“Aye lass,” he said, gesturing to the things set out on the table.
“Then help me to stand.”
His eyes widened. “Nay, Raven.”
She gasped. “It is easier when standing. This is the way the women of my tribe give birth.
“But the child will fall head first onto the floor.”
“You will get down on your knees behind me and catch the baby," she said. “Now, please help me to stand.” With gentle hands he lifted her.
Bracing herself using the mantle, she spread her legs and crouched. Intense pain tore through her, pressure increasing, and she pushed. His trembling hands, outstretched between her thighs, were soon covered with her blood.
“The babe comes now,” she cried out.
“Aye, I see the head.” His words filled with awe.
The last pain gripped her harder, longer. With great effort she pushed one last time, till the baby fell from her womb.
“I hav…him…him, Raven. ’Tis a boy. We have a son,” he rambled on excited.
“Tie the cord with the string and cut it from me,” she instructed. “Then tend to the baby.”
He turned his attention to the crying child, wrapping him in a blanket and placing him at the foot of the cot. She tended to what came after the birth, and then crawled upon the tiny bed.
“You have to wash him with the water. The tribe’s midwife warms the water in her mouth before spraying it all over the baby.”
He chuckled. “Won’t just washing him with a cloth do, my lady? I’m making quite a mess as ’tis.”
She smiled. “It will do fine. You have done fine, Braiton. Ashoge, thank you.” After he washed and wrapped the baby in a clean blanket, he handed her their son. She brought the infant to her breast. Braiton sat at the edge of the cot and watched their son take his first bit of nourishment. She looked down at the infant and stroked his soft cheek with the tip of a finger.
“What shall we call him?”
He reached out and touched the baby’s hand. “The Gaelic word meaning brave is Casey.”
She smiled. “Mothers wish for their sons to be kind and good, fathers want them to be brave.” She raised her gaze from the babe to his. “Is that not true?”
He ran his hands over weary eyes. “Aye, our son will need to be very brave.” He sighed, a cloud of sadness passing over his face. “And ’twould be nice to have his middle name be Broderick, after my father,” he added. “Does that stand well with you, my lady?”
She tried out the name. “Casey Broderick Shannon.” She nodded. “I like it, a good strong name for a good strong boy.” She reached over to caress Braiton’s face. “You look tired, my lord.”
He turned his mouth into her hand, bestowing a kiss upon her palm. “’Twas you who did all the work.”
She glanced again at her son, feeding at her breast. “Casey Broderick Shannon had both his parents working today. Each of us did our part in giving him life.” Looking back at Braiton, she found him curled in a ball, deep in sleep. She rested her head back upon the pillow and smiled, “That, is a very good idea, my shikaa.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Braiton truly believed Ireland welcomed autumn much better than his wife did. She was adamant about not wanting the cold months ahead to come. However, his son relished the passing time, growing bigger and stronger with each day. As proud parents often did, they marveled over the babe’s little accomplishments. Though he did his best to distance himself from his wife and child, preparing them all for the time when they’d part, one ear always heard what went on with them both.
On his thirtieth birthday he requested no fuss be made and spent the day in his study, staring out the window. Today marked the beginning of the time he dreaded. At thirty, his mother began her battle with the illness that took her life. And she wasn’t the only victim. At precisely the same age his grandfather, and his mother before him, all succumbed to the same fate. Mother, son…mother, son, was the pattern; and he was next.
****
Raven worked for weeks on Braiton’s surprise, and though he asked for no acknowledgment of the day, she wanted him to have a gift from her. He was so good to her, taking care of all her needs and those of their son’s; she could not let his birthday pass without some recognition. She rapped on the study door and waited for the deep, rich voice to grant permission to enter. She found him standing by the window and made her way beside him.
“I wanted you to have this,” she said, handing him a brightly wrapped package.
He hesitated before taking it. “’Twasn’t necessary to bother, Raven.”
“It was not a bother, my shikaa.” He tore the paper, pulling from the scraps a buckskin pouch. “It is for your compass.” She reached for the small bag and turned it over. “On the back I have made a strap, so you can fasten it onto your belt. In this way you will always have the compass handy.”
He chuckled. “Is this a polite way of telling me I need to keep track of my direction?”
She smiled. “It is not a bad thing for all of us to do.”
He took the time to examine the pouch. “The craftsmanship is exquisite, the design so intricate.” His gaze rose to meet hers. “I had no idea you were so talented with leather.”
“On the reservation I was always making something out of animal hide.” She glanced down at his boots. “My next gift will be moccasins. Once you put them on your feet, you will never want to wear anything else.”
“Extremely comfortable, are they?”
She met his gaze. “More then you could ever imagine.”
He sighed. “Do you know what I was doing last year on my birthday, Raven?”
She shook her head. “Do tell.”
He smiled fondly. “I was rescuing a young woman from the clutches of a rogue in Silver City.”
She gasped. “That day was your birthday?”
“Aye lass, and up till that point it was pretty uneventful.”
“Leave it to me to be the event of someone’s day.”
“You have been the event of every day since, my lady.” He made his way to his desk and sat down. “I don’t remember you saying when your birthday was.”
She moved to stand in front of the writing table. “That is because I did not. Anyway, it has already long come and gone, my lord.”
He arched a brow. “And you gave me no chance to honor it?”
She smiled down at him. “Ah, but you did, in a most generous way.”
He frowned. “Am I losing my memory along with my direction?”
She giggled. “I turned twenty on the day you brought me to Tilly’s for all those beautiful clothes.” She cocked her head sideways. “Then there was Brawn, he was another unexpected present.”
“Oh, aye, good ole’ Brawn.” He sat back in his seat. “Why didn’t you let me know?”
She shrugged. “You had done enough already. And I have intruded long enough on your request to be alone.” She made her way to the door.
“Raven,” he called after her. She turned to look his way. “Thank you for such a wonderful gift. I’ll cherish it always.”
She smiled. “I am glad, my shikaa. Happy birthday,” she said, taking a moment to search his face before she left the room. Lines of worry creased his brow; his emerald eyes showed tortured dullness. Both concerned and disturbed for his well-being, she added, “And I wish you many more healthy ones to come, Braiton.”
He took an audible breath. “My wish is for the same, my lady.”
Braiton waited for her to shut the door behind her before he looked over the pouch again. She must have spent hours on the stitching. It was perfect. He rested his head back upon the chair, smiling to himself. His wife was the most loving and giving person he knew. With just a glance of those deep blue eyes she could undo him completely, send his senses reeling. She’d become such a part of his life, and unless he did something fast, she’d also become a part of his pain. The wee one was nearing his tenth week, and Raven’s strength had fully
returned.
Both mother and child were healthy enough to travel. It was time he kept his part of the agreement they made aboard The Sweet Maureen. He gave her his word he’d send her to England within a year’s time, to be with her family, and that time was arriving soon. He stood, made his way to the stable, saddled Grania, and rode to the village. Today, he would keep his promise.
****
Braiton left word that upon his return he would have a surprise for Raven. She was as excited as a child on Christmas morning and asked Molly for the hundredth time, if she had any idea what the surprise was.
“Nay, m’lady,” Molly replied, as she did the many times before. Lacing the bodice of a light blue, satin gown, she added again, “He only said what I’ve been tellin’ you, and then requested you wear one o’ your favorite dresses.”
“I cannot imagine what he could have for me, Molly,” she said, bending to smooth the full skirt.
Molly chuckled. “And you won’t be findin’ out any too soon either, if you don’t stop fidgetin’ and let me be done with the lacin’.”
When she entered the dining room, she was taken back. She was not the only one garbed in elegant attire. The table was draped with a lace clothe and set with the good china and silverware. Two tall white candles were lit; crystal goblets filled with wine, and in the center sat a vase filled with a fuchsia bouquet. She gasped and brought a hand to her throat.
“Braiton, this is all so beautiful.”
“As are you, Raven,” he said, escorting her to the chair placed beside his. After taking his own seat, he handed her a goblet and raised the other in a toast.
“To a year well spent.”
She smiled and clicked her glass against his. The sweet taste of the wine glided down her throat. A delicious meal of roasted chicken bathed in a creamy sauce, boiled potatoes smothered in cheese, and fresh green beans were on the menu. It was followed by coffee and lemon cake, served to them in the drawing room. Braiton sat in the overstuffed chair by the fire, puffing on his clay pipe. For this evening, she remained sitting in a chair, her dress too elegant and the skirt to full to sit cross-legged on the floor.
“Such a beautiful dinner was a wonderful surprise. Ashoge, my shikaa.”
“I have another, Raven.” Braiton pulled from his jacket pocket a white envelope. He stared at it a moment before handing it to her. “In there you’ll find an agreement kept.”
Her fingers fumbled with the seal. Once opened, she pulled out three slips of paper. She frowned and looked over at him, her mind spinning with bewilderment. “I do not understand.”
“There you have three passages to England, lass, aboard the luxury ship, The Donahue. The agreement we made is now fulfilled by us both.”
She held the tickets against her heart and swallowed hard, then stood and made her way to the window, looking out onto the front lawn.
“Ah, yes, our agreement.”
“You, Sinead, and Casey leave the day after tomorrow. Come the spring, I will bring Brawn and Dayden by cargo ship, if I am able.” He cleared his throat. “If the situation should be otherwise, Captain Kirby will make the voyage without me.”
“But Casey was not part of the agreement, Braiton.”
“Aye, ’tis true, Raven, and I’ll take full responsibility for my lack of control.” He stood and made his way beside her. “You will be given adequate compensation for your trouble.”
She turned to face him, anger swelling her heart. “Compensated for my trouble?” she repeated. “Casey is not trouble; he is my son, our son. Not some business deal you can settle with money.”
He reached for her hand. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”
She pulled away. “Then how did you mean it to sound?”
He combed his fingers through his hair. “I just meant you and Casey will never want for anything. All your financial needs, and much more will be met.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I do not want your money.”
“’Tis Casey’s right to have it,” he said.
“It is also his right to have a father,” she snapped.
Braiton turned away from her and walked to the fireplace. Gripping the mantle, he stared into the fire. “He will have a mother, an aunt and an uncle to love him.” He took a deep breath to still his racing pulse. “’Tis best he never knows me.”
“Why…why is it best, Braiton?”
His heart pounded in his ears. “’Tis what you want as well, lass.”
She neared him. “That is not true.”
He spun around to face her, his voice rough with anxiety. “Then why did you lie to me?”
She blinked baffled. “I have never lied to you.”
“Ah, but you have, Raven. Twice to be exact. The first time was in Glenview, the morning after we consummated Casey. I asked if anything happened between us, and you denied it did.”
Her tone was velvet, yet cold and exact. “I believe you asked if you did anything to compromise me.”
“Aye, and you denied it,” he snapped.
“But I did not.” She inhaled sharply and held her breath for a second. When she finally spoke, she weighed each word. “You far from compromised me, Braiton. I willingly accepted your touch. Willingly received your kisses, and kissed you in return. The words we shared, the tenderness, the way you looked at me, when you…” the words caught in her throat.
Again she took a breath, her eyes filling with tears. “It was the most beautiful and thrilling moment of my life, and I never want to forget it. You want to know why, Braiton?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Because I have fallen—”
“Nay, don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t say it,” he said, turning away from her, unable to bear the sorrow etched upon her beautiful face. “Please, say no more.” He glanced at her portrait above the mantle and everything in him cried out to stop what was happening between them. To take her in his arms and hold her close; admit he never wanted her to leave him. But he couldn’t be so selfish. She was better off away from him and with her family.
Her voice broke with emotion. “Is it what you really want, for us to leave and never return?”
“Aye,” he lied, swallowing hard the strangling grief choking the life from him. “’Twas our agreement.”
“Yes—yes it was,” she said, her tone resigned. “Then I should give you back your mother’s ring.”
“Nay, I wish for you to keep it. ’Twill never be placed upon another woman’s finger, and you can save it for when Casey…if Casey…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, his emotions rising to suffocate him. But his thoughts shouted his fear. If Casey lives long enough to wed.
He heard her walk to the door, and he clenched his fists to his side. Then she halted her departure.
“You said I lied to you twice. When was the second time?”
He shook his head. “It matters not now, Raven.”
“It does to me. Tell me of the second time,” she demanded.
“When you kept your pregnancy from me, fearing I would not let you go.”
“Is that why you think I said nothing?”
He could only nod.
“I kept silent because I did not want you to be forced to let me stay. I have known right along you could never grow to love me because of what happened on the reservation.”
He glanced back at her. Tears streamed down her face, falling to her collar and staining the satin material of her dress. “Raven, that’s not—”
“I am a tainted woman, already touched by another,” she interrupted. “Spoiled goods; nothing any man of your means would desire…unless he was filled with whiskey and half out of his mind. Am I not right, Bration?”
His heart broke for what she believed, and if he could tell her the truth, he would. But he remained silent and again turned to gaze at the flames. For her sake, ’twas better she hate him. He forced a stern tone.
“Then I would say there’s nothing further for us to talk about, lass.”
The sile
nce was deafening. Finally she said, “Then I will say goodnight.”
He closed his eyes, hating what he’d done to her. “Nay, ’tis farewell I’ll be saying to you now, lass. I leave in the morning for business in Killarney and won’t return for several days.” His flesh went cold, in spite of his nearness to the fire.
“I see,” she said. “Then I will take this last time to thank you for all you have done for me, and to ask you make sure the school continues for the children.”
Her words, last time, hit him like a brick between the eyes. “I give you my word it will.” His stomach twisted within him. Even now she cared for others. “God’s speed on your journey, I wish you happiness with your family and in your life, Raven.”
“I wish the same for you, Braiton,” she replied softly, then ran from the room.
He waited for her footsteps to vanish up the stairs before he made his way to the study. Trembling, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. Numb all over, he sipped his drink and walked to the window, staring out at the night. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Raven wouldn’t be around to watch him waste away to nothing. She’d have a chance at a normal, happy life. He prayed the same for his son.
He ran his fingers through his hair; disgusted with himself for the way he treated her at the end. She deserved so much better. Never would he forget the hurt on her face, the tears in her eyes, the way her voice trembled. Nor what she said to him. It took courage to admit the things she did; especially believing he didn’t feel the same. Only a woman who cared with a pure heart could open herself to confess such emotion. Only a woman with the stamina of Grania O’Malley, which his Raven was.
Except, after this night, she wouldn’t be his Raven anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d never see his son again either. The lad would never run through the mansion, open gifts on Christmas morn, or climb a tree at Shannonbrook. The whole of the place will be so empty now with them gone. He would die alone. A thought worse than death itself. Tears welled in his eyes and cascaded down his face. He leaned against the window casement, shame, sorrow, and guilt piercing his heart and he wept.
****
One Perfect Flower Page 28