Forever in My Heart

by Jo Goodman

  It was difficult to think with his hand moving slowly over her skin. "You believe Rushton, then?"

  "I have to, don't I? When I realized that I was prepared to do the very same thing to you, it all seemed clear. He said she never once asked him if he wanted to go."

  "You've never really asked me," Maggie said. Her breath caught as the heel of his hand passed over her nipple. "But, no, I don't want to go... not without you." Her breast seemed to swell in the cup of his hand, stretching the material of her chemise. "Did you ever... mmm... tell Beryl about the... mmm... brothel?"

  He liked the way she hummed her pleasure. "No," he said. "She told me you did." He lowered his head as he tugged at her chemise. Her breast was bared. He covered it with his mouth, sucking gently.

  "I wonder—" Fire shot through her limbs, tugged at her loins, and brought her hips arching against him. "—how she knew."

  Connor had more important things on his mind. He didn't try to respond. In a little while Maggie forgot anything but whispering Connor's name.

  By turns they were demanding. By turns they surrendered. They shared kisses, traded caresses. "Your mouth," he said. "Here." And then he drew her down. "Touch me," she said. "There?" he asked. His fingers stroked. "Yes," she whispered. "Just there... oh, and there."

  Her skin was warm and soft. The hay shifted under them as they moved. Kittens peeked from behind a mound then disappeared again. He raised her chemise to her hips. She opened to him. "Like that?" he asked. She nodded, watching him. "Just... like that."

  Pleasure drawn so tightly had to snap. Maggie's breath came shallowly, her skin flushed. Connor's heart hammered. Their bodies were faintly damp when they finally parted.

  She drew one finger back and forth along his arm as he held her to him. "I like being tumbled," she said.

  "I thought you might."

  She fell asleep smiling.

  * * *

  Fifteen days came and went before Beryl pronounced Rushton well enough to leave. Over the course of his recovery she had attended to all his needs, eschewing help from every quarter. Watching her come and go, even Dancer was impressed.

  Beryl smiled more easily, not a calculated arrangement of her mouth but openly, with genuine amusement that brightened the pale blue of her eyes. Rushton's gaze was most often wondering, like a man struck by good fortune so suddenly he could not quite comprehend it. He saw Connor laughing with Maggie, and knew they were both pleased and amused by the way his eyes followed Beryl as she moved through a room, or stared at her vanishing point the moment she left. The remoteness disappeared from his dark eyes, the lines in his face eased, and once again the resemblance between father and son was striking.

  Rushton read a great deal during his confinement. He grumbled there was not much a wounded man could do in bed. His wife took pleasure in showing him otherwise.

  Maggie was pleased to see Rushton and Connor talking together, trading ideas about the ranch, about the railroad, about... women. Overhearing them on the subject of the latter, she smiled to herself and kept silent. Sometimes it was good to be such a mystery to her husband. Later, she told Beryl what she'd heard and they laughed together until their sides ached.

  It was within minutes of their planned departure that Rushton motioned Beryl to step inside their bedroom and shut the door. Packed trunks and valises littered the floor as Beryl stepped carefully around and over them to reach her husband. He was standing by the bedside table, a book in one hand, a letter in the other.

  "What have you got there?" she asked.

  He handed her the letter. "I was getting ready to return this book to Connor's study. I've never had a chance to read it. That fell out when I was leafing through the pages. You can see it's addressed to Maggie."

  She glanced at the letter. "It's from a medical college."

  "Read on," he said. "It's dated last April. It must have been slipped into the book then and forgotten. The book was probably stored at her sister's until we brought it out. I'm sure Connor's never seen that letter."

  Beryl placed a finger on Rushton's lips. "Let me read," she said, her eyes skimming the contents. Taken aback, she read more slowly the second time:

  It is a great pleasure to accept your application to the Philadelphia Medical College for Women. In examining more than one hundred and fifty applications, the admissions board agrees that yours is particularly outstanding. We welcome the opportunity to meet with you and discuss your curriculum and boarding arrangements.

  The letter went on, praising Maggie's accomplishments and commitment in having chosen medicine as a profession. Beryl's eyes kept returning to the very first sentence.

  "Maggie was accepted," she said softly, raising her face to Rushton. "She turned them down, not the other way around."

  "It looks that way," he said.

  "Who knows about this?"

  Rushton shook his head. "I think we do. She's let everyone believe just the opposite, including Connor."

  "What should we do?"

  "Go on letting everyone believe it, I suppose. It's Maggie's affair. She had her reasons." One of them was napping in a crib in the next room. Rushton took the letter from Beryl, folded it, and slipped it back into the leather bound copy of Gray's Anatomy, just the way he found it. "She's had more than her share of interference in her life. Her father... me..."

  "Me," Beryl said regretfully. She took the book back from him. "Let me think about this."

  "Beryl. I don't want—"

  She placed one hand on his shoulder, raised herself on tiptoe, and kissed him on the cheek. "Trust me this time, Rush," she said. "I won't interfere. Just the opposite, in fact."

  He studied her face. Her eyes were clear and so was Rushton's conscience. "All right." He kissed her lightly on the mouth. "I'm going to tell Connor we're ready to have the wagon loaded." He glanced around the room. "Is this everything?"

  Beryl's glance followed her husband's. She nodded, satisfied. "Everything." When Rushton left, Beryl kicked the black leather bag back under the bed.

  Standing on the lip of the porch, Maggie watched Connor say goodbye to his father. Tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked them back at first and then simply let them fall. One of them dripped on Meredith's cheek.

  "Let me take her before she drowns," Dancer said.

  Maggie gave him a watery smile and handed over Meredith. "I didn't expect to cry," she said.

  Dancer snorted, bouncing Meredith lightly in his arms. "Don't know how you expected anything less. Look at 'em. It weren't so long ago that one'd say black and the other white just as a matter of principle." He grinned widely, one side of his scarred face puckering. "Now they disagree 'cause they enjoy it."

  As Dancer spoke, Maggie saw Rushton lean down from the wagon and extend his hand to Connor. It was grasped firmly, held, and given up reluctantly. Connor stepped back from the wagon. Maggie could see the emotion in his eyes mirrored in his father's.

  Rushton glanced at the house and said roughly, "Where's Beryl?"

  The front door opened. "I'm coming," she said, hurrying across the porch. She stopped beside Maggie and held out Gray's Anatomy. "I didn't have time to put this away," she said. "Rushton was looking through it last." Her voice dropped to a whisper and her pale blue eyes were earnest. "You might want to think about the bookmark you left in there. Connor would want to know, but it's your decision." Without waiting for recognition or a reply, Beryl thrust the book in Maggie's hands, hugged her hard, and then tripped lightly down the steps. Connor helped her into the wagon.

  Beryl secured her bonnet, fastening the lavender ribbon beside her cheek. She waved to Meredith, smiled farewell to Dancer, and had something to say to each of the hired hands. Her gaze drifted to the porch where Maggie stood clutching the book. She kept her eyes on Maggie, but her words were for Connor. "If she loves you as well as you love her, I'd say you got what you deserved."

  Glancing at his wife, Connor grinned. He took the steps to the porch in a single leap and came to stand
beside Maggie. He put one arm around her and pulled her close. "If she loves me half as much, I'd say I still got the better of the bargain."

  Embarrassed, Maggie leaned into Connor and merely smiled to herself.

  Rushton picked up the reins. "This is it," he said. He looked around again at the trunks, bags, and supplies in the back of the wagon. "Or is it? Beryl? Where's that black case you couldn't let out of your sight on the way here?"

  Beryl fiddled with her bonnet ribbon, making adjustments where none was required. "What, dear?"

  "That black case," Rushton repeated. "The one that looked like a physician's bag. I think you kept your brushes and combs in it."

  "Oh, that thing. Don't worry about it, Rush. I left it for Maggie." She spared a glance for Maggie and Connor on the porch. They were simply staring at her blankly. "I left it under the bed in the guest room," she told them. Beryl took the reins from Rushton's hands and gave them a snap. The team started forward.

  The sky was clear. Sunlight had burned off the early morning mist and shone brightly in the valley. The wagon rolled past the stable, the corral, and took the path that followed the stream. No one at the house moved until it was out of sight. Gradually the hired hands drifted back to their work, Luke and Ben to the horses, Buck and Patrick to the cattle. Dancer kept Meredith with him and headed for the kitchen. Connor and Maggie stood together, feeling the tug of separation as a loneliness in their hearts.

  "I didn't think I'd miss them," Connor told her, giving Maggie's shoulders a slight squeeze. "Do you remember the day they got here? God, I wanted to run for cover."

  "You'll get your chance. It's only a matter of time before Jay Mac and Mama descend on us. They'll probably bring Skye. Then Michael and Ethan and Madison will want to visit... and Rennie and Jarret."

  Just thinking about it made Connor want to seek out a retreat. "I suppose the best cover is with Mary Francis at the convent."

  Maggie laughed.

  "What's that that Beryl gave you?"

  "Gray's Anatomy," she said. "It's one of my books I left with Michael. She or Rushton were looking at it. I'll put it away." She kept it close to her side, her heart pounding a little erratically. She would tell Connor about the medical college one day, but not now, not when he would have to move heaven and earth to make her dream come true. "Let's go in."

  Connor nodded. He waited by the door to the study as Maggie shelved the book. They headed down the hallway again. A few steps on the other side of the bedroom that Rushton and Beryl had used, he stopped. Maggie paused, looking sideways at him.

  "What is it?" she asked. Connor's brows were drawn, his dark eyes vaguely unfocused as he looked right past her, deep in thought. "Connor?"

  Tugging on Maggie's sleeve, he backtracked to the open doorway. "Do you remember what my father asked Beryl just before they left?"

  Maggie was struck by the urgency in his voice. It was completely at odds with what he was discussing. "He asked if she had all her belongings."

  "That's right," he said quickly and prompted her again. "And he was looking for..."

  "Beryl's combs and brushes."

  "No!"

  "Well, he was looking for the bag they were in."

  "That's right!"

  "Do I win something?" she asked, bewildered.

  Connor's face cleared. He burst out laughing, picked Maggie up, and spun her into the room. "If I'm right, you've won all the money in the kitty." He set her down, steadied her, and dropped to his knees beside the bed. Thrusting his arm beneath the frame, Connor felt around. Suddenly his hand touched what he was looking for, what he was hoping to find. He drew it out slowly, watching Maggie all the while. "All twelve thousand dollars," he said, pulling out the bag.

  Amazement stole her breath as Connor opened the black valise. Memories that had only vaguely teased her rushed to consciousness. "Oh, my God," she whispered hoarsely, dropping to her knees. Even her voice was suddenly familiar, the aching whisper of someone who needed help desperately and had depended on this visitor to provide it. Quite without thinking, Maggie touched her throat. "It's like you said before," she told him, "I thought you were a doctor."

  He nodded, watching her closely. Her expression was distant as memory drew her backward in time.

  "You gave me whiskey," she said slowly. "I thought it was for medicinal purposes."

  He vaguely remembered saying something like that. "I wanted you to relax." His breath came easier when he saw her smile was wistful, not accusing.

  "I was very relaxed... very..." Her voice trailed off, then she added on a somber note, "I wanted you."

  Connor waited as Maggie let silence stretch between them.

  "Afterward I was afraid... I was ashamed."

  "Maggie," he said gently.

  "No. It's all right." Her face cleared as she looked at him directly. "I don't feel that way anymore. But then... you have to understand I didn't know what I was doing afterward."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "That," she said, pointing to the bag. "I never looked inside it. I needed somewhere to hide my nightshift after I got dressed. I stuffed it in there and ran out of Mrs. Hall's with your case. When I got home I threw my clothes and the nightshift in the fire and pushed the bag under my bed, out of sight. The next morning I didn't remember anything about it. Never once, in all this time, did I really believe I took your money."

  Maggie's green eyes were filled with regret. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I've never... I'm so sorry."

  Connor picked up the bag and turned it over. Bundles of paper bills dropped like stones to the floor. He picked up one, untied it, and tossed the money in the air. It burst like a roman candle over their heads then fluttered toward them. When Maggie reached out to catch one, it was her hand that was caught. She was pulled slowly, inexorably toward Connor.

  "I'm not," he said.

  There was nothing remote about the distinct gleam in his eye.

  Epilogue

  May 1884

  The auditorium was crowded with family—most of it, it seemed, by the same family. That was certainly Connor's point of view when he glanced over the first three rows before he sat down. He picked out Schyler's beacon of red hair immediately as she craned her neck to see the stage and his ears caught Mary Francis's bright laughter. Michael was sitting next to Ethan, her arm curved under his. Beside them, Madison teased her little brother with the end of her pigtails. Rennie and Jarret sat together, separating their young twin daughters on either side. The girls were peeking around their parents, giggling as they communicated with glances and gestures. Rushton was there and Beryl was beside him. He held his three-year-old son in his lap while Beryl surreptitiously fed the boy small pieces of a cookie. John MacKenzie Worth was glancing at his pocket watch, then at the stage, then at his wife. He looked as if he might be about to grumble about the late start of the ceremony, but then his wife touched his hand and smiled gently at him. Anything he was about to say was simply swallowed.

  Connor took his seat beside Dancer Tubbs. The prospector was wearing a new suit and a shirt so white he complained it would near blind him before the day was out. Meredith climbed from Dancer's lap onto her father's. Connor helped her straighten her dress.

  "Will it be soon?" she asked in a whisper loud enough for two-thirds of the guests to hear.

  "Soon," he said, pressing his forehead against hers.

  Almost immediately there was a stirring in the crowd as the Dean of the Philadelphia Medical College walked on stage and took his place behind the podium. Silence settled as anticipation held the audience still. Madison stopped teasing her brother, the twins ceased giggling, Beryl put the cookie away, Meredith sat primly, and even Jay Mac Worth was properly subdued.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests... it is with great pride that I present the graduating class of 1884."

  It was no light, polite applause that attended this announcement. As the curtains swept open and the twenty-three women on the stage were revealed, the
auditorium thundered with the crowd's approval.

  Looking out from her place on the stage, it seemed to Maggie that most of the thunder came from the first three rows. She saw them all in a single glance: her mother and father, all the Marys, Jarret, Ethan, the nieces and nephews, Rushton, Beryl, Dancer, Meredith... then Connor. He held her glance as he applauded her and she was honored by what she saw in his eyes: fierce admiration for her accomplishment.

  She wanted to go to him. She wanted to leave the stage and go to him, let him take her in his arms and hold her.

  As if from a great distance she heard her name being called. She thought when she stood she would fall, that her legs couldn't support her. Connor would, though. Mentally she reached for him and the answer was there as he leaned toward her. She stood slowly, hesitated, looked to him again. His smile pushed her forward as she walked across the stage and took her place at the podium.

  Dr. Mary Margaret Holiday unfolded her notes and began her valedictory speech.

  * * *

  "Come to bed," Connor said, watching his wife with some amusement. "It's been a long day. Or do you want to sleep with that instead?"

  A little guiltily, Maggie laid her diploma down. "It's going to take some getting used to," she said, "but I'm not prepared to sleep with it." She turned back the table lamps so only a flicker of light remained and climbed into bed beside Connor, nestling next him. Her hair lay like fiery silk against the pillow. "Sometimes I despaired of this day ever coming," she said quietly. "This afternoon I thought I never wanted it to end. But now, with you here, I'm glad it has." She rubbed her cheek against his chest, stroking his arm idly. "You've given me so much... left so much behind..." She turned, lifting her face to see him better. She touched his jaw with her fingertip, brushed it along the strongly carved line. "You've weathered four years in the east pretty well, but I'm recommending the Colorado cure."

  "The entire state?" he asked, one brow kicking up.

  "All the Double H," she said. "Space and silence... Meredith doesn't even remember."

  "Do you think she'll like it there?"