Patrick’s fingers tightened around her hand. “I’m here for you, lass. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. O’Donnell,” she whispered as fresh tears began to fall.
The front door slammed shut, and Emily looked over her shoulder to meet Gavin’s troubled gaze. His dark hair was dotted with flakes of snow, and his face was red from the cold. Without a word to either Emily or Patrick, he moved on toward his bedroom, the door closing firmly behind him.
Emily removed her hand from Patrick’s grasp. “Thank you for your kind words, Mr. O’Donnell. I appreciate them.” She stood. “Now I must go to the children. It has been a difficult day, and they need me.”
She found the two girls curled up together on the bed. Sabrina was stroking her sister’s hair and whispering, “Don’t cry, Pet,” while large teardrops streaked her own cheeks.
Maggie had talked to her in just that tone of voice when they were young. Orphaned and living with a cruel uncle, there had been many occasions for them to huddle together, the two of them against the world. Or so it had seemed.
Whenever Emily had been unhappy or frightened, Maggie would play the “Good Things” game. They would hide in the attic, where Uncle Seth never thought to look for them, and together they would think of all that was good and happy and bright. Margaret Ann, Emily’s favorite doll. Cuddles, the stray dog that had befriended them. Blue skies. Picnics on hot summer days. Polly, the iceman’s Clydesdale.
Maggie had been both sister and mother to her, but Emily had longed to be part of a happy family. And she’d been lucky. Coming to Idaho on that wagon train so many years ago had given her the family she’d longed for. New brothers in Tucker and Neal Branigan. A new sister and best friend in Fiona Branigan. New grandparents. And later her adorable nieces and nephews. She’d been granted so many things good and happy and bright.
How long would it be before Sabrina and Petula could play the “Good Things” game? Could she help them find the happiness their mother wanted for them?
Emily crossed the room and sat beside them on the bed, pulling a blanket over them. She stroked their hair and murmured words of comfort. She silently prayed for God to protect their small hearts, to help them heal. And eventually, as the shadows in the room deepened, both girls drifted off to sleep.
Emily was surprised to find Patrick still seated by the fire when she came out of the children’s room. He rose from his chair the moment she appeared.
“I thought you’d gone.” She walked toward him.
“I couldn’t leave until I made sure you were all right.”
She sighed. “I’m all right. Just tired.” She sank onto the chair nearest the fire, her gaze locked on the orange flames. “I was remembering how Maggie, my sister, used to make me feel better when something bad happened to us. We used to try to think about good things, pretty things. Like a fine horse pulling a shiny black carriage. Or a lady’s hat with a purple ostrich feather. Or maybe a winter snowfall. Sometimes we’d play the game for hours.”
“Did bad things happen often, Miss Harris?” He sat down once again.
“Yes. My parents were dead, and the uncle who came to raise us was a hateful man. There was no love in his heart for either of us. But God was good. Maggie and I had each other, and later God brought other people into our lives who loved us.”
“I’m glad of that. I’d not have you sad if I had my way about it, and that’s the truth.”
She turned her head to look at him. “I don’t want Brina and Pet to ever feel unloved or alone, either. I want to protect them from sorrow. I promised Dru . . .” She let her voice trail into silence.
“Grief takes many forms, Miss Harris. I believe you will find a way to help them navigate through it.”
His kind words acted as a balm on her hurting soul, and she wondered, given enough time, if she could ever feel more for him than simple friendship.
November 20, 1883
Dear Maggie,
We laid Mrs. Blake to rest today. There was a biting wind and the skies were gray. Despite the threat of snow, many people attended the funeral. Mrs. Blake was loved by all who knew her.
The day before she died, we attended a wedding at the home of a neighbor. The O’Donnell house is fashioned after a wealthy estate in Ireland, I’m told. There are four O’Donnell brothers, and it was the second oldest who was married that day. It was such a festive affair. I never dreamed we would be facing death within such a short time. I suppose death always takes us by surprise, even when we are told the person is dying.
Mr. Blake has shut himself away in his grief, although he has tried to comfort the children as much as he can. And I am doing my best to relieve their pain. Mostly I hold them and read to them and try to keep their minds occupied. I have often wished for your wise counsel. There are times that I feel completely unequal to the task before me. At other times I believe this must be why God sent me to stay with this family.
Please pray that the Lord would grant me wisdom. Pray that hearts will heal. Mr. Blake is not a man of faith, which was a heartache for his wife while she was alive. Perhaps God will use this loss to draw Mr. Blake to him.
My love to all. I will write again soon.
Your sister,
Emily
Nineteen
The days and weeks drifted by, little noticed by Gavin. Sorrow and regrets weighed him down. Logical or not, he blamed himself for Dru’s death. If he’d worked harder, been more successful, had more money. If he’d taken her to see one more doctor. If he was smarter or better educated. If any of those things were true, then maybe she wouldn’t have died.
And he could have been a better husband in the time they were man and wife. True, their marriage had been one of convenience, never consummated and never meant to be. True, their mutual affection had been based upon friendship and nothing more. But if he’d tried a little harder to love her in a deeper way, maybe she wouldn’t have longed for Charlie. Maybe she would have fought harder to live.
He saw the children through a fog and found it almost impossible to speak to them, to even touch them. They needed him — he saw it in their eyes — but he felt unable to reach out to them. He was frozen on the inside. At least they had Emily. She cared for them. She comforted them. And maybe she would have comforted him too if he could let her.
He couldn’t let her.
While Gavin wrestled with his inner demons, winter arrived in earnest. It blanketed the Salmon River Range with thick layers of snow, sometimes with lazy crystals drifting to earth, sometimes with vengeful blizzards, winds howling across the mountains and valleys. Temperatures fell below zero at night and often lingered there until noon. The skies seemed eternally gray, like a mirror of the sadness that gripped the Blake home.
Emily was almost thankful for the fullness of her days. She took care of the house and the girls, preparing meals, washing and mending clothes. She made sure the children kept up with their lessons, more to keep their minds occupied than for the learning itself. She had made a promise to Dru, and although it wouldn’t be easy, she meant to keep it.
Christmas would have been a dismal affair in the Blake house, if not for Patrick’s help. He became a frequent visitor to the Lucky Strike in the weeks after the funeral, and Emily was grateful for all he did for them. He took her and the girls on an outing to chop down a Christmas tree, then helped them string popcorn and make paper garlands for decorations. He took Emily into Challis in his sleigh so she could buy gifts for the children to go under the tree on Christmas morning, and he bought a large bag of nuts to fill their stockings. He also did his best to give what comfort he could to Gavin, but his friend paid him no heed.
Emily hadn’t expected Patrick to visit on Christmas Day, but a little after one o’clock, he arrived at the front door.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Harris.”
“Mr. O’Donnell, what a pleasant surprise. Please, come in from the cold. Let me get you some coffee to warm yourself.”
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br /> “It’s a fine day. The sun is out again, and the snow is sparkling. I thought perhaps you might join me for a sleigh ride. Surely Gavin and the young ones could spare you for a time.”
“Well, I — ”
“Don’t be saying you have work to do. It’s Christmas, after all. Even a governess deserves some time off today.”
From the kitchen doorway, Gavin said, “Patrick’s right, Miss Harris. We can manage on our own for an afternoon. Go and enjoy yourself.”
She was dispensable. Gavin didn’t need her, didn’t want her, had rejected her time and again, only tolerated her because it had been Dru’s dying wish that Emily stay with the girls until spring. If she’d had any hope that Gavin might learn to care for her as she cared for him — as Dru had wanted, Emily had come to believe — the past few weeks had shattered it.
“I’ll get my wrap,” she said softly.
Before she could take more than a few steps toward the kitchen where she’d hung her coat earlier that morning, Gavin brought it to her. “Enjoy yourself,” he said.
The threat of tears made her throat ache. “Thank you.”
“No need to rush back. I can look after Brina and Pet.”
If she didn’t leave right now, she might let him see how much his words hurt. She didn’t want that. She turned toward Patrick, who took the coat from her hands and helped her into it before opening the door.
“We’ll return in an hour or so,” Patrick told Gavin.
Gavin didn’t reply.
Once Emily was seated in the front seat of the sleigh, Patrick covered her with a fur-lined lap robe. Then he joined her on the seat, taking up the reins and slapping them against the team’s rumps. The sleigh slid away from the house, accompanied by the jingle of bells on the harness.
It was a beautiful Christmas day, the sky so blue it almost hurt the eyes, the snow glittering in the sunlight. The cold against her cheeks revived Emily’s spirits.
“Look there,” Patrick said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. He slowed the horses to a halt.
Emily followed the direction of his gaze to a herd of elk, a hundred or more, moving slowly but steadily across the valley about half a mile ahead of them. The sound of horns clicking against horns carried to them on the breeze. Several elk — a few with massive racks spanning four or five feet across — stopped and stared in their direction, then continued on their way, as if to say that humans were of no importance.
“The Indians call the elk wapiti,” Patrick told her. “It means ‘white,’ referring to their tails.”
“I’ve never seen so many in one place before.” She turned and gave him a smile. “They’re breathtaking.”
He leaned close. “If you’ll allow me to say so, Miss Harris, so are you.”
She liked Patrick a great deal. He was generous and amusing, candid and tender. That he would like to be more to her than a friend had never been in question, but he had never pressed her. She thought that was about to change.
“Miss Harris . . . Emily . . . you know that I care for you.”
A girl could do much worse than Patrick O’Donnell for a suitor. Much worse. And he was ever so thoughtful. Hadn’t he shown her countless courtesies in these past weeks? When she’d had no one else she could turn to, there he had been.
“Sure and I’ve been hoping you might consider me for a husband.”
How should she answer? She had always said she would only marry for love and for no other reason. But marrying for love wasn’t possible now. For the man she loved didn’t love her in return.
Patrick pulled her left hand from the muff she held on her lap, then slid a ruby and emerald ring onto the tip of her finger, pausing to ask, “Will you marry me, Emily?”
“Patrick . . .”
“I swear I’ll do all in my power to make you happy.”
“It’s so soon after Dru died. I couldn’t leave Brina and Pet now. Their hearts are broken. And I cannot accept this.” She removed the ring from her finger and pressed it into his hand. “It’s too soon.”
“Fine. You needn’t wear the ring. You needn’t upset the children. But tell me you’ll marry me. We’ll wait as long as you wish to wed. Say you’ll marry me, Emily. Tell me when that can be.”
“I promised the Blakes I would stay until spring, until the cattle go back to the basin.”
“Mid-June then. It’s a good time for a wedding.”
“But I — ”
He stopped her words with a kiss.
She wanted to be stirred. She wanted her heart to react. She wanted her pulse to race.
“Go on, Emily. Say you’ll marry me,” he whispered, his lips still near her own. “Say it.”
Gavin didn’t want her. Probably didn’t need her. Most likely wouldn’t miss her when she was gone.
“Say it.”
“All right, Patrick. Yes. I will marry you.”
He kissed her again.
Don’t be afraid to love, Dru had told Gavin.
Don’t be afraid to risk it all, was what she’d tried to tell him.
Don’t be afraid to trust and give. Don’t be afraid to take in return. Don’t be so embittered by what someone did in the past that you can’t look for the good in others. Don’t believe that every woman is like Christina Blake, selfish and spoiled. Believe, instead, in the best in people.
It all became crystal clear in Gavin’s mind as he lay in bed, sleepless and searching for answers.
Don’t be afraid to love. Really love. Love with everything — heart, body, mind, and soul. Don’t be afraid to love.
I think you could love Emily . . . She belongs in this place . . . She could love you too if you let her.
He’d had Dru’s blessing. More than her blessing. Her prayers.
He knew that now. Should have known it then. Should have understood that this had been Dru’s desire even before they went to Boise to hire a governess.
He got out of bed and went into the parlor. Hot coals glowed red in the fireplace. He checked the mantle clock, 2:00 a.m. He tossed more wood into the fireplace and waited for it to flare to life.
Dru had wanted more for him than he’d wanted for himself. Because she’d loved Charlie with her whole heart, she’d wanted the same for Gavin. More, she’d wanted her daughters to be raised in that kind of home, where the parents loved completely and fully.
She was right. He was bullheaded.
Gavin walked into the kitchen and looked out of the window toward the one-room cabin that had been his home while Charlie was alive. Emily was asleep in there now.
She could love you too if you let her.
Could she? Could Emily love him if he let her?
Maybe. Maybe he should find out if Dru was right.
Emily awakened before dawn. She wouldn’t be needed in the house for several more hours, but there was no point trying to go back to sleep. Her thoughts were already churning. She needed to write to Maggie and tell her about Patrick’s proposal. Her sister would want to meet him before their wedding day. Would Maggie and Tucker come to Challis or would she and Patrick need to travel to Boise? Of course, no one could find fault with the good-natured, kindhearted Patrick O’Donnell. Everyone who knew him liked him. One couldn’t help but fall victim to his Irish charm.
But there was an ache inside Emily. She wanted more than kindness, more than goodness.
She wanted Gavin.
With a moan, she tossed aside the blankets and rose from her bed. She drew on a robe as she walked across the room to the window. Brushing aside the curtains, she stared across the yard that separated her cabin from the main ranch house. Stars twinkled in the clear black sky, the light reflected in the mantle of snow that covered the ground.
What would Gavin think when she told him of her engagement? Would he be happy for her? Or would he be glad to be rid of her? Perhaps he would think nothing of it at all.
A light flickered inside the children’s bedroom. Were they awake so early, even after all th
e excitement of Christmas Day? One of them could be ill. They had partaken rather liberally of the candy Patrick had brought with him yesterday.
She turned from the window and pulled on stockings and boots, followed by her cloak.
The serenity of the scene she had looked upon through the window had been misleading. When she opened the door, she was met by a wall of frigid air. Her lungs complained as she dragged in a frosty breath. Pulling her cloak more tightly about her, she hurried across the yard, the snow crunching beneath her footsteps. In her hastiness, she strayed once from the hard-packed trail between the buildings and broke through the crusty surface, her leg sinking in snow almost to her knee. She caught herself just in time to prevent a nasty wrenching.
By the time she reached the house, the light had disappeared from the children’s room. Quietly, she opened the kitchen door and let herself in. She was almost to the children’s bedroom door when Gavin’s voice stopped her.
“The girls are fine. I just looked in on them.”
She sucked in a breath of surprise as she turned toward the fireplace. He stood in front of it, the light flickering behind him.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“I saw the light in the children’s room and — ”
“You couldn’t sleep?” He took three steps forward.
“No.” She could make out the outline of his face now, the bold cut of his jaw, the line of his nose, the deep set of his eyes.
“Neither could I.” His voice sounded different, stronger, more like Gavin. “I was thinking about Dru.”
Her knees weakened, and she sat in the nearby chair.
Gavin returned to the fireplace, hunkering down as he added more fuel to the fire. The flames licked the wood, curled around it in a hot caress, then reached toward the chimney. The glow of the fire played over his hair, still tousled by sleep.
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