My Forever Love

by Wendy Lindstrom

  “Lightning is not a bad thing,” Mary continued. “It may seem destructive, but it’s also magnificent and powerful. Paired with the rain it helps the grass and trees and other plants grow. I believe you’re growing now... and soon you will bloom into whatever new color your blossoms will be.”

  Rebecca shifted her gaze to her new friend. Pressing the hymnal close to her chest, she nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for sharing the songs and the story... for your keen understanding... and most of all for your friendship.”

  Mary sent her a warm smile. “I feel as if I’ve finally gotten a sister.” She hugged Rebecca and stepped back. “We should go on to the service now. We don’t want to be late. May I come back sometime to see Jojo?”

  “Nothing would please me more. You are welcome here anytime, my dear friend.”

  Rebecca and Mary headed back outside to the sun-splashed morning. Josie and the Phaeton Basket waited for them at the end of the shelled walkway. Shading themselves beneath Rebecca’s parasol, they talked of lighter things during the exhilarating ride to the church.

  The fleet four-wheeled carriage with its high-backed bench sat two. Built with sophistication and agility in mind, it was the perfect vehicle for a sprightly morning ride. The freedom Rebecca felt in the lively phaeton made her spirit soar. Mary handled her horse and reins with gentle authority, which eliminated the need for a groomsman and the dickie seat that had been folded under the bench for the day. In its stead was a large wicker picnic basket, no doubt filled with hearty servings of all manner of food for the day’s picnic.

  By the time they reached the church, which was situated above the river and overlooked the crescent-shaped harbor, Rebecca was eager to see Adam. He had offered to walk her to the service this morning, but Rebecca wanted to make friends here. Riding and chatting with Mary during their morning ride was the perfect opportunity to do that.

  Built of fieldstone and timber, the church boasted a breathtaking structure of high windows and a soaring steeple that could doubtless be seen by fishermen and sailors far out at sea.

  “You’re in for a treat today,” Mary said, bringing the phaeton to a stop. “The service will be held outdoors this morning since work on the new roof isn’t finished yet. The congregation will meet down by the river,” she explained as she disembarked. She retrieved her own parasol from beneath the bench, and then she left Josie and the picnic basket in the capable care of Mr. and Mrs. Watson who tended the church. The missus would oversee the food for the coming picnic, while the mister would tend to the horses during the service.

  The church bell pealed, calling all to worship. Rebecca spied a number of people heading for a shaded area down near the water’s edge, where several benches and chairs were in place for the congregation to sit, and a podium for the minister to utilize. She and Mary headed for the footpath, but several “yoo-hoos” and friendly waves soon had her friend waylaid. Rebecca waited while Mary was eventually pulled away by Mina Austin, who was presenting several questions and a few ideas for the upcoming grange dance planned as part of the Independence Day celebration.

  From beneath the shade of her parasol, Rebecca scanned the crowd for Adam and watched as more members of the congregation arrived in buggies, on foot, and on horseback. They greeted each other with wide smiles and a true interest in sharing all the news from the past week. Many nodded or smiled in Rebecca’s direction and quite a few people paused to chat with her. These folks had few expectations of her, which allowed her to relax and enjoy their company, unlike how she’d felt during her last Sunday in Fredonia. She truly felt a part of this community and the ocean-side town.

  When Mary was pulled into yet another conversation, she waved to Rebecca and promised she wouldn’t be more than a few more minutes, at which time they could finally get seated for the service.

  “I’ll find my own place,” Rebecca called back, meaning to ease Mary’s mind, but those words rang like church bells in her own mind, heralding something important she needed to pay attention to. She could find her own place; not only here at this service, but in this beautiful community at Crane Landing.

  Lost in her own uplifting thoughts, Rebecca strolled with the other parishioners along the graveled walk that threaded its way around the church and alongside the cemetery. Banked on all sides by a timber and fieldstone fence, the place appeared a peaceful oasis beyond the front wrought iron gate.

  Following her own path, Rebecca stopped a moment and let the other members of the congregation move past her as she peered through the gate. The largest stone marker, situated in the middle of the small cemetery and from which all other markers seemed to flow outward, held the Crane name etched upon it in large letters.

  Drawn to the monument, Rebecca lifted the latch of the gate and stepped inside the cemetery. She moved past stone after stone reading the names and dates on them as she headed toward the magnificent Crane marker. The names became more than just etchings in stone, especially when the birth and death dates denoted a tragically short life. When she at last reached the Crane stone, she knew she was in the heart of the family’s burial plot. Names she’d heard since she’d arrived at Crane Landing were suddenly all around her.

  The largest of the stones belonged to John “Jack” Crane and Eliza Quincy Crane—the very couple who had made certain that Crane Landing prospered following the Revolution. Alongside their stones were the monuments for their children: sons Nicholas, Gabriel, Samuel, and Owen; and daughters Lucinda, Katherine, Julia, Bethany, and Daphne. The many sons-and daughters-in-law were buried here as well... including Princess Cecily.

  Rebecca nearly wept when she found Cecily’s stone alongside that of her husband, Gabriel “Gabe” Crane. Kneeling, her gloved fingers trembling, Rebecca touched her hand to the etched name of Princess Cecily, glad to see that she and her husband had lived a long life together.

  “I wish I had known you, Princess. Both of you evoke such love in my breast. I admire your courage and how the two of you made a beautiful home for your family,” Rebecca whispered, needing to speak what was in her heart. “I’m a visitor to your former home, and I feel an echo of the deep love you had for each other and your children. I promise to tend to the house and the land with loving hands as long as I am here.” She paused a moment, swallowing past the emotion welling within her. When she could speak again, she whispered, “Princess Cecily, I promise to do my best to rebuild my life and face the future with as much courage as you once did.”

  From above, the last loud dong of the church bell sounded and echoed across the land. The service would begin as the bell’s chime ended.

  With a last glance at the stone, Rebecca rose and headed back the way she’d come. When she set the gate’s latch in place behind her, she realized she was the only one who remained up at the church.

  Hurrying down the path to the water’s edge, she could see her grandmother and Dawson Crane seated up front with Adam beside them. Mr. and Mrs. Crane with Mary and Micah sat to Adam’s right, an empty chair between them—no doubt held in reserve for Rebecca.

  Not wanting to interrupt the service, Rebecca took a seat in the back row. She would join her family after the service.

  But Adam didn’t wait that long. She saw him turn and survey the crowd, searching until he spied her. Just as the homily began, he made his way toward the back and took the seat beside her.

  All eyes were on him—on them. He was breathtakingly handsome in his dark suit and his wavy hair combed back.

  He turned and gave her a lopsided smile that created a flurry of excitement in her stomach. “You are stunning this morning. The color suits you, my love.”

  Flustered by his nearness and the admiration in his eyes, Rebecca fussed with the light fabric of her day gown. She loved the vivid sea green color and had spent a good deal of time with her toilette this morning. To complement the beautiful dress, she’d added a small brooch set with seed pearls to adorn her high neckline, and atop her head perched the smart hat she and
Grandma had spied in the milliner’s window during their first walk along the pier.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he whispered. “I thought I was helping you remember, but apparently that wasn’t the case.”

  “I had fun skipping stones,” she whispered, because she had, and because it was her own inability to think clearly that created the headache, not Adam’s stories or good intentions.

  “Is it all right if I come for supper again this evening?”

  She answered him with a smile and whispered, “I’m looking forward to besting you again at stone skipping.”

  They sat there smiling into each other’s eyes until a lady beside them cleared her throat.

  A song of awakening began to swell around Rebecca as the congregation greeted the day.

  With her special hymnal in hand, she proudly turned to the song that had been sung by the citizens of Crane Landing for many years. It was a song of a new day, a new beginning. How appropriate, she thought, daring another glance at Adam as she joined in.

  Slowly, his lips curved in a you’re-all-I’ve-been-able-to-think-about smile that made her lose her place in the song. His quiet chuckle brought heat rushing to her face and another throat clearing from her neighbor.

  The morning sun slanted warm against her back where her silk parasol couldn’t offer shade. A light breeze stirred the tendrils of her hair, as well as the leaves and grass along the river’s bank. She couldn’t think of a more beautiful place to hold an open air church service. Belying the strong current beneath the water, the river’s sparkling surface appeared calm. She was like that river, all churned up inside from Adam’s attention, yet doing her best to appear unaffected. Only a few ripples disturbed the face of the water as a trout here and there rose to catch an insect from the air. Two wood ducks glided in from the north, both making a smooth and soundless landing as the minister began the morning’s homily. His strong, sure voice echoed against the hillside behind Rebecca and across the expanse of the river in front of her. Just as the song from the hymnal, the scripture-based message of the homily was one of hope and new beginnings. Rebecca closed her eyes, reflecting on the message, and hearing the babble of a baby nearby. She smiled to herself, thinking of the infant and of a new life.

  She thought about the songs in the hymnal and the song Cecily sang... and the new song beginning to form within her own heart.

  I’ll find my own place here, she thought again. I may not be able to puzzle out my past, but I will give birth to my own new life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  At the end of another long week, Adam, Leo, and two other men had finished installing the schooner’s bulkheads. The other men laid down their hammers and bolted for the door while Adam and Leo spent another fifteen minutes driving nails to secure the last partition.

  “Can’t wait to begin planking this girl tomorrow,” Leo said, stepping back to eye the sleek lines of the schooner. “She’s going to be a beauty.”

  “They all are,” Adam said. “You are as in love with the Crane vessels as I am with Rebecca.”

  “True, but each one is a work of art,” Leo said, taking off his tool apron and hanging it over the bulkhead. “I fall in love the minute I lay hands on these beauties.”

  That’s how Adam felt with Rebecca, which was odd and exciting and concerning. Although he could see glimpses of the young girl he’d first fallen in love with, he was also seeing a new woman emerge that enthralled him. Each word from her mouth was about today or tomorrow, but never about their past. She was as new to him as he was to her—and it was intoxicating to spend time with this woman who was Rebecca and yet not his Rebecca. That both intrigued and filled him with guilt because with each step they took toward building a future, he felt he was betraying their past and the girl he’d lost.

  Hanging his apron beside Leo’s, Adam knew they would find them exactly where they left them. They were the last men out and the first men in each day.

  They walked back to the bunkhouse together talking about their day and plans for the evening. Leo was going to the Crowe’s Nest. Adam was going to Rebecca’s house where he planned to delve deeper into whatever thoughts and ideas now filled that pretty head of hers. He sensed there was much she wasn’t sharing with him yet, perhaps because she wasn’t comfortable enough with him. Today he would let her know she was safe with him, that he would honor her as he had always honored and protected their love.

  But Rebecca wasn’t at home this evening. She and Mary Crane had taken a ride out to see one of Dawson’s many blueberry farms.

  Adam ate supper with his grandmother and played with Jojo until Rebecca returned nearly an hour later. Her cheeks were flushed and she was in high spirits when she bid Mary farewell. She watched her new friend head down the road in her sporty phaeton and then walked to the porch where Adam waited with their grandmother.

  “What a lovely visit,” she exclaimed, fairly waltzing onto the porch. “It felt divine to ride again. Grandma, you simply must see Mr. Crane’s blueberry farm. It was literally miles of blueberry bushes. Adam, have you been out to see them?” she asked, taking a seat beside him, breathless from her excursion and enthusiasm.

  “I was there during the last harvest season,” he said, surprised to find himself a little jealous of Mary’s friendship with Rebecca. He wanted to put that glow on Rebecca’s face. “If you enjoyed feeling the wind in your hair then you might enjoy canoeing upriver.”

  “Do you have a canoe?” she asked, her eyes alive with interest. “Oh! There you are,” she said to Jojo who scampered beneath her chair. “Come here, sweetie.”

  “No, but Dawson and Leo each have a canoe,” Adam said, watching Rebecca scoop the kitten into her arms for a quick nuzzle and scratch behind the kitten’s pointy little ears. Smiling, he glanced at his grandmother. “If you’re not opposed to canoeing with Dawson it would be fun for the four of us to canoe up to Petticoat Landing sometime. I could borrow Leo’s canoe and have the Beacon make up a picnic lunch for us.”

  “It sounds delightful as long as I don’t have to row,” Grandma said.

  The twinkle in her eyes gave her away. If Dawson needed help with the oars, she would grab hold and do her best. She was the kind of woman who took care of people and kept them moving when they wanted to give up. She’d done that for Rebecca.

  “I’m sure Dawson can manage without your assistance,” he said, laughing. “Shall we plan an outing then?”

  Rebecca and their grandmother exchanged a look as if to consider the idea.

  “It sounds delightful,” Grandma said.

  Rebecca clasped her hands in front of her chest as if trying to contain her enthusiasm. “I agree! Now I simply must share what Mary Crane told me today.” A giggle escaped her and she leaned in as if sharing a secret with them. “Mary is sweet on your incredibly handsome friend Leo.”

  “He’s your friend, too,” Adam said, but he was surprised that Leo hadn’t mentioned Mary—and that Rebecca found Leo incredibly handsome.

  “My friend?” she asked in surprise. “Goodness, we didn’t court, did we?”

  “Gads, no,” he said, but it was the first time he considered the possibility of Rebecca courting anyone but him. What if this new, more independent Rebecca decided she wanted more than the boy from her past?

  With a gasp of fear, Rebecca bolted upright in the dark, her arms splayed outward to push through the blueberry brambles in the middle of Dawson Crane’s vast blueberry field. The superintendent of the Maine Insane Asylum was trying to take her back with him. Doctor Samuel agreed it would be best for Rebecca’s family if she were kept in an asylum far away from home.

  Fighting to escape the sticky web of her nightmare, Rebecca shoved aside the confining bed covers.

  Doc Samuel’s voice resonated in her head. You said you don’t want to live with your family.

  “Oh, no... oh, dear...” she said aloud, the sound of her voice bringing her fully awake.

  Planting her bare feet on the floor, s
he buried her face in her hands. Trembling, she gulped deep breaths and silently assured herself it was just a dream. She was in a warm bed in her pretty little house beside the river; not locked in a cold asylum because she’d cast off her family’s love.

  She wouldn’t blame her family if they did lock her away. She should be home helping them instead of hiding out at Crane Landing.

  Groaning, she raked her hair back and climbed out of bed. She hoped her outburst hadn’t disturbed her grandmother. It had obviously upset Jojo, who was hiding under the dresser peering out from behind the scalloped edge.

  “I’m sorry, little one. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Rebecca cooed softly, trying to calm both herself and the kitten. Kneeling, she bent over and peered at Jojo’s tiny whiskered face. “Will you come out for a saucer of milk?”

  Jojo didn’t budge.

  “All right then, you stay where you feel safe. I’ll return in a little while.”

  Rebecca sat back on her heels, pushed her hair off her face and blew out a breath. The dream had been so real and frightening that she still felt a little sick to her stomach. But it couldn’t be real. Her father was a kind, loving man, not the violent person she’d seen in her dream.

  Why was she having such awful dreams and outlandish thoughts?

  People were sent to the asylum for any number of reasons, many of them far less disconcerting than her memory loss, hallucinations, and wildly irrational thoughts. Sunstroke, nerves, fever, asthma, and grief were just a few causes that sentenced one to an asylum. Even an upset stomach could thrust a poor soul into a hospital with locked doors. People with head injuries were prime candidates to be lifelong residents at an asylum.

  That’s why she couldn’t tell anyone about her bizarre thoughts. Not the doctor. Not even Adam.

  Getting to her feet, she drew on her robe and headed downstairs. In the kitchen she drank a glass of water and then slipped outside onto the porch.