The Visions of Ransom Lake

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  The single spark of happiness, of joy, in Vaden’s heart did glimmer at the thought of him. In fact, it began to burn with a renewed brightness, but as Vaden reminisced again of the humiliation she now felt at having been found by Ransom Lake in such a state as she had been, having acted as she had, she buried the glow and only spoke softly to Yvonne. “Tell him…tell him I thank him. I thank him more than he can ever know.” She was silent again as she unlatched the window and opened it. Perhaps the cold, crisp air of November, of approaching winter, would clear her mind of the horrid memories and the battle raging within her.

  “Oh, Vay,” Yvonne sighed. But she knew it was futile to try further, so she left the room.

  Vaden closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the cool air entering her room through the open window. She felt the snowflakes alight on her cheeks, nose, lips, and eyelashes and tried to enjoy the feel of their moisture as they melted against the warmth of her skin. She inhaled deeply again, struggling with everything she was to find a scent of loveliness on the air—something to fill her lungs and chase away the smell of pine and dirt, to drive from her mind the feel of a dirty handkerchief at her mouth, of the ropes that had bound her arms and feet rendering her helpless—something to gladden her broken heart.

  And then, as if by magic, a tear escaped her softly closed eyes as a faint scent of a thing beloved and familiar did tickle her senses. It was the scent of shaving soap, of leather gloves, of horsehair and saddles, mingled with the fragrance of freshly baked bread. Myra had been baking bread, and Vaden had been breathing the comforting aroma for some time. But now it seemed stronger, closer somehow, and she opened her eyes to behold the enchanting vision of Ransom Lake standing before her. He stood just outside her window looking in at her, his expression plain and indiscernible, a loaf of Myra’s freshly baked bread wrapped securely in a cloth and tucked beneath his arm.

  He put a fist to his mouth as he coughed several times before he frowned and barked firmly, “Snap out of it, girl.”

  Vaden parted her lips to try to say something, but no sound could be forced from her throat, for she did not know what to say to him. He coughed again, reached through the window, and took her chin determinedly in his gloved hand.

  “Don’t let it beat ya down. Don’t let one bad thing in life beat the warmth of your heart into the dirt. You’ll lose it forever if ya don’t buck up now. I know the fact of that.” Ransom Lake tugged at Vaden’s chin in his hand, and she leaned out the window toward him. The house’s foundation being only a foot or less from the ground put her gaze nearly level with his, and the warmth of his breath on her face caused Vaden’s heart to begin racing with excitement once more. His face was so near to hers as he stared intently into her eyes that were she to move less than one more inch forward, she might have accidentally been blessed with a taste of his lips, and it thrilled her. She scolded herself inwardly for even thinking of it, for she knew now the consequences of acting so boldly.

  “Rein in, girl. Don’t let it get the better of ya. Next time I’m out this way, I want that spark for life back in your eyes. Ya hear me?” Then he released her, coughed twice more, and, as quickly as he had appeared before her, was walking away down the alley.

  Vaden watched him walk away through the flurry of snowflakes, and the glow of love left in her did not fade away but rather stayed, warming her bosom some. She knew it was the feeling of love for the man Ransom Lake that had kept her from completely losing herself. Even if he would never love her, she did love him, and she had been his friend at least. He had said so himself. And that was something. She put her hand out the window then and caught several flakes of snow on her palm.

  “They are charming bits of loveliness,” she mumbled to herself. Her attention was arrested by a small boy running down the street. He twisted and turned as he went, his face turned upward, his mouth open wide and tongue hanging out as he tried to catch the frozen particles of moisture in his mouth. At watching the child’s carefree joy, the corners of Vaden’s mouth turned up slightly for the first time in days.

  Myra radiated her joy from every pore as Vaden, fully dressed and feature of face relaxed from frowning, sat down to supper with the rest of the family that evening.

  “Are you…are you feeling better, sweet pea?” she asked.

  Vaden smiled and said, “I will. I know I will, Auntie.”

  Myra sighed with relief.

  There was no reference made to anything too important during supper, and Vaden knew the family was being sensitive to her tender emotions. Dan discussed trivial things about the stock and neighbors, and Myra complained about the condition of her bread, its imperfections caused from having the oven too hot or too cool.

  Then, just after dinner as the family was retiring to the parlor, there came a loud knock at the door. Yvonne responded to it and returned momentarily with a small wooden box in hand.

  “This was on the front porch,” Yvonne announced as she entered the parlor. “It’s got a paper here with your name printed on it, Vaden. Rather sloppily if I do say so. Perhaps one of your little fairy tale lovers has left it.”

  Vaden reached out, taking the small box from Yvonne. Removing the envelope from its place on top of the box, she placed it on her lap and opened the envelope that simply had Miss Vaden Valmont written on it.

  “To Vaden,” she read from the small piece of paper within. “That’s all it says,” she added, looking at the back of the paper just in case.

  “What is it?” Myra asked, now curious as well and coming to stand beside her niece.

  Vaden opened the box, and there, beneath a layer of white linen, lay several tan-colored objects that resembled some sort of cookie.

  “Pralines!” Myra exclaimed! “Oh, they are so delicious! And I know of only one person in town who makes those. Sable Clayton!”

  Vaden felt her heart immediately sink. “You mean you think…you think…Jerome Clayton left these for me?” she asked in disappointment.

  “Well,” Myra explained, sensing her niece’s rather odd disappointment, “Sable sells them too. I suppose someone could’ve purchased them and left them for ya.”

  “My, my, my, little sister,” Yvonne teased lovingly. “Your first secret admirer.”

  Vaden did smile then, for whether or not she desired attention from Jerome, it was a romantic gesture. Picking up a piece of confection, she tasted for the first time the brown sugary, pecan blended flavor of the praline. “Mmmmm!” she sighed. “That is the best thing I’ve ever in my life eaten! Try this, Vonnie.”

  Yvonne sighed and nodded. Carefully she broke off a small piece of the candy and placed it daintily on her tongue. “I’ve not tasted anything like that!” she admitted quite sincerely.

  Vaden passed the small box around until Dan had taken two and Myra, scolding her husband for being greedy, had taken one. Then, when Myra had given the box back to Vaden, Vaden scowled as she noticed a piece of straw protruding from beneath the linen on which the candy sat. Carefully, so as not to damage the confection, she pulled back the linen and saw a rock nestled in a handful of straw.

  “That’s odd,” she murmured as she looked at it. “Why would the box be weighted with a rock?”

  “Perhaps he, whoever ‘he’ is, feared a wind would come up and blow the thing off the porch,” Yvonne offered.

  But as Vaden lifted the linen and candy completely out of the box, she saw another note lying next to the rock. Carefully she drew out the second piece of paper and opened it, reading to herself.

  “For pity’s sake, Vay, what does it say?” Yvonne whined.

  “It says, Hard, cold, and unfeeling to look at. But look inside. I’d like to see the smile that this will bring to your pretty face, for nothing on earth can match the beauty of your smile.” Vaden, still too traumatized to be over flattered, frowned, though Myra and Yvonne both giggled with delight. “How can you look inside a rock?”

  Myra shrugged, as did Yvonne.

  But Dan’s eyes seemed to twi
nkle, and he said, “Turn it over, sweet pea. Look inside.” Vaden smiled at him, for it occurred to her this secret admirer could very well be her sweet, dear Uncle Dan. She took the rock from its nest of straw, and an odd thrill ran through her body as she touched it. Then, turning it over, she drew in a quick breath as her eyes beheld the inside of the rock, which was hollow somewhat yet with inner walls covered in beautiful amethyst crystal.

  “Would ya look at that,” Myra exclaimed in a whisper.

  “I’ve never seen such a thing before,” Yvonne added.

  “It’s a geode,” Dan stated, holding out his hand. Vaden smiled and placed the lovely piece of nature in his palm. “Them crystals form inside some kinds of rocks. It’s deceivin’, ain’t it?”

  Vaden knowingly smiled at her Uncle Dan and whispered, “Thank you, Uncle Dan.”

  Dan shook his head as he handed the stone back to Vaden. “I didn’t have nothin’ whatsoever to do with this, darlin’. No matter what you’re thinkin’.”

  Vaden smiled all the same, and the love she felt for her uncle helped in healing her heart somewhat. It was good and wonderful to be loved by family and friends. Especially certain friends, she thought.

  

  Within three or four days, Vaden was something akin to what she once had been. She could laugh again, though not as heartily. She could see beauty in life, though not as much of it.Little by little, a much more grown-up Vaden was finding fragments of herself again.

  Jerome, who had been excessively concerned about her well-being, came to see her often. The fact was that Vaden’s emotions were not as passionate as they once were, thus allowing her to be more tolerant of his still undesired attentions. She finally found the patience to pity him in seeing his side of the situation.

  “Will ya come for a walk with me this evenin’, Miss Vaden?” Jerome inquired on that particular afternoon. “It would do ya good to get some fresh air.”

  “Oh, I think I’ve had enough fresh air for a while. But I thank you for asking, Mr. Clayton. And I appreciate your concern.” Vaden reached out, squeezing Jerome’s hand reassuringly when his expression showed disappointment. “I’m sure I’ll feel like a walk very soon.”

  Jerome smiled, encouraged. “Well, soon then. Soon. I’ve been miserable without ya, Miss Vaden. After what happened and you were so…so…not yourself. I found myself dreamin’ of that beautiful smile of yours.”

  Vaden quickly looked to him, but she could not discern whether there was hidden meaning in his remark about her smile.

  Then he lowered his voice and spoke, “Forgive me, Miss Vaden. But I’ve been so angry, so enraged, about what my friends…those men did to ya.”

  Vaden shook her head and turned from him, not wanting to be further reminded of the experience. “It’s in the past. The near past perhaps, but the past all the same, Mr. Clayton. Let’s not speak of it.”

  “Please. Let me finish. Let me say my piece, Miss Vaden.” He was so stern and blunt that she did indeed nod and wait for him to speak. “I was so angry with them that it took me until yesterday to think on what happened afterward. What happened when Ransom Lake found ya. I’ve heard he wasn’t even hardly dressed. And that he was forcing ya to—”

  “Nathaniel Wimber abducted me from the street, Mr. Clayton!” Vaden exclaimed, suddenly very vexed. “Nathaniel, Toby, Frank, and Randy! People I thought were my friends…tore my shirtwaist handling me so brutally, tied me up, and forced me into a pine box and nailed it shut! And you stand before me questioning Ransom Lake’s behavior? Ransom Lake stopped it! He stopped their cruelty to me and brought me safely home. Do you think it matters a whit to me, my aunt and uncle, or anyone else who could imagine what I had gone through…do you think it matters to anyone else that he didn’t pause to dress for the occasion?” Vaden calmed herself as another thought struck her. “What else did Nathaniel tell you, Mr. Clayton? What other slanderous things did that troublemaker tell you? My clothing was torn away at the shoulder, Mr. Clayton. I was without a proper coat for protection from the cold that night. Ransom Lake did nothing more than keep me warm—nothing more than protect me from the people that had hurt me!”

  “You’re very protective of him, Vaden,” Jerome stated. Vaden was irritated at his use of her given name. “Nathaniel said that you and he were—”

  “Were what?” Vaden exclaimed. “What? I may be very protective of Ransom Lake—protective of the man who delivered me from those idiots you call friends—but you’re unusually protective of Nathaniel. Do you agree with what he involved himself in? Do you think what they did to me was amusing? Do you wish they would’ve invited you along so you too could’ve enjoyed my terror?”

  Jerome sighed, and his face softened somewhat. Shaking his head, he said, “No. No, of course not. They were wrong. And you’re right. There’s no reason to accuse Ransom Lake of any wrong doin’.”

  Vaden untied her apron and slammed it down on the countertop. “You’re right, Mr. Clayton. I do need some fresh air. A walk would be very nice. A walk by myself!” After going to the back room, snatching up a wrap, and telling Yvonne she was going out, Vaden left by way of the mercantile front door, leaving Jerome looking guilty and discouraged.

  

  It was thus that Vaden found herself perched high in the branches of her favorite maple. The dear tree was nearly barren of leaves now, and it made for a broader view of the landscape. The late afternoon air hinted of the frigid evening to come, perhaps even snow. Vaden sighed heavily as she gazed out across the land at Ransom Lake’s rooftop. It was some time before she realized no smoke rose from the chimney. Odd, she thought, for it was very chilly out, and, no doubt, he would’ve built his evening fire by now. Something cold traced Vaden’s spine as the realization penetrated her mind and an oppressive feeling of uneasiness washed over her. Climbing down from the tree, she started toward the road and was relieved to see Vaughn Wimber driving his wagon in the direction of Ransom Lake’s home.

  “Mr. Wimber!” she called out, walking to him when the wagon stopped. He nodded in greeting. “Good evening, Mr. Wimber. Would you perchance be going to visit Mr. Lake?”

  “Miss Vaden, I want ya to know that we’re so sorry about Nathaniel’s behavior the other night,” the man apologized very sincerely. “We just can’t believe that our boy would do such a thing and—”

  “It’s forgotten,” Vaden lied. She had no time to accept apologies. She felt in her soul something was not right where Ransom Lake was concerned. “Are you indeed going to visit Mr. Lake?” she asked again.

  “Well, yes.” Vaughn Wimber looked puzzled. “I’m going out there this minute with my own apologies for his trouble as well. Would ya like to come along? I’ll only be a minute, and then I’ll drop ya back home.”

  “That would be fine. Just fine. Thank you, Mr. Wimber,” she sighed, climbing onto the wagon seat beside him. Glancing back to the bed of the wagon, she let her mind linger only an instant on those wonderful moments she’d spent at that very spot in Ransom Lake’s arms. Then she looked ahead. No more looking back. She tried to sit still as they rode slowly toward his house.

  Vaden’s heart began to pound wildly as it always did whenever she was anticipating a meeting with Ransom Lake. As the house came into view and the wagon approached it, she feared Vaughn Wimber might actually hear the mad beating of her heart.

  Vaughn pulled the team to a halt just before the house and helped Vaden down from the wagon. Then he followed her as she rushed to the front door and knocked firmly.

  As they stood together before the door, Vaughn muttered, “It sure is dark in there. And where’s his dog?”

  Vaden began to panic and kicked the door three times with her foot. They waited, and Vaughn sighed and said, “There. Here he comes,” as they heard a scuffling from the other side. The door opened slowly, and Vaughn greeted, “Afternoon, Ransom. I’ve come to offer our family’s apologies.” Ransom Lake stood before them wrapped in a blanket and coughing violently, his cheeks blaz
ing red and his eyes only open narrow slits. Vaughn Wimber stepped in front of Vaden, pushing his way past Ransom Lake and into the house. “How long ya been sick like this, Ransom?” he asked.

  Vaden was horrified to find Ransom Lake in such a weakened condition. She followed Vaughn into the house and looked around, noting the cold, dark, and cluttered state of the room.

  “Just got me a bit of the ‘under the weather,’” Ransom Lake forced out, his voice raspy and fevered.

  “Ya got more than a bit of it.” Vaughn put a rough hand to the man’s face. “Yer plum burnin’ up! How long’s this been goin’ on?”

  “It’ll pass,” Ransom Lake stated. Again he coughed. Vaden could hear it came from deep within his chest.

  “It was the bitter cold on Halloween that finds you this way,” Vaden remarked as a familiar pang of guilt dug at her heart.

  “Just a bitty cough, girl. Nothin’ to take too serious,” Ransom argued.

  Vaden knew better. Immediately, she practically pounced on the man, holding one palm to his forehead while the other hand fumbled with his grasp on the blanket at his chest. “Let this go!” she demanded, and more out of surprise than anything else, Ransom relaxed his grip on the blanket. Vaden put an ear to the man’s sculpted and overly warm chest and listened intently. “Go for my Aunt Myra, Mr. Wimber. Doctor Sullivan is gone to visit his daughter for the holiday, and Mr. Lake’s lungs are rattling something terrible. Have her bring some broth and…well, she’ll know what else. Tell her he’s got fever, rattling lungs, chills. She’ll know what to do.”

  “Well, I…I can’t just leave ya here alone with the man, Miss Vaden.” Vaughn Wimber was obviously unconvinced he should leave.

  “I’ve been in far worse predicaments, Mr. Wimber,” Vaden reminded him, though not cruelly. “It’s plain he’s worsening and not getting any better. It could be pneumonia! My Aunt Myra will know what to do. Hurry!”