Sycamore Hill

by Francine Rivers

  “Abigail.” Ross was coming around the corner of the building. “Abigail, where are you?” His voice was low.

  Jordan’s mouth twisted cynically, his eyes never leaving my face.

  Shaking, I turned away. “Over here, Ross,” I answered. Jordan released my wrist abruptly, his expression accusing.

  “So it’s ‘Ross’ and ‘Abigail,’ is it? What else is there to this sudden intimacy that’s sprung up between the two of you?” he demanded, barely moving his lips as he spoke.

  “What’re you doing out... Jordan!” Ross said, coming around the stairs and stopping as he saw the tall man standing in front of me, blocking my escape. Ross stared at Jordan and then looked at me. “What’s going on out here?”

  “You tell me,” Jordan said in a low, growling voice. Ross looked at me again, and I felt a guilty flush heat my entire body. The darkness thankfully hid the embarrassed color. Jordan was looking at me now, and then back at Ross. There was a decidedly cynical twist to his mouth.

  “I overheard Missus Hudson saying you looked ill,” Ross explained. “I was worried about you. Are you all right?”

  “She’s fine. It’s just a case of nerves,” Jordan answered for me. His tone implied dismissal, and Ross’s concerned expression changed as he cast a cold look at Jordan. Then he looked at me again.

  “Are you?”

  I nodded.

  “We’ve got to talk,” Jordan said to me.

  “Just what’s going on?” Ross repeated. There was a hard edge to his voice that I had never heard before. I looked up at Jordan. I loved him so much, I wanted to die of it, but I was sure that what he felt for me was nothing even close to that emotion. And I had already been a fool once over him.

  “No. We’ve... we’ve nothing more to talk about, Mr. Bennett.”

  Jordan assessed my expression. He let out his breath in exasperation. “Have it your own way,” he snapped. I watched him walking away and felt bereft. I felt Ross watching me closely, but I didn’t care.

  “What was going on out here between the two of you?” Ross demanded in a whisper.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head, feeling suddenly exhausted. At least the nausea had passed.

  “Were you really sick?” he asked, a dubious expression on his face. I looked at him and suddenly realized that Ross Persall was jealous. It surprised me very much.

  “Yes, I was. Mr. Bennett must have heard me.”

  “What did he mean about you and him having something to talk about?”

  “School business,” I lied. Ross did not take his eyes from my face. But after a second he accepted my answer.

  “We’d better go back in, or people are going to get suspicious,” he said. “You go first. I’ll wait for a couple of minutes.”

  I started to move away, but his hand at my elbow stopped me. “Abigail...” he whispered, then seemed to change his mind. His hand dropped to his side. “Go on. We’ll talk about Jordan Bennett later.”

  When I reentered the schoolhouse, Elvira Hudson came over to ask if I were all right. I forced a smile, saying I was fine now and that I had only needed to get some air. She seemed satisfied. I looked around the room until my eyes settled on Jordan. He was standing beside Reva, his hand possessively beneath her elbow as he leaned down to whisper something to her. My heart plunged into the pit of my stomach.

  Reva looked up at Jordan curiously and then nodded. I focused my attention back on Elvira. I tried listening to her inane, friendly chatter. I did not notice Ellen Greer looking between me and Jordan with discerning eyes, nor did I see the faint raise of her gray brows as Ross Persall came back into the schoolroom and glanced once in my direction.

  My face whitened as I saw Reva coming toward me with Diego and Linda. Jordan was moving across the room, behind them.

  “Miss McFarland, we have to go home,” Diego said with obvious disappointment.

  “Jordan says he’s got business to take care of at the ranch,” Reva explained.

  “We want to wish you a very merry Christmas, ma’am,” Linda said, beaming.

  “Thank you, and I wish you all the same,” I murmured, and smiled back tremulously. Reva spoke to me for a moment. Her friendliness made me feel dreadfully guilty and ashamed for loving Jordan. Linda hugged me, and Jordan watched grimly. I looked up at him, praying that everything I felt was well-hidden. His eyes were cold. His mouth tilted up at one side in a mirthless smile.

  “Have a pleasant holiday, Miss McFarland,” he said in a dry tone, his gaze flicking toward Ross Persall with an added silent message. Stung by his insinuation, I let my own eyes move to Reva as she steered the two children toward the door.

  “I wish you happiness with your family, Mr. Bennett,” I said with a jerk of my chin. His eyes narrowed on my face for a moment. Then he strode off toward the door, where Reva waited for him.

  I remembered what the reverend had said in his angry parting. “June can’t come soon enough....”

  For the first time I agreed with him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Whatever seemed to be ailing me got worse during the next week. I lost weight, and my clothes seemed to hang on me. The sickness was worse during the morning, sometimes so bad that I was hardly able to get out of bed. I could hold down no food except a slice of bread and some milk late in the afternoon. I debated going to the doctor, but decided against it. I had not the funds to pay him, nor buy the prescription he might give me. And, I reasoned, whatever bug I had would best be fought off with plenty of rest. Ten days of holiday stretched out for that purpose.

  However, my sleep was fitful, filled with nightmares. Sometimes I awoke to crying, and I would lie in an exhausted stupor, unable to feel anything but aching awareness of my back muscles. As the days passed, my turquoise-and-gold eyes seemed to dominate the pallor of my face. I felt drained of energy.

  With the children out of school, I saw no one. I passed my time making preparations for the coming classes. I visited Ellen once, but hardly listened to what she said to me. I excused my placid state and went home to rest.

  A few days after the children’s Christmas program I was surprised by a visit from Elizabeth Hayes. She tapped lightly at my back door, identifying herself with her soft, self-deprecating voice.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you,” she apologized as I invited her in and she saw the papers and books spread out on my table. It was a brisk morning. The sky was clouded over, warning possible rain that night. Elizabeth was huddled inside a thick woolen shawl that all but swallowed her in its mass, pregnant or not.

  “Of course not,” I was hasty to reply. “Would you care for something to drink?” I offered hospitably. “Coffee?”

  Elizabeth Hayes grimaced. “I can not abide the smell when I’m in a family way,” she admitted with a faint flush of self-consciousness. I sat down, folded my hands on the table and waited for her to tell me why she had come.

  “I came to apologize for Jonah,” she said softly. It seemed strange to hear the stalwart Reverend Hayes called with that affectionate inflection. There was a softness in Elizabeth Hayes’s expression that clearly indicated that while Jonah Hayes was harsh and a bully to some, he held no fear for this woman.

  However, I felt that any apology from Hayes should have come from him personally, if it were to mean anything. I doubted that he had sent his wife; yet I felt sorry for the gentle lady who lived with such a tyrannical man. With Hayes, four active, mischievous sons and another baby well on the way, Elizabeth had much with which to cope.

  She smiled at me with soft appeal. “He’s not a bad man.”

  “Oh, please,” I said, embarrassed. “I’m afraid I was at fault for what happened after the Christmas program. I have no tact whatsoever when my temper gets aroused.”

  Elizabeth gave a laugh of genuine amusement. “Neither does Jonah, I’m afraid. He can be terribly gruff and unfair when he’s angered. And he’s been very angry with you several times.”

  I smiled. “Yes. So I’ve noticed.�
��

  “He admires you.”

  My eyes opened wide with incredulity. “He does,” she insisted, seeing my disbelief. “Oh, he doesn’t agree with you, but he respects your spirit.”

  “He as much as told me that my contract will not be renewed come June,” I informed her.

  The reverend’s wife shook her head. “Yes, I know. He was upset that he had said that, and I think he will just forget about it. He can’t say he’s sorry, but he tries in other ways to show he is.”

  Now that she was warm, Elizabeth let her heavy shawl fall back off her thin shoulders. She was wearing a dark-brown wool dress with plain white collar and cuffs. The only relief to the severe outfit was a pretty enamel bird at her neck.

  “He hasn’t always been so uncompromising,” she said thoughtfully. “He has always been a serious man, a very feeling one. It’s only since we lost our little girl that he’s seemed angry with the world and his faith in God has been tested.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t suppose I should even be talking about all this with you, but,” she looked up at me and smiled slightly, “you’ve been so good for Matt, and I would hate to see you leave Sycamore Hill. Mark and Luke like you very much, and, well, little Johnnie loves you. His first love.” She smiled, her hazel eyes sparkling. “And you know how that is.” She spread her hands, and her expression grew serious all of a sudden. “I almost think Jonah is a little jealous of it all. He likes to be in total command, and now he finds that you have a great deal of influence over the way our boys think.”

  “How old was your little girl?” I asked hesitantly, afraid my question would open old wounds, and yet wanting to know what had made Hayes the way he was.

  “Four... and so beautiful.” Her eyes misted, and she blinked quickly. I saw her hand unconsciously smooth over her growing abdomen in silent prayer. “She contracted chicken pox when we were in Kansas. She wasn’t a very strong child. She died in Jonah’s arms. I was afraid he would go mad with his grief.” Her mouth trembled in remembrance. “And there were the two boys—Matt was three, and Mark only one. By the grace of God, they did not become ill.” She sighed, and then smiled at me again. “I pray this baby will be another little girl like our Ruth, only stronger. I shall name her Rebecca.”

  “I hope you have your little girl.” I smiled. I liked Elizabeth Hayes very much. There was a gentle strength about her that made her a most admirable woman.

  “Jonah’s father was a preacher,” Elizabeth began again. “He was a truly dreadful man.” She smiled. “Fierce, unforgiving, the hellfire-and-damnation kind of minister,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. “Jonah didn’t want to be like him. I’m afraid he’s becoming that way and doesn’t even realize it.”

  “Why does he have such prejudice against Mexicans?”

  “When we first came here, some young bandídos vandalized the church. Two got away, but one was caught. He said something to Jonah that truly horrified him. Blasphemy, but what exactly, I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “But that’s no reason to despise all Mexicans,” I said.

  “No, it’s not,” she agreed. “But Jonah has not been reasonable about many things since Ruth died. I wish I knew what to do,” she sighed. “He seems to get worse as the years pass.”

  “Have you tried sitting down and talking with him about it?”

  “I don’t know that it would do any good. If I were to say anything to him, he would look on it as a betrayal of our love. It would hurt him too deeply.”

  “Would he listen to anyone else?”

  “The only person that he truly respects here in Sycamore Hill isn’t even a church member any longer—Jordan Bennett.”

  I felt the color rising into my face and quickly turned away. Standing, I busied myself at the stove, setting on a kettle for tea. I wanted to do anything to hide my shaking hands and the crimson flush that had swept into my cheeks at the mere mention of Jordan Bennett’s name. I took down two cups from the shelf and removed the lid from the canister. “It... it surprises me that the reverend would think so much of him,” I managed.

  “You mean because of all the gossip about his wife’s sudden death?” she asked with a rueful smile. “Don’t look so surprised, Miss McFarland. A minister’s wife hears many things from many people.”

  “I suppose so.” I turned away, measuring out the tea and putting it into the kettle. I did not possess a tea ball; so I had to carefully sift out the leaves when the brew was made.

  “I don’t believe the stories,” Elizabeth said. “People disliked Gwendolyn Bennett very much. She was from a wealthy family in the East, and she hated living in California. She never tried to make friends with anyone. Everyone was aware that her marriage with Mr. Bennett was not a happy one. They simply jumped to conclusions when she was brought into town on the buckboard.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Her neck was broken. Because little was said about how it happened, people chose to believe that Mr. Bennett did it himself. So sad really. I think he is a decent man. I don’t believe he would murder anyone.”

  “I’ve heard he has a violent temper.”

  “I’ve never seen him angry,” she admitted. “But he’s a loving father.”

  “Your husband believes Mr. Bennett is Diego Gutierrez’s father. That was part of his decision to expel the boy.”

  Elizabeth looked up and sighed. “Yes, I know. It’s strange that all that doesn’t affect his respect for Mr. Bennett. Men and women usually lay blame for such unfortunate situations on the woman involved. The man is forgiven his momentary lapse, while the woman and child suffer for the indiscretion for the rest of their lives.”

  “Then you believe it’s true?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible, I suppose. They have lived together for years. And neither one of them has ever denied the story, though I shouldn’t think they owed anyone any explanations. But I really don’t know if it is true.”

  “I don’t believe it,” I said quietly. Even as I said it, I wondered if my belief was colored by my love for Jordan. Perhaps I did not want to believe it anymore.

  “I was told that Mr. Bennett’s late wife was very beautiful,” I said a moment later. I turned toward the kettle again as the water began steaming. I tried to sound casual, hoping my interest in Jordan’s life was not too obvious. Why didn’t I just leave well enough alone? But I could not. I never stopped thinking about him.

  “Oh, yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “She was exquisite. But I’ve never seen a more pathetic creature.”

  “Pathetic?”

  “She came from a wealthy family and undoubtedly had everything her own way until she married Jordan Bennett and came to live in California. Out here she was despised by everyone, and it was her own doing, I’m afraid. She was beautiful, and knew it. There was an arrogance about her that immediately made people dislike her. She was bitter and resentful about having to live here.” Elizabeth shook her head, her expression mirroring her pity. “She was so young, and she had so much to be thankful for—a lovely little daughter....”

  “Do you care for sugar? I can’t offer you cream or milk. I haven’t any at the moment.”

  “No, thank you. This is just fine.” Elizabeth Hayes lifted the mug and sipped gingerly at the hot brew. “This is very good.” We sat in companionable silence. Elizabeth sighed and then leaned forward to rub the small of her back.

  “Are you feeling all right?” I asked, concerned. Her face seemed quite pale with the strain. Then it cleared with a bright, amused smile.

  “It all goes along with being in a family way,” she said with a faint flush. “Sometimes every muscle in my back seems to be protesting the coming of this baby. But at least I can be thankful that the morning sickness is letting up some.”

  “Morning sickness?”

  “They call it that because it comes mostly in the morning. Some women are unfortunate enough to have it all the time. I suffer from it for the first few months, and then it goe
s away. Sometimes I feel a little faint, but that passes also.” She leaned across the table and patted my hand. “Don’t look so worried, Miss McFarland. I’ve been through this five times before. This is my sixth baby.”

  “Yes... yes... well, I hope you will be feeling better,” I stammered as my mind whirled with horrifying thoughts.

  “I hope I haven’t embarrassed you by talking about it,” she apologized.

  “Oh, no, no.” Backaches? Dizziness and nausea? Fainting spells? Oh, dear God in Heaven....”

  Elizabeth Hayes finished her tea and stood up, pulling her shawl up around her shoulders again. “I’ve kept you much too long, and you’re so kind. I’m very grateful for what you’ve done for the boys, Matt especially. He must learn to stand on his own two feet.” We shook hands at the door, and she told me not to be so upset about her husband’s angry threat. I wished her well and closed the door.

  Trembling, I sat down at the table again. My stomach churned sickeningly, and my head began to ache with tension. Now I knew what was wrong with me. It only seemed impossible that I had not realized it sooner. I was carrying Jordan Bennett’s child!

  ****

  That night I lay awake for hours, trying to think. No solution presented itself. Never once did I consider going to Jordan with the news of my condition. To suffer further humiliation or rejection from him was unthinkable.

  Was I ever to be a fool? Hadn’t I been fool enough over the Haversalls? And then Jordan? How could I have let myself fall in love with a man who cared nothing for me except as a trollop to roll with in the field when he needed satiation? What a mistake I had made giving myself to him in such abandonment, never once thinking of the consequences! And now I would pay, and so would my unborn child.

  I thought of what the situation would be when my condition became known. It would not be long before I would not be able to keep it secret. It would be obvious to everyone. Then I would lose my position, my livelihood, small though it was. Then what would I do? Would I be able to keep my pride, or would I have to crawl to Jordan and beg his help? I would rather die!