One Perfect Flower

by Roberta C. D. DeCaprio

  “I was not the only one who came to your rescue.” She smiled over at Kathleen. “If it were not for Kathleen’s visit warning me something was wrong and her knowing how to get into the warehouse…” her voice trailed off.

  Kathleen, visibly shaken, wrapped her arms around herself. “I cannot bear to think what might have been, had we not come.”

  Kevin pulled her close. “You and Lady Shannon are the two bravest lassies I know, and your husband’s are extremely grateful.”

  “My sentiments, exactly,” Braiton chimed in, his admiration and respect for his wife mounting in volumes. Even dressed as she was and covered in soot, she still posed a delectable sight.

  “Now, lass,” Kevin said, taking his wife by the hand. “I’m starvin’. Let’s go home and eat.”

  Kathleen looked back at Raven. “Thank you, m’lady, for listenin’ to me.”

  Raven smiled. “It is I who thanks you, Kathleen.”

  He took an audible breath. “I’d say home is where we should head as well, my lady.”

  Raven looked around the storage room, frowning. “Where is Patrick?”

  “At Shannonbrook with his wife, where he belongs,” he said.

  “But I have not seen him all day.”

  “Ah, well, ’tis probably because he went fishing, since I gave him the time off. ’Tis his most favorite thing to do, outside of eating Anna’s cooking.”

  Her frown deepened. “Then who drove the carriage here?”

  “Rory talked me into driving it myself. We’d taken the carriage out alone many times when we were lads. He said ’twould be like old times.” He sighed. “He wanted Kevin to join us, so ’twould look as though he was really going through his father’s accounts. He even made a point to let Anna know he regretted not staying for dinner. He said he’d be sailing for Bunratty after we were through with business.” He sighed again, his friend’s betrayal wounding him deep. “But once we were all gathered here, he held a gun on me while I wrote a message to be delivered home, saying I would be in town until nine o’clock.”

  “Your death would have looked as though it happened long after he left,” she said.

  He nodded. “Except for the fact I gave the note to Brodie. ” He chuckled. “For once I’m glad the lad is so unreliable. ’Twas then Joleena arrived, dressed as she was and tied Kevin and I to the chairs.

  “The authorities would be looking to question a man of slight build, summing up the swindler came to finish the job,” she said.

  “Aye, Rory thought he covered every corner.” He shook his head, the scale of the crime evident. “Such a scheme didn’t hatch overnight. The two of them planned this for a long time.”

  “But they could not have gone completely through with it if Lord O’Neill did not die.” Her eyes widened. “Good heavens, Braiton, you do not think they had anything to do with his death, too?”

  His heart sickened to think of his mentor as a victim of Rory and Joleena’s greed. “I don’t know, Raven. Anything’s possible with those two. I guess the investigators will have their hands full with this case. And if there’s anyway I can assist them, I shall. Rory and Joleena O’Neill will not see the dawn of a free day until they’re very old…perhaps not at all.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “I am so sorry, my shikaa you have been betrayed by those you believed were friends.”

  As always, she picked up on his inner feelings. The woman was a rare gem indeed. He searched her face. “I’m just thankful they didn’t count on the fact I have such a resourceful wife.”

  She looked down at her soot-stained clothes. “Right now I am a messy wife.”

  He picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’d say you’re dirtier than Brawn was when we brought him home. I think ’tis in order I prescribe for you what I did for him, a bath.”

  She giggled. “I can just hear Anna now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was 1864 when Raven’s mother, Amanda Gregory, better known as Golden Lady, married Proud Eagle and brought the Thanksgiving celebration to the Apache village. Now, twenty-eight years later Raven did the same for the folks at Shannonbrook in Ireland. After describing the holiday to the servants, they did the best they could to comply. Several turkeys were roasted on outdoor pits and under her guidance the trimmings were prepared.

  All of the household staff, the stable help, the ground keepers, warehouse workers, and tenants were invited to dine and give thanks with her and Braiton. And there was much to be thankful for. Her husband’s business was once again thriving, the tenants all reaped a plentiful harvest, and the children were able to go to school.

  They all gathered in the great room of the mansion, where several long tables were set up with food. Everyone helped themselves to the meal, and then took their plates to various areas of the estate to eat. There was laughing and singing at every turn, all enjoying her country’s feast. She knew her mother would have been proud of the way she shared Thanksgiving with the Irish, and wished her parents and siblings were along for the fun.

  Her husband smiled as she poured a cup of tea for Molly. “Lass, I admire the warmth and spirit that springs forth from you. You are like a burst of sunshine.”

  She glanced around with satisfaction at all those savoring the food that took days to prepare. “I believe the Irish like Thanksgiving.”

  He chuckled. “Aye, but ’tis you they love.”

  The month of December sped by and soon Shannonbrook was aglow with holiday cheer. A large tree was erected in the great room, decorated with glass balls and china figurines. She never saw anything quite as grand. Gifts were delivered daily from Braiton’s clients, business acquaintances, and friends. Soon the space beneath the tree was filled to capacity. As thrilling as it was to receive packages wrapped with brightly colored paper, ribbons, and bows, there was only one delivery she waited for. Each day that passed, she worried it would not arrive.

  Two days before Christmas she was in the kitchen making cookies with Anna, when Brian announced a delivery for her. Running through the mansion, her clothes coated with flour, she found the large package waiting for her in the study. Her gift to Braiton was finally here, now she prayed he would be pleased with it.

  On Christmas Eve, Braiton escorted her to midnight mass at the big cathedral in the village. She wore a cranberry colored velvet gown and matching cape, trimmed with white fur. Candles glowed, illuminating the stained glass windows and the choir raised their voices, heralding the hymns like a host of angels. Riding back to Shannonbrook, she sat quiet in the bian, lost in deep thought. With a heavy heart she missed the family and friends who usually shared this occasion with her.

  Braiton reached for her hand. “You’re so quiet this evening, my lady. Is anything wrong?”

  She sighed. “I was just picturing my mother making my father a Christmas meal, then sitting around the fire pit telling stories and singing songs.”

  “I’m sorry they cannot be here with you.”

  “I am too, my shikaa.” She squeezed his hand. “But they have each other, and I can only imagine how Sunny is reacting to Christmas in England. If Aunt Kaylena celebrates it as grand as we do at Shannonbrook, I am sure my sister is crazy with excitement.”

  He smiled. “What of your brother?”

  She cocked her head sideways with thoughtful musings of Gabriel. “He will be calm on the outside, but filled with excitement on the inside.” She narrowed her eyes. “He must always play the steadfast warrior, you know.”

  He laughed, the dimple in his chin deepening. “Well, we men have to keep up a uniformed front.”

  Still holding his hand, she brought it to rest on her lap. “Are you not excited to open all the gifts beneath the tree?”

  “I like giving much better than receiving, my lady.”

  “Yes, well, that is what the Bible teaches, and it is the right thing to do, of course. But I must admit, in truth, I like receiving a lot better.”

  He laughed again. “And the truth shall set y
ou free.”

  Brian had mugs of eggnog waiting for them when they arrived at Shannonbrook. Braiton handed her a package from beneath the tree, his green eyes sparkling. “I was going to wait till morning to give this to you, but since you like receiving,” he teased, “perhaps you should open it now.”

  Her spirits were renewed as she tore away the fancy wrappings and raised the box’s lid. Inside was a leather violin carrying case, her initials engraved on a gold plate by the latch. She sprang the catch with trembling fingers and caressed the deep blue velvet lining.

  “This is magnificient,” she marveled, running a hand over the rich, soft, leather. “It will be a lot easier carrying the violin to the schoolhouse now.”

  “Then you like it, my lady?”

  She stood and placed the case aside. Cautiously she hugged him, keeping just enough distance from him, so he would not feel the baby bulge rounding her belly. “I love it.”

  He stroked her hair. “I’m so happy you’re pleased.”

  She raised her gaze to his. “You have done more than please me, Braiton.” Standing on tiptoe, she placed a kiss upon his lips, then whispered against his mouth. “Ashoge, thank you from the bottom of my biijii, heart.”

  The nearness of her, the warmth of her body against his, made the blood rush through his veins. He yearned to pull her closer and plant the most passionate kiss upon her full, soft lips. But his secret torment held him in control. Instead, he returned her affection with a tiny peck upon her forehead.

  “I have something for you as well,” she beamed.

  He smiled at the child-like excitement in her eyes. “Do you now?”

  “It is in my chamber,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him upstairs. “It was the only place I could think to hide it, where I was sure you would not snoop.”

  He pretended to be shocked. “Me, snoop? Never.”

  She giggled. “Anna told me all about the way you crept around the mansion looking for presents. I was not taking any chances.”

  He gave a playful scowl. “Anna has a wagging tongue, besides I was only a lad at the time.”

  She brought him over to a large object covered with a blanket. “It was too big to wrap with colored paper.”

  “May I unveil it?”

  “Yes, my shikaa.”

  He was not prepared for what he saw. Before him, framed in gold, was a portrait of Raven standing with moccasin-clad feet, one foot upon a large rock. A hand was upon her hip, the other holding a spear. Her chin was lifted in a proud pose, hair falling to her waist. She was clothed in a traditional Apache dress, which hung only to her knees. In the background a river flowed, the water as blue as her eyes.

  The painting took his breath away. “Raven, where did you pose for this?”

  “On the reservation, just days before I left for England.”

  He ran his fingers over the canvas. “Who is the artist?”

  “My sister, Sunny. She painted this from a sketch she drew of me.”

  “She paints extraordinary,” he marveled, taking in each detail of her face.

  “Yes, she is quite good, absolutely loves to draw. Sometimes she would be so engrossed in her artwork, she would forget to eat. She begged anyone going into town for a tablet of paper and lead sticks. Before we left America, she sketched most of the people in the tribe; left them something to remember her by.”

  “How did you commission her to do this for you?”

  “In her letters to me she wrote how Aunt Kaylena enrolled her in art lessons and her discovery of painting with oils. In a return letter, I asked if she would paint with the oils the sketch she did of me on the reservation, as a Christmas gift to you.”

  He was mesmerized by the painting. “Is it exactly like the sketch?”

  “My hair is different. In the sketch I am wearing the nah-leen, as a maiden in my tribe would do. Only the married women wear their hair down.”

  “Aye, I remember you explaining that to me,” he said.

  “Well, I figured, since I was now married and you enjoy my hair free, the change would please you more.”

  “Aye, lass, it does.” He dragged his gaze from the painting to search her face. “I can’t think of anything as wonderful as this glimpse of you in your native dress, the proud spirit of your people portrayed on your face.” He smiled. “You and Sunny are a talented pair. One sister plays the violin, the other paints.”

  “Then you like your gift?”

  “Aye, I do, my lady.”

  “I thought it might look nice hanging over the library mantle.”

  “Nay, ’twill be hung over the mantle in the drawing room, where everyone who enters Shannonbrook will be able to admire it.”

  Her cheeks turned crimson. “Are you sure you want that?”

  “Aye, lass, I’m quite sure.” He caressed the side of her face with the tip of a finger. “I want everyone to know how proud I am of my Indian princess.”

  She smiled. “Merry Christmas, Braiton.”

  “To you as well, Raven,” he said, lifting her chin with the tip of his finger, and bestowing upon her lips the kiss he’d been denying himself all evening.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Several times she wanted to tell Braiton she carried his child, but it was not the sort of news to be shared without the time to talk further, especially in this situation. With the aftermath of the holidays and his preparations for a business voyage to France, a convenient time never surfaced. Before she knew it he was gone for six very long weeks. Each day she missed him more and more. Her tiny waist continuing to swell. It would not be long before everyone knew her secret.

  In five months time I will give birth, and my husband has yet to know he is going to be a father. She rubbed her belly with loving strokes. As soon as he returns, I will most definitely have to tell him.

  But his return fell just a week before St. Patrick’s Day, a time the Irish celebrated with exuberance. Her time was consumed with writing out and sending invitations to those prominent people in Limerick and the surrounding Clare County, as well as a visit and verbal invite to those tenants on the estate who could not read. She made sure no one was excluded from the gala. Since all the festivities would take place outdoors, she prayed for good weather.

  The day of the St. Patrick’s celebration, Braiton couldn’t help but think what an interesting day it would be with such a mix of social classes. His wife was exquisite in a bright yellow and cream, brocaded gown and matching hooded cape, walking by his side. With her arm looped over his, she smiled and greeted the guests. She especially cared for and enjoyed the tenants, complimenting the women on how stunning they looked in their best dress and embracing the children. He listened to the sweetness of her laughter and watched the soft curve of her mouth as she spoke. She was genuine, considerate, and became a friend to them all.

  He always prided himself at being a landlord who paid his workers fair wages and charged tenants reasonable rent, but Raven encouraged him to extend himself beyond what was expected. She made sure he had peppermint sticks on hand to give out to the children and jugs of water or ale brought out to the workers. She’d sing and play the violin in the garden, with a group of children gathered around her. When she wasn’t tending school, she helped the women bake bread. She was never idle and always pleasant to everyone.

  He studied her now, today she simply glowed. The twinkle in her eyes, her beaming smile, and the brilliance of her yellow ensemble, reminded him of a ray of sunshine. The thick ebony curls framing her face, shone; each lock entwined with ribbons to match her gown. Her beauty surpassed every woman there, and his heart swelled with love for her.

  Gazing around at the other men, he found them watching her throughout the day. Their eyes gleamed with a mixture of admiration and lust. There’d not be a one among them who would deny her their affection, should she be willing. Just the thought of another man touching her, and her yielding to their caresses, made his insides clench. If he dwelled on such a thought for
too long, he knew it would drive him insane.

  They strolled toward the river, her arm draped around his, a sapphire gaze searching his face, a smile curving full, luscious lips. “Is it the festivities that have brightened your eyes or the anticipation of spring?”

  “Neither, there is another reason for what you see. And I think this would be the perfect time to tell you.”

  His smile deepened. Knowing her as he did, the reason could be almost anything. Raven had a knack for keeping him surprised. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that reason might be, lass?”

  She took an audible breath. “I pray you will be as happy as I am about it, Braiton.”

  “I’m sure whatever makes you as happy as you seem, will do the same for me.”

  “I am…actually, I should say, we are going to have a—” Screams from the children playing on the bank interrupted her.

  Raven turned from Braition in time to see a child’s head sinking below the surface of the water. Without hesitation, she ripped off her cape and ran to the child’s aid. Picking up the hem of her skirt, she hurried into the water and swam after the drowning victim.

  Paralyzed by the Shannon River’s frigid waters, her heart pounded as she dove deep. The weight of her garments encumbered her attempts to reach the child. She fought the odds with all her strength. Reaching out, she grabbed the child by the hair and pulled his face to the surface. With an arm wrapped around his neck, she fought in desperation to keep them afloat. The shocking cold water slapped painfully against her ribs. Her legs grew numb. Out of breath and losing her grip on the child, she struggled to shore.

  Just when she thought she could go no farther, someone took the child from her. Then a pair of strong arms plucked her from the watery chill and held her close. She looked up into her husband’s eyes and opened her mouth to speak, reassure him she was all right. But the words did not come. His voice calling her name was the last thing she heard before everything in her world darkened.

  Braiton ran to the mansion with Raven in his arms. “Someone find Terrance Murphy,” he shouted. He burst through the doubled doors and past Molly.