Courting Susannah

by Linda Lael Miller

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said.

  Susannah was relieved, if anything. She had been getting a bit maudlin before he arrived, and that never did anyone any good. “Not at all,” she said with a smile, patting the stone bench beside her. “Sit down.”

  He grinned. “I reckon I’d rather go out to the ice house and settle myself on a big lump of last year’s lake water,” he said. His expression turned serious. “You all right, Miss Susannah? You look a little flimsy to me.”

  She smiled and stood, dusting off her skirts, more out of habit than necessity. “It’s just that I miss Julia so very much,” she said, glancing back at the monument. She paused, studying Aubrey’s younger brother, then spoke her mind. “Did you know Julia well?”

  He looked away for a moment, then settled his hat on his head with a movement so brisk that it was almost harsh. “Not as well as I thought I did,” he said. He brought his gaze back to hers then and regarded her unflinchingly. “I came here looking for you, Susannah. I’ve already said all my good-byes to Julia.”

  She was honestly puzzled. “What do you want with me?”

  “I thought we could talk. I was driving past, about to return a rig I borrowed from Aubrey, and I saw you, so I stopped. I guess I shouldn’t have interrupted you—I’m sorry.” He started to turn away, but Susannah found herself at his side, taking hold of his arm.

  “Wait,” she said. “Don’t go. Please. There are things I want—I need to know. About Julia’s life and—and about her death.”

  Ethan gave another sigh, then crooked his elbow. “I’ll tell you what I can,” he promised, “but I’d rather we had our chat someplace warm. How about the dining room at the hotel? We could take some refreshment and thaw ourselves out at the same time.”

  Susannah felt a little surge of pleasure. She was becoming quite the woman about town, first having dinner out with Mr. Hollister and now tea with Ethan Fairgrieve. “That sounds fine,” she agreed, hoping the delay wouldn’t worry Maisie.

  Ethan helped her up into the box of the wagon, then climbed up beside her and took the reins. His grin was boyish, a reminder that he was very young and probably much less sophisticated than his elder brother. Within a few minutes, they had made their way over bare streets and cobbled ones and reached the Washington Hotel.

  Inside, Ethan removed his hat and coat and helped Susannah out of her cloak. The garments were left in the charge of a clerk at the front desk.

  The dining room, where Susannah had eaten with John Hollister only the night before, was a spacious place, with a Persian carpet and a plethora of potted palms. Ethan looked somewhat out of place in his rough, practical clothes and scuffed boots, but he was clearly at his ease; he might have been relaxing in his own parlor, for all the self-consciousness he showed.

  They were given a table next to the fireplace, where a cheerful blaze crackled and snapped, and a Chinese man came to greet them. With Susannah’s approval, Ethan ordered a pot of hot chocolate, some sandwiches, and a selection of sweets.

  “You wouldn’t have found Aubrey at home, you know,” Susannah said, referring back to the mention Ethan had made earlier of borrowing his brother’s wagon.

  Ethan grinned again, and even though Susannah was not moved romantically, she could imagine female hearts breaking all over the west. “That’s why I took the rig,” he retorted. “Because Aubrey’s on his way to San Francisco, I mean.”

  Susannah didn’t know if he was teasing or not, the mischievous grin notwithstanding. “Surely he wouldn’t have minded lending it to you,” she said.

  He sat back in his chair and heaved a great sigh. “My brother has little or no use for me these days,” he admitted. “At the moment, it’s my niece I’m concerned about. The poor kid hasn’t even got a name yet, has she?”

  Before Susannah could answer, the waiter returned with a tray, and she waited until the cups, pot of chocolate, and various plates of sandwiches and cookies had been set out and they were alone again before speaking. “I call her Victoria,” she said. Then, after taking a deep breath, she plunged into deeper waters, like a resolute swimmer. “I suppose you know that Aubrey believes Julia was unfaithful to him,” she said, taking care to keep her voice low.

  Ethan looked distinctly uncomfortable and busied himself pouring hot chocolate into both their cups. He was surprisingly graceful at it, considering his rugged appearance.

  “Ethan?” Susannah prompted when the silence went on too long to suit her. She had an odd, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Julia was—unhappy,” he said at long last. He was a study in polite misery.

  “You don’t mean she actually did take a lover?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I mean, all right. That was her business, I guess. But it happens that she told Aubrey that I was the other man. He believed her.”

  Susannah’s heart stopped, then lurched back into motion again. She felt all the color drain from her face, and the sickness grew to the point where she could not have touched the food and drink before her for any reason. “Was he right?” she dared to ask after a long time, wondering at her own audacity the whole while.

  It was then that she saw the resemblance between Ethan and his older brother. He glared at her, looking for all the world like Aubrey, and sounding like him, too, when he snapped, “What do you think?”

  Chapter 6

  Susannah kept her gaze level with Ethan’s, though her voice faltered a little. “I don’t know what to think,” she said, keeping her voice down lest the other diners overhear. “That is why I’m asking you. Were you and Julia—improperly close?”

  For a while, there was no reply. Ethan’s cup rattled dangerously as he set it down on the tabletop. “I’ve loved one woman in my life,” he said in quiet, even tones, leaning forward in his chair. His resemblance to Aubrey was still greater than before. “Her name was Su Lin. Before we could be married, her father sent her back to China to marry a distant cousin.”

  The news made Susannah catch her breath. Ethan’s grief was acrid as smoke between them, and it brought a brief, stinging sheen of tears to her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Neither did I,” Ethan rasped. “‘Good-bye’ just didn’t seem to be enough.” After a few moments, he relented a little. His features relaxed visibly, and his impressive shoulders, stooped a moment before, were square again. He thrust a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Susannah. None of this ought to concern you, but I’m afraid it does, if only because of the baby.”

  Susannah was still deeply troubled, for she knew, in her heart of hearts, that Julia was capable of vengeance and deception, if her private purposes were served. A rift between brothers, and all the damage it could do, might not have worried her overmuch. She had been a fully faceted human being after all, not a one-dimensional image painted on canvas or caught by the lens of a camera. Funny, intelligent, pretty, and adventurous, Julia also had been somewhat reckless and selfish at times. She had had vain moments, and spiteful ones as well, and Susannah had loved her without illusion, loved her for her whole self, not merely her admirable qualities.

  “The baby.” She sighed, steering the conversation back to its center of importance. “Aubrey has given me permission to have her christened. I mean to have that done before he returns from San Francisco, since it’s doubtful he’ll want to participate. Would you agree to be her godfather?”

  Ethan was quiet—and expressionless—for so long that Susannah began to fear that she had committed a serious error by asking. “You are aware that Aubrey might interpret that as a sort of claim on my part?”

  Susannah scraped her teeth over her lower lip, a habit she had been trying to break for years. The sisters had reprimanded her for it repeatedly, and Mrs. Butterfield had called it “common.”

  “Aubrey,” she said presently in measured tones, “has made it clear that he does not wish to be involved. And it seems to me that he’s already drawn the w
orst possible conclusion.”

  “Yeah,” Ethan agreed, somewhat wearily. “But he did give you permission to do this, right? He doesn’t take kindly to interference in his affairs, so you’ve got to be sure.”

  Aubrey certainly hadn’t given his blessing to the idea; he’d just tossed off an all-right-let’s-be-done-withit sort of remark the last time the topic was discussed, and Susannah had chosen to translate that as consent. A child could not be let to grow up without a Christian name, after all. “He made it clear that he doesn’t care,” she replied honestly. “Therefore, it falls to me to take action, as the person Julia depended upon.”

  Ethan looked doubtful. “Whatever you say. A word of warning, though—don’t name that kid after Julia. Aubrey will never accept her if you do.”

  Susannah was still fanciful enough to hope that Aubrey would eventually see reason and had immediately ruled out “Julia” for the reason Ethan had given and several others as well. “I mean to call her Victoria,” she said. She paused. “Will you be her godfather?” she asked again, frankly hopeful.

  Ethan hesitated, then nodded. “All right. When’s the ceremony?”

  She recalled, with some agitation, that she had not spoken to Reverend Johnstone about the christening, as she had intended to do. She would see to the task before returning to her duties at the house. “Sunday, if that can be managed.” She needed confirmation of his promise. “Will you be there?”

  “Yes,” he said, with little enthusiasm. Then a wicked grin flashed across his face. “You might want to stand in a doorway, though, in case lightning strikes and the ceiling comes down.”

  She laughed. “Are you such a sinner as that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied with another grin. After that, they talked about the gold rush in Alaska and the hardships and perils of crossing the Chilchoot Pass with the supplies required by the Canadian government. There was no further mention of Aubrey, of Julia, or of the innocent, beautiful child they had made together.

  True to her promise to herself, Susannah asked Ethan to drop her off at the church, where he’d found her earlier, and spoke to Reverend Johnstone before hurrying home. The christening was officially scheduled for Sunday morning, after church services were held.

  That would leave little or no time for a picnic with Mr. Hollister, but Susannah was convinced he would understand. He was, after all, a reasonable man, quite unlike Aubrey Fairgrieve in that way.

  The intervening days were busy ones. Susannah kept Victoria by her side almost constantly, whether she was helping Maisie with the cooking and housework, drawing posters advertising her musical skills, or playing the splendid piano in the rear parlor. The child loved the sound of music—twinkling, dancing Mozart, thundering, ponderous Beethoven, it didn’t matter what sort—she would coo and chortle in her basket, waving and kicking like a ladybug on its back.

  Susannah’s protectiveness and concern for little Victoria deepened into a desperate love, an emotion as intense as if she’d carried the infant inside her own body. As the wind heightened and the sky turned grayer, as the last leaves of the maples and oaks scattered in a shower of crimson and gold, while the fir trees stood fast against the onslaught, she thought often of Aubrey and wished him gone from her mind, not just from the house.

  On Sunday morning, a drizzling, icy rain fell, beginning at dawn. That would put a finish to Mr. Hollister’s plans for a picnic, Susannah thought, with no great degree of disappointment, but he arrived promptly in a rented surrey to drive her and Victoria around the block for church. Maisie walked, hand in hand with Jasper, both of them dressed up in their best clothes.

  The service was long, the sanctuary was cold, and Victoria was fitful in her magnificent christening gown, but at last the time came to carry the child to the front and stand before the altar. Ethan, who must have been seated in a rear pew, came up the center aisle when summoned by the reverend, clearly enjoying the whispered speculation that swelled around him like foam in a tide pool.

  The full name Susannah had chosen for Julia’s daughter was Victoria Elizabeth, and there was a murmur of approval from the congregation, most of which had remained to watch and wonder. No doubt some of the members had expected a wedding rather than a baptism; if so, they were disappointed.

  Mr. Hollister seemed oddly subdued when the ceremony was over. There was no choice but to cancel their picnic, of course, and he did not offer another suggestion. Neither did Susannah, who wanted only to take Victoria home.

  All the same, Hollister drove them both to the house and saw them safely inside. Ethan came, too, driving Aubrey’s wagon again, with a proud Maisie sitting stalwartly on the seat beside him, Jasper on her lap, all three of them apparently oblivious to the incessant rain.

  “So it’s Vicky, is it?” she boomed when she and Susannah and Ethan were all in the kitchen. Jasper was evidently playing in another room, for there was no sign of him, and Maisie made haste to build up the fire in the cookstove and put coffee on to brew. On such a day, she commented, tea simply wasn’t enough.

  Susannah smiled, happy except for a hollow place tucked away in a corner of her heart.

  “Vicky,” Ethan repeated quietly, drawing back a chair to sit down at the table. “That’s a real pretty name. Has some backbone to it.”

  Susannah nodded, her mind wandering a little, now that one important task had been completed. “Julia liked that name. One year there were dolls at Christmas—at St. Mary’s, I mean—and Julia named hers for the queen of England.”

  Maisie and Ethan exchanged an unsettling look, but neither of them spoke.

  “What?” Susannah prompted.

  Maisie crossed the room, took little Victoria from her arms, and headed up the rear stairway, presumably to change her diaper and put her down for a nap. In the meantime, Ethan dropped into the chair, quite lost in thought.

  “Ethan?” Susannah demanded, going to stand opposite him, behind her own chair.

  He raised his eyes, and she saw amusement there. “Aubrey is going to be furious,” he said.

  She sat down with a sinking motion, all the starch gone out of her knees. She didn’t have to ask for any further explanation; Ethan supplied it readily.

  “My brother can be real cussed. No matter what name you gave that kid, he’d find a reason not to like it.” His face hardened. “He’s like our daddy that way. Nothing makes him happy, especially when it’s over and done and can’t be changed.”

  “But I mentioned—”

  “He’ll forget,” Ethan said flatly.

  Susannah was rigid and, at the same time, weak with confusion, frustration, and worry. “What kind of man—?”

  “Forgets? Or what kind of man was our daddy?”

  Susannah waited.

  “Our ma lit out when we were little,” Ethan said, “and we were brought up rough in the lumber camps—we passed a month or two in every one between here and San Francisco, I reckon. Dad was a hard man, with a tendency to drink too much, and he probably never had an easy day in his life. Sometimes he took that out on us.”

  Despite Ethan’s calm way of outlining the tale, Susannah’s thoughts were fixed on the image of two small, frightened boys, abused by their father, abandoned by their mother. No wonder Aubrey found it so difficult to trust. Her heart seized painfully. “That’s terrible.”

  Ethan squeezed the bridge of his nose between his right thumb and forefinger. On the stove, the coffee began to perk, fragrant and welcoming. “Plenty of people have had it worse,” he said.

  “Maybe Reverend Johnstone could do the ceremony over—when Aubrey gets back from San Francisco—”

  Ethan looked wryly skeptical. “Seems like a lot of trouble to go to, for something that’s over and done with.”

  “Ethan, why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Seemed like you had your heart set on it,” he said, as though that explained everything.

  The coffee boiled over, sizzling on the stovetop, and Ethan got up, hurried over
, and burned himself in the process of trying to remove the pot from the heat.

  Susannah pumped cold water into a bucket at the sink and stood beside Ethan while he plunged the injured hand into it, expelling a long breath in relief. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she said.

  Ethan laughed. “Thanks for the sympathy,” he retorted.

  “What good would sympathy do?” Susannah reasoned, still distracted. Victoria’s name had already been penned onto a page of the church record, along with those of other children of the community. Fussing would serve no purpose at all; it was, as Ethan had said, too late for that. Still, she couldn’t help being a little upset.

  Ethan cupped his good hand under her chin and made her look at him. “Listen, Susannah. It’s behind you, this naming business, I mean. If Aubrey objects, let him solve the problem himself.” He smiled and let her go, clearly noticing, as she had, that there had been no charge to the contact between them. “Besides, Victoria is a perfectly acceptable name. Maybe that little girl upstairs will make it count for something special.”

  Susannah was developing a headache. “Maybe,” she confirmed, and pumped more water into the bucket.

  Aubrey had been gone a full ten days when he returned to Seattle, one dark and gloomy afternoon in early November. Things had not gone well in San Francisco, and the sea journey back up the coast had been unusually rough. He had one thing to look forward to, by his own reckoning, and one thing only: the prospect of a little verbal sparring with Susannah McKittrick. During his travels, he had come to terms with the fact that he wanted much more from her, which partly accounted for his sour mood. She wasn’t the sort of woman he could alternately bed and ignore; she was a lady, with every right to expect marriage from any man who sought her favor.

  Not that she would marry him, even if he asked. Which, of course, he had no intention of doing.