Unending Devotion

by Jody Hedlund

  And how could they live with themselves if they didn’t start taking better care of their workers?

  Mam had told him about one of Tierney’s sawmill workers who had fallen in the path of a large circular saw and been cut in two. Mam had been taking food to the wife and child left behind. McCormick Lumber didn’t offer any compensation to the mill workers or to the shanty boys, not for injuries or for death.

  But he couldn’t help thinking that maybe they wouldn’t have to worry about Carr or other men like him stirring up problems with their workers if they provided an environment where the workers were treated with common decency.

  Connell ran his finger around the silver rim of his coffee cup. His mind filled with numbers—the low wages and the long hours—and he blocked out his father’s angry voice. Numbers had always been his escape.

  The clearing of a throat from the entryway of the dining room brought his head up.

  His gaze landed upon Lily—but not the Lily he’d come to know. Instead, somehow she’d been transformed. She wore a deep red silk dress that was slim fitting, outlining her womanly curves. The skirt was fashionably layered with a mound of ruffles in the back. And the bodice was equally flattering with velvet trim and braided cuffs.

  He quickly pushed back his chair and stood, his heart clattering with wild admiration.

  She gave him a shy smile. “What do you think? Your mother insisted I wear one of her gowns today while mine is laundered.”

  The dark red of the dress brought out the rich walnut of her eyes and the creamy honey of her skin. Even her curls had been brushed into submission and coiled up onto her head with short ringlets dangling by her ears, as if to entice him to kiss her there—again.

  “You look lovely.” His words came out more breathless than he’d intended.

  Her thick lashes fell against flushed cheeks. “Your mother fixed my hair too.”

  “She did a fine job.”

  When her lashes lifted, they knocked him off his feet and swept him into the air. There was no doubt about it, she’d captured his heart and stolen his affection.

  He may have bantered with her about it, but the truth was he’d never so thoroughly and completely cared about a woman before—not even Rosemarie.

  “Son.” Dad had risen from his chair. The angry lines had disappeared, replaced by a calm façade. “Ye are forgetting to introduce us to yer guest.”

  For all his ambition, Dad had the decency to be respectful toward women—at least when they were in his presence.

  “This is Lily Young.” Connell smiled at her. “She works with Oren Evans, a photographer with a shop over on Washington Avenue. She came north with Oren to help him take pictures among the camps and to look for her sister.”

  Dad nodded at her. “Nice to meet you, Miss Young.” And even though his eyes narrowed with the frustration of Connell’s involvement and all it had cost him, he was polite enough not to say anything more about it.

  “I’m pleased to meet you too, Mr. McCormick.”

  Connell shuffled around the table toward her.

  But Tierney sat back, pushing his chair into Connell’s path. “Don’t forget to tell Dad Lily’s the whore you were living with up in Harrison.”

  Lily gasped softly. Her face paled and she took a step back, her eyes widening with horrified embarrassment.

  Dad’s jaw clenched and his eyes darkened.

  Tierney grinned up at Connell and then took a slurp of coffee.

  Fury set Connell’s blood on fire. He grabbed Tierney by the front of his shirt, crunching the wrinkled cotton into a fist. “I told you not to call her that ever again.”

  “Or what? You gonna beat me up?” Tierney’s face held no fear—only scoffing.

  Suddenly Connell saw himself reflected in his brother’s eyes—a weakling. He was the first to give in to pressure, the responsible one who did what was expected, the kind one who never fought back.

  Tierney thought he was weak.

  Was he?

  Connell gripped Tierney’s shirt harder, pulling him up and suspending him above his chair by at least two inches. “I oughta give you the licking you deserve.”

  “I’m so scared.” Tierney’s grin crooked to one side, daring Connell to do something.

  Lily took another step back out of the room. The pain in her face reached out and gripped his heart, wrenching and slicing it so that her pain became his.

  How could he stand back and do nothing? Especially when Tierney was attacking her honor?

  “Good ol’ Connell,” Tierney said. “Go ahead. Hit me. I dare you.”

  Connell lifted Tierney another inch.

  “Or are you too nice to fight me in front of your whore?”

  “She’s not a whore!” Fury tore through Connell again, and he knew he could do no less than fight for Lily’s honor.

  He slammed his fist into Tierney’s gut with all the strength he’d developed lifting logs and cutting trees.

  Tierney grunted at the unexpected blow and fell into his chair. Surprise flitted across his face.

  But before his brother could stand up and swing back, Connell pounded his fist into him again, his resentment finally unleashed. He knocked Tierney backward in his chair so that he crashed against the floor. Tierney rolled and tried to scramble away, but Connell jumped on him. And this time he swung his knuckles into his brother’s face, clobbering him first in one eye and then the other, then in the mouth.

  Tierney roared with sudden rage and took a swing at him, his fist connecting with Connell’s eye.

  At the jolting pain, Connell reared his head. But Tierney’s other fist slammed into his mouth with the force of a man well practiced in the art of brawling.

  Pain radiated through Connell’s jaw, and the sting of his tooth slicing into his lip took his breath away.

  The sticky metallic taste of blood oozed onto his tongue.

  For an instant Connell feared the fight would end in his humiliation, that Tierney might overtake him, and that Dad and Lily would witness the defeat.

  But he only needed to picture the humiliation in Lily’s face at Tierney’s insult and his strength returned with renewed effort. He couldn’t let Tierney win. Everything within him demanded that he avenge Lily’s honor and teach Tierney never to insult her again.

  He struck his brother again and again. The heat of his anger blinded him to anything except the fact that Tierney needed to suffer.

  “That’s enough, son.” As if from a distance, Dad’s voice broke through the fury.

  But Connell couldn’t stop himself from slugging Tierney in the stomach, only faintly realizing his brother wasn’t fighting back anymore.

  “Enough.” Dad’s hands gripped him. With a strength that belied his age, he heaved Connell off Tierney and tossed him away like good-for-nothing cull lumber.

  Connell bumped into a pedestal. The Oriental vase toppled and smashed to the floor. His shoulder slammed into a porcelain plate mounted on the wall. It too crashed against the hard wood.

  He caught and steadied himself, his breath coming in heaving gasps.

  Tierney lay sprawled next to his overturned chair—unmoving.

  Fear spurted through Connell. Had he killed his brother?

  Dad shoved Tierney with the tip of his boot.

  Tierney groaned.

  “He’ll survive,” Dad said.

  A sick load dumped into Connell’s stomach. What had he done? What had come over him to resort to such violence?

  “The boy needed a good kick in the pants.” Dad leveled a look at Connell that contained a hint of admiration—or the closest thing to admiration Dad could muster. “It was long overdue.”

  Connell swallowed a rise of nausea. Was Dad proud of him for beating Tierney senseless? After he’d tried all his life to do the right things, to work hard, to make Dad proud, he’d finally earned the coveted favor by getting in a fistfight?

  He shook his head, disgust adding to the heavy weight in his middle. He pressed the c
oarse sleeve of his mackinaw to his busted lip and winced at the pain.

  “Get up.” Dad nudged Tierney.

  His brother rolled to his side and groaned again.

  A flash of red in the door caught Connell’s attention. He blinked through the painful swelling in his eye in time to see Lily turn away.

  “Lily. Wait.”

  But she dashed across the hallway and disappeared.

  He shoved away from the wall and skirted past Tierney.

  “Good fight,” Tierney croaked.

  Connell stopped and stared at his brother.

  Blood trickled from Tierney’s nose and dripped onto the thick Turkish rug. He cracked one eye into a narrow slit, and a corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. “Guess you’re gonna marry that woman.”

  Connell’s heartbeat slammed to a halt.

  “You never fought like that for Rosemarie.” Tierney edged himself up onto his elbows, cringing with each slight movement. “Guess that means you’ve finally found someone worth fighting for.”

  Tierney’s words were like a fist in his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Tierney was right—at least about not fighting for Rosemarie. The day he’d found her with Tierney, he’d walked away. Sure, he’d been outraged and devastated at Tierney’s betrayal. But he’d retreated like he’d always done. He’d opted for peace and safety.

  What had happened this time to push him to fight for Lily?

  He’d grown to care about her. He wouldn’t deny that. He glanced to the hallway, and his heart resumed beating at double the speed.

  But he couldn’t marry Lily. Could he?

  “Don’t worry,” Tierney mumbled. “I won’t try anything on her while you’re gone.”

  If Tierney had meant to reassure him, his promise had the opposite effect. With a growl, Connell stuck his boot onto Tierney’s breastbone and pressed down.

  Tierney cried out as Connell twisted his heel deeper.

  “If Lily tells me that you so much as look at her the wrong way, I’ll make you wish you were blind.”

  Tierney gave a weak laugh.

  “And leave Daisy alone too. Stay away from her. Stay away from them both.”

  He gave Tierney a last shove before stepping away from him. He didn’t know when he’d have the chance to return to Bay City to see Lily, not during the busiest time of the lumber season. Of course Mam had reassured him the girls could live there as long as they needed.

  But if he wasn’t around to make sure Tierney stayed away, how would he be able to keep them safe?

  “Just go home.” Connell’s tone was as hard as his muscles. “And start being a good husband and father.”

  He started toward the door, but Dad shoved the stack of bills against his chest. “Take this. Clean up the mess ye made. And leave James Carr alone.”

  Connell hesitated. He’d stood up to Tierney. Could he stand against the pressure of Dad too?

  Dad slapped the wad harder.

  Connell took it and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his mackinaw. “I’m taking the cash, but I’m going to handle the situation the way I think is best.”

  Then, without waiting for Dad’s reaction, he exited the room.

  “Lily,” he called softly. His footsteps echoed in the deserted entryway. He strode toward the parlor and peeked in.

  She was standing near a big bay window and staring through a crack in the thick curtains.

  “Lily?”

  She didn’t turn. Instead, she lifted her chin.

  “I’m sorry about what Tierney said.” Connell stepped into the room and made his way around the love seat.

  “I promise he won’t demean you like that again,” he said, coming up behind her.

  She stared outside at the snow-covered lawn and the wide muddy street beyond.

  He waited for her to turn. The lacy collar of her dress covered most of her neck, leaving only the long graceful curve behind her ears exposed. The soft creaminess beckoned him to bend and taste, even though he knew he wouldn’t, or he’d unleash the passion that was growing each time he kissed her.

  Her shoulders and back were rigid.

  “Lily,” he whispered, daring to touch a hand to her waist.

  She didn’t resist him.

  Slowly he spun her around until she faced him. And he tipped her chin up until she had no choice but to look at him.

  Her eyes glistened with sadness. “I wanted your family to like me.”

  “They do like you.”

  “They think I’m a loose woman like Daisy.”

  “Don’t listen to what Tierney says.”

  “I’m from a completely different class altogether, and now the rumors only make it worse.”

  “You’re not from a different class. My parents started as nothing more than poor Irish immigrants.” He released his hold on her chin. “Besides, I didn’t take you as the type of woman who cares what others think about her.”

  “You’re right.”

  “We don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” At least mostly. He couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty for the moment of intimacy he’d shared with her in front of Rosemarie. He’d reacted out of anger and hurt. But still, he shouldn’t have done it.

  She lifted her fingers to his face and poised them above his eye. “Your face is a mess.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say.” He tried to grin, but winced at the pain in his lip instead. “I defended your honor and got myself battered in the process.”

  She smiled. “You were really brave.”

  “It was a first. I’ve never fought anyone like that before.”

  “Well, you handled it as well as any shanty-boy fight I’ve ever seen.” She skimmed her fingers over the puffy skin next to his eye.

  His breath hitched in his chest.

  She was standing less than six inches away and was altogether too beautiful. When she lifted her fingers to his swollen lip, his entire body ignited with the touch.

  The softness of her graze reminded him of the gentle sweetness of her lips.

  He could probably sneak another kiss. They were alone. No one would know. He was leaving. What harm could come from kissing her again?

  The dimness of the room, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the faint scent of lavender soap on her skin—his senses reeled with the enticement of being intimate with her.

  Flee from temptation. His mother’s teaching sounded in his head, almost as if she were in the room instructing him, as she had so many times when he’d been a young boy. She’d trained him to trust God’s guidelines above his own desires. Do not lust in your heart after her beauty. Instead may you rejoice in the wife of your youth.

  If he had any hope of resisting the temptation to drink of her beauty, he had to stop putting himself in situations where they were alone.

  God help me. He took a step away from her. He cared about her too much to use her for his own momentary pleasure. And he’d long ago vowed he’d keep the pleasures of the marriage bed within the marriage bedroom.

  Her eyes widened, and the desire within them chased after him.

  Stifling a groan, he turned away from her and crossed the room. He positioned himself behind the love seat, putting a barrier between them.

  “I can’t seem to control myself when I’m alone with you.” His voice was hoarse.

  Her lips curved into a shy smile. “I think you’re doing a mighty fine job.”

  “And it’s past time for me to be on my way.”

  The longing deep within his soul threatened to drag him back around the love seat toward her. But he grabbed on to the carved oak scallop to anchor himself. He wouldn’t take advantage of any woman, especially not a special woman like Lily. She deserved so much more than a quick tryst in a deserted room. She deserved a man who would do the right thing and marry her.

  Marry her?

  What if he were to marry her? Today. At that very moment. His mouth went dry at the thought of making her his wife and taking her to bed that very ni
ght.

  Tierney’s words echoed through him. “Guess you’re gonna marry that woman.”

  What was stopping him? He cared about her more than he’d ever cared about any other woman. He’d never been in love before, but he suspected that what he felt for Lily came pretty close.

  “Do you really have to go?” she asked, almost as if she’d read his mind.

  “So, does this mean you can’t live without me?” he teased softly, holding his breath in anticipation of her answer.

  A flush stole over her cheeks, and she twisted one of the ringlets by her ear. “I admit, it’s hard to imagine my life without you a part of it.”

  Her confession sent a shiver of delight through him. “Since we’re being honest, then I admit I don’t want to live without you either.”

  He could send the stable hand for the preacher. They could have a wedding in the parlor. And then tomorrow he could head back to Harrison.

  “What if you were to stay here?” Her voice was low.

  His heart rammed into his ribs. If he married her and stayed an extra day, it wouldn’t make much difference when he got back to Harrison, would it?

  Did he dare to do something so impulsive? So uncharacteristic?

  “I might be able to squeeze in an extra day,” he said.

  “Just a day?”

  Maybe he could take her back to Harrison with him.

  As soon as the thought entered his mind, he tossed it out. She’d be in too much danger there—at least until he could pacify Carr. And he doubted she’d want to leave Daisy so soon after being reunited. No, she’d be better off staying with Mam. And maybe after the spring river drive, he could ride back home to visit her.

  She slid around one of the chairs and approached the front of the love seat. She narrowed her eyes like a cat about to pounce on a mouse.

  Suddenly he couldn’t see anything but the rounded curves that the elegant gown outlined. If he was going to marry her today, surely he could let himself feast upon the sight of her just a little.

  “I don’t want you to go back to Harrison,” she said. “Ever.”

  “You know I have to go back.” His focus dipped to her waist, and he pictured his hands spanning the circumference.