Abiding Love

by Melody Morgan

  Chapter Twenty

  Gathering the last of her things from the desk and putting them in the drawer, Irene surveyed the empty classroom while listening to the shouts and laughter coming through the open windows. Only moments ago the bell had rung and everyone had fled the room as though it was on fire, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  With just one day to go before early spring dismissal, Irene didn't know who was happierthe children or herwhich was a surprise. Usually she dreaded the end of the year, when the summer loomed before her devoid of . . . companionship. Yes, she admitted, her students had been her companions, her distraction from the solitary life she'd led.

  But that was before Lydia and Jonathan.

  And Ross.

  Now she, like the children, yearned for hot summer days to spend out of doors doing the many things that everyone loved to do, such as fishing, picnicking, and riding into the country. And cool summer nights for walking along the river, where the rocks protruded from the shallow water and fish could be heard jumping in deeper places.

  As soon as school was out, they had great plans to enjoy each and every day. Jonathan had already spent his fair share of time at the river fishing with his friend and his new poles. Sometimes Ross went with him, but more often than not Ross was difficult to find.

  Lately, Irene noticed a new spring to Lydia's step, a more carefree air surrounded her now than when she'd first arrived. They had all settled into a comfortable lifestyle, even Winnie, who still remained in Grand Rapids, teetering in her decision to leave.

  At the door Irene turned back to look over the tidy classroom once more. No lessons were planned for tomorrow, since there would be games and foot races as well as refreshments supplied by several mothers and teachers. In effect, today had been the last day of school, but the usual sadness was replaced by a smile.

  In the hall, she noticed that Clara's door was ajar and the sound of rustling skirts told of her presence within the classroom. Irene brushed aside the feelings of ill-will that had come between them since she'd refused to attend the meetings, and she crossed the hall to say good-bye. There had been little she could do to change the situation, and Clara made no attempt to bridge the gap with understanding. As a result, they had each kept their distance.

  But Irene was more than uncomfortable with the way things were between them. Perhaps now, with a beautiful summer stretching langorously before them, they could breach the rift at least in their working relationship.

  "Clara?" she called, pushing the door wide.

  Clara looked up from her desk, where slates were neatly stacked, mild surprise registering on her face.

  Facing her, Irene wondered just what she should say. Inanities about picnics and walks along the river certainly wouldn't be appropriate. Neither would asking about her summer plans, since they both already knew the sort of things Clara had undoubtedly planned.

  "The children are excited about school tomorrow," she offered as a beginning.

  "For the first time this year," Clara added while she resumed her work at the desk.

  "Well, that's understandable. They're young and full of energy."

  Looking up, Clara answered, "I suppose so."

  "Well, I just wanted to wish you a nice summer. I doubt if we'll get much of an opportunity to speak with one another tomorrow."

  With her eyes unreadable, Clara replied, "Thank you."

  Suddenly wondering why she'd even tried, Irene said good afternoon and walked from the school.

  Watching her go, Clara resisted the urge to call her back, to try once more to explain the mistake she was making spending so much time with that saloon owner-gold miner and who knew what else. He would ruin her life. Clara felt desperate to stop her, to keep her from the harm she knew could befall her, but Irene refused to heed her warnings. Perhaps any day now she would receive word from the inquiries she'd sent out months ago about Ross Hollister. There was no doubt in her mind that he was an unsavory character and totally ill-suited for someone like Irene. She knew it deep in her soul.

  Ross plowed a section of ground farthest from the woods, plodding along behind the team of horses he'd bought from a neighboring farmer. Until today, he figured his plans for farming were probably the best-kept secret in Grand Rapids, thanks to Howard and Ben. He hadn't exactly been ready to bear the brunt of loud laughter that would be directed at him if his attempts failed.

  Keeping a firm grip on the handles, he guided the plow in as a straight a line as he could. When the first furrow left much to be desired, he set his jaw and proceeded to do better on the second trip. Up and down the field he walked, feeling more satisfaction with each step, inhaling the smell of fleshly turned-over earth. There was a sense of belonging that he'd never felt before, a sense of communion not only with his surroundings but with himself. And it was as intoxicating as the finest liquor. He knew he could never go back to who he'd been before.

  With the sun setting at his back, he led the team toward the barn, where he unhitched them, rubbed them down, and turned them into the recently fenced pasture. Then he cleaned off the packed dirt from the plow and once more stood back to survey his surroundings.

  Tired and sweaty, he looked with longing toward the cabin, wishing he'd had time to repair it before now so he wouldn't have to make the trip into town. Instead, he went to the pump and pumped himself a bucketful for washing off the grime of the day. With a swat at the newly arrived mosquitoes, he saddled his horse and rode into town, promising himself that he would work on the cabin as soon as the field work permitted.

  The evening was cool, with just enough breeze along the river to keep most of the mosquitoes at bay. With each movement of the horse, he could feel the muscles that he'd used all day, but he wasn't all that uncomfortable.

  Dusk had settled into early darkness as he reached the edge of town and passed the old inn and the bridge, with Irene's house just ahead. Slowing his horse to barely a walk, he thought about stopping in for a visit. The lights in her house said they were all still up. Tempted beyond refusal, he turned the horse down the street beside her home. Dismounting, he tied the animal to the hitching rail at the shed in back.

  A cup of coffee in her kitchen would be the perfect ending to his day, he thought with a smile as he knocked on the door.

  When it opened, she stood there in silhouette with the light against her back. A light fragrance drifted toward him, and he breathed it in as though it were life-giving.

  "Hello," he said, still smiling. "I hope this isn't too late to stop by." Then suddenly he remembered the night he'd waited in the cold until nearly midnight to get her attention, and how they'd skated on the canal with no one to see.

  She smiled in return, looking pleased to see him too. "Not at all," she said, stepping back so he could enter.

  Inside the warm room, a teakettle on the stove sent a small mist into the air, and the single lamp on the table glowed brightly.

  "I was just making some tea for myself and Mother. She's in the parlor with the children. They're discussing the races scheduled for tomorrow."

  "Races?" he asked, moving toward the table where she stood.

  In the light, she could see him more clearly. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, baring his forearms that had not only tanned but thickened, just as his shoulders seemed broader. His brown-blond hair had golden highlights brighter than she remembered. And he smelled faintly of horses, leather, and earth.

  Glancing down at his soiled shirt, he spoke apologetically, "I should have cleaned up first, but I was riding by and thought I'd just stay a minute." Looking up, he found her staring at him. "Or two, if you weren't busy," he finished.

  Surprised at getting caught admiring him, she quickly looked away and moved toward the pantry. "Would you like some coffee? It won't take long to make."

  From inside the pantry, she heard him answer, "That sounds great."

  Taking a few moments to compose herself, she smoothed her skirts, the sleeves of her dress, and h
er hair. With one deep breath, eyes closed, she calmed her thudding heart. It had been over two weeks since she'd seen him, and although she'd been busy with school her thoughts had strayed often to him, wondering what he was doing and if he thought about her as much as she thought about him. Now that he was here, looking bigger than life and filling her kitchen with his masculine presence, she couldn't seem to think straight at all. And no wonder, with the way her heart was jumping about in her breast.

  Calming herself as best she could, she reached for the jar with the already ground beans that awaited his arrival. She turned to go and bumped into Ross's chest.

  "Oh!" she cried.

  "Excuse" he began until their eyes met. He stood with both hands on her upper arms, holding her firmly just inches away with the jar of coffee between them. "I thought maybe you were having trouble reaching something," he said softly.

  She shook her head slightly left to right and back again. "I didn't realize I was taking so long." Holding her breath, she saw his head dip, felt his lips touch hers, sensed the tension of the moment within him. It lasted only briefly but had the impact of a tidal wave.

  When he lifted his face from hers, he stared into the warm depth of her brown eyes and knew his heart was lost, and had been for some time.

  With a grip on the coffee jar that should have broken it, she returned his gaze in the tiny, dimly lit pantry. Something new, something that made his blue-gray eyes shine, gazed back at herthe same sort of look she'd imagined any gallant man would give to his lady when he spoke of his love. Suddenly he smiled and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose.

  Before she could respond in any way, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted her to the certain invasion of their privacy.

  "We'd better go," she said, inching past him, turning in a circular dance so that she emerged first. As she stepped from the pantry with Ross right behind her, Lydia and Jonathan entered from the dining room with Winnie right behind them.

  Jonathan was the first to react. ''Ross!"

  "Hey, pal."

  "I didn't know you were here!"

  "Just got here."

  Winnie shot them both a look that said she wondered if it were true.

  "We're having races at school tomorrow," Jonathan went on. "It's gonna be great. Can you come watch?"

  "Well, I've been real busy. I'll have to see." The look of disappointment on the boy's face prompted him to turn the subject to a happier topic. "So school's almost out, huh?"

  "Yep, sure is. I'm glad, but Lydia's not."

  Ross watched from the corner of his eye as Irene moved about the kitchen pouring water into the coffeepot and setting it on the stove, then stirring up the fire and adding more wood. She had a grace about her that couldn't be hidden no matter how simple the task.

  "Why is that?" he responded absently, his attention focused wholly on the woman he'd come to see.

  Lydia shrugged, "I suppose it's silly, since I'll get to spend more time with my friends out of school than in school." When she actually thought about it, there was no reason to be so sad. Now she could spend time sitting beneath shade trees reading or even wading in the river. "Do you think we could take a picnic down to the river sometime?"

  "Yeah!" Jonathan interrupted. "I remember you said we could, back when I was sick. I almost forgot about it. Can we do that?"

  Irene turned from the stove, and her gaze collided with Ross's. She'd felt his eyes on her from the time they'd left the pantry, and with some difficulty she'd managed to avoid meeting them until Jonathan questioned her. Forced then to turn around, she had instinctively let her gaze rest on Ross. For a fleeting moment, her heart stoppedor maybe just skipped a beat, she wasn't sure which.

  A small smile appeared at the comers of his mouth, and that mischievous twinkle, which so intrigued her, lit his eyes. "Well, a promise is a promise," he said to her.

  Glancing at a very excited Jonathan, who stood on tiptoes holding his breath, she knew he was right.

  "Still a little chilly to spend time picnicking along the river," Winnie put in, but nobody seemed to notice.

  "When should we plan to go?" Irene asked.

  "Hurrah!" Jonathan and Lydia shouted together. "A picnic!"

  In the ensuing melee of joy, Irene felt her color rise in anticipation of spending a whole day in Ross's company. She had long since given up pretending she shouldn't be attracted to him. The simple fact was, she was very attracted to him. And there was little doubt left in her mind how he felt about her. In spite of Clara's warnings, she was coming closer every day to falling in love with him. Looking at him now, he hardly resembled a saloon owner with his homespun shirt rolled to his elbows and dirt spots dotting his broad chest. Neither should he resemble a gallant hero, she thought. But he did.

  The day dawned with an overcast sky, which kept the busy occupants of the kitchen constantly stepping to a window searching the heavens with a vigilant eye.

  "Do you think it will rain?" Lydia asked, her voice sounded as foreboding as the weather looked.

  "Probably," Winnie answered, cutting several wedges of pound cake to place in the hamper.

  "Well, if it does we'll just postpone it until another day," Irene replied. "There's a whole summer ahead of us for having picnics."

  "But I don't want to wait," Lydia said with a note of wistfulness.

  "Neither do I," Irene returned. "Let's just hope for the best."

  When the cold beef had been sliced, and the bread and cheese were packed, Winnie added napkins and a jar of grape juice. "I think this should do it, don't you, Irene?" she asked, peering into the wicker hamper.

  Irene studied the contents, added some glasses, and said, "There. I believe we're all set. Won't you change your mind and join us, Mother?"

  "Hardly. I don't have a hankering to go on a soggy picnic and come home soaking wet, thank you. But I hope you have a nice time." And for once she meant it. Somehow, and she wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, her feelings had changed concerning Ross Hollister. Oh, she still didn't like the saloon, and he still wasn't someone to write to her other daughters about, but there was a change in Irene. She seemed happier, more carefree, and Winnie had to credit Ross in part for that. Andrew had not inspired this sort of zest for life that had Irene smiling more often, and now she was less given to serious faces. And what mother didn't want her daughter to be happier than she'd been before? But it was truly a dilemma, she thought, shaking her head. It truly was.

  A knock at the back door brought everyone out of their own personal reveries and instantly to action.

  "I'll get the blanket!" Lydia called from the parlor.

  Winnie closed the lid of the basket and fastened it while Irene opened the door.

  "So is everyone ready?" Ross asked as he strode into the room, filling it with his presence.

  "Mother refuses to go and get rained on, Jonathan is out digging worms, and Lydia will be right down," Irene said, a little breathlessly. He looked wonderful and literally took her breath away. His eyes were the same color blue as the shirt he wore, which lay comfortably open at the neck but not indiscreetly so. The hard muscles of his forearms were bare, just as they had been the other day, and she had to force herself not to stare at them when he lifted the heavy hamper.

  "Feels like a pretty hefty lunch in here," he said, weighing it up and down.

  "We did our best," she answered with a smile.

  Arriving in the doorway with all the force of a tornado complete with dirt all over his hands and even on his clothing, Jonathan called, "I'm ready!"

  Aghast, Winnie pulled the boy inside. "My, my! Just look at you!" Then on second thought, she whisked him outside, brushing dirt from his clothes and hands.

  "It doesn't matter. I'm just going to get dirty again anyway," he said in a pleading voice.

  "You can't eat a lunch with worm dirt all over you. I declare."

  Resigned, he let his shoulders droop while she pumped water and washed him up as though he were a baby, cl
ucking the whole time about dirty worms. A couple of times, he glanced around to see if any of his friends might be watching.

  Inside the kitchen, Ross took the opportunity to study Irene as she smiled, watching through the open door and patiently waiting for her mother to finish.

  "You look very nice," he said quietly.

  Turning to look at him, she replied self-consciously, "Thank you."

  "As a matter of fact, you look like spring in that dress." He smiled appreciatively.

  She had changed her clothes three times in her indecision over what to wear, then finally decided on the white muslin trimmed with lace and sprigged with yellow and blue flowers because it reminded her of a spring day. It pleased her that he'd made the same connection.

  Entering the back door once again, Jonathan looked a little wilted but still full of unleashed energy.

  "That's the best we can do without going through a complete change of clothes, for all the good that would do.

  He'll probably fall in the river anyway," Winnie said, shaking her head.

  "I won't, you'll see. I'll be careful."

  "Hmmm. We'll see, is right." Then, as Lydia skipped into the kitchen bearing a blanket, Winnie shooed them all on their way. "If you don't hurry, you'll be rained out before you even get that basket opened."

  After they'd loaded everything into the wagon and everyone was seated, they proceeded on the road east of town, following the river as it wound around one bend after another and over hill and meadow. Before they'd gone a mile, the sun peeked out cautiously, then beamed down upon them in full force, adding its benediction to their day.

  "Oh, isn't it wonderful?" Irene exclaimed, squinting beneath the brim of her straw hat. "See there, no rain on our picnic."

  "Just the way I planned it," Ross said, smiling at her.

  Lifting one eyebrow, she replied sassily, "You're going to take credit for this?"

  He shrugged. "Why not? It's just one of the surprises I have for you."

  She eyed him suspiciously. "And what surprise do you have next?"