by Conn, Phoebe
Knowing he would have to break the sad news to Erica, the Indian got as far as the stairs, but overcome with sorrow, he sat down on the top step, put his head in his hands, and wept, for truly he had lost one of the best friends he had ever had. When she found him still seated there crying. Erica did not have to ask what had happened. She put her arms around Vi|>er and held him tight, loving him all the more for having loved Mark, too.
Lars arrived at the church just as the funeral service began. He had not expected so many fleople to attend, but the old stone building was filled with his family's friends, as well as Mark's. That pleased him enormously, for he had hoped the young man had not been forgotten during his lengthy convalescence. He knew where Erica would be seated, and hurried down the aisle, anxious to join her. When he found Viper already seated by his daughter's side, he slid into their pew beside Sarah and took her hand as he tried to offer a comforting smile.
Although he knew the truth about Erica and the Indian, Lars had not expected the man to flaunt their relationship in public. Knowing this was neither the time nor the place to air such feelings, he put them aside as the service began and thought instead only of Mark, and of what a fine man he had been. When the Indian joined him as a pall bearer, he recognized the dove-gray suit he wore as having been one of Mark's favorites, and he looked away quickly, wondering what more he had helped himself to now that Mark was no longer alive to object.
The day was warm and sunny, the weather perfect for a last picnic before the fall arrived, but most of those gathered at the graveside were too filled with sorrow to think the lovely day wasted in mourning as Mark was laid to rest in a grave beside his parents. One by one his friends said their own good-byes, departed, and met again at the
Hanson home, where they offered what comfort they could to the grieving family.
Margaret Denenberg had been hired to care for the baby, as Erica had not wanted to subject a child barely two months old to such a crush of people. She went upstairs often to check on Stephen and proudly displayed the photographs from the christening to all who asked about the babe. Mark was holding Stephen in each of the portraits, his smile wide as he cuddled his son, and that was the way she wished to remember him. It had been Viper who had insisted upon preparing Mark's body for burial, and when he had wanted to bury his friend in his captain's uniform she had readily agreed, since he had looked so very handsome in it. It was a strange sensation to bury one husband with the help of another, but Erica found Viper's generous sympathy a source of great comfort and strength.
Each person who came to the Hanson home arrived with baked goods or other food, and with refreshments so plentiful, the visits grew lengthy. It was nearly midnight when the last of their friends finally said goodnight. After closing the front door behind them, Lars returned to the parlor and offered to escort Sarah home.
"Thank you, but Erica suggested I stay here tonight, and I've accepted her invitation, since I'm really too ured to go home." She smiled as she gestured invitingly. "Please come and sit down with us. I haven't had a chance to talk with you all day." She hoped the fact that she had felt neglectea wasn't too obvious. When Lars had sat down next to her at the church, she had hoped he would remain with her all day, but he had been so attentive a host to all their guests that he had given her little more than an occasional smile. That wasn't nearly enough to please her.
Lars had been prepared for anything from screaming accusations that he should have been able to save Mark's life to hysterical tears that the young man had died needlessly in a senseless war, but Sarah had displayed an admirable calm all day. That she had accepted her brother's death without casting blame on him or anyone else was a tremendous relief to him. Happy for an excuse to sit down, he quickly took the chair beside hers, then picked up the photograph that had been left on the end
table nearby. "I think it's wonderful you had these photographs made." That the Indian was in most of them, again dressed in the gray suit, had startled him at first, but he had had sufficient time to get over that shock by now. "When do I get to see my grandson?"
Erica covered a wide yawn before she apologized, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to bring him downstairs, but I should have taken you up to my room. He's sleeping too soundly to disturb now, but he'll be up before you are in the morning, so you'll have plenty of time to spend with him tomorrow."
"I'll try and stay a few days, at least," Lars said regretfully. "I need to get back to Washington as quickly as I can, though."
Viper was standing by the fireplace, his pose relaxed even though his mood was not. He had waited all day for Lars to ask to speak with him alone, but other than sending him frequent glances, which he had interpreted as being disapproving, if not openly hostile, the man had avoided him. If an cmgry confrontation were unavoidable between them, he was anxious to get it over with that very night. When Lars continued to exclude him from his conversation with the two young women. Viper went over to the settee, sat down beside Erica, and taking her hand, laced her fingers with his.
"The last time you were here, you were far more polite to me than you have been today. Dr. Hanson. If you plan to ignore me on this trip, what will you do on the next?"
Surprised that the Indian would be so direct, when he knew him to prefer subterfuge, Lars stalled for time by putting the photograph aside before turning to face him. It was difficult to reconcile what he knew the young man to be with what he saw, but he had to admit the rogue played a gentleman very convincingly. Attempting to display the same level of gentlemanly conduct in a sincere manner, Lars learned forward slightly, trying to make his comments sound like helpful suggestions rather than harsh demands. ^
"Please forgive me if I seemed rude. It was unintentional. I don't even know what to call you," he began with a disarming smile. "Since Etienne Bouchard isn't your real name, what would you rather I use?"
Viper recognized Lars's chaitning grin for the attempt to win his confidence it obviously was, but he wasn't fooled. White men smiled often, but their actions were anything but pleasant. Grateful Erica had kept still, he gave her fingers a loving squeeze before he responded to her father's question. "I have no choice but to use that name a while longer. Please call me Etienne."
Lars nodded, disappointed, but not surprised the Indian had not chosen to confide in him. "All right, Etienne it is, then. You were living here as Mark's companion. Now that those duties have sadly come to an end, you'll have to leave before anyone becomes suspicious of your relationship with my daughter."
"Daddy 1" Erica was too tired to leap from her chair or she would have done so. "It was Mark's feelings we wished to protect, not my reputation. Etienne is my husband, and rifnot hide that fact a minute longer. When your letters were so wonderfully sympathetic to our plight, why have you had this sudden change of heart?"
Lars swept that compliment aside as no longer pertinent. "Erica, when you have so recently been widowed, you can scarcely introduce Etienne as your husband. Widows are expected to observe a year of mourning before they remarry. I can't believe you could have forgotten something so important as that."
Outraged by the absurdity of that comment. Erica did attempt to rise this time, but Viper refused to release her hamd. Her new black dress was made of a crisp taffeta that rustled noisily as she was drawn back into her seat.
Viper responded before his wife could catch her breath to speak. "This conversation is pointless," he announced firmly. "Erica is no longer a daughter who must be obedient to her father's wishes. She is a wife and mother who can think for herself." He rose and with a graceful bow took Erica's hands and drew her to her feet. "We will be proud to show off our son in the morning. Until then, goodnight."
Erica was astonished that Viper had not said she was a wife who had to be obedient to her husband's wishes. Grateful for that generosity, she did not argue with his decision to bid Sarah and her father goodnight. She paused briefly to kiss her father's cheek and then Sarah's
before leaving the parlor on her
husband's arm. Anxious to talk, she hurried him up the stairs, for it seemed their lives were never going to run smoothly and she wanted to have a plan ready to present to her father in the morning.
Left alone with Lars, Sarah found herself in an extremely awkward position. She didn't want to speak her mind and jeopardize her chances to win Lars's love when he had given her reason to hope he might soon declare it. On the other hand, after all the compassion Erica and Etienne had shown her brother, she felt she owed them her loyalty.
Disgusted with himself for allowing Etienne to escort his daughter from the room and undoubtedly right into his bed, Lars frowned sullenly. He berated himself for not having foreseen how little the wily devil would care for his daughter's reputation. To make matters worse, it seemed clear Erica didn't care about it, either.
"Lars," Sarah began hesitantly, hoping to ease his mind.
Embarrassed by how easily the Indian had gotten the better of him, Lars apologized immediately, "I'm sorry, Sarah. This is my problem and I shouldn't have subjected you to it."
Swallowing hard to gather her courage, Sarah continued in a breathless rush. "When I was so worried about appearances, you convinced me they didn't matter nearly as much as Mark's happiness. Isn't that true still? Aren't Erica's and Etienne's feelings more important than the opinions of people who might be tempted to gossip about them?"
The expression in Sarah's luminous brown eyes was so serious that Lars knew his reply was important to her, and he chose his words with care. "Of course, I care more about my family than busybodies. I've already admitted that I handled the matter badly just now. I should have been smart enough to speak with Erica privately before I asked Etienne to leave. Etienne!" he exclaimed sarcastically. "Do you realize we don't even know the man's name?"
"That is disconcerting, I'll agree, but—"
"But what?" Lars interrupted abruptly. He was puzzled by her reluctance to lend her support to his cause. "I didn't forbid Erica to see Etienne. All I said was the man should
live elsewhere. Since this is my home, I am well within my rights to make such a request"
Sarah was as conscious of offending Lars as he was of disappointing her, but she simply couldn't bring herself to a^ee with him. "Etienne is the father of Erica's child. Telling him to live somewhere else won't change that. Perhaps you should let them make their own decisions atx>ut where they wish to live."
While Sarah's gaze was now concentrated uix>n her tightly clasped hands rather than on him, Lars could see she was as upset as he. He didn't understand why, though. "I'd say I have had no choice but to allow them to make their own decisions all along. Etienne didn't come to me to ask for Erica's hand in marriage. He simply announced she was his wifel Perhaps it is a bit late to msist he follow our society's rules, but I think I should at least make that attempt. I would be a poor excuse for a father if I didn't."
Sarah was silent for a long moment, and when she returned to look at Lars, her manner was touchingly bashful. "I know only too well the heartache of loving a man I can seldom see. I would not wish that loneliness upon anyone. Won't you reconsider your decision to ask Erica and Etienne to live apart? When they love each other so, I think it would be very cruel to separate them."
Her inquistive gaze swept Lars's expression as she searched for a flicker of emotion that would betray the love she hoped he felt for her. She had waited patiently for his infrequent letters to become passionate pledges of love, but sadly, his brief messages had conveyea no more than a friendly warmth. This was the first time they had been alone all day, yet he had made no attempt to kiss her. Seated beside him, the excitement his presence always brought filled her with desire. The obvious fact that he no longer seemed to feel that same magical attraction brought tears to her eyes. Embarrassed, she brushed them away.
'Torgive me. I know you must think this none of my business, but Erica was married to my brother. You are the one who convinced me to be charitable toward her, and if I am not offended by her conduct, then surely no one else has the right to be."
Lars stared at his companion as she fumbled for her handkerchief before bringing it to her eyes. The fact that
she would disagree with him about Etienne was not nearly so upsetting as her mention of loving a man she seldom saw. Thinking she must be referring to some young man away fighting the war, he slum()ed back in his chair, more hurt than he cared to admit. He liked everything about Sarah, for she had many endearing qualities, but he recalled how reluctant she had been wnen he had first asked her to remain in Washington so they could become better acquainted. He had thought her merely shy, but had she simply been interested in someone else? He thought she had enjoyed his company as much as he had enjoyed hers when she had extended her visit, but apparently his efforts to impress her had failed. He knew his letters had lacked any hint of poetry, but he had written, which had not been easy when he was always so pressed for time, and he had considered her friendly replies assurance enough that their friendship was moving toward something permanent. Apparently he had been mistaken, and her affections lay elsewhere. Now that she had admitted as much, he felt thoroughly betrayed and incredibly foolish. "I don't know what to say," he finally admitted aloud.
"About what?" Amazed that he was so badly disappointed that her opinion differed from his, Sarah thought she would be wise to bid him goodnight before things grew even more strained between them, but she was too curious as to why he seemed to be at a loss for words to do it just yet.
Lars shrugged unhappily. "Well, I simply had no idea there was someone else. You told me you had loved a man who was unaware of your feelings and did not return them, but still, I didn't suspect that you cared for another man now."
"I thought we were talking about Erica and Etienne. Do you want to talk about you and me instead?" Delighted by that prosjject, Sarah couldn't suppress a delighted smile.
Ck>nfused by her sudden change in mood, since it seemed so highly inappropriate, Lars's frown deepened. "You iust said there was someone else: a man you loved and seldom saw. If you say we can be no more than friends, I will try and accept your decision graciously, but I won't pretend that I like it, since I wanted far more. I won't say that you deliberately misled me, but I had hoped that
someday, well that someday—"
Sarah reached for his hand as she coaxed him to continue. "Someday what, Lars?"
Sarah had lovely hands. They were soft and white, with well manicured nails. He felt like a stupid fool as he watched her fingertips move over his with a light caress. "What does it matter now?" he asked as he withdrew his hand from hers. "If you are in love with another man, I am just wasting both my time and yours."
Realizing now that she had made a grave mistake in not telling Lars the truth when he had misunderstood the comments she had made about love in Washington, Sarah tried to correct that error. It was a difficult confession to make, but she could not allow him to continue to think he had lost out to nonexistent competition.
"Lars, I don't know why we have such a problem understanding each other, but when I mentioned loving a man who was unaware of my feelings, I was talking about you. It was you I meant just now, too. I have missed you terribly, and I wish we could see each other more often. I'm sorry I express myself so poorly that I have only confused you, but I wanted you to be the one to speak of love first, and I feared you never would."
Shocked that he could have been so dense, Lars's deep blue eyes widened in surprise. "You were talking about me?" Even though Erica had told him Sarah cared for him, Lars had never dreamed she cared that much. It made him feel all the worse. "You must think me absolutely heartless," he murmured apologetically.
"No, I thought only that you must have loved your wife very much and that there was little chance you would ever love me."
While Sarah's charm was undeniably different from Eva's, Lsirs thought that an asset rather than a fault. "Yes, I did love Eva," he admitted readily, "but I've discovered that doesn't mean I can't love you. I'll apolo
gize for being so slow about realizing that possibility, but I didn't recognize it myself until nearly too late." Excited that their conversation had taken so fx>sitive a turn, he rose from his chair and with a quick tug drew her to her feet. "You were talking about me all alon^?" he asked with the widest grin she had ever seen from him.
Sarah nodded shyly. "Yes, I was completely shameless about admitting it, yet it meant nothing to you."
"No, that's not true," Lars argued. "I distinctly recall telling you that a gift of love should alv/ays be repaid."
Sarah raised her arms to encircle his neck. "Yes, you did say that, but you did little about it."
Lars had kissed her frequently in Washington, light, teasing kisses and slow, far more passionate kisses, too. Why had he not followed her home and allowed their budding romance to flower? He would not blame the war, nor the demands the hospital made upon him, when he knew he had to accept the blame himself. He had wanted Sarah, but not if it had meant losing his precious memories of Eva. It had taken him a long while to realize that Eva was a part of him that would never be forgotten, but that he was alive and desperately needed the love someone bright and vivacious like Sarah could give him.
"I do love you, Sarah," he murmured against her tawny curls. "It may have taken me far too long to realize it, but I know it now. Will you marry me?"
While she was thrilled by his proposal, Sarah couldn't help but push for another advantage now that things were going her way. "Mark was my only living relative, Lars. I know I will not be expected to mourn for him for an entire ^ year, but how long must v/e wait to marry so that people will not criticize me for not showing my brother's memory the proper respect?"