“I knew she would,” Vaden answered finally.
“That Ransom Lake,” Myra sighed. “I don’t know how he’s avoided death this long as solitary as he keeps himself. I’ll be honest, and not just to pat myself on the back for knowin’ what to do, but if we hadn’t have helped him through the night…well, things may have been much, much worse.” Myra put a comforting arm about Vaden’s shoulders. “What’s that scowl cuttin’ your brow for, sweet pea?”
Vaden rubbed at her temples for a moment and then said, “Oh, I’m just very tired, Auntie. Truly.”
“Well, I think the poor soul should be invited for Thanksgiving dinner.” Yvonne looked completely guiltless in her reasoning when Vaden quickly looked up at her. “After all, he’s so…so alone. Don’t you think so, Vaden?” Yvonne winked, and Vaden felt guilty for having thought badly of her sister for even a moment. It was obvious Yvonne knew it would please Vaden to have Ransom Lake in for Thanksgiving.
“It’s a wonderful idea!” Myra exclaimed. “I’ll come over with your Uncle Dan tomorrow to check on Ransom, and we’ll invite him then.” Myra frowned for a moment and mused, “Oh, dear. What if someone has already asked him?”
“Then we’ll invite him for Christmas!” Yvonne chirped.
Vaden nodded her agreement. Her eyes wandered to her left as the road they trod passed by the turnoff to her favorite tree by the brook.
“Vaden,” Yvonne began that night after the sisters had turned down the lamp and snuggled comfortably beneath their covers. “Vaden, I couldn’t bring myself to confess this before…because I was astounded about it on Halloween night when he brought you home…and everything was so traumatic that I didn’t say anything. But now I have to say it, Vaden. I had no idea!”
“No idea about what?” Vaden asked, though she already knew to what her sister referred.
“Well, I mean…when you told me that you’d…you know…that you’d seen Ransom Lake…improperly attired…well, I just had no idea he looked so…so…”
“Indescribable?” Vaden snapped.
Yvonne giggled slightly. “Yes! Yes, that’s it exactly!”
“Did you think I made the story up then, Vonnie?” Vaden snapped.
“Oh, no! No! Of course not, Vay! I believed you. It’s just that…well, I always thought somehow I’d be horrified to retching the first time I saw such a thing. But…but I wasn’t. In fact, I would say the experience went beyond interesting. He’s marvelously sculpted, Vay.”
“I know.”
“And soft-skinned. You know, I expected him to feel more like…I don’t know…a fish maybe. All slimy and scaly.”
“Now that’s utterly ridiculous, Yvonne! You’re only being dramatic now, and I refuse to listen to it!” Turning from her sister, Vaden held the blanket tightly around her shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Vay?” Yvonne asked, genuinely concerned. “You’ve been testy all day. Is it simply fatigue? Or is something else bothering you?”
“Nothing is bothering me, Yvonne. I’m simply too tired to talk.” Vaden felt guilty lying to her sister, for she knew Yvonne would understand if she were to explain her concerns. But instead she simply mumbled, “Goodnight.”
“And to think, Vay…he risked his health to rescue you from the clutches of evil that night. It’s terribly tender, isn’t it?” Yvonne sighed.
Vaden feigned sleep then. It didn’t even occur to her that somehow the tables had turned. Vaden Valmont had begun to lose her ability to dream, to have her heart take flight over fanciful thoughts, while her sister, ever straitlaced and proper before, was talking in the language of fairy tales.
CHAPTER NINE
Ransom Lake recovered. He had accepted Myra’s invitation for Thanksgiving dinner too. Thanksgiving was moving closer and closer, and Vaden still battled her emotions—her uncertainties—her prospects. Or rather, prospect. Jerome, as always, was overly attentive and charming. In the past three weeks following the incident of Halloween night, he had been more the perfect gentleman and friend than ever. And because he was so, coupled with the fact Ransom Lake had not shown his face in town since that time, Vaden had neglected to tell Jerome she could never settle for him. Inwardly her dreams battled with reality, and reality, for once, was getting the better of her. Jerome was an attractive, attentive, well-mannered man. He would, no doubt, work hard to make her happy, to build a family with her, and make a life for them all. And the truth of it was Jerome was reality.
Jerome came into the store every day, often bearing some small gift for her as a token of his affections. Vaden had taken several evening walks with him as well. She’d even relented to his continuing request and began calling him by his given name. Never, however, did she allow him to kiss her again in any fashion.
It began to seem to Vaden she would need to accept Jerome as her lot in life—that she would have to accept Ransom Lake had been allowed to touch her young existence only so she could learn that along with joy and wonderful things, heartache and sorrow were also part of living. She still struggled with the humiliation, the terror, and the tormenting memory of the devastating Halloween night. She struggled with the horrid residual memories of panic—and then with the blissful memories of Ransom Lake’s kiss savored in the back of a wagon. All of these things created a great and unsettled turmoil within Vaden. She often felt as if her thoughts and her actions would never be wholly her own again.
It was two days before Thanksgiving, a cool, autumn Monday morning, when Ransom Lake did at last enter the mercantile. Yvonne and Vaden were straightening the store, and Myra was at the counter when he entered.
“Well, good mornin’, ladies—Florence Nightingales of the county,” he greeted with a smile and in his low, mumbly manner.
Vaden felt her heart leap into her throat but tried to turn slowly to greet him.
“Good morning, Mr. Lake,” Yvonne welcomed exuberantly.
“Miss Valmont. Miss Vaden,” Ransom greeted, nodding his head at first to one girl and then the other.
“You about ready for my world-famous pumpkin pies, Ransom?” Myra asked.
Ransom Lake smiled, nodding his head. “I sure am, Myra. I just hope I can get here on Thursday is all.”
“What do you mean?” Vaden erupted, for it alarmed her he would even imply he wouldn’t be with them for Thanksgiving when she’d looked forward to it so.
“There’s a storm comin’,” he answered, still looking to Myra. “A heavy one. I think we’ll all be pretty snowed in nice and tight by Thursday morning.”
“But you’ll still come, won’t you?” Yvonne asked. “You can’t miss Thanksgiving, Mr. Lake.”
“Oh, I suppose I’ll make it somehow,” he teased, winking at Yvonne.
Vaden was so upset by his attention to her sister that she turned from him and began slamming boxes into a stack.
“Oh, dear. Vaden, maybe ya should tell Mrs. Wimber ya can’t watch the children while she goes visitin’ dear Mrs. Tilits. I don’t want ya gettin’ stranded out there and not bein’ able to get home to—”Myra began. Vaden had assured Mrs. Wimber she would tend the children while she went visiting the day before Thanksgiving.
“I’ll be fine, Auntie. Mrs. Wimber never stays too late,” Vaden said, turning to look at her aunt and Ransom Lake. “You know that.” Then, unable to tolerate the three pairs of eyes boring down inquisitively on her for the brusqueness of her remark, Vaden walked toward the front door, announcing, “I’m to meet Jerome at nine, Auntie. I’ll be back soon.”
Without waiting for a reply or permission, she left, walked down the street, and turned onto the pumpkin patch road. Tears were immediately on her cheeks, and she brushed at them angrily as she walked. Why? she wondered. Why were her emotions so close to the surface all the time? Why did she read sarcasm and unfriendliness into everything everyone said to her? Why couldn’t she just accept Jerome Clayton for what he was and forget Ransom Lake for what he was? Ransom Lake would never belong to her, it was obvi
ous. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if he ended up belonging to her beautiful and accomplished sister.
She thought maybe she should send a telegram to her father and mother asking for the money to buy a stage ticket home. She felt unable to sort out and deal with everything bottled up inside her. She wanted to scream, to sob more bitterly than ever she had. What was happening to her? What was happening to her life? The events of the past few months, especially these past few weeks, had scarred Vaden—changed her. She now had trouble assuring herself of what she wanted or needed in life, of what she loved and lived for. Things were harder now. Thinking was hard. Going about her daily tasks was hard—a different kind of hard than before. For now, instead of wanting to leave her chores to go out into the fresh air, hoping to bump into her cherished Ransom Lake, she only wanted to leave her chores to hide in her room away from questions and away from a decision where Jerome Clayton was concerned. She did not love Jerome. She knew it. Yet would she ever love anyone again? Ransom Lake had captured her love, her heart, and her spirit. Vaden considered Jerome only because she was unsure her heart would ever again be completely free. Oh, she knew well enough she would continue to live, that some things in life would bring her joy. But she doubted her joy could ever be any semblance of what it would’ve been with Ransom Lake in her life.
“You don’t ever run off to meet Jerome, girl. He always comes lookin’ for you.”
Vaden startled at the sound of Ransom Lake’s voice, and she quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks before turning to face him.
“Mr. Lake,” she greeted awkwardly. It was obvious he had followed her, but the knowledge made her uncomfortable somehow instead of elated. “I thought you had business in the store.”
“I do. But your sister said ya must be upset and sent me to fetch ya,” he stated, grinning slightly.
“Why would she send you?” Vaden asked, though she immediately wished she hadn’t, for she feared he might actually know the answer. Ransom shrugged his shoulders. “And how would you know whether I meet Jerome or not?” she asked, irritated that he would be so assuming.
“I do know. I know ya never seek him out. He always finds you. Am I wrong?” He was certain, as if he could read her mind.
His eyes were beautiful, too captivating, and she answered, “No.”
“Then why did ya say ya were goin’ to meet him?” he asked. The mischievous expression on his face revealed he already suspected she had done it for his benefit.
“Because…because I knew my aunt wouldn’t stop me if she thought that’s where I was bound. They…they think he’s a nice young man. A gentleman. A perfect catch.”
“You’re not yourself anymore, Miss Vaden,” he stated then, his face gone serious. “You’ve lost your way. Is it because of Halloween, or is it somethin’ else?”
Vaden looked at him. He knew her so well. She knew there was no trying to weasel out of telling him the truth. “I…I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just growing up.” Self-conscious, she folded her arms across her chest.
“Don’t try feedin’ me that. You’re plenty grown up.” She looked at him as he looked away for a minute, rubbing at his whiskery chin with a roughened hand before mumbling, “And I suppose I had more to do with that than was proper.” He quickly turned to her, however, and, shaking an index finger in her direction, lectured, “But don’t ya go doin’ anything stupid, girl. Who ya choose to spend your life with is important. It’s not somethin’ ya go jumpin’ into just because a nice boy comes along and everyone else thinks he’s good for ya. I don’t think he’s good for ya—if my opinion means anything.”
Suddenly, Vaden was angry with him. “Who are you to tell me what or who is good for me? You act as if you know me so well. As if you…what am I supposed to do, Ransom Lake? Wait until your long-lost brother shows up? Am I? Do you think you’re so much better than every other man that…” Vaden stopped her scolding, for the color had completely drained from Ransom Lake’s perfect face. It was visible by his expression that his jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes even seemed to cloud over for a moment.
“What do ya mean by that, girl? My long-lost brother?!” he growled.
“I-I mean…you seem to think you’re the only worthy male in this town. And I meant to say that…I know you’re unavailable, so what do you expect us young women to do? Wait until you find an interest in one of us? Which we know won’t happen, so I was simply—”
“Mockin’ me?”
“Yes, sir.” Vaden felt horrible inside. Obviously she’d touched on something very sensitive with Ransom Lake. He looked at her for a moment as if he didn’t know what to say or do.
“I…I have to get some things from your aunt. You’re right. It’s none of my business. Forgive me, Miss Vaden.” He turned from her and began walking away.
“Mr. Lake!” she called to him, hitching up her skirts and taking out after him. His stride was long and quick-paced, and she nearly had to run to keep up with him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lake. I’m sorry. You came out here to try to cheer me, and I only upset you in return.”
“I’m not upset,” he spat.
“Please. I can’t stand for you to be angry with me. I’m sorry. Please. I was only upset and—”
He stopped abruptly, turned, and took hold of her shoulders tightly as he glared down at her. “You and I are thrown into each other’s paths far too often. Until one or the other of us gets control of who we are again, neither one of us will be content. Isn’t that right?” He frightened her at that moment. He had far too great an insight into what she felt, but she wondered at his estimation of himself.
“I don’t see how that applies to you, sir,” she ventured.
“I belong alone, girl. I was happy that way. Life was easier. I’ve lost sight of that, and I’m tryin’ to find the middle ground of the two.”
“And…and I trip you up. Is that what you mean?” Vaden offered as the tears filled her eyes once more.
“Yes. But not the way you’re thinkin’.”
Hanging her head then, for the humiliation was heavy in her heart and mind, she whispered her apology. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lake. For my behavior in the wagon that night. I…I’m truly sorry. I know how unbecoming…how completely improper it was, and I want you to know that I scold myself inwardly for it every day.”
“What?” he asked. “What are ya talkin’ about? I swear, you could send a man to drinkin’ tryin’ to understand ya sometimes.”
“I acted so terribly. I…I tried to…”
“Seduce me?” he finished, and Vaden winced at the truth of his words. “You’re trying to apologize for temptin’ me.” With that, the color returned to his face, along with the smile. Unexpectedly he took her in his arms then, embracing her firmly against his body as he chuckled. “You’re a funny kid, Vaden Valmont. Has that been what’s worried ya all this time?” Not wanting him to know it was only a small part of her worries, she nodded, letting her arms go around his waist. “Well, I’ll tell ya what, little friend. I’ll try to seduce you sometime, and then we’ll be even. Okay?” Vaden looked up at him, shocked he would tease about such a thing and hurt once more at his deeming her merely his friend. “For pity’s sake, girl. Don’t let a little thing like that bother ya. Besides, that moment between you and me was my fault, not yours.” When she did not answer, he released her and mumbled, “If it bothers ya that much…I’ll swear never to do anything like that again. Cross my heart and hope to—”
Vaden reached up, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop the words of such a vow. “Don’t even speak something like that!” she scolded, for it unnerved her to have him mention death.
“Somethin’ like what? Somethin’ like hope to die? Or somethin’ like I’ll never again do to ya what I did in the wagon?” A friendly grin spread across his face once more, and she realized he was only teasing her. “Come on. Your Aunt Myra will think I’m up to no good out here with ya.”
Taking her hand, he began to pull her back toward the m
ercantile. How Vaden wished her aunt had reason to think Ransom Lake was up to no good with her. But it was not to be. She sensed that it never would be again.
As the wind howled outside the Wimber home, Vaden tried to calm her rising anxiety at Mrs. Wimber’s not having returned. The hour was later than Vaden had expected to have stayed tending the children, and it gave her cause for concern. The storm was turning violent. She had visions of not only having to tend the children through the night but of missing Thanksgiving Day and the most coveted guest joining her family for dinner.
“Violet! Put your brother down, honey. You can’t be dragging him around like that,” Vaden softly scolded. Violet had been carrying the baby back and forth across the room for nearly half an hour. Vaden was worried the small girl might be getting more tired and weak than she realized. How she wished Selma and Raylin had not gone to their uncle’s house for the night. Then they could have tended to their young brothers and sister.
“Tell us a story then, Miss Vaden. Please,” Violet begged.
Vaden had not felt like telling stories for some time. Yet Violet’s sweet, delighted voice convinced her at last, and she nodded her head amidst the pleadings of the children. “Very well.”
Vaden glanced at the clock sitting on the mantel and noted Mrs. Wimber was nearly two hours late. Through the window she could see the snow falling and hear the wind. She was starting to worry once more that perhaps the children’s mother would not be able to get home. Ransom Lake obviously had been correct in predicting the storm, and it was becoming severe. She did not want to be snowed in with the Wimber children for days and days on end. So with the anxiety over the storm building within her, yet the hope she would be able to get home, Vaden began to bewitch the children with her talent for storytelling.
The Visions of Ransom Lake Page 18