Abiding Love

by Melody Morgan

  "Nothing to worry about. It's as pleasant as the first. You'll just have to be patient."

  Tipping her head to one side in agreement, she settled her hands in her lap and enjoyed the scenery of emerging green leaves, sprouting yarrow, and blossoming lilac.

  Ross watched as she took in the sights and smells of the countryside, guessing she'd never been this far along the river before. A fragrance lighter than the aromatic lilacs they were passing wafted from her to him, and he inhaled deeply. She looked as cool and fresh as a drink in summertime in spite of the warmth beating down upon them. Beneath the brim of her oversized hat, soft tendrils of brown hair escaped their pins and fluttered lazily in the occasional breeze. Everything about her was utterly feminine.

  Turning her head slightly, she caught him staring at her and smiled easily, not the least self-conscious about being watched. This was the most relaxed she'd been with him since the night they'd skated alone under the stars. Suddenly he realized that he was the one who was tense and moved into a more relaxing position with his forearms on his knees.

  They passed the road to the farm, where his fields lay planted and the cabin awaited his time for repairs. He had intended to show her what he'd been up to over the past few months, but on the spur of the moment he decided to wait, thinking that perhaps he should put it off until after the picnic.

  After an enjoyably long ride, they came upon a stream strewn with large and small rocks before it spilled into the Maumee River. Tall trees shaded the area, giving it a natural, verdant coolness. Dappled sunshine peeked through wherever possible.

  "Here we are," Ross said, slowing the horses until they finally halted.

  "It's a beautiful place," Irene replied in the quiet hush that was disturbed only by a breeze high overhead ruffling the leaves at the tops of the trees. "Does it have a name?" she asked, wondering why she'd never seen this place before.

  "Tontogany."

  "Indian. Right?"

  He nodded, then smiled mischievously, "Would you like a history lesson?"

  Feeling subdued by the tranquil surroundings, she smiled in return, saying, "That's what I'm supposed to say. But school's out, and I think we should forget about lessons of any kind."

  Suddenly, they became very aware of the pair in the back of the wagon, who sat staring lazily up at the leafy roof overhead. If not for their presence, Ross would have been inclined to pull Irene into his arms, where the two of them could learn a few lessons about each other.

  Irene blushed as though his thoughts had been spoken words. Her own heart was caught up in the cool, green, dreamy world that now separated them from their everyday life while drawing them inexplicably closer to each other.

  But the spell was soon broken by Jonathan's voice.

  "Can I go see the river?" he asked Irene as he jumped from the back of wagon.

  Answering for her, Ross replied over his shoulder, "Sure. Just don't fall in. Remember what Mrs. Barrett said."

  "I will!" he called, running toward the water.

  "You don't mind, do you?" Ross asked Irene.

  "No." Then, "It isn't deep, is it?"

  "In some places it's just a shallow, rocky bed. He'll be careful." He climbed down from his side of the wagon and crossed around the back, helped Lydia out, and proceeded around to help Irene. When her feet hit the ground, he found that he didn't want to take his hands from her waist.

  "Thank you." Smiling, she reminded him, "The basket?"

  Releasing her, he said, "Sure thing," and turned to the wagon once more, scooping up the hamper. With a teasing glint in his summer-blue eyes, he asked, "Your mother didn't pack rocks to discourage me, did she?"

  Laughing, she replied, "No. Although she does believe that most men can be tempted by good food, so I suppose it's possible that they can likely be discouraged by the lack of good food."

  Grasping her by the elbow and leading her toward the bank of the stream, he said, "I'll keep that in mind."

  When they reached the spot where Lydia was spreading the blanket, Ross set the hamper down.

  "Isn't this the prettiest place?" Lydia asked, speaking to no one in particular. "Could we do a little exploring?"

  Glancing around, Ross said, "I think we'd better save that for after lunch, or we'll have to share it with some four-legged company."

  "Oh, I didn't think of that," Lydia said. "I can wait. I'll see if Jonathan's hungry yet." And she was off in search of her brother.

  Bending to pick a white, triple-petaled trillium, Irene said, "You've been so good to the children. I've meant to thank you, but I never . . ." She shrugged lightly. "I guess I've just let the opportunities pass. Until now." Smiling, her face showed more than the gratitude she felt. "Thank you."

  Kneeling down, then stretching out on the blanket with his hands stacked behind his head, he looked up at her. "You don't have to thank me. I do things because I like to, not because I have to or for any other reason."

  Twirling the flower by the stem, she replied, "But you think I do."

  Hesitating to spoil the day by saying that he did think so, he simply said, "It's your life, Irene. You don't have to answer to me for anything."

  "That's not the impression you gave me last winter," she remarked softly, sitting on the blanket only an arm's length away from him.

  "I spoke out of place."

  "Maybe." She picked at the large-veined leaf. "But it made me think about myself. That's not an easy thing to do when you're not used to it."

  He watched her take tiny pieces off the edges of the leaf until it looked as though an insect had taken bites from it. Slowly her fingers devoured the leaf until it was nothing more than a bare stem.

  "I realized that I'd been allowing others to make decisions for me and I resented it, although I did nothing to correct them." She stripped the leaf stem from the main stem and began working on the second leaf. "Until a few months ago, when I told Clara I wouldn't be coming to the meetings any more."

  "That must have stirred her up some."

  "Still does."

  "I see."

  Her fingers took a few nibbling bites from the leaf. "She's angry with me but she'll adjust. Eventually."

  "You hope."

  Nodding, she replied sincerely, "Yes, I do. It isn't comfortable having anyone angry with you." Glancing at him, she asked, "Or doesn't it bother you?"

  "Of course it does. But I guess it depends on why they're angry."

  "I suppose earned anger is the hardest to bear. Unearned anger just causes resentment."

  Her words caught at him. He thought about the years in prison and the anger and resentment that had eaten at him just the way her fingers had eaten at the leaves she'd held. But then he'd been released, and his freedom was like salve to a wound. Freedom to spend his days as he wished, with the people he liked, doing the things that pleased him. And it pleased him to be on this picnic with her along the banks of a river where he'd spent his boyhood.

  "Resentment and anger are dangerous and hard to live with," he replied. "I think Clara had been living with those long before you or I met her."

  "I suppose you're right."

  "There's little either of us can do about that," he said.

  She kept silent as she thought about the anger and resentment she'd harbored toward Andrew for so long. No doubt he had deserved her anger, but the resentment was hers alone. And she could see how resentment led to bitterness, as it had in Clara's life.

  Sitting with Ross as she was now, feeling the glow of happiness surround her, she realized that she no longer held any resentment for the past. And she found herself wanting to tell him everything about herself, including Andrew's rejection of her.

  Casting aside the stem she'd stripped bare, she met his gaze levelly. "Did Howard ever mention to you that I was once engaged to be married?"

  "Yes."

  "And did he also tell you that I left Andrew standing in the church while I turned and ran?"

  Surprised that she was offering thi
s information, Ross shaded his eyes from a patch of sunlight and stared at her, unanswering.

  "Well, I did. It was the hardest thing I've ever done." She smoothed her skirt over her ankle, then went on. "Everyone thought Andrew was the most charming, eligible bachelor within fifty miles. They also thought I was a very lucky woman. So did I until two weeks before the wedding."

  Ross watched for a sign in her lovely features that might register regret, but she remained composed and undaunted as she continued her story.

  "We'd spent a lot of time and money buying the house and furnishing it. We wanted everything to be perfect." She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should tell the whole story. With a slight lift of her hand, she added, "My money. But nobody knows that. Not even Mother. He said that when he got on his feet again, he'd make it up to me and replace my inheritance. I believed him, heart and soul." Her gaze dropped from his down to her hand where it rested in her lap. Then she drew in a deep breath and released it on the word, "So . . . When I walked into the house to check on the dining room furniture that had been delivered, I heard voices upstairs and went to investigate."

  Irene lifted her eyes to Ross's. "He wasn't alone." She shifted her position, uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare. "Of course I ran. And of course he chased me. He apologized over and over, saying that men had these . . . urges and didn't subject nice women to them."

  She felt the flush of color on her cheeks but went on. ''I believed him when he promised it would never happen again."

  From everything he'd heard about Andrew, none of this surprised Ross. But how could any man want another woman when he was promised to this one?

  "But deep in my heart," she said, "I knew I could never live with that kind of betrayal. He couldn't have loved me as much as he said he did."

  Ross reached for her hand, running his thumb over her soft palm. "I'm glad you didn't marry him."

  "Everyone thought I was a fool," she said softly. "I couldn't tell them the truth, because then they would have known that it was he who had rejected me."

  In one swift sure motion, Ross sat up, grasping her by the shoulders. "He was the fool," he said earnestly. "The biggest damn fool I've ever heard of."

  The sound of feet crashing through the underbrush accompanied by shrieks and laughter drew a halt to their conversation. Ross regretted the lost opportunity to tell her of his own deep feelings for her, even to share his own bitter past.

  "Stop!" shrieked Lydia, who was laughing so hard she could barely stay on her feet. "Make him stop!" She ran between the two on the blanket, dropping in exhaustion near Irene, covering her head.

  Jonathan stopped within inches of the edge of the blanket, a long, wet worm dangling from his fingers. "She tried to push me in."

  "I did not," Lydia said out of breath and not all convincing.

  "You did too!" Jonathan leaned threateningly over the blanket toward her.

  "That's enough, Jonathan," Irene said. "Lydia, did you?"

  "Well, not really," She grinned impishly. "He just thought I was going to."

  "You were!" Turning to Irene, he said, "She wanted me to get into trouble with Mrs. Barrett."

  "Boy, you sure would have, too," she retorted, laughing.

  He flung the worm onto her dress. With a screech, she scraped it off, but her hilarity didn't stop.

  Ross picked up the worm, handed it to Jonathan, and brushed off the blanket. "Are you two even yet?" he asked. "Because if you are, maybe we can eat."

  Dropping onto the blanket on his knees, Jonathan replied, "Yeah, I guess so." He tossed the worm out into the grass.

  Smiling, Lydia nodded.

  Irene looked on, warmed by the easy comraderie between the four of them. Ross's easy way with handling a simple squabble, the children's acceptance of these two adults as the authorities in their young lives, would give any stranger the impression that they were a family.

  "Good. I'm eager to find out just what's in that basket. And I hope it isn't rocks," he said with a smile aimed at Irene.

  With each of them sitting either Indian-style or side-style, a napkin full of beef, bread, cheese, and cake lay on their laps. Ross poured the grape juice into their glasses with a slight raise of his eyebrows at the rich-colored liquid. "Your mother packed this?" he asked in disbelief, smelling the contents.

  Grinning, she answered, "It's grape juice. I made it myself."

  "Then I'm sure it's safe."

  After they'd feasted and drunk their fill, Irene and Lydia packed the leftovers in the hamper, shook the napkins, and insisted on a walk.

  Groaning with regret at having to rise from his comfortable place on the blanket, Ross got to his feet. "Come on, pal," he said to Jonathan. "The ladies want a little adventure."

  "Me, too." And Jonathan jumped up and led the way.

  After stowing the hamper and blanket safely in the wagon, the rest of them followed.

  Down to the stream they walked in single file with Ross taking last place. Not that he minded. The sway of Irene's skirts was definitely worth it. He enjoyed watching the easy way she dipped to avoid catching low branches on the brim of her hat and the way she tipped and turned her shoulders to navigate narrow passages between bushes.

  When they reached the banks of the stream, she turned to him.

  "Why, it's so shallow and the rocks are so flat, you could walk across."

  "Want to?" he asked.

  "You first," she countered.

  With a shrug, he stepped around her and onto the first rock, then turned to see if she was following. She wasn't. He took two more rocks and turned again.

  "Not afraid; are you?" he asked.

  Wide-eyed. she laid a finger on her breast and said, "Me?"

  "Go on, Miss Barrett," Lydia coaxed, anxious to see her teacher have some fun.

  Bravely, Irene stepped onto the first rock, then the second.

  Ross was halfway across when he turned again, only this time he found her carefully following him. Smiling to himself, he took another step but slipped on the mossy edge and lost his footing. With a shout of surprise, he splashed into the cold, knee-deep creek.

  "Oh! Oh, Ross! Are you all right?" Irene maneuvered with as much haste as she dared in her attempt to reach him.

  Sitting like a turned-over crab, Ross raised his hand to her.

  Without thinking about anything but helping him, she grasped his extended hand only to be whisked off her feet and into the cold creek on top of him. With a quick roll, he submersed all but her head, dislodging her widebrimmed hat, which then floated downstream. The shock of the cold water whooshed the air from her lungs through her open lips.

  "Ooohh!" she cried, struggling for breath and composure but finding neither.

  Instantly, his warm lips settled on hers as his arms held her tightly to his chest. The thin fabric of her dress became as a second skin, enabling him a contact that previously had been denied. Raising them both to a sitting position, he continued to hold her to him, pulling her across his lap. When the kiss ended, she stared at him in disbelief.

  "If you wanted to kiss me, wouldn't it have been easier to just step behind a tree out of view?" she asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  He glanced down at the front of her wet dress. "I don't think so."

  Shrieks of glee floated to them from the dry bank, where Lydia and Jonathan jumped up and down in delight.

  "Well, they didn't seem to mind it a bit. But then, neither did I," he added with a grin, holding her close.

  She didn't much like being soaked to the skin in a dress that now left little to the imagination, but there was something to be said for spontaneity, and this had certainly been spontaneous. Her smile broadened and a bubble of laughter escaped. In answer, he chuckled.

  "I imagine we look pretty ridiculous sitting here in the middle of the water like this," she said.

  He looked at her dark hair, now sodden and coming out of its pins, and thought she was more beautiful than ever. Rivul
ets of water ran down her cheeks and neck and finally disappeared into the lace of her collar.

  "I've ruined your dress," he said, but he knew he'd gladly buy her two to replace it.

  "It's all right," she said, thinking she'd get another one just like it so she could remember this day forever.

  Sliding her off his lap, he stood and pulled her to her feet.

  "I guess we'll just forget the rocks, huh?" he asked.

  She nodded and he helped her through the water to where Lydia happily reached out to take her hand.

  "Oh, Miss Barrett, look at you!"

  "Was it fun?" Jonathan asked.

  Ross leaned toward Irene and whispered, "More than hell know."

  She gave him a light jab in the ribs before clasping her arms around herself to keep warm as much as to hide herself.

  When they reached the wagon Ross took the blanket from the back and draped it around her shoulders. Then, scooping her up in his arms, he lifted her into the wagon.

  On the road home, Ross looked over to where she sat huddled beneath the blanket; the only visible part of her dress was clinging to her knees. At her feet a puddle of water formed and grew. Now that they were on their way back to town, he felt more than a little regret for acting so childishly.

  "I'm sorry for pulling you in like that. I guess I just wasn't thinking."

  Smiling, with her face lifted to the sun, she replied, "Do I look like I want you to be sorry for me?"

  Relieved, he returned her smile. No, she didn't look at all sorry. She looked great.

  Jonathan poked his head between them, asking in a hushed voice, "Are you gonna get in trouble for falling in?"

  Reaching her hand from inside the blanket, she tousled his hair. "Absolutely not. We were only having fun. Right? Why should we get into trouble for having fun?"

  "Yeah," he answered, sitting down once more but still feeling thankful it wasn't him who had fallen in.

  Ross leaned toward her and whispered, "That excuse could come back to haunt you when he's fifteen.

  "She laughed. "Or sooner."

  Looking like a damsel who had just been rescued from a sinking ship, Irene glanced at the man whom she now considered her gallant hero. He hadn't exactly rescued her from the water at allfar from itbut he had captured her heart by saving her from herself, teaching her to trust, and showing her what life could be like. In fact, he had slowly unfolded the drama of life as it should be, and she welcomed it.