Heather set a pitcher of water on the table. “I am learning new tasks all the time. It is more isolated than I am accustomed to, but it suits me fine. I am becoming acquainted with the neighbors. And now that we have a church to attend, I will meet more families.”
Adam’s eyebrows were raised in amazement. “The church has been rebuilt?”
Heather recounted the story of the barn raising and the subsequent fire as Maggie and Adam listened. As she talked, she poured water and cider for everyone.
The children had stayed outside, as Mark wanted to show them the bucket with the tadpoles. Heather went to the front door and waved for them to come inside.
Matthew and Mary came in as Heather finished telling Adam and Maggie about Caroline and her father’s departure. Smoothing out his wavy hair, Matthew greeted his old friends.
“Matthew Stewart, your skin is as dark as molasses,” Maggie chided him. “Are you in need of a shirt?”
“No. Sometimes it is cooler to work without one. This way makes a bit less wash for my wife, too.”
Heather’s face grew warm when he referred to her as his wife. She was hardly a wife—more like a housekeeper. Gazing at him chatting with his old friends, sadness seeped in. What would it have been like to genuinely be a part of this family? There was an unmistakable barrier between them. Had she erected it or had he? She tucked her emotions away and began to arrange dishes for the meal.
Maggie joined her, a welcome interruption to her troubled sentiments. “Is there anything I can do to help you with dinner?”
“Nay, Maggie. Talk with me while I baste the meat and finish shelling these peas.” A brief sadness filled her as she gazed at the baby in Maggie’s arms. Gently, she rubbed a finger against the baby’s soft cheek as his mother sat and began to rock the child. Her heart ached when she remembered Caroline and the loss of her baby son.
“Wee William has truly grown in ... these six weeks, I guess it has been. Such a bonny laddie. You must be delighted.”
“Oh, aye, we are all lovin’ the wee lad. But I should not think it would be too long before you have a bairn of your own.”
“Nay, t’would take a mira—” She reddened, caught her breath, and turned away, picking up the pea pod she had dropped, but not before noticing the questioning expression on Maggie’s face. “Maggie, I have been meaning to thank you for the lovely dresses, cloak, and shawl.”
Maggie got up and went over to a basket by the hearth. “I am so glad you like them. I had a cape and did not need another. And as you can see, the dresses are more than a mite snug for me. You are slender enough for them.”
She followed Maggie over to where she was settling William in his basket. “Maggie?”
“Aye?”
“I did not realize the clothes had been Elizabeth’s. I think it gave Mary a start to see them on me. And I am surprised that Mr. Stewart did not mind my having them. I mean, I would think it would pain him to see me wearing his wife’s clothes.”
Maggie straightened and shook her head. “I am sorry, Heather. I suppose I should have said something, but I was certain Matthew would. And I had not considered that Mary would remember the dresses. Matthew is a practical as well as a generous man. He recognized that you needed clothes. And honestly, Heather, he was certain it would have been Elizabeth’s wish that you have them. After all, dear, you are raising her children. I am certain that she is smiling down on the job you are doing with them.”
“I suppose that if I am to live with a ghost, I should praise God that it is a saintly one that resides here.” She gave a nervous laugh as she sat down and went back to shelling her peas.
Maggie came over to the table beside her and started cutting the bread. “Here, taste this.” She handed her a piece of the bread.
“Mmm, that is delicious. You must tell me how you make it.”
“I will.” Maggie put the knife down and faced her. “Heather, are you sure it is the ghost of Elizabeth Stewart that is troubling you? Or might there be some ghosts of your own?”
Heather was grateful to be rescued from any more of Maggie’s probing questions when Adam and Matthew’s voices grew louder. The two men were embroiled in a political discussion, which continued until dinner was ready.
“I shall go and call the children to clean up.” She wiped her hands on her apron as Maggie finished setting the table.
“I am off to put on a clean shirt for dinner,” Matthew called as he made his way to the loft.
She turned to Maggie. She wanted to ask her how to make that sweet bread.
Maggie watched Matthew climb the ladder to the loft. She exchanged a befuddled grimace with Adam.
“It is not our affair, Maggie.” Adam quietly warned.
“It does not appear to be theirs either. His clothes are in the loft.” Maggie shook her head.
Heather overheard the exchange and blushed. So now the Duncans knew the truth of their marriage, too. She turned and left to find the children.
Despite the awkward moments, the afternoon passed pleasantly, and everyone was still in lively spirits when it came time for the Duncans to leave.
As they walked to the wagon, she squeezed Maggie’s hand. “Please come again soon. I do not remember when I have had such a grand day.”
Maggie embraced her and smiled. “I wish you realized what a blessing you are to this family, Heather.”
Adam bid farewell to them as his family climbed into the wagon and headed off. “We shall come again before the weather turns. You take care.”
Later that evening, after the children had been put to bed and Matthew had gone out to the barn, she went outside and sat on the chair. She resisted the pattern she had established of slipping off to her room as soon as the children went to sleep and her work was done. Twilight was beautiful, and she wanted to enjoy it, with the breeze light and cool against her face. She pulled the cap and pins from her hair, freeing it to float around her shoulders. It was refreshing to be outside on such a pleasant evening, listening to the night sounds. Aye, it had been a nice day with so much laughter— welcome sounds in the house after weeks of sharing Caroline’s sorrow. She had already begun to miss the young widow and wondered what would become of Caroline. She had no doubt that she would marry again, and God willing, to someone who would give her another bairn. Caroline was too kind and lovely a person to be alone for long.
“May I join you?”
Matthew’s words startled her. “Aye, of course.” She straightened and sat very still and upright. “I was enjoying the evening air and reflecting on what a delightful day it has been.”
“Yes. It has been a fine day and a long time since the Duncans visited. It was good to have them here again.”
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The silence was tranquil, not awkward, as it had been at other times.
“Mr. Stewart, I never thanked you for the clothes. I mean, allowing me to wear her ... your wife’s clothes.”
“Hmm.” He leaned against the doorframe. “The dresses are becoming on you.” His gaze rested on her. “You are a lovely woman, Heather.”
She was intensely grateful that the darkness hid what she was sure was a crimson face. “I have no doubt that your wife was a beauty, seeing her children and hearing of her many fine qualities. You must miss her terribly.” She closed her eyes in dismay. Oh, for mercy’s sake, what a mindless comment. I should go inside before I say anything else so foolish. The man was entitled to his privacy.
“Yes, she was beautiful and good. Elizabeth was a generous, kind, and loving wife, and a joy to be around.”
Heather was torn. She wanted to stay and hear more of what Matthew wanted to reveal, and yet hearing such personal reflections made her uncomfortable. She gradually moved to the edge of her seat, preparing to leave, but stopped. He was in a mood to talk.
“Yes, I miss Elizabeth. I miss what we had together—the sharing, the joy, the laughter, and even the misunderstandings. We were very close.” His jaw tightened as he c
rossed his arms. “I was not always as considerate as I should have been, but she loved me, and I never doubted that. I wanted to work this farm and, against her parents’ wishes, she chose to come out here and work it with me. I loved her and let her come out here and struggle and die without providing her with the care she needed.” He shook his head and strode off the porch in the direction of the barn.
Stunned by his frank revelations, she sat and stared after him. Mary had said he believed he bore responsibility in Elizabeth’s death, but she suspected it had merely been an immediate reaction to their terrible loss. She watched him enter the barn, then rose from the chair to go back into the cottage. There was nothing she could do to help him. I should go inside and let him work through it by himself, whatever he is experiencing. However, upon reaching the door of the cottage, she turned and gazed once more in the direction of the barn—in his direction. She slowly but deliberately picked up the lantern and walked toward the barn.
CHAPTER 20
From the corner of his eye, Matthew saw Heather approach the barn, holding the lantern high to see her way. For a long moment, she stood in the doorway. She might still turn and go back to the cottage. The woman had a way of remaining at a distance.
Heather entered the dark barn but appeared unsure of whether to stay or leave.
Well, man, are you going to stand here by the horses and ignore her? He relaxed his grip on the pitchfork. “Thank you, Heather. I came out here in such a hurry I did not think to bring a light.” He lit his own lantern from hers, then turned, picked up the pitchfork, and began spreading the hay. She was shuffling behind him. He needed to keep enough space between them that he wouldn’t drop the pitchfork and take her in his arms. What would she do if he did?
“It was thoughtless of me to bring up—”
“No.” He shook his head but kept his back to her. “I needed to say what I did. I have kept everything inside too long. I think it helped to put it into words.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. Did she read his true intentions?
“Aye. Putting our recollections into words can bring clarity. I meant to say that I wish it all had been so very different.”
He turned and faced her. His arms rested on the handle of the pitchfork; his eyes searched hers. Why had she come out to the barn? Only because she was grateful for the clothes and sorry that she had brought up Elizabeth? Heather was so approachable at times, but something would happen, or he would say the wrong thing. Then she would draw that curtain of reserve around herself. Was she unaware of the effect she had on him? He longed to hold her in his arms. Still, he was sure that was not what she wanted. What did she mean that she wished it all had been so very different? Why was he at such a loss to know how to reach her—to draw her out of her shell?
There was an intensity and power, yet warmth, in his expression. It made her heart race and her skin feel aflame. For a moment, she was helpless and unable to move. As her breath returned, she tried to swallow, relieving the dryness in her throat.
“I—ah—good night, Mr. Stewart.” She turned, and with trembling hands struggling to hold the lantern steady, she left the barn. When she reached the house, she took brisk steps to the porch. “Coward!” she said under her breath. The tranquility and solitude of the bedroom were what she needed.
Once in her room, she tried to calm down. Question after question raced through her mind as she undressed and washed her face. Why did I bring up his wife? What is wrong with me? She should never have addressed that subject. The pain was still so raw, his emotions still so near the surface. She understood loss, pain, and regret. It grieved her that he was so distressed.
Why am I so confused? I loved Robert. I must still love him. Surely I could not stop loving a man I loved with all my heart. Yet I can barely recall his face. Has it been so long that now I can see only Matthew’s? She glanced out her window in the direction of the barn. What a tangle she was in. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, and she was married to a man who was still very much in love with his dead wife.
Drained, she collapsed onto the bed, laid her head back on the pillow, and gazed out the open window at the stars twinkling in the early autumn sky. Matthew was not the fool. What he loved was real. She, however, had been in love with a dream, a lost dream. As the tears ran down her cheeks and into her hair, she once again was haunted by the memory of Robert McDowell. How could she have been such a fool? How could things have turned out so wrong?
Whatever Robert McDowell’s business was in Perth or with her brother, Heather had not fully understood. However, he had continued to return every five or six weeks through that winter and spring, spending many hours with her family. In the beginning, Ross and Robert were at odds with each other, but by the time summer arrived, they acted more like old friends, which pleased her.
When Robert finally declared his love, he told her he was preparing a life for them in Edinburgh. He described how things would be in glowing detail. She was overjoyed when he said he wanted her beside him. And after all the years of caring for others, she was thrilled to think she would have a home and family of her own. He asked her to give him time. But she grew impatient and wrote that letter, a letter that would have far-reaching consequences, and be the beginning of the end for their relationship.
Matthew finished his work and sat on a barrel inside the barn. From there, he could make out the glimmer of light coming from Heather’s window. He could not make her care for him—love him. That was not her plan in coming to Virginia. She had indentured herself for seven years with the intent of being free to start a new life here. That April day on the quay, he thought he had been thinking only of a way to bring his children home again. But if he was honest with himself, that was not the only thing that had been on his mind. He had been lonely and missed having someone to share life with, someone whose face would light up when he came through the door. Her smile when she and the children brought the midday meal and when he walked through the door each evening to find her busy making supper warmed his heart. She was sensitive and deft at figuring out how to deal with Mary’s moods, and Mark was besotted with her. They would all miss her. If you truly love her, you must do what is best for her.
He got up and left the barn, closing the door behind him, and walked toward the well. His mind raced. Should he put aside what he wanted? There were others whose needs had to be addressed. And honoring her desire was becoming more important to him with each passing day. He took a drink and washed his face with a rag that was on the edge of the well. I must let her go—but not without telling her how I feel.
Heather sat up in bed. The memories brought fresh tears, making sleep impossible. The past was behind her. She knew she must let it go. She had come across the sea to escape it. It was foolish to allow memories to follow and torment her, and there was no changing what had happened.
She got up and washed her tear-stained face once more. As she looked in the mirror, she heard a soft knock at her door. Could one of the children need something? She padded to the door. When she opened it, she was astounded. Matthew stood in the doorway, a silhouette against the dimly lit room beyond.
“Aye? Did you want me, sir?” She glanced to where she had set down the light cotton shawl. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.
“Heather, we need to talk. May I come in?”
She motioned him in, picked up the shawl, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
He closed the door, set his lantern on the table, and sat on the bed as if it were the most natural thing to do. “Out there, you said that you wished things had been different. Did you mean that you wish that events had been different for me ... or you ... or us?”
“Well now, I—” She took a deep breath. “I wished for your sake that your wife and child had lived.” It was awkward being alone with him, not fully clothed, in the small, partially lit room. “I wanted a different path for my life also. If our lives had followed the different paths we wanted there would be no ... us.”
&n
bsp; “What brought you here to Virginia? You have never told me why you left Scotland, or even what your life there was like. Please tell me, Heather. There are no small children here to interrupt or overhear us. We are alone, and I want to understand Heather Douglas and what burdens she is carrying.”
She stood quiet and trembling against the cabinet that stored her clothes and the linens. He certainly did not need to remind her that they were alone in the room. Of that, she was all too conscious. Even with the door closed, the lamplight and moonlight filled the room enough so that she clearly saw his face. He had every right to ask those things. But what would he think of her if he knew? Would he understand?
He patted the quilt beside him. “Come here. Sit down, please.” His voice was gentle but authoritative.
She padded slowly to the side of the bed and sat near him, eyes averted to avoid his disarming and penetrating stare. “I, ah, I do not like talking about the past. I left Scotland, came here to get away from what happened before, to start my life over again. I am trying to do that—to forget. There is nothing you need be unsettled about.” She rubbed her forehead. “I have committed no crimes. I have hurt no one. You have no cause to be concerned that I would harm your children.” She shook as she spoke.
“It is not the children I am concerned about now.”
She looked up at him. The sincerity in his eyes penetrated the barriers she had erected.
“Something, someone has hurt you.” He moved closer, taking her in his arms in the same way he did Mary and Mark when one of them was upset or crying. “I did not mean to distress you so.” He held her against his chest, stroking her hair. “If you truly hope to make a new start, Heather, you will need to examine and resolve whatever it is that is troubling you. Tell me what is causing you such pain. Trust me.” His plea as he whispered into her hair sounded genuine.
His words cut through her defenses. His skin was warm against hers. The beating of her heart pounded in her ears. As his lips came down on hers, she was flooded with fear. The fear was not of him, for his kiss was gentle and giving, not urgent or forcing. It was her emotions that were at war within her. When her arms gradually crept up and encircled him, she returned his kiss and felt complete. Was this truly what they both wanted? But there were still two others between them—or was it only one? Nay, it was still Elizabeth in his heart. He had said as much himself. Or did he?
A Heart Set Free Page 18