Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight

by Flightner, Ramona

  “How long is forever? Didn’t Jeremy want forever with Savannah and had that denied him?” She buried her face against his chest.

  “Yes,” he said as he kissed her head. “We, none of us, want to be the one left behind.”

  She reared back and poked him in the chest. “If you get sick, Gabriel McLeod, you fight. You fight for me. For our children. For the life we’ve made.” Her eyes flared with desperation.

  He ran a soothing hand over her shoulder. “You know I will. When haven’t I fought for us, love?” He kissed her and sighed when she fell into his arms as more tears leaked out.

  “When did she die?” Clarissa stuttered.

  “A few weeks ago,” Gabriel whispered. She allowed him to ease her back enough so he could bracket her face with his wide palms and swipe at her cheeks. Her eyes were tear-swollen and continued to leak tears. “I couldn’t write. Not something like this. I needed to be here with you when I told you. To hold you in my arms.”

  She heard his unsaid words, and her fingers dug into his back as though she could hold him closer to her. “You feared I wouldn’t allow you to comfort me.” She sighed, kissing his neck. “I’ve learned that I need you, Gabe. More than you could ever know.” She traced a new worry line by his mouth. “Where is Jeremy?”

  Gabriel turned into her soft touch. “He remained in Butte, with Lucas. He’ll be there a few days before returning to Missoula. He dreads entering their house.”

  She nodded. “I wish I could do something.”

  He smiled. “You do enough, my darling. Although I know he will ask you to be godmother. It’s what Savannah wanted and why we didn’t have the christening in Boston.” He traced away another tear. “Lucas will be godfather.”

  “You aren’t upset?” She frowned. “That one of the brothers isn’t godfather?”

  “Whether or not I have that title will never augment nor diminish my love of Breandan. He is my beloved nephew and will always be precious.”

  She sniffled and rested in his arms for another moment before pushing away. “Come. We must face this. We must tell the children.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath and rose. “I will rely on your strength, Rissa. I couldn’t do this without you.” She nodded, leaning into his side.

  * * *

  Lucas pushed open the door to his home in Butte and peered around. The trip from the train station had been eerie as the usually crowded, teeming streets of Butte had been empty. Only those with a purpose appeared to have ventured outside. However, the mines were running at full steam as evidenced by the smelters and smokestacks pumping out clouds of gray ash. As he hung up his coat, he sighed with frustration. Vivie was nowhere in sight, and his shoulders stooped in disappointment. His father and cousin were exhausted after the trip from Boston, and he had showed them upstairs to guest bedrooms. After finding Lizzie’s bassinette for Breandan, he left Jeremy to relax as Lucas wandered downstairs. When he entered the living room, Genevieve emerged from the rear of the house.

  “Lucas!” she shrieked, throwing herself into his arms. She clung to him and then backed away as her hands ran over him, as though ensuring herself that he was well. “Oh, please tell me that I’m not dreaming. I thought you were to arrive tomorrow …” She leaned on her toes and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close for a kiss.

  “God, Vivie, how I have missed you,” he whispered as he tugged her closer, kissing her over and over. After a moment, he shuddered and rested his mouth on her head. “I needed you so much.”

  She stroked his shoulder and jaw. “Shh, my love. I’m here for you now.” She pulled back and brushed away tears that flowed down his cheeks. “I wish I had been there to support you.”

  “I thought to support Savannah as she mourned Melly,” he whispered. “I never realized …” His eyes closed, and he dropped his head to her shoulder as he fought a sob.

  “I know, my darling,” she said, her voice tear-thickened.

  He nodded. “You lost a sister too.” His shiny gaze was despondent, understanding their shared pain.

  She blinked away tears. “I, … yes. Isabel.” She turned her face into his palm. “I missed you so much, Lucas.”

  He nodded and kissed her forehead. “How is Lizzie?”

  She began to answer but then saw movement in the shadows near the door and jumped.

  Lucas spun and then relaxed. “Vivie, this is my father, Martin Russell. He has sold his store in Boston and will be here with us for a while.”

  Genevieve flushed and held out her hand to her father-in-law. Stockier than Lucas, he and Lucas were about the same height, and both had brown eyes, although Lucas’s were a lighter shade, resembling amber. However, there was no doubting their relationship. “It is an honor to welcome you into our home.”

  He smiled. “And it is a joy to finally meet Lucas’s wife.” He kissed her cheek and moved into the room to sit on a comfortable chair.

  “How was the journey?” she asked, her hands fidgeting with her plain at-home skirts. Her gaze roved over her father-in-law’s fine linens, and she fought a grimace at her simple clothes.

  “Long but delightful. I never imagined our country was as big and diverse as it is.” Martin smiled at her. “You have a lovely home.”

  Genevieve nodded to Lucas. “We do.” She smiled as Lucas excused himself to go to the kitchen to find a snack for him and his father. “I was devastated when I heard the news.”

  Martin nodded. “You can imagine the difficulty Jeremy is having right now. Only little Breandan is keeping him sane. Thank you for having us as guests.”

  “Of course. You are Lucas’s family, and he takes great delight in all of you. I know how much he has missed you in particular these past few years.” She smiled at him.

  “Your separation from your family must be equally as difficult.”

  “I miss my sister, Parthena. However, I never had a close relationship with my parents. And I have found great joy in my marriage with Lucas.”

  He watched her with a delighted curiosity in his gaze.

  She noted it and flushed. “I beg your pardon for not welcoming you right away. I … I was surprised by Lucas’s return and overwhelmed. I had thought you were to arrive tomorrow.”

  Martin smiled. “You adore him as he adores you.” His smile broadened as she nodded, her blush intensifying. “You cannot fathom what it means to a father to know that his two children found spouses as dedicated to them as they are. Who love them.”

  She blinked away her tears.

  “Thank you for making Lucas so happy.”

  “I fear you have that backward, Father,” Lucas said as he reentered the room. He beamed at his wife, handing a plate of cheese and fruit to his father before sitting beside his wife. “She’s the one who brings me joy.”

  Martin smiled as he saw his son so contented with his wife. When he heard pacing on the second floor, Martin frowned at the ceiling. “Jeremy is restless, even with Breandan thriving. The nights are difficult for him.”

  Lucas pulled Genevieve close, and she snuggled into his side.

  “I have a favor to ask of you, and I know it is not fair.”

  Lucas frowned after he swallowed a bite of cheese. “What is it, Father?”

  “Will you come to Missoula? I know you will come next week for the christening, but I had hoped you would come for an extended visit. It would help Jeremy if the house he had shared with Savannah were not so empty.”

  Genevieve shuddered and then looked to Lucas. “What do you think?”

  He squeezed her hand. “I don’t like being on a train with Lizzie as there is still a great risk of influenza. However, there is no other efficient way to travel to Missoula.”

  She smiled at him. “It is waning here in Butte. They are on the verge of reopening the schools again.”

  He let out a deep breath. “Well, as I’ve learned from Jeremy, no decision is a perfect decision. And that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t ensure everyone remains healthy. But I�
�d like to travel and spend time with him.” He smiled. “Although I must find space for a piano in his house.”

  Martin smiled and relaxed as he ate the small snack Lucas had brought him. “Thank you, Lucas. I did not want Jeremy traveling alone, but I did not want to leave you just yet either.”

  Lucas smiled at his father. “Tomorrow you will meet Lizzie. Perhaps you’ll see Patrick too.”

  * * *

  A few days later Jeremy walked the deserted streets around Patrick’s house, having slipped out of his cousin’s house and the family get-together. He was desperate to become so fatigued that he would have no choice but to sleep tonight. His dreams continued to haunt him. To taunt him with what would never be. He firmed his jaw as he bumped into a plump woman. “Pardon,” he muttered.

  She belted him with her handbag, and he paused under her attack, finally focusing on her. “Mrs. Smythe,” he breathed.

  “I find it hard to believe that you should ignore your daughter’s mother in such a callous manner,” she whined in her simpery voice. “Do you have no decency?”

  He shook his head in confusion as he examined her. Her coat was well made but worn, as were her boots. Her gray-blond hair remained in ringlets, as though she were clinging to her youth as tightly as her hair to its fabricated curls. “I would never call upon you.”

  “Do you think I wouldn’t want to see my own daughter?” she glared at him. “You may not like me, but I do have some rights.”

  He shook his head. “You gave them all up when you left her at the orphanage.”

  “I was out of my mind with grief at the loss of my husband!”

  He snorted. “You mean, you were out of your mind with grief at the loss of his income.” He firmed his jaw and nodded in a mockery of a deferential manner. “If you will excuse me?”

  “No,” she hissed as she grabbed his arm. “I demand to see my daughter. I have the right, if not legally, then morally.”

  His cheeks reddened with anger. “Morally? You would have sold her to some man to earn you coin the last time she was with you! How dare you suggest you have any moral right to … to …” His voice broke, and he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

  She stomped her foot. “It does to me. I have friends on the Butte Police Department. If you continue to act in such an uncharitable manner, I will ensure you are visited by them.”

  He glared at her for a long moment. Finally he spoke in a low, lethal voice. “You want to see your daughter? Fine. Then I suggest you travel to Boston.”

  Surprise lit her gaze.

  “She’s buried there.”

  Shock and disbelief warred in her expression. “But she’s young.”

  “Yes, and this influenza likes the young.” He clamped his jaw shut and then whispered, “Whatever unfortunate association we may have had has now been irrevocably severed, Mrs. Smythe.” He pushed past her and continued his walk, any hope of sleeping that night lost in the turmoil of his thoughts.

  * * *

  Patrick sat on his front porch, his feet propped on the cement railing as he waited for Jeremy to return. Fiona entertained Genevieve, Lucas, Martin and the two children. When he saw his cousin striding up the street with as much pent-up energy as when he left, he sighed. “Sit, Jer,” Patrick said before Jeremy could reach for the door.

  “Pat.” Jeremy was slightly out of breath from his walk. He leaned on the banister and faced his cousin. “I’m sorry I’m not more sociable.”

  Patrick shook his head. “You know none of us care about that.” He sat in silence a few moments, a cool wind blowing with the promise of snow in it.

  “I’m sorry, Pat,” Jeremy whispered. “I never meant for Melly …” He closed his eyes and ducked his head.

  Patrick leaned forward and gripped Jeremy by the shoulder. “Don’t you apologize to me. You raised her. Loved her as your own. You will never have to apologize to me for anything.” His brown eyes glowed with sincerity.

  Jeremy nodded and rubbed at his eyes. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “For loving her enough to not rip her away from Savannah and me. For allowing her to remain in the only home she’d known.” He met Patrick’s tormented gaze. “She knew you cared for her, but I think she would have been miserable here.”

  Patrick nodded. “I know she would have been. She loved her life in Missoula, near Clarissa and Colin and Araminta. She would have hated it here.” He cleared his throat. “And I had no right to rip her from what she knew.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “That is because you are honorable, Pat. Unlike some.” He paused and listened to the faint sound of a streetcar passing a few streets over. “I ran into Mrs. Smythe on my ramble.” He smiled sardonically as he heard Patrick’s intake of breath. “She was irate I wouldn’t let her see Melly.”

  Patrick sighed. “We never did tell her about Melinda. Or Savannah. It’s none of her business.”

  “I imagine it would have been in the Daily Missoulian. That they died.” Jeremy shrugged. “Although, in the end, what does it matter? They’re gone, and no announcement will ease that pain.”

  Patrick gripped Jeremy’s arm. “I’m sorry, Jeremy. I’m so damned sorry.”

  Jeremy took a deep breath. “So am I.” He looked into the house. “But I have to go on. For my son’s sake, if not my own.”

  Patrick rubbed a hand over his chest. “The pain of loss will ease,” he whispered.

  “But it will never go away.” Jeremy rose. “I must see how Breandan is.”

  * * *

  The following evening Jeremy eased into to the house in Missoula that he had shared with Savannah and Melinda. His mind shied away from calling it home as nothing would feel like home again without them. He had snuck away from Gabriel and Clarissa’s, leaving Martin to rejoice in seeing his niece and nephew again. Gabriel had covered for Jeremy as he left, pulling him close in a tight hug and murmuring that Jeremy only had to ask, and Gabriel would help him.

  The door clicked shut behind him, and he took a deep breath. Breandan slept in his arms and did not stir as Jeremy waited. Waited to hear Savannah call out to him in welcome. For Melinda to shriek with joy at his arrival home and to skid down the hallway. For the aroma of dinner wafting from the kitchen. For the subtle scent of lavender that had filled the house. He took a stuttering breath as he forced himself to walk through the downstairs, moving from the living room to the dining room and then the kitchen. All were clean but had a sense of staleness from disuse. Moonlight shone into Savannah’s rear sitting room, and he shuddered, unable to force himself to enter that room.

  Spinning on his heel, he walked down the hallway and up the stairs. He froze at the top, uncertain where to go. “Not the bedroom,” he whispered as he fell back against the wall in the hallway. He looked up and down the hallway before sinking to his haunches. Images of Melinda prancing from her room, showing off new clothes, flitted through his memory. Of Savannah grabbing his hand and coyly smiling as she led him to their bedroom. Of holding Melinda in his arms when she was sick, battling fevers or demon dreams. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he sat until his legs had gone numb.

  Breandan stirred, and Jeremy rose, taking a deep breath. He pushed open the door to his bedroom and paused. Her dressing table sat in expectation of her, with its stool vacant and her hairbrush waiting to be used on her long locks. He forced himself inside, his gaze searching for the bassinette for Breandan.

  A soft hand touched his arm, and he spun, white as a sheet.

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but I fell asleep while you were at your brother’s,” the woman said. She held her arms out for Breandan as he fussed more.

  “Of course,” he gasped, handing Breandan to the nurse who would help him care for his son. In his return to this house, he had forgotten about her. “How did you … ?” He shook his head as his voice trailed away.

  “Your cousin let me in. He could tell I was tired from the journey and had little interest in a family reunion.” She nodded to Jeremy and
headed to another room to tend to Breandan.

  Jeremy watched the nurse walk away and moved downstairs to his office. He sat at the desk, shivering in the darkened room. A soft lilting song wended its way down the stairs, and he held his head in his hands, wishing it were Savannah singing to his child. Savannah whose breast gave Breandan nourishment. Savannah smiling in accomplishment at him as Breandan grew a little more each day. He lifted his head at the draft in the room. “Gabe.”

  “And Colin.” Colin squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder before sitting in a chair on the opposite side of Jeremy’s desk. Gabriel remained standing as he studied his brother.

  “What can we do, Jer?” Gabriel asked.

  “There’s nothing to do. My wife and daughter are dead, and I have to accept that.” He rubbed at his head, keeping it bowed.

  “Jer,” Colin whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I feel like my joy in seeing Uncle Martin drowned my sorrow tonight. Forgive me if I was insensitive.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No. If there’s one thing I’m learning from Breandan, life must go on. And it was a relief not to be the focus of everyone’s pity.”

  “How are things with the nurse?” Gabriel asked with a nod upstairs as the singing continued.

  “Fine. She’s here to do a job and takes little interest in me. Which is a relief.” He looked at his brothers and shrugged.

  “She told me that her name’s Nora when we walked here tonight,” Colin said. “Seemed a bit reluctant to talk about herself.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes at his brother-in-law. “What does that matter as long as she does the job she was hired to do?” He stooped in front of the fireplace, fiddling with it until a small fire erupted. He fed it a few pieces of wood and rose. “Do you want to be in that room again, Jer?”

  He shook his head. “No. I … tried for a few minutes tonight, and I can’t.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Colin and I’ll be by tomorrow. We’ll help you empty it.”