Touched by Fire

by Gwyneth Atlee

  But at least his identity solved one mystery. The frown, indeed, was meant for her.

  He nodded, his scowl untouched by her recognition. “Hannah Lee Shelton, I never believed you’d have the gall to show your face in Sells County again.”

  “Mr. Bloom asked me to come.” She glanced out the window and watched a porter move her bags to the shelter of the station’s eaves.

  “Mr. Bloom.” His voice curdled the two words with contempt.

  Hannah now recalled Roger as a child, often petulant and whining, always worried someone else might get more than he did. No wonder he had wrinkled prematurely.

  “He wouldn’t accept your death without a thorough search,” Roger complained.

  “How glad the family must have been to learn I was alive.” Hannah tried to resist the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Poor Roger. For once, perhaps the only time in all his life, he had been unjustly slighted. Dour and unlovable though he appeared, Roger had never done a single thing she’d heard of to humiliate the family, or even raise an eyebrow.

  “Aunt Hilda’s will —perplexed us,” he explained.

  “It surprised me, too. I still have no idea why she left things as she did.”

  “Some silly spat with Father, we imagine.”

  The unnamed “we” must include her other cousins and their respective spouses. Lord, how they must hate her. Hannah swallowed past the lump that hurt made in her throat. Roger and his siblings were right to resent the terms of their aunt’s will. But they had been so wrong before, so eager to condemn her. Not even Nettie, dear, sweet Nettie took her side when Malcolm blasted her with his unfounded accusations. None of them would even listen. Could she buy amends by offering to split this inheritance with her uncle’s children? Should she? Apparently, Hilda Blackard felt differently, for whatever reasons she might have had. Perhaps, if she could learn what they had been, she could make a fair decision.

  “I need to speak with Mr. Bloom. Is he still in the same office?” Hannah asked. Outside, the chill rain hissed harder against the walls and windows.

  A muscle twitched in Roger’s jaw, and he again began riffling through his stack of schedules.

  She laid a hand across his precious papers. “If you, Alice, and Nettie want to talk, I’ll be in town for a short while. I understand before you didn’t wish to listen, but maybe now —”

  Roger stood. A small man, he had to draw himself up ramrod straight to glower down at her. “—The very suggestion that you breathe the same air as my two sisters deeply offends me. You are a convicted adulteress, I remind you, and I cannot imagine how you bewitched Aunt Hilda into rewarding whoredom. As far as the family and I are concerned, the bloody death you so obviously staged was the one you deserved. May the devil take you, Hannah. Find someone else to ask directions. I’m too busy for the likes of you.”

  She felt so stupid standing there, her eyes welling with tears. Stupid she could still be hurt this way. But still, she couldn’t change her feelings, the bitter shame that bubbled up inside her, heedless of the fact she hadn’t wrought this awful mess.

  “May God forgive you, Roger.” Her voice trembled like the crowns of the nearby pine trees in the rain. “You can’t know how wrong you are.”

  She spun on her heel and strode out into the storm, too miserable to even wonder why it mattered that she hide her tears.

  o0o

  Adam Bloom was used to being hated, but he didn’t like it any better than most people. Maybe lawyers in the big cities made enough money to soften the blow, but he was just a small-town attorney, a man who knew every family in Hampton Falls and a good many from the surrounding area as well. Most folks he considered friends, and he’d helped more than a few through hard times. Still, in his line of work, a man made enemies.

  The Lee family’s scorn particularly stung. Alice Lee Hall’s children went to school with his boys, and Nettie and her husband lived just down the road. He and Roger had been playmates years ago, although Roger’s bellyaching had been grating even then.

  It would have been a natural thing to give up on finding Hannah and dole out the money to Mrs. Blackard’s brother and surviving nieces and nephew. It would have been so easy. But it wouldn’t have been right. Adam went all the way to Philadelphia as a young man to study the law because he believed in fairness. He still did, though both education and experience informed him fairness didn’t always have too much to do with law. Sometimes, though, the two dovetailed, and he felt his job was to see it happened more often than not.

  The fair thing to do was let cantankerous old Hilda have her say. She’d done it in his office with her will, and she’d paid his fee without complaining. The old woman had been adamant that Hannah Shelton inherit her estate. Her reasons, she claimed, were personal, but she didn’t want her brother, Edwin, or any of his ilk, as she called Roger, Alice, and Nettie, to have a cent of it.

  The money had been Mrs. Blackard’s, so the fair thing was to carry out her will. Even though it cost him his lease. Bloom crumpled up the eviction notice and tossed it in an uncharacteristic gesture of frustration. Alice’s husband, his landlord, had signed it.

  Adam resumed packing one last box he’d brought for moving files to his house. He wouldn’t do as much business there with his family bustling about him, but perhaps, when this blew over, he would rent another office.

  When he heard the door creak open, he hoped a customer would interrupt his packing. Heaven only knew, he could use the business now. Instead, when he looked up, a bedraggled woman stepped inside, dripping with rain and hauling two damp bags.

  “Oh, dear. You’re Mrs. Shelton.” In answer to her nod, he apologized. “I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of the time.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “The train was late, and waiting there with Roger was too awkward. I thought I remembered your location.”

  For the moment, thought Adam unhappily. But he remembered his manners and ushered her closer to the stove. “You need to warm up. We’ll have to get you out of those wet clothes.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and he blushed deeply. “I mean only —you’re soaked through. I’ve spent too long finding you to have you catch your death. I was just leaving for home. Why don’t you join me, and Mrs. Bloom will help you get more comfortable before we talk.”

  At the mention of his wife, she nodded. Adam ran out to the livery to have his rig made ready. Glad he’d indulged in a covered runabout, the attorney drove it the short distance to his office, then helped Hannah move her bags into the boot and climb inside.

  “Am I doing the right thing, to come here?” she asked as he drove.

  He glanced at her, noticing the barest smudge of bruising near one of her blue eyes. Despite everything he’d heard about the divorcée, he found her disarmingly pretty, not seductive. The woman didn’t strike him as some sort of harlot.

  “You’re doing what your aunt wanted. What could be more right than that?”

  “My cousins are so angry. They don’t think I deserve —”

  “This doesn’t concern who’s most deserving. It concerns Mrs. Blackard’s wishes. She trusted us to respect them. This is about trust.”

  “You’re right. She trusted us to carry out her wishes, not to wonder whether they were right.”

  For several minutes, the only sound was the rising hiss of rain against the buggy top. The noise swelled until conversation became impossible. Gradually, the onslaught diminished to the slow tapping of isolated drops.

  Hannah spoke once more. “We spoke of final wishes, and that reminded me. I needed to ask you about a different type of situation.”

  “Please do,” Bloom invited.

  “When we get to your house, can you tell me everything you know about an irrevocable trust?”

  o0o

  Margaret Bloom proved as kind and charming as her husband. The plump woman adjusted a curling upsweep threaded with a few thin strands of silver and ushered Hannah into a room to change into warm clothes. She ref
used to let Adam and her new guest talk a word of business until she’d plied them both with hot soup and fragrant tea.

  “Miserable cold rain,” she declared. “I’d almost rather take the snow.”

  With her stomach full and her body warm, Hannah tried to stifle several yawns. Mrs. Bloom was quick to notice.

  “Adam, let the poor thing rest before your lawyer-talk knocks her unconscious.”

  “Oh, no, please,” said Hannah. “There’s so much I need to know. I’d sleep much better if we could have our talk.”

  Mr. Bloom shooed three of his young sons out of his study and promised Margaret he’d stop speaking the moment Mrs. Shelton began to doze. He closed the door behind them and gestured toward a comfortable tan sofa.

  Hannah settled into it as the attorney took a chair. “Please call me Miss Shelton. I know it’s not quite proper, but I’m not married anymore, and the ‘Mrs.’ just reminds me of his lies.”

  “Everyone suspected you’d been murdered,” Adam told her. He sounded no less curious than the next man. Hannah imagined there’d been unending speculation after her disappearance.

  She frowned, uncertain of what she might tell him. “I don’t want to get in trouble, Mr. Bloom.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s just say I represent you now. Attorney-client privilege. I can’t gossip about anything you say, but I can help you forestall any problems that might come of what happened.”

  She looked down. “I left. And I didn’t want anyone to ruin things for my new life. After Malcolm took my farm, I couldn’t earn a living in Shelton Creek or anywhere around here.”

  Adam pulled a file from the box he’d brought home from the office. One of the papers tucked inside detailed the remains of the Blackard estate. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore. As you can see, your aunt’s money relieves you of that burden.”

  Hannah felt warmth flush her face. Aunt Hilda hadn’t left her wealthy, but ‘comfortable’ might be a fair assessment. She thought of the new start it could buy the Aldmans for their business.

  Should she take it, then return to Peshtigo to try to salvage her relationship with Daniel? The thought had its appeal, if she hadn’t already gone beyond forgiveness with her breach of trust. She thought of all she’d risked when she had left him. Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes at the thought of how she must have wounded him. She imagined rushing back, begging his forgiveness.

  But Aunt Hilda’s money wasn’t why she’d come here. She had taken this chance to recover from what had been done to her and from what she’d done as well. Only one inheritance mattered to now. Her father’s farm, his business, the house that had been meant for her. She swore again that she was going to take them back from Malcolm, even if it killed them both.

  o0o

  “Stay put,” Jacob Handley ordered Malcolm. “You heard what your lawyer said. Listen, for once in your life, and stay the hell away from her.”

  Although the whiskey and the house were Shelton’s, Jacob poured them both another drink. “They might have their suspicions, but as long as you keep your distance from anything to do with Hannah, you’ll never see the inside of a courtroom.”

  Malcolm nodded and gulped the whiskey quick as water. Talking about his former wife appeared to give him quite a thirst. “But the letter from that lawman in Marinette said there was another witness who identified my likeness. Between that and Hannah’s testimony, a judge might choose to indict. This isn’t Judge Clarke we’re talking either. It’s some Wisconsin court.”

  “They’d have to extradite you, though, to get you out of Pennsylvania. You really think that’s going to happen to you here?”

  “It doesn’t matter. By that time, the legal bills and gossip will ruin me for good. Melissa’s father won’t bail me out again. As I see it, Hannah’s left me no choice now.” Malcolm glared into his empty tumbler.

  Jacob stood. He’d heard enough of this. “You’ve had choices all along. You just made some wrong ones. Quit blaming her and live with what you still have left.”

  Malcolm looked up sharply. “What’s that? Poverty, disgrace? The loss of yet another wife?”

  “Your life and your freedom. Take them or leave them. You’ve got to understand. There’s only so much I can do and keep my job. If you get caught going after her, you’ll swing.”

  “Then I’d better not get caught.”

  o0o

  Drooping with exhaustion, Hannah soon took to the Bloom’s hastily arranged guestroom. With six growing sons, their house lacked the luxury of space. Two of the boys, however, volunteered to give up their room to “camp out” in the dining room. The gangly youngsters thanked Hannah profusely, assuring her they considered the sleeping shake-up an adventure.

  Hannah lay down on the crisp sheets Mrs. Bloom had put on the bed for her. The fuzzy wool blanket tickled just beneath her chin, but it felt so warm and comforting she didn’t rearrange it. She expected to drop into sleep immediately, but instead, she felt anxious for the new day to begin.

  She was far too close to Shelton Creek, and too close to her farm. More than anything, she longed to gaze over its gentle slopes, to greet the familiar brood mares that now fattened in the winter pastures. Soon, they would drop foals, just as the grass grew a tender shade of green and pale tree buds began to swell. When she closed her eyes, she could see the stables and the carriage house and the huge yellow and white two-story where she’d been born. Who knew? Maybe Queen would be there still, waiting patiently to rub against her hand with warm, inviting purrs.

  Adam Bloom’s words had reassured her. An irrevocable trust, such as her father had used to bequeath her the farm, could never be undone. All she needed was a signed and witnessed copy of the will and an honest court to back her.

  An honest court, she thought miserably. When Malcolm, in front of Judge Clarke and his unscrupulous attorney, had torn up the original will, all three men had laughed, as if the idea of Hannah taking possession of the farm had been too ludicrous for serious consideration.

  Hannah rolled onto her side, her knees drawn nearly to her chest. Tears squeezed through eyelids locked against the awful vision. That day, the day of her divorce, she’d believed that she would die. Though she knew there was a copy of her father’s will, she’d been too demoralized to try to find it at the time. Malcolm’s lies had ruined her, and his lies would keep her from the farm, she thought. Even if she managed to retrieve the copy, she could think of nothing to prevent him from shredding that document, too.

  Humiliated and defeated, she’d slunk quietly away like the wounded animal she’d been.

  No more of that, she swore. This time, she had her own attorney, a man who wouldn’t be cowed or bought by Malcolm’s money. Bloom’s confession regarding the cause of his eviction convinced her he would help her find a conscientious judge.

  All that remained was for her to retrieve the copy. If Malcolm hadn’t found it and destroyed it already. And if he didn’t catch her in the act of taking it. In either one of those events, all she could do was pray. Pray that two bullets from a derringer would be enough to stop a beast.

  Later that night, she dreamed of Daniel, tasting, touching, having her in all the ways she wanted. Hannah awakened damp with lust and nearly sick with longing. She’d never known desire could afflict a woman so. It felt like fever sometimes, the chills along her neck, the heat inside her building toward explosion. It felt like that tonight.

  During daylight hours, she shunted him away, the memory of his face, his voice, his body. But in the darkness, all alone, she knew she’d been imprinted by him somehow, set forever with his stamp.

  She didn’t even know if he would have her back. She wondered again if this lie might have proved one too many for even Daniel’s patience. He’d never understood how desperately she needed to reclaim the lost part of her soul. So she could be healed for him, healed and whole and unafraid.

  Daniel deserved more than a hollow husk, the shell she had become. And she would get
it for him, for him and herself.

  o0o

  When Daniel Aldman’s train pulled into Hampton Falls, afternoon sunlight warmed the air. Daniel slipped off his jacket, collected his lone bag, and headed for the stationmaster’s office. From what he’d seen coming in, the town wasn’t much more than a village. The arrival of a woman like his Hannah would be bound to catch somebody’s eye.

  He started with the bald man in the office shuffling papers. The man’s expression made him look like he sucked lemons for sport. He’d hate to gamble with the fellow, for he doubted that wrinkled face twitched twice a year.

  “I’m looking for a woman who might have come through here yesterday,” Daniel began without preamble. “I’d be obliged if you could help. She’s a little thing, like you, and real pretty, about twenty-eight or so. You see her?”

  He’d been wrong. The man’s expression did change. The scowl deepened his fine furrows. “You the law?” he asked. “Out to bring some trouble?”

  Daniel grinned. “Me? Not unless she considers marrying a problem. The lady’s my betrothed.”

  “I didn’t see any ladies yesterday. Would you need to buy a ticket somewhere else?”

  Daniel stepped closer to the counter. “Who else worked here yesterday? Maybe I could ask them.”

  “I make it a point to watch all the passengers debark. I told you, I didn’t see a lady.”

  “Her name’s Hannah, Hannah Shelton. She came about her aunt.” Poker face or not, Daniel would have sworn the man was lying. Something about the tightening of his voice.

  To his surprise, the stationmaster laughed. It was an unpleasant sound, like a tubercular cough. “Hannah Shelton? The adulteress? I heard she was dead.”

  Why would this man hate her, Daniel wondered. He stifled the temptation to knock the fellow through a wall and turned back toward the doorway. “Then you won’t mind,” he tossed back, “if I poke around a little while for her ghost.”

  No one had seen Hannah. Though Daniel questioned people at the station, nearby businesses, even the local general store, he could find no one who recalled her. The one lawyer’s office he found bore a sign reading, “Closed for Business.” He began to fear she’d lied about her destination.