Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

by Lydia Michaels

  All he could do is breathe harshly as his wife cried. “No. She’ll be okay, Mum. I can’t lose her.”

  Her mother whispered soothing words, but he saw how she trembled. “Frank…Frank, you’ll need to help her into the house.”

  Swallowing, he rushed to the door of the truck and saw pure agony in Maureen’s face. Her mouth flattened as she silently sobbed, her cheeks red and wet with tears. Her mother stepped aside. “Be gentle with her and try to keep her legs up.”

  He nodded and stepped closer. His arm slid under her knees and he cringed at the heat of her blood. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling her to his chest. “Everything’s okay.” He didn’t know who he was reassuring, but it was all a lie. Everything was not okay.

  She wept as he carried her through the house, her mother opening door after door. Her father stood in the corner of her room as he laid her on the bed. She curled onto her side and sobbed. “No…”

  Every breath, every swallow of stale air hurt, as he struggled to find anything at all to say. There was nothing. Her pain was the most agonizing thing he’d ever witnessed. She’d been so happy, so content. Perhaps all was not lost…

  Glancing at her legs, he shut his eyes. It wasn’t good. He took her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Shhh… It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  It was obvious she was suffering, but she wouldn’t move or let anyone touch her. When the doctor finally arrived, he and her father stood silently outside the door and waited for what Frank knew would break her heart.

  Her mother came out first, sniffling. He stared at the door and followed her to the kitchen. “Is she okay?”

  She sniffled again and filled a pot with water. “Poor thing. It just wasn’t meant to be. I’ll clean her up and then you can see her.” She lifted the pot of water and gathered a stack of towels. “I’ll ask that you stay here with her tonight.” Her hand closed over his arm and squeezed. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  His hands fisted at his side as she shut herself back in the bedroom. He turned away from her father and blinked hard as his vision blurred. A hand rested on his back and he shut his eyes, lacking the strength to deal with Shamus O’Leahey on a night like this.

  “I’m sorry, boy. Very sorry.” His hand slid away and the man walked out the front door where he stood on the porch staring into the darkness.

  The doctor left and Shamus likely paid him. Why had they ever given the baby a name? Every trace of their child washed away, but she was real. She was theirs. Mary.

  When he was finally welcomed back into the room, he lost the battle against his tears. Maureen rested on her side, her hands curled in her lap, and her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked so small in her blue nightdress, with her hair braided down her back.

  She sniffled and he waited for her to look at him, but she didn’t. Sighing, he slipped off his shoes and rounded the bed. Carefully, he climbed in behind her and gently rested his hand on her shoulder, afraid to hurt her.

  She continued to cry, each whimpered sob ripping at his heart. His jaw locked as he tried to make sense of such hardship. Why her? Why did this have to happen to his wife? Hadn’t they suffered enough? He’d lost his parents and his first child, all in the span of a few months. It was too much to bear and she shouldn’t have to shoulder such grief.

  “We’ll have more, Maureen. I know that doesn’t replace her, but I swear, you will have your family.”

  That night he didn’t sleep. The following day she stayed in bed and he eventually left her in the care of her mother. The promise he made last night, as he held his broken wife in his arms, was all he could think about as he went to find his best friend. It was a promise he intended to keep and one he intended to see to right away.

  He found Paulie hauling wood on the fifty-sixth acre of the mountain. When he convinced him to take a ride, he drove him right to the tree he’d cut down weeks before. There, he confessed all that had happened the night before.

  Paulie, despite his juvenile antics, was a good friend. He listened to Frank as he told him about every obstacle that got in their way since coming home and silently waited as Frank cried. Perhaps he cried for his sad wife or the child they lost. Maybe he cried for his father or the mother he barely had a chance to mourn. It didn’t matter. All that matter was that the sadness inside of him found its way out so he could move forward.

  “I’m going to build her a house, big enough for ten kids.”

  “That’s a lot, Frank. What if this is a sign that she won’t have an easy time of making a family?”

  “No.” He couldn’t believe that. “She’s too stubborn and used to gettin’ her way. She wants a big family and I gave her my word she’ll have one. I don’t care if we have to run around collecting orphans, that woman was born to be a mother and a wife and I promised her I’d make it so.”

  His friend sighed. “Are you going to buy your dad’s land back from the bank?”

  “No. I’m going to take a portion of the business and build a house there. No one will buy my dad’s property, stuck in the middle of owned territory. After a while the bank will lower their price and I’ll buy it back, but I can wait a decade for that if I have to. I should have done this from the beginning.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess part of me was waiting for her to take back her vow, another part of me didn’t want to take from the lumberyard for personal gain.”

  “But it’s yours to take.”

  “Aye, but my dad took advantage of that and the business hasn’t thrived in years because of his greed.”

  “Frank, establishing a home so you can continue to run the business is not greed. It’s common sense.”

  He was starting to think so too. “I’ll be pulling a lot of the guys off the regular runs to help out with the construction.”

  “Whatever you need. Just tell us when and where.”

  “Tomorrow, at the top of the mountain.”

  Paulie’s eyes widened. “Do you know how difficult it will be to—”

  “My heart’s set on it, Paulie. It’s the best place and you know it. It’s what she deserves.”

  Paulie sighed. “All right.”

  “And that tree there...” He pointed to the trunk he chopped down. “I want that to go in our bedroom. It’s where I carved our initials the day I started making her promises. I want her to see it and know, even if I don’t get it right the first time around, I intend to keep every promise I make her.” He paused, weighing the gravity of all that happened over the past few months. “I’ll always keep trying for her. No matter what.”

  “You’re a good guy, Frank. Your father embezzled the lion’s share from the business, though I’m not sure you can call it that when he was the owner, but look how much you’ve done to bring it back. The lumberyard will be everything you wanted. So will this house. You’re an impressive guy when you set your mind to something. It’s time you realized that.”

  “Thank you.” Humbly, he accepted his friends criticism sweetened with compliments. He’d never succeed at anything if he didn’t find the courage to believe in himself.

  Maureen made him courageous—demanded it. She gave him cause to try and a reason to hope for more. He knew if he could make this work with her, she could be happy. Seeing her happy, made him happy too. If it took him a lifetime, he’d see to that happiness anyway he could.

  Maureen sat in the quiet church for hours waiting for some explanation that never came. She thought of the Bible and those that had visions of Christ. Sometimes she wondered if those visions were moments of divinity or just a case of bad fish. Why would God speak to all of them and not her? Was she not worthy of some clarification?

  The fading sunlight cut across the pews as the heavy door opened. Maureen turned to see Frank wandering in, his motions telling of a practiced Christian, despite his absence at mass. Dabbing a finger in the holy water, he made the sign of the cross and quietly approached her. Genuflecting, he slid int
o the pew at her side.

  His hand closed around hers and squeezed. What was there to say to each other? For days, they danced around the painful incident, neither having the courage to discuss the loss. She’d been so overwhelmed with joy, so happy to receive the gift she’d been given, it was all she’d thought about for weeks. She’d forgotten how to talk or think of other things.

  “I was hoping I could take you to dinner, love,” he whispered.

  Returning her hands to the back of the pew, she folded them as though in prayer. But her prayers were said, fallen upon what might just be a hollow room with fancy statues and pricy chalices. “I’m not very hungry.”

  “We have to push through this, Maureen. I know you’re sad. I’m sad too. But there’s no bringing her back now.”

  It wasn’t fair. Her vision trembled under a fresh wall of unshed tears, as she said, “It hasn’t changed for you, so you wouldn’t understand. I felt her, every minute of every day she was with me. For you she was never more than recollection you often thought of, a circumstance to prepare for. For me she was already real.”

  His brow creased as he stared at her. “How could you say that?” he hissed. “Do you think my heart is not breakable? She was to be mine as much as she was yours.”

  Swallowing, a tear skittered down her cheek. “Was to be, but never will.”

  “Maureen,” he said slowly. “I love you, but I will not let you turn this tragedy into a battle between us.”

  If only she could turn her anger and hurt at God, but…for the first time in her life she couldn’t seem to find Him or her faith. Glancing down at her lap, she wrung her hands. “I know what you were planning.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She swallowed. Perhaps there was a reason her baby was taken. “The night I told you I was with child, when you said you wanted to speak to my father. I know why you were there, Frank.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “You came to break up with me.”

  He didn’t deny it, only sat silently beside her, his unspoken agreement cutting through her heart like a rusty knife.

  “I’m not as foolish as people think. Just because I try to stay positive and talk over someone wishing to give me bad news, that doesn’t mean I’m unaware of what’s really happening. I’m not stupid.”

  “I never said you were, nor did I think it, Maureen.”

  “I’m easy to take advantage of most days, because the last thing I want to do is fight, but sometimes somethin’ takes hold of me and I have to say my piece. Most times I’m fightin’ with those I love most.” She took a long breath, her eyes again wet with tears. “I’ll not fight you anymore, Frank.”

  “Maureen,” he rasped.

  She shook her head and sniffled. “If you want to undo what we have done, there’s nothing stopping you—aside from my spent virginity, but I was never plannin’ on keepin’ that anyway. It was more of a pain in the arse than anything else.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and turned her. “You are my wife.”

  The pain in her heart remained, thickening, growing heavy, a burden she wished would go away. “We don’t live together. We don’t sleep under the same roof or share a bed. We have no children.” Her chin quivered, but she went on. “My family does not accept our union and our vows were not made before God.”

  He shot to his feet and hissed, “Is that what you want?” His hand shot out, a long finger pointing to Christ on the cross. “You want me to make a vow before God? I love you. I promise to love you on this day and every day after, for the rest of my life, for better or worse, in sickness and health. I swear it now and I’ll swear it every day after if that’s what it takes for you to believe me. Before this God or any other, my love and promise to you will always remain.”

  “Then why are you always running away?” she cried. She was so tired of hoping he’d come to her, hoping he’d run toward her instead of away from her.

  “Have I been running lately? I was scared, Maureen. I have only a shadow of a memory of my parents together and happy. I don’t know how to do this, but I gave you my word and I’m trying my best.”

  “I do not want a man to love me because his honor dictates that he should!”

  He staggered back a step as if she’d struck him. Quietly, he whispered, “Well, I promised my honor and respect and I’ll not take them back because you suddenly find them offensive measures of affection. But know this, Maureen McCullough, you are my wife and I love you with every breath and beat of my heart. You are a part of my soul and losing you would be the worst death I could imagine. I may not always have something to say, but when somethin’ needs sayin’ I say it. I love you, not because I’m honor bound or because you will someday carry my child again—which you will. I love you because you are the best person I know on this earth and when life isn’t so kind, you always are.

  “You take care of me, even when I tell you not to. You’re stubborn and fearless and nothing seems too much for you to handle. I could talk for days on all the reasons I love you, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand why such an incredible woman wastes a moment of her time loving me. You can criticize my stature, my craftsmanship, and my morals, but you cannot criticize the way I love you, because whether you feel it or not, I love you with everything I have and all that I am. Now, I’m sorry if you want an annulment—or whatever this argument is about—but I’m not giving you up. Not now, not ever.” He nodded and marched out of the church.

  The door closed and her heavy breathing was all she could hear. Grabbing her rosary, she quickly stuffed it in her pocket and chased after him. Her palms slapped against the heavy wood door as sunlight pierced the dim interior and she flung her body over the threshold. “Frank! Wait!”

  He turned and scowled as she raced down the cement steps. She didn’t stop until she cast her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’m sorry.”

  His arms closed around her. His voice hoarse, he whispered, “I love you, Maureen. Doubting that is like doubting I’m alive.”

  “I know you love me. I love you too. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to hold you to a marriage you didn’t want.”

  His lips pressed to her hair. “I want our marriage, love. Every day I want it more than the last. It’s all I want.”

  She nodded, her arms tightening around him. “I want it too, but I had to be sure of your feelings.”

  He tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. “Never doubt my feelings, Maureen. They’re the only thing in this life I own that no one can take from me.”

  “I love you, Frank. I want to go home, wherever that is. I want to go there with you.”

  “I’m trying to get us there, love.”

  They ended up going to dinner at the small diner outside of town they visited the first time they went on what one might call a date. They didn’t talk about Mary and tiptoeing around the subject brought about an exciting sense of unfamiliarity. It was as if they were getting to know each other all over again for the first time, only now they were a bit wiser and a touch more patient.

  There was the ache that took hold every so often, the quiet reminder that her once full belly was hollow. There were no words to describe such a loss. Most people were not aware she’d had anything to lose, but for her, in those few weeks of knowing she held something precious, she’d built a thousand dreams that would never stand.

  In the coming days, the battle to appear normal came a bit easier, but the ache still remained. Maureen wondered if it would always be there, silently hurting, even if she had other children to fill the void.

  There would never be another Mary.

  Frank was different. She wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy or the miscarriage or perhaps a culmination of both that changed him. His actions spoke of a confidence she hadn’t noticed before. The hesitance that took hold of him after his father died was gone and he seemed so much more the man he was meant to be.

  Deciding it was time to intertwine th
eir lives beyond physical relations and legal contracts, she often asked about his work. Frank would light up as he spoke of funny stories about the men at work and she loved seeing him so animated.

  It hadn’t occurred to her how great the undertaking of McCullough Lumber was for her husband. Frank existed somewhere between rich and poor. He had no home, but always enough money to pay their way. Although he was the owner of the massive company, he still lived paycheck to paycheck, claiming it kept him honest.

  She was stunned to learn how much the company was actually worth. Frank said it was valuable, but not liquid, meaning it would only equal such a large sum if he sold it whole, but he wasn’t willing to do that.

  It impressed her that his stubbornness came from a desire to provide a life for his children and the generations to follow. Such foresight was indeed an attractive thing.

  Her father no longer made more than a grumble when Frank came to pick her up. One day he’d been changing a tire and Frank even gave him a hand, though they didn’t speak to each other through the entire process, no weapons were pulled.

  She and her mother would watch the two men and roll their eyes. With all her father’s griping and bitching, Frank hadn’t run off scared. Perhaps he’d been testing her husband. Her dad often called her his greatest pain in the arse, which was true, so maybe he was checkin’ to see if her husband had the patience for such an undertaking.

  She hadn’t realized the house Frank grew up in was gone. The bulldozers came and erased all that once was. The day she mentioned the house and he explained it was too late, he also explained what a relief it was to see it go, too many sad memories, the last recollection of his father taking his own life.

  Frank was an impressive man. He didn’t show much emotion, but he felt things deeply. She understood he gave her a side of himself other’s didn’t know, a side she cherished and held close to her heart.

  As autumn took hold and the days grew shorter, she worried where this would leave them. There would be no escaping in his truck and making love under a sky of stars, nor would there be any more picnics or lazy days by the falls.