“Would that be such a terrible thing, sir?”
“I’ve tried all my life to avoid encumbrances. Until now, I thought I’d succeeded.” Ben winced at the thought of his mother’s triumphant face if he changed his mind and stayed. The image was supplanted by one of Annabelle kneeling by her parents’ grave, shoulders bowed, surrounded by wildflowers, and his gut turned over.
Outside, he heard the jingle of the horses’ harness, as Zeke prepared the wagon to take Annabelle to the mountains. Forgetting to say goodbye to Jeremy, he rushed out of the store, leaving the bell jangling as the door banged shut behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Annabelle
Salem
Late Summer, 1866
Annabelle was sitting on a bench in the garden behind the house gazing at nothing when she heard footsteps crunching the gravel. She stood up, flushing. “Oh, it’s you, Ben! I thought Zeke was coming to fetch me.”
“I told him to wait in the carriage house with the wagon. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I’m so glad. I didn’t want our last moment together to be angry. Please accept my apology. Those things I said … forget them.”
“No need for that.” Ben’s eyes searched hers, his voice subdued. “I wanted to ask you about something you said last night. How you think I’m selfish.”
She blushed deeper. “I shouldn’t have said that, not after everything you’ve done for me and Richard. It wasn’t fair, and it certainly wasn’t true.”
He paused, as if getting the words out was a struggle. “Would it change your opinion of me if I were to stay in Salem long enough to get my mother’s store on its feet?” To her surprise, Annabelle saw uncertainty in his features. “And if I did, would you … would you, perhaps, consider marrying me?”
“What—what did you say?”
He laughed, but it sounded forced. “You did say you loved me, didn’t you?”
Annabelle’s heart started beating so hard that she thought he must surely hear it. Bewildered, she hardly knew what to say. “But you made it clear you have no intention of tying yourself down. Wouldn’t marrying me do that? Especially since I have a younger brother to look after?”
“Richard? He hardly seems to need looking after,” Ben muttered. “I’ve never met a more self-sufficient young man. The truth is, I love you, Annabelle. That’s why I acted like such a fool when it looked as if you might go off with Heber Grimshaw. I’ve come to realize that nothing I do in life will mean anything if you’re not there to share it.”
Annabelle stared at him with disbelief until the intensity in his eyes convinced her that he was telling the truth. She took a deep breath. “All right, Benjamin Marlowe. I’ll marry you.”
He took a quick breath and bent his head to kiss her.
Long moments later, Ben raised his head, put his arms around her, and pulled her tightly against his chest. Although Annabelle could not see his face, she felt his heart pounding rapidly against her own.
“My mother will have mixed feelings about the news,” he said, and to her surprise, Annabelle detected a faint note of humor in his voice. “It should be interesting to see her reaction. I suppose we’d better tell her why you’ll not be going back to the mountains today after all.”
But first he bent his head to kiss her again, this time even longer.
PART THREE
Chapter Thirty-Four
Annabelle
Salem
Late Summer, 1866
Lavinia gave her future daughter-in-law an assessing look as if sizing up a new ally—or rival. “Hmm. I can’t say I’m surprised.” Twirling her lorgnette, she turned to Ben. “The girl’s certainly no fool—she could see you were a good catch. Thank goodness she comes from a decent family, even if they cut off her parents. Otherwise, I’d have a mind to oppose the match. There are plenty of other girls in Salem with more useful connections. Maybe we can find a way to reconcile her with the Radstones.” Her eyes grew thoughtful. “An alliance with a former senator might be useful.”
Annabelle was shocked at the woman’s bluntness. For the first time, she understood what Ben had said about his mother, and she looked at Lavinia with new eyes.
“It wasn’t like that, Mother.” Annoyance crossed Ben’s face. “Annabelle insisted I come to Salem because she felt strongly that as your son, it was my duty to visit you. If it weren’t for her, I’d already be on my way to the Orient. You owe her a debt of gratitude.”
Lavinia looked at her future daughter-in-law more closely, and Annabelle’s cheeks grew hot.
“That is not all our news, Mother,” Ben said, taking Annabelle’s hand firmly in his own. “You’ll be glad to know that my fiancée also insists that I stay and run the store for you. She feels that as your son, it is my responsibility.”
The older woman smiled at Annabelle with new warmth. “Then I am grateful to you, my dear. Welcome to the family.”
Annabelle’s heart swelled. She had done the right thing by persuading Ben to come to Salem. Now she was more impatient than ever to return to the farm, not to stay but to tell Richard their news and persuade her brother to come live in Salem. He would resist, but it was time for him to attend school and resume normal life. She suspected that convincing Richard would be no easier than it had been before, but at least there was now a home waiting for them.
A few days later, the gray-haired handyman, Zeke, hitched up the wagon again. As Annabelle waited for him to finish, with Ben at her side, a sense of revulsion prickled under her skin. She had never liked Zeke, although she could not explain exactly why. It wasn’t even as if she’d ever talked to Jeremy’s burly assistant. She’d just seen him a few times working in the back of the store, but each time she laid eyes on him, something bothered her.
Zeke tipped his wide-brimmed hat at Ben and handed him the reins. “It’s a long ride to the mountains, Mr. Marlowe, and I know you’re busy with the store these days. I could drive the young miss up myself.”
This time, the rough voice caused a vague memory to return of a man with a similar build and rough voice. She recalled the foul odor of tobacco from a hand-rolled cigarette and heard one man’s voice say, “Hey—whatcha doin’, Willy?” and the gravelly response: “It’s a long ride to Lewiston, and I ain’t carrying no blasted plow with us.” A chill went through her.
Ben flipped the hired man a coin and smiled down at Annabelle. “Thanks, but I prefer to take my fiancée myself. I want to spend as much time as possible with her. Alone.”
Annabelle felt a flutter of happiness at Ben’s words, causing the sense of revulsion for the handyman to recede. Just because Zeke shared a superficial resemblance to the red-bearded bandit who had murdered her parents was no reason to dislike the fellow, she told herself. She hadn’t even got a very good look at the man all those years ago, other than that crinkled red beard. This man was gray-haired and clean-shaven. It was ridiculous to go through life afraid of every gravel-voiced man with powerful shoulders.
Rolling out of town in the loaded wagon, Annabelle was wondering at how different circumstances were from those in which she and Ben had arrived when a stray dog ran after them, distracting her from her thoughts. The animal was a homely thing, hardly bigger than a large cat, and so thin that rib bones stuck out from its sides.
“Please, Ben, stop the wagon!” she said. When he complied, Annabelle scooped up the skinny creature. The dog sat on the buckboard between them panting, ribs moving in and out, long tongue lolling from black gums, as if this was exactly what it had hoped for.
“If you think we’re keeping that mutt, you’re mistaken.” Ben looked dubiously at the matted fur, but scratched the dog behind the ears. “I don’t want fleas.”
“Maybe Richard will want him. All boys like dogs, don’t they?” She patted the dog, which licked her hand, wagging its tail vigorously, friendly in spite of what must have been a hard life.
“This dog would only be useful as a dust mop,” Ben grumbled, but he scr
atched its ears again. The dog set its head on Ben’s lap and let its tongue loll out joyously.
With the horses pulling the wagon, it only took three days to reach the cabin in the hidden valley. When Richard came out, his eyes moved from their new clothes and Ben’s bowler hat to the overfilled wagon with its matched team of plow horses.
“Hello, Richard,” Annabelle said, as Ben helped her down. “I registered the farm, but we have more news for you.”
“I thought he was leaving.” Her brother scowled at Ben.
Annabelle caught her breath at her brother’s rudeness. Ben, however, looked unfazed. “I’ve decided not to travel around the world after all,” he said. “Your sister and I are getting married.”
Richard’s eyes flickered, very briefly. The two males looked at each other warily with an expression Annabelle had once seen in a pair of stags lowering their horns at each other. Then Richard turned to Annabelle. “Does this mean he’s taking our farm?”
The farm! Annabelle thought, rolling her eyes. He thinks we’re planning to live up here in the mountains together, like we did before. She fought down a laugh. “No, Ben and I will live in Salem, where he is going to run his mother’s store. You must come stay with us, Richard, and go to school with others of your own age.”
He stiffened. “I don’t want to.”
Annabelle had prayed her brother would agree to do the sensible thing. “You must see that is impossible. Fourteen is far too young to live up here alone.”
“Please listen to your sister, Richard,” Ben said quietly, putting his arm around her waist.
“No. I won’t go.” Her brother’s words were a flat statement.
Annabelle looked at Ben. Do something, she thought, although she didn’t dare say the words aloud.
“Won’t you at least come to our wedding?” Ben said.
Richard looked down at the ground. He’s afraid, Anabelle realized with a stab of surprise. Her brother’s reluctance to leave the farm wasn’t just from stubbornness, as she’d always assumed, but was at least in part because he had been away from society too long. He was afraid of contact with other people.
But Annabelle knew her brother loved her too much to hurt her feelings. Richard would come to the wedding, she was sure. Once in town, maybe he would grow more comfortable around other people, and after that, who knew what might happen? Annabelle’s hopes crept upward. During the winter months, at least, maybe Richard would agree to stay in Salem and attend school, maybe even go on to one of the state’s new universities later. Then, perhaps, they could think about selling the farm. Or, if Richard was still determined to work it himself, he could always come back to it after having experienced all the opportunities a young man should.
A yip from the wagon interrupted them, and the mongrel, which had been sleeping, bounded down and raced toward Richard. “I almost forgot,” she said, smiling at the distraction. “Would you like a pet?”
The dog sniffed at Richard’s ankles, then ran around in circles, threatening to knock him over in its exuberance. Richard looked at the creature for a moment, before bending and scooping it up. He held the dog against his chest, where it wriggled and reached up to lick his face. “All right.” Richard looked up. “I’ll come to the wedding. But I’m coming back to the farm right after.”
“Fine.”
Ben’s arm came around her, and Annabelle knew he shared her sense of victory. Richard seemed unaware of their reaction. He was now rolling on the ground, playing with the dog.
Annabelle had assumed the wedding would be quick and quiet, but she was quickly learning Ben was right about his mother’s indomitable will. Soon, letters arrived from strangers stating they’d be delighted to attend the wedding, and Annabelle learned that during their short absence, Lavinia had already sent out hundreds of invitations. The wedding, Lavinia announced, would be held in spring, and all of Oregon’s top families would be there.
Spring! It seemed such a long time to wait. Worse, she hated the thought of having hundreds of strangers staring at her walk down the aisle.
“I’ll speak to Mother,” Ben said, his dark brows drawing together in anger as he studied one of the letters. “I should have expected she would take this into her hands.”
“No, please don’t. Your mother is aware that I don’t know anyone. It would be absurd for me to take on the task myself.” Nevertheless, Annabelle wished her future mother-in-law had at least consulted her.
The next day a tailor showed up unannounced, measuring tape in hand, to take fittings for her trousseau. When he left, she immediately sought out Lavinia, who was writing morning letters at a rosewood escritoire in the library. The older woman blotted her stationery carefully before looking up with a smile. “Ah, the blushing bride. How are you today, my dear?”
“I just sent away a tailor named Mr. Caldwell. No one told me he was coming.”
“Oh, didn’t I mention it?” Lavinia’s tone turned apologetic. “I knew you didn’t have any plans for today, and we couldn’t leave such an important detail for the last minute. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Please don’t think I don’t appreciate your help, but this is my wedding. Please consult me before making any further decisions, Mrs. Marlowe.”
Lavinia lifted her eyebrows. “But you are so very young, my dear. Given your inexperience and, er, unfortunate background, I thought it best to take matters into my own hands. My son’s wedding will be Oregon’s social event of the year, and unless I miss my guess, you hadn’t even thought of a trousseau.”
Annabelle blushed. Was one necessary? Apparently it was. Lavinia reminded her—not once, but often—that the Marlowes were one of the premier families in Oregon, and therefore the newest member must be particularly careful to keep up appearances and avoid embarrassing herself and her future relatives.
Swallowing hard, Annabelle nodded. She wanted desperately to keep on good terms with her future mother-in-law, and she sensed that it would not be a good idea to test wills.
And there was so much to do! In the days that followed, Annabelle felt like a puppet pulled this way and that, and more than once she wondered whose wedding it was. Lavinia arranged receptions with the ladies’ society and told her what to wear and where to go. Annabelle bit her tongue and complied. A date was set for a wedding dinner, and Annabelle stared at a menu in Lavinia’s handwriting that was placed in her hands to approve.
In the mountains, one day had blended into another with little to set one apart from the next. Now Annabelle had to check the calendar daily. Something was always happening: a ball to introduce her to Salem’s society, luncheon with the governor, tea with the society ladies.
She hardly saw Ben anymore. He disappeared into his father’s old office, and on the rare occasions when he reappeared, a harried look was on his face. Feeling guilt, Annabelle wondered if he regretted abandoning his buckskins and travel plans. She remembered the story of Samson in the Bible, and how his wife, Delilah, had cut his hair, causing him to lose all his strength. Had Annabelle, with the best of intentions, done the same? She decided not to tell Ben about her growing struggle of wills with Lavinia.
In spite of everything, Annabelle told herself she’d done the right thing. Just because Lavinia was difficult did not mean that her son should cut that proud lady out of his life. Family mattered more than anything else, even if sacrifices had to be made.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Richard
Cascade Mountains, Oregon
Late Summer, 1866
Before long, Richard was surprised how much he missed his sister’s presence. The feeling was not a sharp pang but something duller, deeper, more constant. When he realized the reason for his discomfort, he thrust the thought into the recesses of his brain, along with other emotions that would disturb his peace of mind if he allowed them to. He’d found life was easier if he didn’t think about such things.
The deep silence of the valley did not bother him as it had Annabelle. In fact, Richard d
idn’t think his surroundings were silent at all. There was always the background music of the creek rushing by over stones like a multitude of voices chattering and laughing, the chirps and squawks of birds speaking to him overhead, and the rumble of thunder when it rained.
As for the solitude—well, Richard had always liked being alone. When he was little, back in the city, the clatter of carts and carriages and nattering voices of passersby and guests used to give him headaches. Just because he loved Annabelle and missed her didn’t mean he needed her around all the time. She would be happier in Salem.
He had even come to terms with the fact that she was marrying Benjamin Marlowe, although for a long time he’d suspected that the older man was just showing them a face of friendship while plotting to take what they had struggled so hard to build—or, worse, trying to take over their father’s place in their affections, as if he and Annabelle weren’t doing perfectly fine on their own. Now he suspected he’d not been entirely fair with the older man. The truth was, Ben had always treated him with respect, despite Richard’s youth, and Ben had helped them save the farm, instead of trying to push them off it.
Even with Annabelle gone, Richard was happy these days, in his own way. He liked working in the field he’d plowed, smelling the rich soil and the fragrance of growing crops. It was satisfying to fall into bed at night with aching limbs, after enjoying a simple meal produced with his own labor. What more did he need?
If he got bored, there were always the math books his father had left him, or history books, or the Bible, to stimulate his mind. His brain was always full of interesting thoughts and questions. The dog, whom Richard named Beau as a joke because the creature was so homely, accompanied him everywhere. By now the dog was as much a part of him as his own shadow.
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