He had been too stunned to offer much comfort and he now regretted that bitterly. His protective feelings towards a woman he had just met shocked him. One who carried a child that did not belong to him. Oh Rose! His marriage to Rose had been so different yet enchanting in its simplicity.
Like today, their union had been solemnized in the small church with just a few people in attendance. He pictured her now, with long brown hair that resembled James’s short hair. She had liked to laugh, and anytime he heard it, he had broken into an involuntary smile. She had that effect on him and with everyone her life had touched.
Rose had a round, friendly smile and like him she had loved the Lord with all her heart, soul and mind. Even in the last days, when she had been delirious, there had been that moment of lucidity, which Maxwell held on to for comfort. “I am going home Maxwell. I am going home to our Lord. Take care of our boy.”
He had taken to the task with a zeal that did not leave space for mourning. Day and night, he and James had been together for that last year. Maxwell had painstakingly learned how to cook and care for a home. Their log cabin may not have been in the best shape, but it was not from lack of trying. Rose’s final words had given him a reason to continue and give his best, so that up there in heaven, she could be proud of him.
But the loneliness and sense of isolation grew worse each day. Sometimes, he thought he and James were the only people left in the world. On those days, he took his son into town and after speaking to a few people; it reassured him life was still going on. He and Rose had liked to read the scriptures together, loving the words from the Gospel of John. Truly, truly I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes Him who sent me has eternal life.
Had she had an intuition that they would not be together for long?
The grief caught him without warning and Maxwell covered his face with his hands. His body shook and the tears flooded his eyes and dripped into his hands. He felt as though his heart was being torn in half. He called out Rose’s name, knowing that there would be no answer. He cried until finally, emotionally spent and strangely relieved, Maxwell cleaned his face with a handkerchief and looked out into the distance.
He now knew what God expected of him. He had to be a refuge for Violet. Whatever had gone on in her life before did not matter. What mattered was now and how their life would be. He had a feeling, sureness that what she needed now was love and comfort, and in his heart, he knew that all would be well.
Maxwell got up, feeling lighter, as though like a chameleon, he had shed off his old skin and could now continue unburdened with the troubles that had been in his life. He blew off the lamp in the front room. He paused outside the extra bedroom where Violet was sleeping. He felt the reassuring sounds of her heavy breathing. He peeked on James and smiled. The boy had his blanket strewn on the floor, and his body twisted in an awkward angle. It was amazing that he woke up refreshed in the morning.
Maxwell covered him up and straightened him, knowing the futility of that action. Come morning, his blankets would be on the floor again. He padded out of his room and into the main bedroom. He shut the door and shed off his clothes. Leaving the room that morning, he had imagined he would sharing the bed with his bride, but alas, it was not to be. For my thoughts are not our thoughts.
The next morning, Maxwell woke up at dawn. The sun filtered through the curtain that Rose had lovingly sewn, casting a yellow glow in the room. Maxwell dressed and slipped on his boots and went to the washroom next door. He splashed water on his face and then padded downstairs to light the stove.
He followed his usual routine, stepping out into the cold and headed for the barn where their dairy cow waited to be milked. He worked fast, returning moments later with a pail half full of milk. He left again to collect eggs from the chicken coop, which would do for breakfast.
Half an hour later, the kitchen was warm and inviting and tea was ready and on the table. He wasn’t much good at preparing pancakes, but his omelets were delicious. At least James had said so. He heard the creaking of floorboards and knew Violet was awake. Minutes later, Maxwell heard voices in the hallway and James and Violet walked in, hand in hand.
He searched her face and was glad to see she looked much better. James had a happy look and he kept his hand in Violet’s as they stopped in the middle of the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Maxwell said. “Come and sit, breakfast is ready.”
She seemed to search his face and then satisfied with what she saw, Violet tentatively sat down.
“We must get as much food in you as possible,” Maxwell said, determined not to let the topic of the child, become a taboo topic between them. “You’re eating for two now.”
She did not make a comment, neither did her expression change. Maxwell knew it would take a while for Violet to relax and lose that hopeless look in her eye. He placed served three plates of hot eggs to everyone and mugs of tea, filling James’s cup halfway.
“Shall we give a blessing for the food?” Maxwell said and bowed his head. “Father we want to thank you with humility and grace. Most of all we thank you for Violet’s safe journey and arrival. We are grateful for her in our lives and we’ll continue to thank you each day. We pray for blessings over this food and for the day that awaits us. In Jesus name we do pray, Amen.”
He looked up to find Violet’s eyes wet with tears. He reached under the table and squeezed her hand. It was icy cold and he rubbed it a little before drawing away. He had been right in his decision. She was like a wounded animal that needed a lot of care and love before she could come into her own.
“Papa, thank you, the eggs are wonderful,” James said, wolfing down his eggs.
“You’re welcome son. At that rate, soon, you’ll be as big as a buffalo,” Maxwell teased.
“Thank you for everything Maxwell,” Violet whispered.
He knew what she meant. His heart constricted. She must have been worried that he would throw her out of the home. He wished he could reassure her, but Maxwell knew that actions worked better than words. She needed something more concrete to believe in such as daily affirmations that they were happy to have her.
James burst out laughing and sprayed mouthfuls of his eggs everywhere. The image made Maxwell splutter too with laughter and he even saw Violet’s mouth crease into a smile.
“I’ll have to leave the two of you and take the cows out to pasture. Will you be all right? There’s enough food for lunch, left over from last night.”
Violet smiled a little. “We’ll be all right, won’t we James?”
“We sure will,” James confirmed.
“You don’t have to do a thing. Just rest.” Maxwell said.
“Papa and I rescued a bird Ms. Fielding, its out in the barn. It’s much better now and papa says we should let it back in the air soon. What do you think?” James asked.
“I think your papa is right. Birds are meant to be let free to fly,” Violet said her voice music to Maxwell’s ears.
James grinned. “Papa says that too.”
“Your papa is a very intelligent man,” she said.
“Would you like to see the bird?”
“That would be lovely James, afterwards maybe we can read together.”
Maxwell looked over the brim of his cup in surprise. He had not expected that and he gave Violet a grateful smile. James had reached the age of learning his letters but Maxwell had not had the time to start him off. Again, he wondered at the marvels of God. In three months, Violet would deliver a playmate for James and after an appropriate convalescence they would come together in the ways of men and women and their true married life would begin. As he sipped his coffee, Maxwell smiled content. It would not be overly long to wait. He had patience.
EIGHT
A Past Best Forgotten
Looking out the kitchen window, Violet could see the snowcapped mountains, rising and dipping. It was now a month since she arrived. She still marveled at the fact that you could see snow tipped mountains from the Val
ley in spring. She loved this time of morning, when she had picked the warm eggs from the chicken coop and Maxwell was out milking the cow. It made her believe she belonged here. They had fallen into a pleasing routine that Violet loved. As soon as the tea was ready, she would get on with the pancakes. It had been a surprise to her one morning after seeing the flour and the eggs. The recipe had come to her from the recesses of her memory and she had hoped more would come. Instead of more memories, she turned and tossed at night plagued by dreams and nightmares which she could not recollect in the morning.
She turned to the stove and prepared the tea when the water boiled. Then she laid the griddle over the stove and waited for it to get hot. The pancake mixture was ready and as soon as the griddle became hot, she poured out the mixture, shaping the pancakes into circular shapes with a wooden spoon.
She heard heavy steps outside and knew without looking up that it was Maxwell.
“Betty gave us plenty this morning,” Maxwell said, shaking off mud from his boots before entering.
“She should, she eats enough to feed a family,” Violet retorted.
They both smiled at each other, knowing how far they had come since that day.
“How’s the little one?” Maxwell inquired gently.
Violet patted her now protruding tummy. It had grown so big in the last month. Sometimes she wondered if the child had waited until it was safe to show its presence.
“Good,” she said shyly.
She had accepted the child growing in her and she knew too that it was Maxwell’s doing. She thought back to her determination to leave but each day Maxwell and James had drawn her further and further into their cocoon of love and warmth and now the thought of leaving tore her to shreds. There was just the matter of her inheritance. Somehow she had not been able to tell him about it. What if he was disappointed she had kept such a big secret from him?
Maxwell was a one of a kind man, she hoped when she finally told him, he would forgive her. He was a true blessing from God. How else could he have the heart to want to keep her as his wife, when she carried another man’s child?
“I heard you crying out in your sleep last night,” Maxwell said.
“Yes, I haven’t been sleeping well. Nightmares and I can’t even recall them,” Violet said.
She had noticed in the last month that she spoke more. She enjoyed conversing with both Maxwell and James. She liked hearing Maxwell’s views and had found him to be wise and intelligent.
“Perhaps it’s the discomfort of sleeping now that you’re much bigger,” he said.
“Good morning,” a sleepy eyed James said, padding into the kitchen.
“Morning handsome boy,” Violet smiled and patted his head.
She busied herself with serving the pancakes, heaping each of the three plates high. Afterwards, she sat down and Maxwell blessed their breakfast.
“How’s the fencing going?” Violet asked.
“I’m making progress, I reckon by summer, most of it will be done,” Maxwell said, munching on his pancake.
“These are good.”
“They’re tasty, papa didn’t know how to make them,” he quipped.
“That’s true. Me and you will grow fat from Violet’s cooking,” Maxwell teased.
“Like her tummy? When’s my brother or sister coming?” James asked his brown eyes open wide.
“Soon son, very soon.” Maxwell said.
“What will the baby call you?” James asked Maxwell.
Violet noticed him shifting about in his chair, clearly at loss for the right answer.
“Well, I reckon the baby will call me mama and your father papa, what do you think?” Violet said to James.
“I think that’s good,” the little boy said and then fell into silence, his mind occupied.
After a while he spoke again. “Can I call you mama also?”
Violet could not speak. Her heart felt like it would burst with joy. She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and looked at James. “Nothing would make me happier.”
That night Violet sat up in bed saying her prayers. “Thank you Lord for all that you have blessed me with. Thank you for Maxwell and James. Thank you for making them such wonderful people.” She could say no more as the tears fell down her cheeks. Then she arranged herself on the bed, sleeping on her back.
At first, Violet thought she was dreaming with her eyes open. She was on another bed, lying just as she was on her back. Then a cream colored door opened and a young man walked in. He had black curly hair and he was tall and muscular. Aiden. His name came to her mind instantly. She pinched herself to see if she was dreaming or was wide awake.
The sharp pain told her that she had not slept. She saw herself sit up abruptly and clutch the beddings to her chest.
“Aiden, what are you doing in here?” Violet hissed.
“I just wanted to hold you a little. I love you so much Violet,” he said, edging closer to her bed.
“No! I’ve told you Aiden, nothing can happen between us, we’re cousins. Please go,” Violet pleaded, now crying openly.
“Cousins, but not by blood. Please Violet, let me just hold you a little. It’s cold, we can keep each other warm,” he said, sliding into the bed swiftly.
She saw herself move to the wall and try to make herself as small as possible.
“Please Aiden, Aunt Eliza will hear you. Please go. I’m frightened, please go.”
Without warning, he grabbed her and pulled her roughly to him. She gave a cry of shock and then he covered her mouth with his hand. She saw her hands failing and her legs kicking. He pinned her down and with his free hand, lifted up her nightdress. Violet cried as she saw herself, fighting and then giving up.
Her face contorted and then there was a sharp pain. She screamed for help when his hand covering her mouth loosened. The door opened again and Aunt Eliza walked in. She took in her son atop Violet and her face appeared horror struck.
“What are you doing Aiden? Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s her mother. She called me to her room and I couldn’t refuse.”
By now Aunt Eliza was shaking with rage. “You’re a fool Aiden. How do you think we’ll explain this? Do you know what you’ve just done? With your foolishness, you’ve ruined your future. What will people say?”
Violet was curved into a ball and was moaning lightly. The pain and the humiliation were too much. She screamed now and the door opened. She couldn’t tell whether it was the day at Aunt Eliza’s or here in her home with Maxwell. She was caught in two worlds.
“Violet, are you all right? I heard you scream.”
It was Maxwell, thank God.
His voice broke the last of her barriers and she sobbed. Maxwell rushed to her and gathered her into his arms. Now she knew what had happened to her. Her own cousin, Aiden. The worst of it was that her Aunt Eliza had known the whole time. She had sent Aiden away in case he triggered her memory. The inheritance was just a payoff. How could they!
Overcome by sadness she sobbed the whole tale out, in Maxwell’s strong arms. She hid nothing from him. When she finished, he cradled her and rocked her like a child.
“Come, today you sleep in our bed,” Maxwell said.
And that’s how they slept that night. Violet protectively held in his arms. The nightmares did not return. Neither did the constant feelings of anger.
NINE
The Lord Settles All Debts
“Can we go on a picnic today?” James asked over breakfast.
They had their breakfast in a more leisurely way since it was a Saturday.
“Where did you hear about picnics?” Maxwell asked James with a chuckle.
“In the books that mama reads to me,” the boy said.
Each time he heard his son call Violet ‘mama’, his eyes watered. He had taken to her with a natural ease. Any stranger looking at them would not doubt they were mother and son. She had come a long way since that night, several weeks ago. They now slept in each other’s ar
ms every night, and spoke late into the night.
He shifted about in his chair and thought about the news he had for Violet. He worried over how she would take it.
“James, could you tidy up your bed for me?” Violet asked and Maxwell looked at her in surprise.
She winked at him.
“Yes, mama,” James said and ran off to do her bidding.
James was unlike most children, Maxwell thought. He thrived on being active, working with himself or with Violet. His letters had improved drastically and in a few more months, he would be reading simple word books.
“I can see that you have something you want to share,” Violet said, smiling in a way that made him want to hold her.
He grinned. “How did you know?”
“Ah, I spent a year observing people. I can tell when you’re itching to say something. I know you well now Mr. Grant.”
“You are right,” Maxwell said and inhaled deeply. He hoped he had done the right thing. “Violet, when you told me what had happened to you, I discreetly approached our sheriff to seek his advice on whether there was something a person could do in such a case. I of course did not give him your name but I did give him your cousin’s name. He told me he would look into it and then let me know.”
He held her hands over the table and noticed that they had gone cold. He rubbed them to get the blood flowing.
“Did he?” she whispered.
“He did. There is something you can do even from here,” he said.
Violet looked away, her silhouette illuminated by the weak spring sun coming in through the window.
“I don’t know Maxwell. I think I’d rather just put it all behind me. I’m so happy with you and James. I want to forget all of it.”
“OK. However, you needn’t do anything after all. Justice has taken care of it. It seems your cousin was the violent sort.”
“Yes, he did get into fights and arguments with people. I remember Aunt Eliza had to cajole a few people to keep the peace. Uncle Henry kept well away from it all.”
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