Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7

by Ramona Flightner

  Jeremy’s jaw firmed at the thought of Savannah home alone with Mrs. Smythe. “I have no doubt Savannah will hold her own until I arrive.” He turned to his brother. “Gabe, will you take Melly to your house? Keep her there until we know what is occurring?”

  Gabriel nodded and placed an arm over his niece’s shoulder. “Come. I’m sure by now Minta has snuck out to inform Rissa, and she’ll be fit to be tied at being home with the children.” He nodded to Ronan. “I’ll be by later with the news. Thanks for watching the shop.”

  Melinda walked beside Gabriel and smiled to those who called out to them. They walked quickly in an effort to discourage conversation with their friends and neighbors and soon crossed the bridge and turned toward Gabriel’s house. He ushered her into his comfortable Craftsman-style house, his expression grim when he saw Clarissa pacing in the living room.

  “Where are the children?” Gabriel asked as he placed his hat on the hallstand. He grunted as Clarissa threw herself into his arms and rocked her to and fro while she calmed.

  “Except for the baby, they’re all at the park. With Minta.” She sniffled and backed away. “Come, Melly. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

  Melinda frowned and then laughed at her sister with little mirth. “She’s back, Rissa. What does she want?”

  Clarissa pulled her sister into a fierce embrace. “Whatever it is, she won’t get it,” she vowed. “We have a long history with her and know how to outmaneuver her.”

  Melinda rested her head on Clarissa’s shoulder but shared a worried glance with Gabriel. “I thought your outmaneuvering her was fleeing to Montana. It seems she’s followed you.”

  Clarissa squeezed her sister’s shoulder and led her to a settee, pushing her to sit down. She sat next to her while Gabriel paced to the fireplace. “Gabriel?” she asked in a soft voice.

  He faced them with a reassuring smile. “All will be well.” He ran a hand through his recently cut hair, standing strands of ebony mixed with gray on end. “I was standing here, trying to imagine what Mr. Pickens would say. What he’d do.” His smile finally reached his eyes. “Other than slam his cane down in consternation.”

  He moved to the chair facing them. “Any ideas, Melly?”

  Her impish smile seemed to relax Clarissa. “Oh, he’d talk about the preposternoose of her being here and the need for vigilanteance.”

  Clarissa and Gabriel laughed, and Gabriel relaxed against the settee. “That’s exactly right. It is preposterous she’s here, and we must be vigilant,” Gabriel said with another chuckle. “He’d say that and then give us a toothless grin as though we were brainless to be dillydallying.” He sighed. “I miss the old man.”

  Clarissa nodded and rubbed Melinda’s back. “I would love to have seen him take on Mrs. Smythe.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “It would almost have been as good as watching Sophie take her on.”

  Clarissa sobered. “As it is, we must fight whatever malice she intends to sow.” She tugged Melinda by the shoulders so she could look in her eyes. “Promise me that, no matter what she says or does, you don’t doubt us or your parents’ love for you.” When Melinda watched her in confusion, Clarissa gripped her more tightly. “She is intent on causing mischief, and I worry that her goal is harming you. Promise me that you understand our goal is to care for you and to love you.”

  Melinda nodded, her brow crinkling. “Of course. I’ve always known that. Nothing she could say or do would cause me to doubt that.”

  Jeremy entered his house through the back kitchen door and walked through the dining room. He paused at the entrance to the living room. Instead of the heated discussion he expected to find, the two women stared each other down with a determined silence.

  “If I had my way, you would not be allowed to enter my house,” Jeremy said, stepping into the room and causing Mrs. Smythe to jump in her seat. He smiled with satisfaction for a moment as she had expected him to enter through the hallway door. Then he frowned as he realized how much Melinda looked like her.

  “There could never be any doubt you are a McLeod,” Mrs. Smythe said, looking at Jeremy. “Although what influence you McLeod men have over the women of my family, I will never understand.”

  “Of course you can’t,” Savannah snapped, “for that would mean you understood what kindness, decency and honor meant. And we aren’t your family.”

  Mrs. Smythe settled into her chair. “It’s a shame to see how you’ve squandered Mr. Montgomery’s money. I’m certain his family would be most distressed to learn how flamboyant you have been in the displays of your unearned wealth.”

  Jeremy strode behind the settee Savannah sat on, her back to him, and placed his palms on her shoulders in a soothing touch. She raised a hand to lace her fingers with his, calming his anger. “He is not spoken of in our house,” Jeremy said.

  “Of course not. I’m certain you are afraid you will meet a similar death, living with a murderess,” Mrs. Smythe said in her singsongy voice.

  Savannah tightened her hold on Jeremy’s fingers, preventing him from moving away from her.

  “I do wonder what he’d say if he knew you were raising my bastard child.”

  Savannah laughed incredulously, releasing Jeremy’s hands as she swiped at hair along her brow. “I can’t believe you’d speak in such a way about my uncle.”

  Jeremy stood very still behind Savannah, watching Mrs. Smythe intently. “You’re not, are you? That’s your entire reason for coming here. You believe you can cause destruction and mayhem and relish in your ability to do so.”

  Mrs. Smythe laughed. “Oh, to see the looks on your faces. Confused, scared and incredulous.”

  Jeremy moved around the side of the settee and sat next to Savannah, facing Mrs. Smythe. “Tell us what you have come to say and then leave. You can say nothing that will cause us to allow you further contact with our daughter. Yes, our daughter,” he emphasized when Mrs. Smythe protested. “You gave up all rights to her when you brought her to the orphanage when she was a child. She is ours.”

  “I was out of my mind with grief when I brought her there,” Mrs. Smythe moaned as she swiped at a tear on her cheek.

  “You can’t even act as though you know what grief is,” Savannah said in a scathing voice. “Any mother who had lost her child, who actually had maternal instincts, would have traveled here long before now. You are here for an entirely different reason.”

  Mrs. Smythe sniffled and thrust her shoulders back in a display of bravado. “I want her father to have the opportunity to know her as he should.”

  “He’s dead, you daft woman,” Savannah snapped. “He died in 1902.”

  Jeremy stiffened next to Savannah. “Oh. I see. You’re claiming that Sean wasn’t the father? That someone else was?” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter what you claim. Her birth certificate lists Sean Sullivan as her father, and he’s deceased.”

  Mrs. Smythe waved her hand as though the facts were immaterial and a nuisance at best. “I want there to be justice. For too long, a good man has been separated from his child.”

  “As though my uncle would allow you to … to … to be intimate with another man,” Savannah scoffed. “He was proud and strong and would never have countenanced you carrying on an affair.”

  Mrs. Smythe sighed, collapsing into her seat. She remained silent a few moments. “How are my dear stepchildren? There are many days I miss their company.”

  Jeremy laughed. “You mean, you miss your ability to meddle in their lives?”

  “I always thought it so tragic when Patrick had to leave,” Mrs. Smythe said as though Jeremy had not spoken. “I wish Sean had been more understanding.”

  Savannah shook her head in confusion, before freezing.

  Jeremy squinted as he considered the riddle of her words. “Are you insinuating … ?” he asked.

  “It’s no insinuation but a proclamation of the truth. The poor man, he lost everything over his infatuation with me. Including his child.” She shrug
ged her shoulders, giving a mournful smile that was more gleeful than sad.

  Savannah rose. “You vile woman, spouting your lies to provoke disharmony. Get out of my house and never return!” When Mrs. Smythe remained seated in calm contentment, Savannah nearly leaped over the tea table. She wrenched Mrs. Smythe up by the arm and dragged her to the front door. “Get out!” She gave her a push, slamming the door behind her and locking it.

  She leaned against it, panting after her exertions. Jeremy remained on the settee, his mind replaying the scene. He looked up to share a confused glance with Savannah.

  “What does this mean? Will we lose Melly?” Savannah crumpled to the floor, unable to fight her despair.

  Jeremy rose, rushing to kneel in front of her. “My darling, no matter what, Melly is our daughter. We adopted her, although at the time we didn’t believe we needed to legally. We have the paperwork from the lawyer and the judge. We did it because we loved her so much we couldn’t bear being parted from her in case something like this occurred. She is our daughter. We must wait to hear from Patrick his version of this story. Don’t panic, my darling.”

  “Yes, but …” Savannah grabbed her husband’s lapel and buried her face in it. “But now Melly might choose another. And that is out of our control.”

  Chapter 6

  Clarissa slammed a pile of books on a tabletop in the back sorting area of the library, ignoring Hester’s hiss of displeasure. She quickly placed them in order on a small cart before moving to refile them on the shelves. She walked down one shelf, looking for the section on Jefferson, when she bumped into a woman turned the other way. “I beg your pardon,” Clarissa murmured. She grunted as she moved the cart around the woman but stilled her actions when the woman turned to face her.

  “Mrs. Smythe,” Clarissa breathed. “At last you visit me.” Her gaze roamed over her stepmother, noting the wrinkles at her eyes and around her mouth, the baggy skin at her neck she concealed somewhat with a high-collared shirt and then her graying hair. “I see that time has been unkind to you.”

  “No need to sound gleeful,” Mrs. Smythe snapped, no hint of her singsongy voice present. “I had hoped to visit you at home, but someone is always present with you.”

  Clarissa’s gaze turned calculating. “You mean, you had hoped to catch me off guard and alone.” Her hands on the cart handle tightened, and she fought a frown. “I hope by now you’ve come to understand that Savannah and I are well supported here.”

  “That’s immaterial, dear. What’s important is that you realize that you have been denied the truth for too many years. I yearn for you to acknowledge why you were cruelly separated from your brother.” Her eyes watered as though she battled tears. “I fought such guilt at his leaving home.”

  Clarissa scoffed and moved the cart, banging Mrs. Smythe in the shins when she moved to block Clarissa’s path. “No, you didn’t,” Clarissa growled over Mrs. Smythe’s grunt of pain. “You relished every second of my distress, just as you did after you left me alone with Cameron. Your desire was always to have Da and his money all for your personal use. Your bad luck was that he died too young.” Clarissa maneuvered the cart again and pushed past Mrs. Smythe.

  “How dare you speak to me in such a manner after how I suffered with your father? He was such a cruel man!”

  Clarissa spun, her eyes blazing and hands clenched. “Don’t you dare speak to me about my father like that. I know what kind of man he was, and nothing you say will ever change my opinion of him. You will never tarnish my memory of him.” She stiffened when she sensed they were no longer alone in the aisle and looked over her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a moment in defeat and resignation.

  “I can’t believe what I am witnessing, Sister. The abuse of one of our patrons, in our library,” Mrs. Vaughan exclaimed in her carrying voice. Her turquoise dress clashed with her pumpkin-colored shawl. “When I think that we asked you to return to aid us in the running of our fine establishment …” She fanned herself as though speaking was more than she could bear after the shock of what she had just seen.

  Mrs. Bouchard squared her shoulders and glared at Clarissa. “You are a wicked woman, treating your elders in such an abusive manner. I fear I’ll need speak with our board about such behavior.”

  Clarissa watched the sisters dispassionately. “Do what you feel you must. I have no regrets about my interaction with this woman. If you will excuse me?” She pushed the cart forward, causing the sisters to leap to the side so as not to be run over. Mrs. Bouchard squelched at a ripping sound in her chartreuse-colored skirt and called to Clarissa that she’d send her the seamstress’s bill.

  “What has gotten into you?” Hester whispered when Clarissa closed the door in the office. Hester Loken was the main librarian, and she enjoyed the days Clarissa worked as it allowed Hester to catch up on paperwork rather than work out front. She and Clarissa were now good friends after a short period of animosity when Hester had first arrived in Missoula.

  “My ex-stepmother is out there, inciting unrest. As she always does,” Clarissa said as she collapsed on a stool. “She’s becoming bosom buddies with the sisters.”

  Hester grimaced. “That’s unfortunate. They don’t need to add anyone else to their network of nitpicking ninnies.”

  Clarissa giggled. “Mr. Pickens would have liked that name for them.”

  Hester shrugged and shared an irreverent grin with Clarissa. “Whenever I know they plan a gathering here, I put three Ns in my datebook so I can mentally prepare. Besides, I’ve seen them go through my calendar a few times, and I find that having a code helps.”

  Clarissa laughed again. “I fear the sisters will find a way to dismiss me after they saw my rude interaction with her.”

  Hester shrugged. “They like to believe they have more power than they do. They are honorary members, at best. The board will listen to reason and understand you were provoked. I wouldn’t worry about it.” She frowned as she studied her friend. “Are you all right?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “No. As long as she is in town, I will be uneasy. I know she’s planning something. I just don’t know what it is.” She cringed as she heard the bellowing shrill voices of the sisters, each trying to talk over the other. “I’ll sneak out the back. I must speak with Savannah.”

  Hester nodded. “You were almost done anyway. I’ll see you Sunday.”

  Clarissa smiled and nodded. Hester had been adopted into their group as part of their extended family and always joined them for Sunday dinner. “It’s at my house this week,” Clarissa murmured as she slipped out the back door.

  When she arrived at Savannah’s home, Clarissa entered the kitchen through the back door, which was always unlocked. She passed through the empty room and poked her head into the side sunroom that acted as Savannah’s informal parlor, where Savannah sat on a wicker settee, her gaze distant. “Hi, Sav,” Clarissa murmured.

  “Rissa,” she said with a warm smile. Her strawberry-blond hair was in a long braid down her back, and she wore a casual day dress in sky blue that matched her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at the library?”

  “I left a little early. I had a run-in with Mrs. Smythe and needed to escape after I saw her conspiring with the sisters.” She rolled her eyes as Savannah grimaced. “Hester didn’t mind.”

  Savannah played with her wedding ring, rolling it around and around on her finger. “I still can’t believe she’s here.”

  Clarissa waited, but Savannah remained silent. “And I can’t accept her story. It’s almost too fantastic to believe.”

  “I’ve found that, too often, the fantastic is true, if only in part,” Savannah murmured. “What if Patrick really is Melly’s father? What if he wants her back?” She blinked away tears. “Do we have the right to keep him separated from her?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “I don’t have answers to these questions, Sav. I love my brother, but I’m so angry with him right now.”

  “A part of me wishes he’d never come back.”
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  “No, Sav! I could never wish that.” Clarissa took a deep breath and let it out. “I fear he’s as much a victim in this whole debacle as the rest of us. Knowing Mrs. Smythe, there is much more to this story than she’s told us.”

  Savannah shook her head, her eyes filled with disappointment. “Then why didn’t he tell us first? Why would he ever leave us vulnerable to such a woman?” She watched her cousin unsuccessfully formulate a response. “There’s no excuse for what he failed to do, Rissa.”

  She nodded. “I understand you’re angry with him. But don’t wish him gone. Don’t wish him to not be a part of our lives. I will always be thankful he returned to us.” After a few moments, she whispered, “I’ll ask Colin to travel to Butte. I doubt Patrick would tell me the truth, but I think Colin will have a better chance of learning what truly happened.”

  Savannah watched her cousin. “I hate to be at odds with you, Rissa. You’re like a sister to me. But I can’t give up Melly. She’s my daughter. I love her.”

  Clarissa gripped Savannah’s hand. “I know. I’d never want you to.” She took another deep breath. “Let’s wait to hear what Colin discovers.” She pasted on a smile as Melinda burst into the room, and the conversation changed to Melinda’s plans for her summer vacation.

  Araminta’s heels clicked an uneven tattoo on the boardwalk on Higgins Avenue as she walked quickly. She held a list in her hand, with a wicker basket handle looped through one of her arms. She skirted a swinging door in front of a saloon, but her uneven step prevented her from completely evading the door. She stumbled and dropped her list.

  Even as she bent to retrieve it, a hand snatched it from her grasp. She rose and held out her hand, a polite smile on her face. “May I please have my list?” she asked the stranger.

  “Who are you?” asked the man, who appeared to be in his early thirties. “I’ve met with everyone of consequence since I arrived, and yet I don’t recall you.”

  His friend, who Araminta hadn’t noticed standing behind him, snorted. “That’s because she isn’t of consequence, Bart. She’s the McLeod maid.”