Blue Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  Noah knew of no reason to linger save one—he was loath to leave her. He had brought her home again. She was with her family. But was she safe? Could Payson Bond put enough food on the table for another mouth? The man could not even feed or clothe the others very well. Could he protect Olivia if he had to? He had already failed once.

  A shaft of light cut across the ground at their feet as the door opened and Payson stepped outside. He walked over to Noah and held out his hand. Noah shook it.

  “Mr. LeCroix, I would like to thank you for seeing my daughter home safely. She told me that you helped her make the journey from New Orleans.”

  He glanced over at Olivia. She shook her head, the gesture barely noticeable. She still had not told her father about where she had spent the past year. Noah wondered if this man of books had ever read anything that would shock him as much as what Olivia was keeping from him.

  Noah nodded in understanding and to Payson he merely said, “My pleasure.”

  “You’ll have some supper with us.” Payson was watching them both closely. “Stay the night.”

  Turnip-and-thquirrel pie. Noah started to refuse until Olivia reached for his hand.

  “Please stay, Noah,” Olivia begged. There was such quiet desperation in her voice that he reconsidered.

  Turnip-and-thquirrel pie.

  He thought of the dirty, skinny little boys. Probably no more than a spoonful of pie for each. Susanna Bond was sick in heart and mind. Why would any man want to stay here, even for dinner?

  Olivia’s hand was warm in his. She was standing close beside him, this woman who did not want his love to keep, but could not seem to send him away.

  Noah sighed.

  Turnip-and-thquirrel pie.

  And Olivia.

  “I’ll stay.”

  Chapter 9

  Olivia knelt beside the bed where Susanna lay unconscious. She reached out and touched the young woman’s forehead, smoothed back Susanna’s golden hair. If she had encountered her stepmother in town earlier, she would not have recognized her. Susanna’s usually bright cheeks were sallow, her mouth pinched. The once-shining, light brown curls that Olivia had so admired were lank and matted, stuck to her head.

  “Oh, Susanna,” Olivia whispered, wondering what could have laid the vibrant woman so low. She reached out for Susanna’s hand and enfolded it in her own. When Payson walked up beside her, Olivia turned to look over her shoulder at him.

  “Daddy, what happened to her? How long has she been like this?”

  Her father seemed to curl in on himself. He rubbed his hand over his face and stared at nothing. His helplessness frightened Olivia, shook her to the core. All throughout her captivity, she had imagined them whole and healthy and happy. The thought that her suffering had ensured their survival had given her a reason not to give up. No matter how much her father’s decision had shocked and hurt her, she had hung on to hope by making plans to escape and return to them.

  Her father stepped closer. “She was never the same after the robbery and kidnapping. She begged me to turn back then and move us all home to her father’s plantation again, but I refused. I told her that if you somehow managed to escape those men, you would come here looking for us. She thought you were dead. I refused to believe it, but as time went on, Livvie, I began to think that we would never see you again. Then the baby came, a little girl. Born dead. After that, Susanna might as well have been dead, too. She was too broken up inside to go on.”

  He looked into Olivia’s eyes and quoted one of his favorite passages from Milton’s Samson Agonistes.

  “The Sun to me is dark / And silent as the Moon / When she deserts the night / Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. / … To live a life half dead, a living death …”

  “Oh, Daddy.” He still took refuge in the poets. She did not know what to tell him.

  Only twenty-four now, Susanna had been eighteen when Payson married her. To Olivia, she had always been more like a sister or best friend than a stepmother. Seeing her now made Olivia feel guilty for each and every time she had hated her for begging Payson to give her to the pirates.

  As she clung to Susanna’s hand, she asked, “What can we do for her, Daddy?” She heard his soft sigh.

  “I’m hoping now that you’ve come back, maybe she’ll brighten up.”

  Olivia leaned forward and whispered softly. “Susanna, please wake up.” She did not expect a response and was surprised when Susanna’s eyelids slowly fluttered open and she looked around, disoriented as she focused on Olivia’s face.

  “Livvie? Is that really you?” Her voice sounded thick and unused.

  Olivia’s eyes smarted. “It’s me,” she whispered, knowing she was not the Olivia they had lost, but she was here all the same.

  “Am I dreaming? You aren’t dead?”

  “No,” Olivia shook her head. “You are not dreaming. I’m not dead. I’m really and truly here, Susanna.”

  “We kept all your things, Livvie. Your trunk is up in the loft.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You don’t have to stay here.” Susanna spoke so softly that Olivia had to lean closer to hear.

  “What do you mean, Susanna?”

  “I won’t blame you … if you don’t want to stay around me. But I don’t think … that I’ll be here much longer.”

  “What are you saying, Susanna?” Olivia cupped her face, felt for fever. Susanna’s face was not overly warm, but her skin had the pallor of a tallow candle.

  “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep forever. Payson and the boys … they need you, Livvie. They need someone to look after them.”

  “I’m here now. I’ll stay and get you on your feet in no time. You’ll see.”

  Olivia looked up at her father and found him defeated, his hands hanging loose at his sides. She could not ever recall seeing him so lost, not even when her own mother had died. Nor had she expected to find him in such dire straits. The boys were filthy, their clothes torn. The old cabin was not only poorly made compared to Noah’s, but it was dirty as a sty. Obviously her father was not only out of money, but out of dreams.

  There was no one else who knew them as she did, no one else who could help.

  “I’m home. I’ll help you, Daddy. I’ll take care of Susanna and the boys. Things will be better soon. For all of us.”

  Susanna sighed and closed her eyes. Olivia took her hand and tucked it beneath the covers. Then she got to her feet.

  Noah and the two boys were still seated at the table, which was now littered with dirty dishes and an empty black Dutch oven. She hurried to Noah’s rescue. He looked as if he had been alone long enough with Little Pay and Freddie, especially since they kept asking him all manner of questions.

  Her father walked over to the table, straddled the bench and sat down. Beside Noah, he looked dwarfed and pale. When Olivia reached them, Noah looked up at her and smiled. Despite her resolve, she felt herself quicken as his dark gaze roamed over her, touching her body as surely as his hands. Her thoughts began to stumble down a path so fraught with sensual memories that she quickly looked away and forced herself to concentrate on the boys.

  Freddie was acting the clown by tapping on his head with a wooden spoon. She walked up behind Little Pay and ruffled his hair.

  “You need a good bath, young man. You and Freddie both look like a couple of mud hens. Tomorrow morning we’ll get out a washtub and work on every inch of you.”

  “You gotta watch out for my elbow.” Little Pay’s expression sobered. He rolled up the too-short sleeve of his shirt and almost proudly displayed an arm covered with bruises, scabs, and scars. His elbow hosted the freshest of the wounds.

  Olivia grabbed Little Pay, gently turned him toward the light, and inspected both arms. “What in the world happened to you?” She tenderly touched each wound. “Daddy, did you see his arms?”

  “You ought to thee hith kneeth,” Freddie volunteered.

  “He’s accident prone,” Payson told her.
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br />   “Since when?” Olivia sat down heavily, glanced over at Noah, and caught him frowning at Little Pay.

  “Oh, I guess since we first got here. Or maybe it was after the baby. I can’t recall exactly when he started having so many falls and bumps.”

  Despite the dirt all over him, Olivia pulled Little Pay into the circle of her arms. Freddie demanded her attention too, and climbed up beside her on the bench, where he threw his arms around her neck.

  “Time you two went to bed,” she laughed. “Before you squeeze me to death.”

  “Will you sleep in the loft with us, Livvie?”

  Her decision was easy. There was no place else for her to bed down.

  “Yes. But only if you go up quietly without waking your mother. I’ll be up after I wash the supper things.”

  Reluctantly, the boys let her go. Freddie crawled under the table and popped up on the other side next to Noah.

  “You want to thleep in the loft with uth?”

  Noah did not answer the boy. Instead, he stared directly into her eyes until Olivia had to look away.

  “No.”

  “But you’re going to thtay here. Where will you thleep?”

  “Outside.”

  Freddie stood on the bench, where he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Noah. “Then I’ll thleep with you outthide.”

  “Me, too!” Little Pay hollered. “I’ll get a blanket.”

  Olivia grabbed the waistband of his pants as he started to scoot off the bench. “Hold on, Little Pay. You and Freddie are sleeping in the loft with me. Noah doesn’t want company, do you, Noah?”

  Too late she realized her mistake. Noah smiled a lazy, slow smile.

  “Get to bed, boys,” Payson sounded tired. “You can talk to Mr. LeCroix tomorrow.”

  With much grumbling and shoving, the two little boys left the table and climbed the ladder to the loft. When they did not even glance over at Susanna, who was in bed asleep, Olivia could not help but think of the many times she had envied her stepmother being the one they begged to tuck them in and sing them to sleep. They were good boys. They still loved their mother, but Susanna was suffering and lost to them.

  As she left the men to finish their coffee, Olivia stood up and began to gather the things off the table. Something had gone terribly wrong with her family in her absence and she meant to find out what and why. Besides, worrying about them would help take her mind off Noah.

  Payson took a sip of coffee and then leaned forward on his elbows. He watched the striking half-breed’s gaze surreptitiously follow Olivia’s every move. Noah LeCroix was not the kind of man he would have ever imagined for his daughter—but he was the man who had brought her home to them, a gift beyond measure.

  “I owe you more than my thanks for bringing Olivia home, Mr. LeCroix. I wish I could reward you in some way.”

  Noah shook his head to decline the gratitude, just as Payson suspected he would. The big man of few words seemed to be an honest sort, and the admiration on his face whenever he looked at Olivia told Payson all he wanted to know. Whatever had passed between his daughter and this man had not stemmed from malice of any kind. Noah LeCroix, whether he knew it himself or not, was head over heels in love with Olivia.

  As for his daughter, Payson could not fathom her thoughts the way he did before she was taken from them. Although Livvie seemed the same, so loving and giving, already willing to help with Susanna and the boys, there was a strained nervousness about her, coupled with a sad detachment. Her eyes revealed a deep torment that he wished he could deny. A girl had been taken from him. A woman had returned. He decided to take the coward’s way out, refusing to force her to tell him what she had been through in the past year. She could not tell him yet, and he could not bring himself to hear. Not with his own life in such a shambles, his wife all but lost to him, his fields still lying fallow.

  His heart and mind cried out, No more. Not yet.

  It was blessing enough to know that she was home safe and sound. Noah LeCroix was the man responsible for bringing her back and because of that, the man was more than welcome at his table.

  “You plan on staying in the area long, Mr. LeCroix?”

  Payson could not help but notice his guest’s discomfort. LeCroix seemed to concentrate on keeping the scarred side of his face turned away from everyone.

  “No.” Noah shifted on the bench. He picked up his empty coffee cup, looked inside, set it down.

  Payson watched Olivia carry away another pile of dirty dishes. LeCroix had not let the girl out of his line of vision since he had entered the cabin with her. His Livvie had always been a good girl. The good Lord had seen fit to give her back. Her help was sorely needed here.

  From the way LeCroix was watching Olivia, he didn’t appear in any hurry to leave, which spurred Payson to ask, “You do much hunting, LeCroix?”

  Noah finally looked away from Olivia and at Payson. “That’s about all I do.”

  “I’m not much of a hunter, I’m afraid.”

  “Olivia said that you are a teacher. A man of books.” Noah glanced over at the collection of volumes on the shelves that lined the front wall.

  “That’s right. Unfortunately, what I have discovered, Mr. LeCroix, is that there is not much call for a man of letters on the Illinois frontier.”

  “I don’t expect so.” Noah’s dark eyes flashed Olivia’s way and then back to Payson.

  “The day I arrived, a man in town told me that he was of the opinion if a person could speak and be understood, then what was the use of learning grammar. He went on to remind me that with most goods being bartered, what farmer needs to know arithmetic?” He shook his head and smiled. “That’s not to say a teacher won’t be needed in the not-too-distant future, but right now people are concentrating on settling in, hunting and clearing the land for farming, and putting up cabins. I know firsthand that they don’t have much time to worry about what they call ‘book larnin’,’ for themselves or their children. Do you read and write, Mr. LeCroix?”

  “Just my name.” The man was not the least uncomfortable or embarrassed with his admission.

  Payson’s stomach churned. He had never been one to beg, but life had brought him to the lowest point he had ever known. Now, right here at his very table, sat a man who could, if he was willing, help see him through the spring. The boys’, Susanna’s, and now Olivia’s very lives might depend on LeCroix’s willingness to help.

  Payson set aside his empty coffee mug and leaned across the table toward Noah. He glanced over to where Susanna lay motionless in bed. Up in the loft, Olivia was whispering softly to the boys, tucking them in. Payson lowered his voice.

  “Mr. LeCroix, I already owe you far more than I can ever repay for bringing my girl home.” He looked down at his hands, so cracked and raw. Hands that should be writing poems, putting thoughts down on paper, penning his observations of the new land and people of Illinois for eastern periodicals. “You’ll never know how hard it is to ask any more of you, a stranger, but I might not have another chance. Right now, you’re just about the only hope I’ve got of keeping this family together.”

  The big man across the table watched him closely with a shuttered expression that gave nothing away.

  Payson swallowed. There was nothing for him to do but lay his cards on the table. “I was wondering if you could see your way clear to stay on for a while, lend a hand by doing some hunting for my family. At least until I can get the corn in and a vegetable garden going. In exchange, I could teach you to read.”

  Noah stared at Olivia’s father, a man not yet forty years old, but already worn and beaten down by life. He did not know Payson Bond well enough to know what the man was feeling, but he knew himself and what it would cost him to admit defeat, to have to beg for help. Bond was in over his head and sinking fast. For whatever reasons, he had dragged his family miles away from their home and settled here without the slightest inclination of what was in store.

  Bond had already lost Olivia once. Now the man
had all but admitted he could not provide for her or the rest of his family.

  Noah thought about the snare in front of him. It was well baited with the one thing that he could not resist right now—Olivia.

  Bond was leaning forward, focusing on him directly as if trying to read Noah’s thoughts. “Well, Mr. LeCroix?”

  “I am no hero.” Noah almost winced, thinking of his reception today in town. Olivia chose that moment to climb down from the loft and catch his eye. The material of the doeskin gown molded over her hips. As her feet moved down the rungs of the ladder, the fringe swayed, rewarding him with a glimpse of her shapely calves. He felt himself quicken and turned his attention back to Payson Bond, which was a mistake. Olivia’s father was watching him so closely that he almost looked down in shame, afraid the man knew what he had been thinking.

  “I don’t need book-reading lessons. I can read trails, animal signs, rivers.” He didn’t see the need to know how to recognize more letters than the ones in his name. He had gotten along his whole life without knowing how to read, and he figured that with one eye gone he’d have a harder time learning than before.

  Olivia walked over to the table. She stood at her father’s shoulder, watching Noah closely. He had the urge to put all of this behind them, to grab her and run out the door, carry her back to Heron Pond and hold the world at bay. She was his now. She did not belong here with this weak, pale man. She did not deserve to work like a slave for a father who could not guard and protect or provide for her the way he could.

  “What’s this about reading lessons?” She laid her hand on her father’s shoulder and smiled over at Noah.

  He felt his damned heart turn over and silently cursed its weakness.

  “I’ve asked Noah if he would stay and do some hunting for us in exchange for reading lessons.” The disappointment was already thick in Payson’s tone, as if he could sense that Noah was about to refuse.

  “Oh, Daddy.” Olivia addressed her father, but the look she sent Noah told her that she was speaking directly to him. “Noah can’t stay here. He never wanted to come to Shawneetown in the first place. He has to leave.” Their eyes met across the table. Regret, guilt, and something more—something that mirrored the riot of feelings tumbling around inside him—echoed in her eyes.