. “What’s the rest of it, lass?” he asked, careful to keep his voice soft. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Finally, she looked at him through her red, swollen eyes. “I’m going to have a baby, Da.”
Matthew felt the air go out of him. A rush of feelings came bearing down on him like a flood.
“Are you now?” he managed to choke out.
She nodded. “I’m sorry, Da.”
“Sorry?” He stared at her, bewildered. “A baby is a wonderful thing, girl. Why would you be sorry?”
“Oh, not about the baby, Da! I’m glad for the baby. But for bringing all this down on you, this terrible thing and my shame. I’m so sorry, Da, but I didn’t know what else to do except to come home.”
Stunned, Matthew felt as though something inside of him was being ripped to pieces. He tried to speak, but could only squeeze his daughter’s hand. Finally he found his voice. “Ah, no…no, Evie. You’ve brought nothing terrible to this house. Not now, not ever. And the only shame in any of this belongs to Richard Barlow.” The man’s name on his tongue tasted like a curse.
He pulled her close against him, lay a hand on her head, and stroked her hair. “Of course, you came home. You did exactly the right thing. As for what you’ve brought to us—you’ve brought us nothing but blessings, daughter. And now this—a new grandchild? What you’ve given us is a gift.”
She collapsed against him, this daughter of his who was always so bright, so sure of herself, so lovely it seemed she could have the world if she wanted it. She melted into him, sobbing as if she were a little girl again.
“Oh, Daddy…Daddy…” Over and over she sobbed the name she had never called him before tonight.
Daddy.
And Matthew found himself grateful that she could call him that. “Da” was the name of the man who had raised her and been strong for her. But “Daddy”? Surely that was the name for a man whose shoulder she could cry on.
Matthew buried his face in his daughter’s hair, hoping to transfer what strength there was in him to her delicate nature, to her suffering spirit, at the same time drawing comfort for his own pain from her need of him, her reliance on him. How strange a thing the human heart was, that even broken, it could still contain the sweetness of a daughter’s love.
Later, Kate and Matthew talked for what seemed like half the night, until their shock and anger finally gave way to a sorrowful acceptance.
Kate felt a strange relief gradually settle over her, relief that no matter what her daughter had endured, she was now safe. Even so, she couldn’t block out the thought of Eva Grace under the pounding hands of Richard Barlow. She had seen a fleeting image of his viciousness for herself this afternoon, the look of wild fury in his eyes when he turned on Eva Grace.
Kate shuddered, and Matthew strengthened his embrace even as he slept.
She sighed. This was the first time in months he had drawn back the curtain on his long withdrawal and opened up to her as he once had. She hated the thought that it had taken a tragedy—their daughter’s tragedy—to bring him to the point where he could again show his need for her comfort.
He had talked in whispers, wept in her arms, and she in his, and when their sorrow finally gave way to exhaustion, peace had settled over them. It was then that he quietly confessed to her the ugly, violent thoughts toward Richard that had crowded his mind from the moment he learned of the man’s perfidy.
“I’ve never been able to lose the memory of my father going after my mother in one of his rages, using his fists or a belt or whatever was handy to him. Oh, Kate, the thought of my own daughter as a victim of that sick savagery likes to tear me to pieces.”
“You have to stop thinking about it, Matthew. Stop torturing yourself.”
“But don’t you see, Kate? This business with Eva Grace—when I heard, I could have gone after Barlow the same as I did with my da, that night I beat him off my mother. If I could have got my hands on that degenerate, I’d have murdered him! But that makes me no better man than Barlow or my father. The same thing is in me, that hellish, wicked rage that drives a man like Richard and my father. It’s in me too, Kate.”
“No! That’s not true a bit, Matthew. Don’t you ever think that way! Not for a moment. Do you actually believe I could live with you all these years and not know the kind of man you are?”
“Kate, do you doubt at all what I would have done to Richard had he been within my reach today? Do you, Kate?”
She ached for him. She had known, almost from the time they’d wed, that Matthew harbored a terror of the darkness he believed lurked inside him. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognize the truth, that he had a fiery temper and was often hard-pressed to restrain it. She’d seen evidence of it more than once, though it was never directed at her or the children. While he might grow impatient and irritable with any one of them at times, and though he could turn nearly livid with outrage about the injustices done to himself and the other miners and their families, he had never once became physical in his wrath. Admittedly, his temper had shortened since the accident, but that was from the pain.
She knew about the bad blood between him and his father, who must have been a terrible, violent man—a tyrant with his own wife and sons. But Matthew had told her only what he couldn’t keep locked inside himself any longer, that and no more. She knew there was more, but she didn’t need to know what it was. Kate had seen enough evil to recognize it, and Matthew MacAuley was not an evil man. Nor was he a violent man, no matter what he believed of himself. In truth, her husband was a kind, even a gentle man, one whom she suspected had never known himself very well.
She reached up to touch his hair, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and lay enfolded in his arms, drawing strength and comfort from his warmth even as she wept quietly again for him, for herself, and for their first-born, broken daughter.
“Richard will try to take the baby.”
“You don’t know that, Evie.”
The bedroom, as always, was colder than the rest of the house. But although Maggie and Eva Grace again tonight huddled in the same bed, it was more for comfort than warmth.
Exhausted from the turmoil of the day, Maggie fought to keep her eyes open and concentrate on what Evie was saying. She wanted to be a source of strengt
h to her sister, but at the moment it was all she could do to stay awake.
“I know Richard. I know how he thinks. He’ll try to take the baby, Maggie. He will.”
A fresh blast of anger toward Richard roused Maggie from her drowsiness. “Well, even if he tries, it won’t happen. Da won’t let it happen.”
“I don’t know if even Da is a match for the likes of Richard. He’s mean, Maggie. And he’s clever. He’s smart. And he’s right about my leaving. I did run away. He can probably use that against me if he should decide he wants the baby.”
Maggie refused to concede even the possibility that she might be right. The thought of Evie’s baby in the hands of its father made her shudder.
“Listen, Evie, you can’t think that way. Even if Richard tries to get custody, he can be stopped. We’ll find a way. The only thing you need to concentrate on is staying well. You take care of yourself and the baby, and leave everything else to the rest of us.”
A thought struck her. “I haven’t even asked you when the baby’s due! In all the confusion…I didn’t think.”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t seen a doctor yet.” Evie’s voice was strained. “I told you, our doctor is a friend of Richard’s, and I was trying to keep the baby a secret until I decided what to do. But Richard noticed the weight I’d gained…the way my hands and feet would swell sometimes…and he figured it out.”
Maggie thought for a moment. “The swelling—is that normal?”
“I suppose. I don’t know.”
“Well, there’s no reason to put off seeing the doctor any longer.”
Evie made a sound under her breath. “Dr. Woodbridge. Da’s always claimed he’s a quack.”
“That’s just Da. You know how he is.” A thought struck Maggie. “Besides, you just might not have to go to Dr. Woodbridge after all. There’s a new doctor on the outskirts of town. A woman doctor.”
Evie’s eyes widened. “A woman? Are you sure?”
“I haven’t heard much about her, but I know where her office is. You have to see a doctor soon. You need to make sure…”
“That the baby is all right. I know.”
Maggie chose her words carefully. “You did say Richard hit you in the stomach.”
“But I’ve felt the baby move several times since then. She must be all right.”
“She?”
“What?”
“You said ‘she,’ ” Maggie pointed out. “You must think the baby is a girl.”
Evie was silent for a long moment. “In truth I can’t bear the thought of giving birth to a boy. I’m afraid he might grow up to be like Richard.”
“Oh Evie!” Maggie reached for her sister’s hand. “That won’t happen! You’ll be the one who raises your child, not Richard. Your baby will be just fine.”
“I pray you’re right, Maggie. But I’m so afraid…”
“Don’t be.” Maggie squeezed her hand. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, and you’re going to have a wonderful baby. But you do need to be finding out when.”
“Maggie?”
“What?”
“Will you go with me to see the doctor? I don’t want to go alone.”
“I think Mum will want to be the one who goes with you, Evie.”
Her sister sighed. “I’d rather it be you. Oh, I don’t want to do this! Everyone in town is going to know what happened to me.”
“That’s not so. You don’t have to tell anyone anything. It’s nobody’s business but yours.”
“This is Skingle Creek, remember?” Evie said bitterly. “Everyone in town knows all there is to know about one another. There’s no keeping any secrets around here.”
“Well, even if a few people do know, they’re not going to blame you for anything. They’ll just be glad you’re safe at home. And they’ll be happy about the baby. Besides, since when are you all that concerned about what people think?”
Maggie stopped for a second. “Evie, I know right at this moment you can’t look much further ahead than tonight. But you have a family, and you still have friends in Skingle Creek who will do everything they can to help you. You’ll see.”
When there was no reply from her sister, Maggie waited a few moments more. Hearing Evie’s breathing deepen and grow steady, Maggie turned onto her side, expecting to fall asleep in no time. Instead she spent another restless hour, unable to dismiss an encroaching fear of what might yet lie ahead for her sister. She had done her best to reassure Evie; she only wished she could reassure herself.
Chapter Fourteen
A Silent Suffering
They look up with their pale and sunken faces,
And their look is dread to see.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Jonathan knew he wouldn’t have a chance to talk with Maggie until later in the day on Monday, but from the time she walked inside the building that morning he could tell something was wrong.
He caught only a glimpse of her as she walked by his office, gave him a quick wave, and went on. But the spring in her step was missing, and there was a rare droop to her shoulders, not to mention her distracted expression. He sensed she hadn’t really seen him as she went by.
During lunch recess he went outside hoping to have a word with her, but Carolyn Ross was already in the school yard and came up to him as soon as he stepped out the door. He felt enough guilt about the day before that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but give her his full attention. 117
He’d behaved badly Sunday, and his conscience was still plaguing him. The only thing Carolyn had asked of him, after all, was his attendance at the recital for her music students, some of whom were also his classroom students.
She had encouraged quite a few of the children to study music in one form or another with her. Some merely learned to read the notes, but others were actually playing instruments by now, thanks to the donation of some used instruments from a music store in Lexington. In addition, Ben Wallace, her pastor and Jonathan’s, allowed the students to practice on the church piano.
Jonathan found it somewhat curious that Carolyn had her own piano at home but drew the line at letting the children come and practice there. He would have thought that being childless, she might welcome having youngsters around.
Of course, the lessons themselves meant a substantial sacrifice of her time and effort. It was a generous thing to do, and he certainly had no right to question her methods.
Yesterday, when he should have given her and the children his undivided attention, he’d been hard-pressed to concentrate. Although Carolyn had said nothing, Jonathan knew she must have noticed.
The truth was that the time he’d spent with Maggie on Friday evening had left him preoccupied with thoughts of her . His attention hadn’t been on the recital or on Carolyn because he couldn’t keep his mind off Maggie.
What he should have done was to take Carolyn to lunch after church, escort her to the recital, and perhaps suggest a drive or a walk afterward. He had taken her to lunch, but he’d struggled to keep his mind from wandering. Immediately after the recital he paid his compliments to the students and made what must have seemed like an unnecessarily hasty departure.
He was still berating himself for his conduct, which, if not altogether rude, had been at the least inconsiderate. Without question, he needed to make up for his thoughtlessness. At the same time, he couldn’t help but steal a glance now and then at Maggie, and when he did, there was no ignoring the shadows around her eyes and the tight set of her mouth. The high color that usually characterized her complexion was considerably paler today; she looked unhappy. Unhappy and worried.
Unease crept over him, but he resigned himself to the fact that there would be no opportunity to find out what was troubling her until after dismissal.
In the meantime, he turned his full attention back to Carolyn.
“Are you well, Jonathan?”
He looked at her, not understanding. “Am
I well? Why, yes. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
Carolyn shrugged, still watching him closely. “I get the feeling you’re anywhere else but here today. For that matter, you seemed awfully distant yesterday too.”
Jonathan made a sincere effort to explain—without really explaining. “I’m sorry. I’ll admit that I haven’t been at my best lately. Too many things on my mind, I suppose.”
She deepened his guilt with her reply.
“You do too much, Jonathan. You need to take better care of yourself. I hope you don’t mind my bringing this up, but I know about your former illness. Shouldn’t you be careful not to overdo?”
“Where on earth did you hear that?” Unreasonably irked, Jonathan spoke more sharply than he meant to. “That was over a decade ago, Carolyn. I’m perfectly fine now, and have been for years.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just concerned.”
She glanced away, obviously stung. His conscience pricked, Jonathan touched her arm in a conciliatory gesture. “I know. I didn’t mean to be short. But that was all so long ago I tend to forget about it. I suppose I thought everyone else had too. I really am sorry.”
The smile she usually wore for him returned. “You’re forgiven. By the way, you might not have realized it, but the children were ever so excited that you came to the recital.”
“Oh, I enjoyed it! I really did. You do a fine job with them, you know. I saw quite a lot of improvement since last time.”
“Why, thank you, Jonathan. I’m pleased that you noticed. I was wondering…”
She stopped. Jonathan waited. and then prompted, “Carolyn?”
She looked at him. “Well, I thought if—”
Whatever she’d been about to say was lost when a shriek sounded from the far end of the school yard. They both took off running. By the time they got there, Maggie was already on her knees beside little Huey Lazlo, who was lying face down beneath the big old hickory tree while some of the other children stood watching. His older sister stood nearby, staring at her brother with obvious fear.