Unending Devotion

by Jody Hedlund

  When Lily started to pull away, he captured her hand, not wanting to break the connection with her. “Did I really hear a thank-you?” He tugged her playfully. “I’m shocked.”

  “I can be grateful when I choose to be.” Her voice was light. “And I can also be quite admiring.”

  “I’d like to see that.” Little did she know exactly how much he wanted her admiration.

  “I have been a little rough on you at times, haven’t I?”

  “A little?”

  “Or a lot.” She laughed softly. “Maybe I can make it up to you.”

  “And just how do you propose to do that?” The banter warmed his insides.

  “I promise you won’t have to rescue me again.”

  “I like that promise.” He grinned.

  “And no more middle-of-the-night scares.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I’ll do my best to focus on taking care of Daisy now.”

  “Sounds like you’re going to start having a normal life.”

  She grew quiet. “I don’t think I really know what normal is.”

  His own thoughts turned sober. What would she do now that she had Daisy? What kind of life could she possibly make for herself and the girl?

  They rode in silence, the chill of the night slithering around his feet and legs, sending a shiver over his skin.

  “Have you ever thought about having a normal life, Connell?” she finally asked.

  “With all your dangerous rescues, mine seems tame compared to yours.”

  “No. I mean a real life. Away from the lumber camps.”

  A real life? What was real anyway? A big home with a wife and a baby and a job as the supervisor over his father’s sawmill like Tierney? Was that real? That could have been his life—would have been his—if Tierney hadn’t stolen it all away from him.

  Instead, he lived with Stuart Golden in a cluttered house, ate his meals at a hotel, and had nothing to show for his work. He calculated numbers day after day, always with the stress of trying to make those figures add up to something bigger.

  But deep inside he knew it was a losing battle. Eventually McCormick Lumber would cut down every profitable pine and be forced to move on. The hunger for more would never really be satisfied, and he would always have to race to find more fuel to feed that insatiable appetite.

  “What would you do if you didn’t work in the lumber camps?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Lumbering is all I’ve ever known.”

  “Didn’t you ever want to do anything else?”

  “It’s never been about what I wanted. It’s always been about the business. McCormick Lumber. And what’s best for the company.”

  “You’ve never really thought about doing anything else?”

  Had he? He honestly couldn’t remember that he’d ever had one thought about pursuing any other ambition except the lumber business. From his earliest memories, Dad had drilled into him the importance of succeeding, of working hard, of doing his part. And he knew Dad was counting on him or Tierney to someday take over the business.

  “There has to be something else you’d like to do besides lumbering,” she persisted. “Something you’ve secretly dreamed of doing.”

  He shook his head. “In a family like mine, the only dreams that matter are those of my dad.”

  Daisy stirred.

  Lily pulled her hand back into her lap, leaving him wishing he could hang on to her and her passion for life just a fraction longer.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to start making your own plans and having your own dreams,” she said softly.

  Daisy pushed herself up from her resting place against Lily’s shoulder. “I’m so cold and hungry.”

  Lily lifted the blanket off her lap, shifted it onto Daisy’s, and tucked it around the girl.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold in my life.”

  “We’re almost there.” Lily lifted her sister’s feet back onto the warming box.

  “And I’ve got a horrible headache.”

  Connell clamped his lips together to keep from saying anything. The girl’s complaining had worsened as the day had progressed. She was likely experiencing alcohol withdrawal. From what he’d heard, most prostitutes drank heavily. Some even drank themselves to death.

  Even so, his frustration had mounted with each passing mile. The girl obviously took Lily for granted and expected her to take care of her every whim—and probably always had.

  “Where are we going?” Daisy asked as Lily tucked her under the crook of her arm like a little girl.

  “We’re in West Bay City,” Connell said. They were no longer passing the small farmhouses that dotted the countryside but had entered the residential neighborhoods of the western side of town.

  Through the darkness of the evening, the lamplight from the windows of many new houses cast a glow on the snow-covered dirt road. Most of the houses were simple two-story structures made of scrap lumber. Brightly painted, they sat close to the streets and belonged to immigrants—Germans, Poles, French Canadians—who provided cheap labor to the many mills, lumberyards, and factories along the river, including McCormick Lumber Company.

  Every time he returned, the city sprawled larger. No longer was business confined to the Saginaw River waterfront and Lower Bay City on the east side. Industry was booming everywhere—restaurants, hotels, clothing stores, boardinghouses, churches, new schools.

  As the lumber industry had expanded, so had the city. The problem was that eventually Michigan was going to run out of white pine, and when it did, what would happen to the city that had relied upon the logs for its life?

  “And where exactly are you planning to take us?” Daisy’s voice was irritable, as if she needed someone to blame for her misery and decided Connell should be the scapegoat.

  Only then did he realize Lily had never once asked him where they were going. She trusted him. Believed in him. Had utterly and completely placed her life in his hands.

  The thought frightened him and made him marvel at the same time. When he glanced across Daisy’s head and met Lily’s gaze, her brows lifted, no doubt waiting to hear the answer to the question.

  “I’m taking you home,” he said.

  Her brows arched higher.

  “You’ll be safe there.” And if she were in his house, she’d still be very much a part of his life. Maybe then she’d forget her idea of taking Daisy someplace far away. Maybe she’d like his home. Maybe she’d stay.

  The fact was he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. And he was sure he’d do just about anything to keep her from slipping away.

  Chapter

  20

  “This is your home?” Lily was utterly unprepared for the enormity of the residence.

  Connell had jumped from the sleigh and was already around to her side, holding out a hand to help her down.

  But she couldn’t move. She could only stare at the tall Queen Anne–style mansion that seemed to sit on a throne of lattice and reign amidst the sprawling block-long grounds. Each of the dozens of various sized windows was lit—big bay, round arched, small square, diamond, and even stained glass. In the darkness, the interior lights illuminated the elaborate details of the grandly built home, almost as if the owner had planned to display it like a museum piece.

  Connell followed her gaze. “Dad had it built three years ago.”

  She’d guessed that McCormick Lumber was prosperous and Connell’s father was a wealthy man. But she’d never really thought about Connell belonging to a completely different class and way of living. She’d only seen him in his shanty-boy attire and thought of him as a backwoodsman.

  She hadn’t pictured him in an elaborate home—not one like this with terra cotta brick, pretty gables covered with decorative patterns, and steeply pitched roofs. The prominent circular tower with its conical peaked roof made it look almost castle-like.

  “I’m not really sure why he decided he needed a home this size,” Connell said, “
especially since it’s just my mam and dad—and the servants.”

  “It is rather large.” Her mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend why two people would need to live so extravagantly. In fact, she couldn’t understand why a family of any size would need such a large house—not when she’d grown up living with dozens of other children in sterile brick buildings that rivaled the McCormick mansion in size.

  Her memory of living in a real home had faded—until Oren had brought her to his second-floor home above the photography studio. His few small rooms had seemed like paradise at the time, compared with anything she’d ever known.

  But Connell’s family home was like an entirely different world.

  “I suppose Dad just wanted to keep up with what all his friends were doing.” Connell reached for her hand again, and this time she allowed him to help her down.

  He nodded to the house across the street, which was not as large, but still a finely designed Victorian-style home. “He had a house built for my brother and his wife as a wedding gift.”

  “That’s a big gift,” Lily said.

  “Especially for someone who doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.” Bitterness edged his voice as he assisted Daisy from the sleigh.

  Connell greeted a man who had come around the house from the livery. He handed over the reins with instructions to take care of the team and supplies. Then Connell guided her and Daisy up a plank walkway to the front door.

  Delicate leaves were carved into the panels of the door, and equally intricate carvings adorned the swan brackets above the porch posts. If every little detail of the outside of the home spoke of a style of living that was far above her own, what would she find on the inside? And how would she ever hope to fit in—not that she wanted to—but how could she take one step inside without feeling like a foreigner?

  When he reached for the door handle in the shape of a lion’s head, she touched his arm and stopped him. “Are you sure this is the best place for us?”

  He quirked his brow.

  “I mean, look at us.” She lifted the faded material of her everyday skirt—made over from one of Betty’s old dresses after she’d died. “What will your mother think of you bringing two homeless girls into her beautiful house?”

  “Mam will love you.” His eyes radiated confidence.

  “Do you think so?” Suddenly she wanted his words to be true more than anything. She wanted Connell’s mother to like her and to approve of her. Not just as a charity case. But because of Connell. For Connell.

  “Don’t worry,” he said.

  “But what about the rumors she heard about us? What will she think of me?”

  “She’ll think you’re a special woman.” His voice softened. “Just like I do.”

  Daisy smiled. “I think I’m beginning to understand what’s going on.”

  Lily was relieved to see Daisy’s smile, the first she’d given her since the rescue. Even if it was more of a smirk, it was still something.

  “You and Connell are . . . you know . . .” Daisy wagged a finger back and forth between them, and her eyes took on a knowing glint.

  Lily shook her head, fighting back a flush of embarrassment. “We’re just friends.”

  “You’re falling for Connell.”

  “Now, Daisy, that’s enough.” She tried to make her voice stern.

  Daisy’s smile crept higher.

  Connell looked from one to the other, his expression full of curiosity.

  “It’s true,” Daisy persisted. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Let’s just go in.” Before Daisy could say anything more to embarrass her, Lily stepped to the door, hoping Connell wouldn’t see the same thing Daisy had noticed.

  Connell grinned, reached past her, and opened the door.

  Warm light spilled over them as they walked into the wide front entryway. Lily stopped short and gazed at the long spacious hall in wonder. A welcoming fire crackled in a tiled fireplace with a curved settee positioned in front of it. A wide winding staircase rose at the far end. And a crystal chandelier dangled from the high ceiling.

  She had the urge to slip off her boots lest she soil the bright hues of the lush oblong carpet that covered the polished hardwood floor. The luxury of the long hallway was everything she had expected and more, from the mahogany wood paneling and vibrant patterned wallpaper to the scrolling frieze. Though it was just the entrance, it was the fanciest room she’d ever seen.

  She had the urge to step back outside, to demand that Connell take her and Daisy somewhere else, but he closed the door behind them with a thud that echoed of finality.

  “Who’s there?” a voice called from the parlor.

  “Just me, Mam,” Connell replied.

  “Connell?” In an instant, a woman in an elegant evening dress glided into the hallway. The narrow plaitings of silk and the large bustle on the back of her skirt rustled with each graceful step.

  “Hello, Mam.” Connell grinned.

  The woman’s beautiful face registered first surprise, then delight. She rushed toward Connell, smiling in return, leaving a lovely rose-powder scent in her wake. Connell held out his arms to her, and she swept him into a crushing embrace.

  Something joyously painful lodged in Lily’s throat. She’d never known a mother’s love—had never seen a display of affection like the one Connell’s mother was showering upon him. And even though she didn’t begrudge Connell his happiness, she couldn’t deny the keen longing for all she’d missed.

  He pressed a kiss against his mother’s stylish coils of hair. The golden strands—probably once the shade of Connell’s—had begun to fade to the dimness of winter sunlight.

  “It’s so good to see you.” Her voice had a slight Irish brogue. She stepped back and examined him, her eyes searching his face, as if she could read there all that was written in his heart.

  The longing inside Lily swelled. What would it have been like to have a mother? To have had a real home? How different things might have been for her and Daisy.

  Mrs. McCormick reached for Connell’s hands and squeezed them. “You look well.”

  His grin faded, as if he sensed the depth of his mother’s probing and the unasked questions about what was happening. For surely from the second she’d heard his voice, she must have guessed something was dreadfully wrong for him to have left his work unattended to make the long ride home.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m all right.”

  It was only then that Mrs. McCormick turned toward Lily and Daisy. Her kind eyes, so much like Connell’s, regarded them without judgment.

  “Mam, this is Lily and her sister Daisy.”

  Lily nodded. “Evening.”

  Daisy murmured a shy greeting.

  “I’m pleased to meet you both,” the woman said, and from the sincerity in her tone, Lily could almost believe the woman meant it.

  “Everything you’ve heard,” Connell rushed to explain. “None of it’s true.”

  Mrs. McCormick smiled gently. “Of course it’s not, son. And I know in due time you’ll explain what’s going on.”

  He nodded. “It’s a long story. And the short of it is that I need you to take care of Lily and Daisy for me.”

  “I would be honored to.”

  Lily didn’t know if love at first sight was possible, but she was suddenly overwhelmed with the woman’s kindness. She wanted to throw her arms around her and hug her.

  “Connell?” A young woman appeared in the wide arched doorway of the parlor. She juggled a fussing baby against the silky pale blue and silver of her dress. The front of the skirt was trimmed with several ruffles below the waistline and embroidered with pearls. She wore a double strand of matching pearls around her slender neck and appeared every bit as refined as Mrs. McCormick.

  At the sight of the woman, Connell stiffened and took a step back toward the door.

  Mrs. McCormick laid a hand on Connell’s arm as if to stop him from leaving. “Tierney is working late tonight, and I inv
ited Rosemarie to spend the evening with me.”

  The muscles in Connell’s jaw flexed.

  “She’s brought their baby.” Mrs. McCormick’s voice had a soft pleading quality to it. “Your niece.”

  Rosemarie took a step toward Connell and then stopped. The graceful lines of her face were creased with uncertainty.

  Lily’s heartbeat came to a slow and pattering halt. Who was this woman? And why was Connell having such a strong reaction to her?

  Mrs. McCormick squeezed Connell’s arm, and her gaze gently admonished him.

  He nodded curtly. “Good evening, Rosemarie. Congratulations on the birth of your baby.”

  She gave a hesitant smile. “Thank you.”

  “I hope you’re both in good health.”

  “We’re doing as well as can be expected.”

  Connell didn’t meet the woman’s gaze, even though her eyes practically begged him to.

  A twinge of something new pricked Lily. Had Connell harbored feelings for this woman at one time?

  She had the urge to reach for his hand, to capture it and lay claim to him, although she had no right to. She didn’t want him looking at anyone but her or thinking about another woman. She wanted to be the only one.

  In Harrison, she had been the only single young woman for miles around. Connell hadn’t had any other options. But here? Even if Rosemarie was his sister-in-law, there were other women who would vie for a man of Connell’s winsome character and wealthy status—not to mention his clean-cut handsomeness.

  What chance did she have to win Connell’s affection against other women? And why did she even want to win it?

  Mrs. McCormick summoned the maid to serve them dinner. Even though Connell’s mother apologized for the simplicity of the fare, the meal of fluffy biscuits, fresh oranges, mini sausages, and sliced cheese was one of the most delicious Lily had ever eaten.

  Or maybe sitting in the fancy dining room made the meal seem that much nicer. The light from the wrought-iron chandelier and from the large fireplace made the polished black oak dining-room table gleam like the clear surface of a lake. Every piece of furniture, from the matching sideboards to the mantel, was elaborately carved. And everything that could be covered in velour or silk was—the curtains, pillows in the box seats of the bay windows, and the cushions on the chairs.