by J. L. Jarvis
He tamped down feelings that would have to wait until he was home. Only then would he give in to agony. When that train pulled away, his heart broke. So now, he had to keep moving. He was going to walk back outside and keep walking, and no one would know he was already dead inside. He turned slowly to leave, and glanced up.
She was there.
All alone, she stood inside the door, where she’d stopped as the train pulled away. Behind her, outside, footsteps ran and stopped long enough to pull the door open. She shrank back against the wall as he’d run past her to the platform. She breathed in, but her heart beat so wildly she was still short of breath. He was watching the train make its way down the track. She should leave, but if she moved now, he would see her.
How she had missed simply looking at him—being near him. She watched him, unable to help herself.
Benjamin turned to leave, and he saw her. It was all in his face—all the pain mixed with relief, and so many other emotions that she knew as well, for she felt them as deeply. He walked slowly toward her. The sheer strength of his gaze held her there. She could not make a move to leave him. She tensed at his touch as he lifted her hand. He stared at it, kissed it lightly, and looked up with wonder. His eyes turned her defenses to dust.
She was in his arms, breathing the smell of the rain on his freshly starched shirting. He murmured that it was over. He would not let her go. She believed him without question.
“It wasn’t you,” he told her again and again.
Relief and pent up heartache surged through her in wave after wave. She was weary of trying so hard not to love him.
“You didn’t do it,” he told her. “Gwendolyn did it and made it look like you’d hurt me. It’s all over now.”
“I loved you each day, each minute.” She buried her face in his neck and breathed in his scent. She was whole again. She didn’t care about anything else. Questions could wait until later. Her heart was too full of his presence. He said it was over, and she saw in his eyes that it was. He held her head to his shoulder and stroked her hair and her cheek, kissed her forehead and whispered the love he had held inside, love which had made his heart break.
“Stay with me forever. I need you.”
She could not form the words, so she nodded and buried her face in his neck.
Moments later she whispered, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I know,” he whispered into her hair.
She was enclosed in his arms, feeling safer and stronger, and so much in love.
He took her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss her. A tear trailed down the side of her cheek.
The door opened, and two passengers came in to wait for the next train. Benjamin took a step back and held onto her hands. Someone passing bumped against his shoulder, but he barely noticed. He was looking at Emma. “Let’s go home.”
They pulled up to the entrance to the asylum. “Are you sure you can do this?” Benjamin asked yet again. He was anxious and fiercely protective.
She nodded. “I have to. She did so much for me. I can’t leave without letting her know.”
Emma had insisted on coming here before going home to Benjamin’s house on Clifton Point. But as she glanced up at the towers, a shudder went through her. There was no denying that coming back put her on edge.
He stopped the carriage and turned to her. “Emma, I’ll turn around. Just tell me.”
“I know that it’s different now, but I can’t help feeling anxious.”
“I promise you won’t spend another night here. That’s all been taken care of. I’ll be with you.”
She nodded. “Let’s go see Mrs. Hall.”
He gave her hand a squeeze and they headed up the long walk.
During the drive here, they had asked questions and answered them, leaving more questions and so much unsaid. He told her what had happened, but the truth was almost too much to absorb. There would be time to talk later.
Benjamin helped Emma out of the carriage. The storm had blown over. The sun still hid behind dull gray clouds, and the smell of fresh rain hung in the air while the scent of the earth rose to meet it. Wet stone and mosaic tiles blurred before Emma. The building looked darker and even more gloomy after a rain. Benjamin paused at the hospital threshold.
“This could wait for another day.”
“No, it can’t.”
He nodded. He had voiced his strong feelings against such a visit right now, but Emma had been so long denied her own choices that he was determined to grant her anything that was in his power to give.
She said, “I need to see her.”
He lifted her hand and hooked it into his arm as they walked through the entrance together. He was watchful and ready to whisk her away at the least sign of distress.
Inside, Nurse Rees greeted them with a somber expression and distressing news. Emma faltered, but Benjamin circled a strong arm about her waist.
“She was outside in this weather?” asked Benjamin.
“She said she had something to do. Mrs. Hall never causes us trouble. She’s such a dear, and so proud of her garden. We tend to indulge her.”
“How long was she out there?”
“When the rain let up, we found her slumped over a bench in the garden.”
“You should never have let her go out in a storm.”
“Mr. Stark, it wasn’t the weather. It was her heart. This wasn’t the first time.”
Emma said, “May I see her?”
The nurse led them to a hospital room. Emma looked at her, lifeless and solitary. “No one’s here for her?”
“There’s no family,” said the nurse.
Benjamin asked about the funeral.
The nurse said that there would be a service, and she would be buried in the hospital cemetery.
Emma had seen the numbered stones with no names in the graveyard. She turned to Benjamin, but he was already insisting on taking care of the arrangements.
Miss Rees’s voice wavered. “Mrs. Hall was a special woman, so different from anyone else—in here or outside. She was a kind and gentle soul.”
Emma’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m glad she was in the garden. It was hers, and she loved it. But people shouldn’t die alone.”
Benjamin held her, wishing he could carry this burden for her. Even now, he saw something that should not have surprised him. Through her grief, she was strong. Her time here had tested her mettle. Facing grief now further tried it. But this was not the shy girl who had allowed people to guide her into an unwanted marriage. This was a brave and courageous young woman. He loved her, and he was proud to see the woman that she had become.
Emma tenderly laid her hand on Mrs. Hall’s hands. She felt the rounded worn corners of the paperboard portrait she used to pull from her pocket when she thought no one saw. She would gaze so intently, that Emma had wondered and wanted to ask, but she sensed it was something too private to discuss. So Emma never asked.
Nurse Rees said, “She was holding it in her hands when we found her. That’s her family. Her husband brought her here after childbirth. She’d become despondent. By the time I came to work here, she had been here for years.” Nurse Rees gently lifted the photograph and handed it to Emma.
“She had a little boy.” Emma smiled sadly.
“Her husband left her here. It happens too much.”
“Perhaps there is family still. We could find them—or at least try.”
Benjamin took the portrait from Emma’s hands. Only then did she notice his hollow expression. His eyes darkened. Wrenching despair forced a sharp inhalation that shook his shoulders. He leaned over the old woman’s body.
Alarmed, Emma put her hand on his arm, but did not dare intrude with her question.
His voice caught as he told her, “I have seen this.”
Emma put her hand on his, and held onto his arm with the other. She looked at the photo he held in his hand. A father and a mother with a young boy on her lap.
He said, “I have
this same photograph at home.”
Emma silenced the sob in her throat.
“It’s me. That’s my father. And my mother.” The color drained from his face.
“Come sit down.” Emma brought a chair to him.
“My father told me that she ran away from us.”
“I think she knew,” Emma said softly. “I told her so many things about you. She had to have known who you were.”
He bent over and cried at the side of her bed.
Chapter 24
A train rumbled and screeched to a stop at the Clifton Point station. Sunlight, diffused by the frost on the window, lit a path to a worn wooden bench. Beyond that was a chair in the corner. She walked past them both and stood waiting. He approached, but the sun shone through the window behind him, blinding her to his features.
“Mrs. Stark?”
Emma smiled and took the arm that he offered.
She lifted her eyes and leaned imperceptibly into his gaze, then turned suddenly from him.
Benjamin took hold of her elbow as if to steady her, then slid his hand down to her bag, where her hand grasped the handle. He wrapped his hand about hers for a moment. She looked down, and then slipped her hand free as he took the bag from her.
He nodded toward the door. Porters and passengers sprang to life all about them, as they moved toward the door. In the tightly packed room, shoulders brushed past and bags bumped against them as they came and went in and out of the doors on both sides of the building. Two men sporting cigars blustered by in the midst of a heated discussion. An old woman with a toddler in tow stopped and blotted her flushed face while her charge darted forward, ignoring her cries, only to vanish beneath a long bench. And still Emma and Benjamin were alone.
She paused and took a deep breath. His fingertips touched her back. “Over here,” he said.
Benjamin’s shoulders were broad, and the buggy seat was not. Their shoulders pressed together as they rode through the town. Emma sat stiffly and kept her eyes focused ahead. Leftover autumn leaves whirled in the road, tossed about by a chill wind. Shoppers walked quickly to get to the warmth of the next shop. As they neared the town’s edge, Benjamin lowered one arm to the seat, and discreetly took hold of Emma’s hand. She gripped his hand in return as she pressed her back into the seat and looked off toward a row of gnarled vines in the field they were passing.
A dark cloud from the west set loose rain that pelted the open sides of the buggy. He reached down. Through the layers of skirts, his knuckles brushed her ankle. He pulled a blanket from under the seat and offered it wadded in his fist. She spread it over their heads, then leaned closer to cover him. He had to move his arm out of her way.
She smiled as he pulled open his coat and enveloped her, pulling her into the curve of his arm. Emma buried her face in his shoulder and breathed in the smell of his shirt and his body. They rode on for miles, drawing heat from each other as the rain fell, and the lightning and thunder grew closer.
A flash of light and a deafening crack made the horses rear. Emma grabbed hold of the seat as a tree limb crashed to the road just ahead. Benjamin called out to the horse and gripped the reins. With a jolt, they stopped. Emma was thrown to the side, but Benjamin hooked his arm about her waist just in time to keep her from flying out of the buggy.
“Are you all right?”
Emma nodded.
Benjamin leapt out and ran up to the horse, taking hold of its bridle and calming it down. He led the horse forward, but there was no moving the buggy. He struggled to keep his footing in the mud. Emma got out, knowing that any extra weight would not help. One of the wheels was stuck.
“Get back,” yelled Benjamin through the din of the rain.
“And what good will that do?” she cried back.
He waved her off and continued to pull and urge the horse onward.
Emma went to the back to the buggy and pushed. Nothing happened. Clods of mud weighed at her skirts as she pushed. She turned and, bracing one foot on a rock, pushed again. The buggy rocked forward, then back. She turned and pushed with her shoulder.
Benjamin called to her. “Come guide the horse.”
They switched places. He pushed and she guided the horse past the fallen limb and onto the road. She took hold of the bridle and stroked the horse’s neck as she urged it forward.
As they climbed back into the buggy, he gave her a look which she knew and met frankly. He slid in beside her and took her face in both hands. Warmth poured into his eyes. Her eyes shut as the rain trickled down from her drenched hair. He brushed drops of rain from her face and then kissed her. It rained and they kissed until thunder startled them both into laughter.
He grinned as he looked at her muddy shoes and skirt hem, and the rest of her soaked with the rain. “You’re a beautiful mess.”
Emma’s grin spread to her eyes.
Benjamin said, “You know, I once fell in love with a girl who came in from the rain and the mud.”
“Oh? And whatever happened to her?”
“I married her.”
Epilogue
Emma stood at the rail of the steamer and looked out at Calcutta. A hand touched her shoulder and slid gently to her waist with a touch that was warm and familiar. She turned her luminous face to meet Benjamin’s gaze.
“Where’s my father? He really should see this.”
“He sees plenty. Right now, he’s seeing that everything’s in order as we come into port. I fully expect him to take over the ship any minute.”
Emma grinned. “He’s used to being in charge.”
Benjamin returned her smile with a crooked grin and a wry downward glance.
Emma hooked her arm about Benjamin’s. “You’ve been wonderful to him, and I know he appreciates it.”
Benjamin nodded with a raised but tolerant brow and a glint in his eye.
Emma was suddenly somber. “I know he can be somewhat annoying and overbearing.”
Benjamin worked to suppress a broad smile.
Emma was too focused on the shore and their future. “But he’s happy. You’ve given him new purpose and hope. It’s meant everything to me.”
She looked at him with adoration that made her father’s annoying ways worth the trouble. In truth, he was glad to have helped him for Emma’s sake. Although he would never understand it, Benjamin saw how Henry had been blinded by love for his wife. Because she was mentally ill, he’d forgiven her for what she had done to his daughter. In her mental condition, she could not have known any better, and so he forgave her and waited until she was well. But when she escaped and ran off with an orderly, Henry’s love and forgiveness came to an end.
Henry had lost everything. Before Emma had been able to ask, Benjamin had already offered his financial backing to Henry. He had not bargained for Henry to open his new factory in Judhpur, but the greatest surprise was Emma’s eagerness to embark on this journey. He had not expected such a spirit of adventure after all she’d been through.
They looked out at the city, still a distant outline. He was studying Emma with wonder, when she turned and looked at him. Her eyes shone through her questioning look.
“What?” asked Emma.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know,” said Emma, “But I heard you thinking.” Her eyes hinted at a smile.
He leaned close and let his lips brush her ear as he spoke in a quiet, deep voice. “Then you don’t need me to tell you.”
Emma tilted her head toward him. “Tell me.” She turned her face toward his until their lips nearly met. “And later you can show me.”
He moved close behind her until their bodies touched. “I will,” he said into her hair. “Often.” He circled his arms about her waist, as she leaned back against him and looked out toward their future.
Also by J.L. Jarvis
Watermarks
Ordinary hearts with extraordinary passion
Fight to survive clashing classes, forbidden love,
And the flood of the
century.
Maggie MacLaren is a librarian who longs to leave her mountain town, even if she must quell her attraction to rugged steelworker Jake O’Neill. When Andrew Adair walks into Maggie’s library, he sweeps her into his world of wealth and power, where at last dreams seem possible. However, Andrew’s world is not all it appears to be.
Maggie’s story of forbidden love is interwoven with that of reclusive young widow Allison Kimball. When she arrives at her family’s mountain resort home, she finds, tucked into her carpetbag, a love letter. So begins a series of secret epistles and midnight trysts with a man known only by his cryptic signature, “D.” Their passionate love story unfolds to reveal a truth that will threaten to tear them from their world and each other.
Ana Martin
On the eve of revolution
a young woman fights for land, liberty,
and the man she loves.
A stranger appears on Ana Martin’s Galveston doorstep, summoned by her father before his untimely death. When Ana boards a train bound for her uncle’s vast hacienda, Eduardo is there to see her safely to her new home in the stark desert landscape of northern Mexico.
Eduardo’s passionate ideals set him at odds with the corrupt Mexican government as his writings fuel a revolution and draw Ana closer. But it is Carlos, the dashing rodeo rider and freedom fighter, who touches her soul, setting Ana Martin on a journey that will test her strength and forge her destiny.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9