Sycamore Hill

by Francine Rivers

  I was not about to blurt out my knowledge on sexual response. Better his ego remain intact, than disillusion him about my response to his kiss. No man would ever touch me again, not in the way Jordan Bennett had. All I had, I had given. And there was no more for anyone else.

  “I think you should let Miss McFarland rest, Ross,” Marba said from the doorway, her eyes cold and sparkling. Her gaze flickered from my flushed face to Ross. He walked indolently across the room and paused beside her, his mouth quirking up at one side in a taunting smile. Then he looked back at me, his expression tender.

  “I’ll be back to see you later.”

  Marba shut the door after him with a sharp thud. Then she turned. I could see nothing but warmth and friendly concern in her smile as she approached the bed and took the seat that Ross had recently vacated.

  “I hope you didn’t misunderstand...” I started, attempting an explanation for what she had just seen.

  “I didn’t. It doesn’t concern me except that I’d hate to see you get hurt, Miss McFarland.”

  “Please, call me Abby.”

  Marba smiled and touched my hand. “Abby, then. I like you very much, you know. But you’re very naive about men, I think. Ross is a little out of your league.”

  “I’m not in love with him,” I told her frankly, hoping it would allay any of her possible fears or hidden jealousies.

  “I’m glad. I’d hate to see you making the same mistakes I did when I was younger,” she said, her eyes sad. “We women can mistake passionate embraces for declarations of love.” She shook her head. “Don’t overlook Ross’s character flaws, Abby. It would be a terrible mistake.”

  “Ross has been very kind to me,” I felt impelled to say in his defense.

  “Ross? Kind?” Maitoa raised her brows and gave me a tight smile. “How very little you know about Ross Persall. I hope you never learn any more than you know right now.”

  After a hearty lunch, which Katrina delivered to my room, I lay back against the pillows, allowing exhaustion to take over. When I awakened, it was dark outside. I heard voices in the other room. The door cracked slightly, and, not wanting to see anyone, I closed my eyes and feigned sleep.

  “Leave her alone, Ross,” Marba said sharply, and I heard the door creak again as he drew it partially closed, turning to answer her.

  “Why don’t you butt out, Marba? This isn’t any of your business,” he said bitingly.

  “I like Abby. I don’t want to see you hurt her.”

  “You’re jealous!” Ross accused, not without a tinge of satisfaction tainting his voice.

  Marba did not speak for a moment. “I’m not jealous,” she then said quietly, “I stopped loving you a long time ago. Katrina’s father taught me a lot about men like you. I knew what you were before I ever let you touch me.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “Hope, maybe. A foolish dream. I don’t know. What does it matter now? But please leave her alone,” Marba pleaded. I stared at the door, seeing movement as Ross stepped away. He didn’t shut the door, and I could still hear what was going on, though I wished I didn’t.

  “Did you ever stop to think that I might love Abigail?”

  “I’d be happy if you did,” she said, sounding sincere. “But you haven’t got it in you to really love anyone. It’s not your fault. It’s just the way you are. You always want the unattainable. You have to try and make every woman fall in love with you. Even that poor, pathetic creature, Prudence Townsend....”

  I sat up, unable to stop listening now.

  “What do you know about her?” Ross asked, his voice dropping.

  “I know you used to go see her late at night. And whenever you were around, she watched you. Oh, Ross! Did you add her to the notches on your bedpost too? Did you feel any guilt when she hanged herself? I don’t doubt for a second that she did it because she was in love with you. She was a dreadful little snob with her ridiculous airs of importance, and I hated her for the way she treated Katrina. But she didn’t deserve your brand of calculated cruelty.”

  “I’m sorry she did that,” Ross said in a flat tone of defensiveness. “But I don’t feel any guilt about it. Why should I? I didn’t give her the rope. I never made her any promises.”

  “But you did make love to her.”

  “I accepted what she gave, sure. Who wouldn’t? But then she started talking about settling down and getting married. The last time I saw her, she was boring me with gushy talk about my making a fine father, and wouldn’t I like to have a son just like me someday. My God! Can you imagine me with a kid strapped around my neck like a millstone for the rest of my life? I thought I was doing her a favor when I quit seeing her.”

  “You just stopped seeing her? Without any explanation?” Marba asked, quietly expressive.

  “Well, what the hell! What was I supposed to do? It would have been worse if I had dragged it out any longer. And she knew anyway how the whole affair was going to end... or she damn well should have. She was the worst kind of clinging vine.”

  “Oh, Ross.”

  I didn’t listen anymore. Sagging back against the pillow, I suddenly knew exacdy why Prudence Townsend had killed herself. She had been carrying Ross Persall’s child.

  Standing at the window the following morning, I saw Jordan riding into town. He passed over the crest of the hill beyond town and rode right beneath my window. My heart jolted at the sight of him, and I watched as he continued up Main Street, stopping finally in front of Olmstead’s store. Had he heard anything about what had happened at the schoolhouse? But how could he have? And what possible difference would it make?

  Sighing heavily, I leaned my head against the window frame. I kept the curtain drawn back so that I could gaze out with Sycamore Hill stretching before me. My eyes kept straying back to Jordan’s sleek stallion as it shifted impatiently at the rail. Jordan came out of the store and stood unmoving on the steps. He rubbed the back of his neck in a weary gesture. Then he descended the steps hurriedly and gracefully swung up into the saddle. He paused once on his ride back up Main Street, casting a long glance up McPherson to the burned-out schoolhouse. Then he came back toward the hotel.

  My heart began to pound. Drawing back so that I could not be seen from the street, I continued to watch Jordan. I was unable to tear my gaze away. Could he feel me watching him?

  Jordan slowed as he came abreast of the hotel. My heart was thundering in my chest. He drew his horse in and then dismounted. When he walked into the hotel, I gripped the material of the curtains in an agony of tension and hopeful longing. Was he stopping to see me, or did he have another reason for coming here?

  Five minutes later Jordan reappeared. Raking agitated fingers through his hair, he remounted and turned back toward the road out of town. He set his horse at a leisurely trot that quickened almost immediately as he crossed the bridge. I watched him galloping away, thinking I would never see him again. Finally he disappeared over the rise of the hill.

  I turned away, heedless of the tears that streamed down my face. Crossing the small room, I sank down onto the bed and gave myself up to sobs of desolation. “Oh, Jordan....”

  I never once noticed Katrina watching me silently from the doorway.

  ***

  Most of the swelling in my face from Hallender’s beating had gone down after the first few days. The bruises were still ugly, though they were gradually fading to yellow and purple across my cheekbones and eyes. My head no longer hurt, but I still suffered from dizziness now and then, though not from the blow Hallender had given me. Morning sickness still beset me each day, and I tired easily. Since seeing Jordan ride away, I had little appetite and was listless and depressed most of the time. I felt guilty for Marba’s attempts to cheer me. And Ross was constantly coming in to visit me. Doctor Kirk was the only one who understood my mood and the reason for it.

  A week after Ross had carried me to the hotel, the Reverend Hayes came to see me. I prayed he had not come to argue or sermonize on my sh
ortcomings. He had not, and he sat down after making a swift study of my face. He looked slightly horrified by it. Then he got right to the point of his visit. “Doctor Kirk says you’re doing well. Will you be ready to restart classes in, say, another week?”

  “Don’t you think I’d frighten the children?” I asked with a slight smile. He flushed a bit. I regretted my comment immediately and smiled apologetically.

  “The schoolhouse is unusable, I know,” he said. “But there’s always the church. There’s plenty of room there. We could set things up temporarily, until a new schoolhouse could be built. There are already plans underway.”

  “That sounds good.” I nodded.

  “Then you agree to restart classes in a week?” He seemed greatly relieved.

  “I’m sorry. No.”

  “Do you need more time?”

  “It’s not that.” I swallowed heavily. “I’m leaving Sycamore Hill.”

  Hayes sighed, not surprised by my announcement. “If you do that, you leave us all in an awful lurch,” he said almost blandly. I felt guilty, but I knew there was no way I could stay on. Hayes would be the first to tell me to leave if he knew the truth of my condition.

  “I’m sorry about that. But I... I just can’t stay. I hope you understand.” There was no way he could understand the real reason for my wanting to leave. I hoped that he would believe my intimation that it was the experiences at the schoolhouse that made me wish to resign.

  “You could at least do us the courtesy of remaining until we find a replacement.”

  “It was my understanding that it took you a year or more to find one after... after Miss Townsend... died.”

  Hayes looked down. “I don’t expect it will be any easier to find another this time,” he muttered, disgruntled by the prospect. When he glanced back up at me, he seemed momentarily discomforted. “I can understand your hesitation, of course,” he said. It was the closest he had ever come to an apology.

  “I hoped you would,” I murmured inanely, feeling guilty for the unuttered lies that hung in the air. My experience with Hallender was enough to make anyone wish to leave. Let Reverend Hayes believe it was reason enough for me.

  Hayes shifted uneasily in his chair, his eyes moving about the room in vague curiosity. He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth told me about her talk with you,” he began with obvious embarrassment. “I know we’ve never gotten on. Is that part of the reason you’re leaving?”

  “No, please,” I said, embarrassed as well. “I know you were always concerned with what was best for the children. It’s just that we didn’t agree on some things. I wasn’t always very tactful.”

  “The children need you, Miss McFarland,” Hayes said, relieved but determined. “You’ve done a good job with them since you came. Your teaching methods aren’t, well, aren’t always orthodox.” He smiled. “But they were learning,” he added quickly, afraid I would take offense.

  “Thank you for that.” I smiled slightly.

  “You can’t just leave them high and dry now,” he went on. It was just the sort of guilt appeal that the Haversalls had used on me when I had suggested leaving to begin my own life. It had worked then, and under different circumstances it would have worked now as well. The choice had always been there for me to make before if I had had the strength to follow through. Mistaken gratitude and guilt-ridden responsibility had bound me then. Now it was the birth of my child. There were moments when I almost rejoiced with the knowledge of the baby within me. Other times I felt almost overcome with fear of our future.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Hayes looked at me for a long moment.

  “There’s no way I can change your mind, Miss McFarland?”

  “No. I am sorry.”

  He stood up. “I won’t say I like your decision,” he told me frankly. “You did your job in spite of our differences. If you need a reference, I’ll give you a good one.” At my surprised look, he seemed almost insulted. “I’m a fair man. In your shoes I don’t suppose I’d want to stay here either.”

  I could not look at him.

  “Good day to you, Miss McFarland. And good luck,” he said flatly, putting on his hat as he left the room.

  ***

  “You’re really leaving then,” Marba said regretfully. “Isn’t there any way we can change your mind?” Katrina held a plate of cookies in front of me, but I shook my head having no appetite for them.

  “No, thank you, Katrina.” I glanced up at Marba sitting across from me. “I really can’t stay, Marba,” I told her unsteadily.

  My plans to depart on the Oakland stage in the morning were already made. I had even purchased my ticket, and my few possessions were packed and ready in my carpetbag and small trunk. The bank president had been by the previous day to give me the reward for returning the bank money. I had not wanted to accept it, but had little choice. I needed it to support myself until the baby was born and I could find employment. The money belonged to the people of Sycamore Hill, and under any other circumstances I could not have accepted the reward at all. It was only right that all of it should have been returned. However, pride had to be set aside due to necessity and circumstances.

  “Please,” Katrina added to her mother’s appeal. The little girl’s eyes were filled with soulful pleading. Never had I felt more guilty and dreadful.

  I reached up and cupped her sweet face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I just can’t.”

  Her eyes filled. “Even if... even if Mr. Bennett asked you to stay? Would you if he asked you?” she pleaded.

  The shock of her unexpected question caught me completely off guard. What could Katrina know about my relationship with Jordan Bennett? I wondered in near panic, hoping that my feelings didn’t show on my face. My smile wavered. “It wouldn’t make any difference,” I managed to answer. It would never happen, I added to myself.

  “Katie, what makes you ask such a thing?” Marba queried, looking between her daughter and me.

  Katrina turned. “I saw Miss McFarland crying. She... she said his name.”

  I felt Marba’s eyes turn on me in a curious stare.

  “Go wash your face, honey,” Marba instructed her daughter gently. “Then would you go downstairs for a while so that I can talk with Miss McFarland alone?” Katrina nodded her small bowed head. She shuffled dejectedly out of the room.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, I stood up and walked uneasily to the window, looking down on Main Street. I could feel Marba watching me closely. We had talked many times since I had come to the hotel. After the first night I had moved into the room next-door. Marba had come often to sit with me, and we had covered a myriad of subjects, though never touching on anything too highly personal.

  “Abby?”

  “The weather has cleared,” I said quickly. “I thought it would be raining again this afternoon and even tomorrow when I leave. But it’s clear.” I winced, thinking of tomorrow morning. I closed my eyes and saw Jordan’s face. I opened my eyes again, trying to purge myself of him. What was the use?

  “I always suspected there was more to your leaving than what happened with Hallender,” Marba said quietly, ignoring my efforts to avoid the subject. I turned and gave her a purposeful, surprised look.

  “What else could there be? I should think that experience would be enough.”

  “Oh, yes, for anyone else. But not for you.” She smiled kindly. “You love the children, and you feel a heavy responsibility toward them. I remember how upset you were two days ago, when Hayes came to see you and ask you to stay on. You would, I think, if something else hadn’t entered into your decision. How does Jordan Bennett fit in?”

  “He... he doesn’t,” I answered. I gave a self-conscious laugh. “I don’t know what Katrina was thinking. She must have been mistaken.” I turned away, unable to look Marba in the face.

  “Oh, Abby,” she said sympathetically.

  My fingers moved back and forth on the sill as I tried to block out all thoughts of Jordan and my leaving
tomorrow morning. “He’s not the reason I’m leaving,” I said truthfully. I’m leaving because I’m going to have his baby, I added silently to myself.

  “Does he know you’re leaving?"

  “Everyone knows. I’m sure he does too,” I said, unaware of how revealing my tone was. “Anyway,” I turned around with a forced smile of brightness, “I’m looking forward to my trip, I’ve... I’ve missed the East Coast.”

  “Maybe Ross should ride out and tell Jordan.”

  “No! No! Please!” My face whitened with fright. “Don’t ask him to do that. You don’t understand, Marba. Please, promise me.”

  “All right. Please don’t get so upset.”

  I rubbed my hand across my face, taking deep, calming breaths. “I’m sorry. That was silly of me,” I muttered and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not myself lately.”

  “Diego and his mother would like to know. They owe you a lot for the tutoring you did,” she tried again.

  I shook my head. “It’s better if I just go. I’ve said enough good-byes in the past few days to last me a lifetime. I couldn’t....” I did not finish, nor did I need to do so. Marba seemed to understand. I sat down again, and my fingers plucked idly at my skirt. She watched me. The silence was uncomfortable, and I stood up again. I began to pace.

  “Maybe if you stayed on, things would work out. I don’t think Jordan Bennett is indifferent to you,” Marba suggested.

  I gave a bleak laugh. “Oh, he’s not indifferent to me. He despises me. I let him....” I stopped, realizing almost too late what I was about to blurt out in my misery. I let out my breath.

  “Abby.” Marba’s voice was full of question and concern.

  “I believed all the gossip about him. I was a fool where he was concerned. I did everything wrong; I said everything wrong.” I stopped and looked at her. “Believe me, Marba. Jordan Bennett will rejoice when I get on that stage tomorrow.”

  Marba looked at me long and hard. Then she changed the subject.