by Liz Harris
Her tone had been sharp, which was unusual, he thought, as he stared at the table in front of him. No, not sharp. She’d sounded upset. And of course she was right to be upset. More than upset, in fact; she had a right to be angry with him. He’d neglected her on the very day he should have stood beside her.
Surrounded by so many people she didn’t know, with a face so badly scarred, and wearing clothes that were dull compared with the finery of the other women, she would have naturally looked to him for support, and he hadn’t been there to provide it. He’d badly let her down, and not for the first time.
And he’d let himself down.
A wave of fury at himself for the way he’d behaved that day swept through him. He got up, grabbed his coat and went out after her.
‘I didn’t have much say in the matter,’ he said, catching her up. He could hear that his tone of voice was defensive, and it shouldn’t be. His behaviour was completely indefensible. He should be trying to show her how deeply he regretted the events of the day, how truly sorry he felt. ‘She was there every time I turned around, and every time one dance ended, she pulled me into the next. I couldn’t get away. I’d wanted to dance with you. I’m sorry I didn’t.’
She stopped walking, her face turned away from him, the lamp held out to the side. ‘You don’t have to say that. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t dance with Oonagh. You’ve been friends for years.’
He stared hard at the side of her face. The ridges on her left cheek stood out, pinched and stark, reddish purple in the cold night air, and he was pretty sure that she was close to crying.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. He reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled her arm away from him. ‘I wish I could wear my school dress tomorrow to prove the depth of my regret,’ he said, and he risked a half smile. ‘But I can’t – it no longer fits.’
She glanced at him and smiled. But with her mouth only, he noticed; not with her eyes. ‘Did you want anything else?’ she said quietly. ‘If not, I’d rather be alone. If you’re already in bed when I come in, I’ll try not to disturb you.’
She turned from him and continued walking towards the fence. He watched her go, a haze of amber light encircling her, then he went back into the house.
He pushed the door closed behind him, leaned back against it and stared ahead of him, frowning. Had he just been totally truthful with Ellen, or was there something about himself that he’d rather not see, rather not admit to her?
It was true that Oonagh had been at his side throughout the day. But he’d lied when he’d said that he couldn’t get away from her. Of course he could’ve, but he’d chosen not to.
If he was brutally honest with himself, after the pity he’d seen in the eyes of the folks who’d looked first at Ellen and then at him, it had felt darned good to know that he was the envy of every man there because he was the one who was dancing with the beautiful Oonagh.
That was the truth of the matter. Bridget had started the day with a generosity of spirit, and then so had Ellen. But he had filled the rest of the day with the opposite.
He moved away from the door and sat down by the window, staring with unseeing eyes around the room.
And Ellen, too, would realise that he’d chosen not to walk away from Oonagh. She’d have seen from the moment that Oonagh sat down at their table, that she’d gone out of her way to monopolise his attention, and he had let her.
He put his head in his hands, and groaned. How he must have hurt Ellen. If only they could return to the start of the day, he’d do things so very differently.
But they couldn’t. He had let Ellen down that day and so, too, had Oonagh. She must have known how much Ellen would need him by her side.
When Oonagh had been talking to Ellen after the sewing bee, she must have given her the impression that she genuinely liked her. If she hadn’t, Ellen would never have been so relaxed that she’d told Oonagh that they’d grown closer.
Ellen had wanted a friend, and Oonagh had led her to believe that she was going to be that friend, but her actions had betrayed her. That day, her friendship for Ellen had been shown to be a shallow thing, something to be picked up, played with and dropped at will.
It would not be easy for Ellen to take steps towards a friendship with anyone else of a similar age to hers again.
And what about Niall? What must he have thought of Oonagh’s behaviour?
He sat back in his chair. Thinking about it, why had Oonagh behaved towards him as she had?
He was a married man, and the only interest he’d shown in her was as a friend, not as a woman. If she’d wanted attention of a different kind, he’d have expected her to look to Niall. But Oonagh had decided to celebrate the Carey wedding with him, and had left Niall by himself.
But not by himself for the whole of the day.
He remembered the sharp stab of pain he’d felt when he’d looked across the hall and seen Niall standing next to Ellen, both of them laughing. He’d instantly stopped dancing and made a move to go over to them, wanting to come between them. Oonagh had tried to draw him back into the rhythm of the dance, but the mood had been broken. For the first time that day, he’d shrugged off her hand and had continued to walk across the hall to his wife.
That Ellen had been alone with Niall at the wedding hadn’t been her fault; it had been his. It was going to be hard to make up for the hurt he’d caused her that day, but he was determined to do it.
He peered through the window pane, wondering if she was about to come in, but the dark shades of night threw back the pale contours of his face, and he couldn’t see beyond the anguish in his reflected eyes.
He stood up. He couldn’t go to bed and leave things as they were.
The kerosene lamp stood on a log behind her, a golden globe of light.
She leaned against the fence and stared ahead of her at the moon, which hovered low over the distant mountains, outlining the shadowy peaks with a pale, translucent light. All around her, the dark-purple hue of night deepened.
She sighed and drew her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
‘I’ve been sitting inside, waiting for you to come back in.’ Connor’s voice came from behind her.
Startled, she turned to look at him. He was standing amid the pool of lamplight, and she could see the misery in his eyes.
‘I thought you’d have gone to bed by now,’ she said.
‘Well, as you see, I haven’t.’
She turned back to the horizon. ‘You need not wait up for me. The scent of pine is strong tonight and I’m enjoying the night air.’
‘So I see.’ He came up to the fence and stood beside her, his arm resting against hers. ‘I kind of reckoned you were planning to enjoy the night air till you could see that I’d gone to bed, so I thought I’d come out to you.’ He paused. She sensed that he expected her to say something, but she stood there, silent. ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked.
‘Need I think about anything? Can’t I just enjoy the beauty of the night?’
She moved her arm away from his, and continued to stare ahead in silence.
‘Talk to me, Ellen,’ he said quietly, after a few minutes. ‘I can’t make this right if you won’t speak to me.’
‘Maybe you can’t make it right, whether I speak to you or not.’
‘That’s as may be, but you must let me try. I’ve done wrong. I know that. And I know it’s not for the first time. And I regret it. Won’t you tell me how I can make things better again between us?’
She started to say that nothing could do that, but she stopped. She suddenly knew that something could.
She turned to him. Moonlight traced the rugged planes of his face, the laughter lines around his eyes, his firm jaw, the cleft in his chin, his broad shoulders. Her eyes lingered on him, then she looked away. It would be easier not to be looking at him when she asked him what she had to ask.
If she was ever going to be able to put the day’s events behind her, there was one thing she d
esperately needed to know. Until that moment, she hadn’t known how much she needed an answer to the question that she hadn’t dared put to him in all the time she’d been there, but now she knew.
‘I need to ask you something, Connor,’ she said quietly, staring ahead of her. ‘And I need you to tell me the truth. I wasn’t ever going to ask you, but I think maybe I have to. Please don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. I want the truth, no matter what it is. If you truly want to make things better between us, you must promise me that, and you must be true to your promise.’
‘I promise.’ She heard puzzlement in his voice. ‘You’ve gotten me real curious now,’ he said. ‘What is it you want to know?’
‘I know it isn’t my business and I shouldn’t ask …’
‘Whatever it is, it’s bothering you, and that makes it my business.’ He turned to her and rested his elbow on the bar of the fence. She felt his eyes on her profile, and she flinched involuntarily. ‘What is it, Ellen?’ he asked, his voice gentle.
‘Why did Oonagh turn you down? And do you still care for her? After today …’ She stopped abruptly and bit her lip.
‘Turned me down?’ His voice echoed hers. ‘You’re thinking that I’m pining after Oonagh? Who told you that she turned me down?’
She turned to face him. ‘It’s obvious. I can see that you care for her. Of course, you would – she’s beautiful. And Bridget clearly wanted her to be your wife. That you didn’t wed her means that she must have turned you down. And Niall as good as told me that. Oonagh, too. And I saw you with her today. I think you still care for her, and I wonder if you regret marrying me. I can live with the truth more easily than I can not knowing it. I thought I didn’t need to know, but I do.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘Of course, there could be another reason why I didn’t wed Oonagh?’
‘Another reason?’
‘A pretty obvious one, I would have thought.’
‘What reason?’
‘That I didn’t ask her.’
Her heart jumped. ‘You must’ve. She’s beautiful.’
‘I didn’t ask her, Ellen.’
‘You didn’t?’ She felt a bolt of surprise shoot through her. Her mouth fell slightly open. She put her fingers in front of her lips and stared at him.
‘Nope,’ he said slowly, shaking his head.
‘But why not? She’s lovely.’
‘She’s lovely outside, I’ll admit. But not inside.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I fell in love with Alice when I was eight. I’ve always loved her and she’s always loved me. Everyone knew we’d wed as soon as we could, including Alice’s best friend, Oonagh. One day, when we were about fifteen or sixteen, the three of us were out together and Alice became ill. We took her home, and then Oonagh and I set off in the direction of Liberty. We hadn’t gone far when she suddenly stopped and said we were near one of Niall and Jeb’s hideaways and she’d take me there, if I wanted. And she started talking and acting towards me in the way that a woman shouldn’t.’
He paused. His eyes studied her face.
‘I reckon I don’t need to go into details. It’s enough to say that I was pretty sure it wasn’t the sagebrush blooming around the hideaway that she wanted to show me.’
‘But she knew you loved her best friend! That’s a terrible thing to do.’
‘That’s what I thought. But that wasn’t the thing that really showed me what Oonagh was like as a person. After all, everyone has days when they do something they shouldn’t, something they later regret,’ he said, giving her a rueful glance, ‘something they hope they can be forgiven for. Nope, it was after that, when Alice was better. The three of us would go out together as usual, and Oonagh was just as friendly towards Alice as she’d ever been. More so, in fact, even though she’d done her best to come between us.’
‘But that’s sly!’
He nodded. ‘It showed me there were two sides to her. I could never wed someone I knew to be dishonourable like that, and I would never let such a person help me raise my daughter. Oonagh was very kind after Alice passed on. She helped Bridget and me through a terrible time, and I’m real grateful to her for that. But I’ll never forget what she tried to do behind Alice’s back, nor her false friendship for Alice, and I never for one moment considered asking her to be my wife.’
‘But at the wedding … ’
‘At the wedding, I behaved badly, but it was not to do with any feelings I might have for Oonagh.’ He ran his hand through his hair. She sensed his discomfort. ‘I’m gonna tell you why, but you’ve gotta know first that I’m ashamed of myself.’ He paused.
‘Well?’ she prompted.
‘It was that I was enjoying knowing that all the men in the hall were looking at me with envy, me being with Oonagh. I said I’d be honest with you, Ellen, and I have been. I’m not proud of myself, and it won’t ever happen again, I promise you.’
‘I’m glad you told me, Conn. In a strange way, it makes me feel better about things.’
He stared at her, surprise in his eyes.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said, his voice questioning. ‘I thought you’d be real hurt and angry.’
‘Of course I’m hurt, but maybe not as much as you feared. It’s hard to explain, but I know what I look like, and I prefer it that you’re honest about my appearance, and don’t try to pretend that it doesn’t matter, because it does.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but she reached out and pressed her fingers to his lips, and stopped him.
‘I don’t blame you for feeling as any man would feel when approached by Oonagh. Whatever you might know about her as a person, she’s a beautiful woman, and other people will see only that beauty. They don’t know her as you do, so of course they’ll envy you. And they’ll pity you when they look at me with my damaged face. I don’t criticise you for wanting to be near her at times, just to enjoy looking at her.’
He took her hand from his lips and held it. ‘Because the accident damaged your face, Ellen, you think always of the way you look, and you put much importance on the way other women look. Too much importance, to my mind. I reckon there are different kinds of beauty,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve been thinking for a while now that you’re one of the most beautiful women in Liberty.’
She felt a lump come to her throat. She shook her head and looked away. ‘Please don’t talk like that. It makes me feel uncomfortable.’
‘I’m saying only what I feel,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’m also feeling that it’s late now, and that it’s time that I went to bed with the woman I’m glad is my wife.’
His gaze was warm on the side of her cold face, and she turned back to him.
‘Before we go to bed, I have something else to ask you, Conn,’ she said. Her voice was shaking, she realised.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘Am I right in thinking that I go to the doctor in Liberty if I believe I’m with child?’
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Stop, Pa. It’s Martha! She’s with her folks,’ Bridget cried from up on the wagon between Ellen and Connor. ‘Let me get down. I wanna go in with Martha.’
‘Careful, Bridget,’ Connor said as she started to stand up. He drew the wagon to a halt. ‘You girls will be able to learn even better today as neither of you has had to walk to school.’ He glanced across at the Carey wagon. ‘I wonder what Abigail and Elijah are doing in town on a Monday.’
‘They left things from the wedding at the school ’cos they couldn’t take everything home with them. I ’spect they’re gonna collect them today,’ Bridget said impatiently. ‘Martha told me. Now can I get down?’
‘I reckon you’ve forgotten something, young lady.’
‘Please.’
‘That’s better. Mind you don’t kick Ellen as you get down.’
Bridget glanced curiously at Ellen, then looked back at her father. ‘Why’s Ellen come into town with you?’
‘I’ll tell you now if you want
, but it’s a long story and Martha will have gone into school way before I’ve finished.’
Bridget looked across at Martha, who’d gotten down from the wagon and was hopping up and down, waiting for Bridget to join her. ‘You can tell me tonight, can’t you?’ she said, and she waved at Martha. Then she clambered past Ellen and jumped to the ground.
Ellen leaned across the seat and handed down her school bag and lunch pail.
‘If you’re going to Massie’s, Pa,’ Bridget called up, ‘will you get me a new slate pencil, please? My old one’s almost worn out.’ Then she ran off to join Martha.
‘Bridget! Come here, would you, honey,’ they heard Abigail Carey call, and they saw Bridget go over to the Carey wagon. Abigail called something down to her.
Connor shook the reins and started to walk the horses forward.
‘Wait, Pa!’ Bridget shouted, and she ran back to the wagon. ‘Martha’s ma and pa are gonna pick us up tonight. They’re gonna be in town all day.’
‘You lucky gals,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘We’ll see you a little earlier this evening, then.’
‘Come on, Bridget. We’ll be late and Miss Quinn will tell us off,’ Martha said impatiently, and she turned and ran towards the school. Bridget waved up at the wagon and ran off after Martha.
Abigail Carey smiled across at Connor and Ellen. Elijah touched the brim of his felt hat, turned the horses around and headed their wagon into town.
Connor turned to Ellen and smiled broadly at her. ‘And now for the doctor,’ he said, his voice filled with excitement, and he urged the horses forward.
Hand in hand, they walked out of the doctor’s office, each of them beaming, and found themselves face to face with Abigail Carey. She glanced towards the office door behind them, then her eyes went from one face to another and she broke out into a wide smile.
‘Is it what I’m thinking it is?’ she asked, clutching Ellen’s hand. ‘I’d be so happy. We all would.’
Ellen glanced at Conn. He smiled back at her. She nodded at Abigail and Abigail threw her arms around her in a hug.