Waking Lucy (American Homespun Book 1)

by Lorin Grace

  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. When she opened them, she saw the same blue flames she’d seen earlier.

  How could she deny him? How could she not talk with him? Maybe Papa Marden was right and the truth would set her free or, rather, it would set Samuel free, and he would leave.

  Lucy’s shoulders slumped, and she nodded.

  Samuel picked up a cloth and started to dry the dishes. “I’ll help you finish first.”

  They finished in silence.

  Samuel pulled a chair over near the rocker and sat down. Lucy dried her hands as she circled the table and settled on the bench on the far side.

  Samuel cocked his brow.

  Lucy pretended to ignore the unasked question. She was not going to tell him she was not taking any chances that he might touch her. Butterflies were still dancing where Samuel’s arms had been wrapped around her. She traced her finger around the knots on the table top. She’d never noticed how the knot she was currently tracing resembled a heart before. She stopped tracing it and placed her hands in her lap.

  “Samuel,” she began in a steady voice. “I think it is best if you stop insisting we are married. You have options in what you could do. You don’t need to be tied down to this farm and me.” Her hands came from under the table, and she emphasized her words. “I can sell it and move to Boston. No one need know my reputation is in question. We both know nothing ever happened that would have left me ruined.” She drew in a breath, continuing before Samuel could respond. “You have been better than any friend or doctor to do what you have done. I thank you. I owe you my life and probably more than I can ever make up to you. What I can do is release you from this sham marriage you agreed to. I want you to be happy.” At this, she met his eyes, hoping he would see she was in earnest.

  Samuel studied her for a moment. “What will you do in Boston?”

  Lucy shrugged one shoulder. “Get work cleaning and cooking. I sew well enough. I might find a job at one of those big dress shops.”

  “What of Sarah?”

  “She can stay with me.”

  He raised his brow.

  “Or maybe she could live with your parents?”

  “I am sure Ma would take her in a trice. But you are all that is left of her family. Do you want to abandon her?”

  Lucy shook her head. She could feel tears forming. She could not let Samuel see them. Sarah was the biggest hindrance to her plan. If Lucy got a job in one of Boston’s grand homes or even in one of the pubs, it would come with a room, and the employer would not likely want a small child underfoot. The dress shops might provide board, but she would be forced to leave Sarah alone all day. Even leaving Sarah with the Wilson’s would still be abandoning her and would leave a hole in both of their hearts. “No, I don’t want to leave Sarah, but I must think of what is best.”

  “Would living in Boston be best for you?”

  “My reputation—”

  “Not your reputation. There is naught wrong with it now and won’t be as long as you don’t send me packing. What is best for you?”

  Lucy stared at the knot in the table and traced the heart again. What would be best for her was the worst for him. Unable to answer honestly, she shrugged.

  “If I understand, you believe it is best for me not to be married to you. What if I disagree? What if I think marriage to you is the best choice I ever made? What if I don’t want to choose something else? What if I want to stay?” Samuel’s voice rose the slightest bit.

  Lucy fidgeted. “You can’t want that. You don’t know how bad it will be.”

  He leaned forward, his voice returning to normal volume. “What do you mean?”

  Lucy placed both hands on the table. Unbidden, her fingers traced the heart again and then drew a large X through it. “Every day Mr. Simms would yell at Mama, claiming it was all her fault he was trapped in the marriage and he couldn’t be successful. I think he hated her. He was always so angry. He claimed to want children yet hated seeing me. He would call us both terrible names. The older I got, the angrier he got. I don’t want you to have regrets. You had little choice but to marry me—that, or let me or your ma die. I don’t think I could survive if you became angry like Mr. Simms. It was a terrible choice they forced on you. I won’t be the cause of your ruined life. Already you raise your voice at me. How long will it be until you hate me too?” She kept drawing an X through the heart.

  Samuel closed his eyes as if in prayer. When he opened them, his voice was calm. “When you have dreams like you had today, are they of Mr. Simms’s yelling?”

  “Yes.” And other things.

  “Did James ever yell at you or your mother?”

  Lucy’s chin shot up. “Of course not. He loved Mama and wanted to marry her. Mama and Papa disagreed sometimes, but he never yelled.”

  “But wasn’t James Marden trapped too? If not for James, your mother would have to sell the farm. She couldn’t take care of it all herself. She needed a husband fast.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Samuel looked embarrassed. “I heard her tell Ma soon after the funeral.”

  Lucy thought for a moment. “But it was still different. Papa Marden wanted to be married to Mama.”

  “What if I want to be married to you? I did propose all those months ago in my letter. Yes, I had my plans change because I could no longer set up housekeeping with you, but I never stopped wanting to be your husband.”

  Lucy had no answer.

  Samuel continued. “I knew when you were thirteen that I wanted you to grow up so I could marry you. Lucy, you were always my plan.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Possible. You are the only part of the plan that has worked out—sort of.” Samuel rubbed the back of his head. Lucy sat speechless. She’d run out of arguments, save one. Samuel claimed he wanted to be married to her. It wasn’t the best decision he had made. It was the worst. Not only would he not be a doctor, he would be on a farm. He didn’t enjoy farming. It would only take a few harvests to drive him away.

  She would have to pull out the last piece of information she had. Her reputation would be in tatters, and he would leave.

  “Who did you marry?” she asked.

  “You.”

  “No, what name did Reverend Woods use?”

  “Lucy Simms.”

  “Then it is a sham marriage because I am not Lucy Simms. There is no Lucy Simms. Just Lucy Stickney.”

  “I know.”

  Lucy stared at him in stunned silence. What did he know? More than she did, apparently.

  Twenty-five

  A horse and rider entered the yard minutes after Samuel finished milking the goat. In the early morning light, he was not sure which of the twins dismounted and started to the house.

  Samuel whistled to get his brother’s attention, and the twin loped across the yard. Samuel still had no idea who came toward him. The blue muffler could easily be exchanged for the red one and was no guarantee of identity.

  “Morning, Sam.” The twin unwound his muffler but left his hat on, effectively concealing the scar that would identify him.

  “Whatcha doing here?” Samuel did not call him by name. Getting the incorrect one would set them off in a series of pranks.

  “Ma asked for a volunteer to come get Sarah-girl.”

  “And you won the wrestle.”

  A grin brightened Joe’s face—he was pretty sure it was Joe. “I’ll take the little chatterbox over cleaning stalls any morning.”

  “Speaking of the little chatterbox, you need to be careful what exactly you mention about married life to her.” Samuel took a step forward, his face hard.

  Joe threw up his hands. “All we told her was that you might want to share a bed with your wife. No way would we say anything Ma would tan
our hides for.”

  Samuel backed off. There was no point in putting the twins in a spot where they decided they needed to get revenge. “Sarah is probably still in bed. I planned to bring her over in a couple of hours. Why did Ma send you so early?”

  “Maybe she wanted to get an early start on the cake. Or”—he grinned mischievously—“she thinks you and your bride need some alone time.”

  Samuel’s fist didn’t connect with his brother’s shoulder as he expected. The force of the unlanded blow caused him to stumble forward a step, and his right foot landed in a mud puddle, sending splatters up his boots and pant legs. Joe stepped out of range.

  Samuel rubbed the back of his neck. He was not doing a good job of keeping his emotions in check. He had gotten little sleep last night after the abrupt end to his conversation with Lucy. When she realized he knew her name was not Simms, the color had drained from her face. She’d looked as if she might faint. He’d offered to help her to her room, afraid she might fall, but she’d refused and stumbled to the bedroom, not looking back. He’d debated about going to her, but the stricken look she wore stopped him. And so he’d lain awake, listening for the nightmares that never came.

  “Ma says you and Lucy should come for a late dinner around one o’clock or so.” Joe walked backward toward the house. “How soon can Sarah be ready?”

  “As soon as you finish the chores.” Samuel strode past him. “I’ll get her up. Stalls still need mucking.” He may not have landed the punch, but there were other ways to get back at the twin that must be Joe. At least he was pretty sure it wasn’t John.

  Lucy jumped when the door banged open, and her hand flew to her heart.

  “Sarah up?” Samuel didn’t look at her as he asked the question.

  “Not yet,” Lucy answered quietly, eyes wide. Samuel didn’t smile. Had their discussion last night taken hold so soon? Did I succeed in getting him to leave me because of my illegitimacy? Please, not because of that.

  “One of the twins is here to take her to Ma’s. You’d better wake her.” Samuel closed the door as he returned outside. He popped the door open again. “Don’t bother with dinner. Ma has invited us over.”

  So Samuel wouldn’t be gone with Sarah this morning. Perhaps he would keep his distance and stay in the barn as he had the past few days. Lucy did not want to be alone with him. Now that the marriage was over, she wanted him gone. His being in the house made things harder. She wanted a good cry, but he could never know her heart was breaking.

  All too soon Sarah was settled with Joe on the horse, waving her good-byes. Lucy had nothing to do. Having forgotten to set out the leaven last night, she could not make bread today. With the invitation to dinner, she didn’t need to cook either. She wandered about, searching for some chore to occupy her. As she hadn’t been to the second level since her recovery and there would be some cleaning to do, she started up the stairs. Sarah’s room was neater than usual. Lucy tightened the bed ropes more out of boredom than necessity. She paused at Samuel’s room. Did she dare enter?

  Pushing the door all the way open, she was surprised to see the bed neatly made. His shirts hung on wall pegs. In the corner, several crates stood in a neat stack. Stepping back, Lucy breathed deeply, relieved she did not need to go in. She knew if she did, she would break down for sure at the essence that lingered there.

  She walked downstairs, still searching for something to do. Knitting more socks seemed to be the best option left. There was going through Mama’s and Papa Marden’s things, but she wasn’t ready to sort through the memories. That could wait until the farm sold. She could get her tick and linens back from Emma and move back to her room tonight. Then she would shut the door to her parents’ room. Too often as she lay there, her mind wandered to what it would be like to share the room with Samuel. Even after his revelation last night, she’d still dreamed of him.

  She’d just reached the bottom step when Samuel walked in, a grin on his face.

  “Ready for your birthday surprise?”

  Lucy stood still on the step. “What?”

  “Your birthday surprise.” Two strides brought him to the stairs. He placed his hand on the banister above her hand. Still on the bottom step, Lucy found herself at eye level with him. Lip level with him. She dispelled the thought before it could take hold. His blue eyes twinkled. The half grin he gave her reminded her of the look he’d given her when he had played the pirate just before…

  His grouchiness of an hour ago had vanished. What had changed? Wasn’t he leaving? Confused, Lucy waved her hands, unable to come up with the right word. “I don’t think it is appropriate”—her hands twisted her apron—“considering… ” She let the sentence hang in the air, unable to voice the last part, you are leaving.

  “Considering what? That I am your husband? Can’t a man give his wife a birthday gift?”

  “Yes. I mean no. We are not. You shouldn’t.” None of the answers that came out of Lucy’s mouth made sense even to her.

  One corner of his mouth edged up into the lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat. “Well, I made it, and I can’t exactly change that. So I guess I should give it to you regardless of your answer.”

  “Oh, well, then.” Lucy held out her hand, palm up. Instead of placing a gift in it as she expected him to, Samuel took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her palm, sending chills up her arm.

  He was not leaving. Lucy’s heart sang. No matter what gift he gave her today, he wasn’t going to leave, and that was the best gift. She only needed to choose what to do with it.

  “It’s too big to wrap.” He coaxed her off the stairs.

  She looked up at him, unable to form a coherent thought. “Oh?”

  Samuel held up her cloak. “Put this on, and we shall go see it.”

  Curious, Lucy complied. When she had her cloak on, she turned to Samuel, who held a scarf in his hand.

  “Surely we are not going so far that I need a scarf.”

  “No, but seeing I can’t hide the present, I thought I would hide your eyes.”

  Lucy stepped back. Curiosity turned to fear.

  “Please, no.” She struggled to breathe out. “I don’t like having my eyes covered.”

  “Then promise to close your eyes tightly when I ask?”

  Lucy nodded as she took a deep breath.

  Samuel held out his hand to her. Tentatively, she placed hers in his, and he closed his hand. Its warmth engulfed her as he guided her out the door.

  Lucy’s heart raced again, but it was different than when it had raced at the thought of the scarf being tied over her eyes.

  Samuel tucked Lucy’s hand in the crook of his arm to draw her closer. She wondered if he was as affected by their touch as she was. She wanted to be held much closer. Had he nearly kissed her at the bottom of the stairs?

  Reaching the barn, he stopped. “Close your eyes.”

  Lucy crossed her arms and quirked a brow.

  “You promised.” Samuel pulled open the door.

  “But I might fall.”

  Samuel clasped both of her hands in his. “Never.” The husky words had a quality that both warmed and frightened Lucy. She dare not look up lest she see the blue fire in his eyes again. She’s already fallen. He just didn’t know. If he did catch her, she hoped he would never let go.

  She obediently closed her eyes. The clean scent of hay tickled Lucy’s nose. How different this smell was than the sour odor that had permeated the building last time she’d stood in it. Someone had fulfilled the promise to the animals she hadn’t been able to keep.

  Samuel stopped and lowered their hands. “Keep them closed for a moment. I am going to turn up the lantern.”

  One of the horses snorted. Lucy turned at the sound. “Bart, is that you?”

  “No, it is Old Brown. Be kind, o
ld man, this is my Lucy, and I won’t take any of your sass about her.”

  Lucy tilted her head. My Lucy? She wished she could see the expression on Samuel’s face. His voice sounded as if he were laying claim to her and warning his horse off. She started to peek only to find Samuel waving his hand before her face. She closed her eyes tighter.

  Samuel chuckled. “No peeking. Just one more moment.” He guided her a few more steps, then placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her around.

  Lucy could feel the warmth of Samuel behind her. Just a half step back would place her in his arms. She stood rigidly to avoid such temptation, but Samuel leaned forward, closing the space between them, his hands still on her shoulders. “You may look now.”

  Lucy’s eyes popped open. It was the tack room, but not the one that haunted her dreams. The whitewashed walls both inside and out glowed in the light of the lantern. From a new window cut into the outside wall, a patch of sunlight fell onto a freshly sanded floor. Lucy took a tentative step forward. The rings for the chain and padlock were gone. The door had been split in two, making an upper and a lower door.

  Samuel stepped around Lucy through the doorway and into the little room. He shuttered the window, then opened it again. “Lets in light and air but can be closed against the elements and at night. Don’t need that old coon finding his way in here.” He pulled the lower door partway shut. “See this latch? It locks on the inside of the room and can be closed by leaning over the door from the outside.” He stepped around the door to demonstrate closing, then opening it, and closing it again. “The upper door closes like so, into this latch on the outside.” He closed the top door and slid the wooden bolt over.