Hank took a step forward. “He passed from this good earth doing what he loved—spending time with his friends and family on Thanksgiving Day.” He brought his hands up to his mouth, blowing his hot breath to warm them. “He will always be in our hearts.” Hank simply nodded at the preacher to conclude the service. Hank had been a man of few words ever since she’d known him. She wasn’t sure why she would expect anything more now.
Lucas squeezed Lucy’s hand, then released it as he stepped up to the grave and turned around to face everyone in attendance. “I know most of you don’t know me,” his cheeks and nose had a rosy glow—the only indication he felt the cold, “but my name is Lucas Deardon and I am Liam Deardon’s grandson.”
An awed murmur rolled over the crowd.
“Many of you may know Gabe. I am his son, and I feel it only appropriate that I say a few words on behalf of my father.”
Lucy placed her hand at her chest and bit her lip. She knew this would be hard on him, but also knew it would be healing. A light wind picked up and Lucy rubbed her wool-covered arms against the chill.
“Death took my granddad from us unexpectedly, with so much still left to say and do. I have to admit that I feel a little cheated of the time me and my brothers spent separated from our Granddad. I only returned recently and was blessed enough to spend a few days with him before the Good Lord saw fit to take him, but in that time my eyes were opened to the goodness of his heart and the bond that family shares—no matter how long we’ve been apart.”
He looked at Hank, but his uncle avoided his eyes and dropped his gaze to the ground.
“I know my father would be too stubborn to say it, but my brothers and I missed out on a great opportunity to get to know my granddad, to work alongside him, and to learn from him.” He looked at Seth. “Whisper Ridge, and the people here,” he looked directly at Lucy, “have become like home to me and I will miss them when I return to Oregon.”
He’s leaving?
“Thank you all for living as he taught…How did you put it, Uncle Sam? Caring for those in less abundant circumstances.”
Sam nodded.
“I was a stranger and he took me in.” Lucas paused. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “You can’t find a better example of living the Lord’s teachings than that, Preacher.”
The pastor held up his bible.
“Granddad taught me in a short time what I’d failed to learn in the past twenty some odd years—the importance of taking chances, and not just the kind that finds me bucked off a wild mustang with an injured shoulder.”
Everyone laughed.
“He taught me to remember that life is only what you make of it,” he said kicking at the ground, “and to…” he looked up at Hank, “…to forgive. Thank you.” Lucas locked eyes with Lucy’s and strode back to where she stood, scooping her hand into his, and led her to the opposite side of the grandiose oak, away from prying eyes and ears.
“I am taking one of those chances right now, Miss Lucy. With you,” he whispered as he reached for her hand. “Granddad had it right all along and I couldn’t see it, but somehow, he knew that you and I…that we…could create the most amazing life together. I know the tournament was supposed to determine your beau, but I don’t want to leave it to chance. I don’t want to wait anymore. Marry me, Lucy Russell. Be my wife.”
She’d given up hope a long time ago that she would be able to marry for love. Her stepfather had touted her to the available men in New York as a good housekeeper, a cook, a washerwoman. But, she’d grown tired of caring for someone else’s family and had wanted a family of her own.
Lucy wasn’t silly enough to believe that what she felt for Lucas Deardon after a single week was perfect, but it was love—if only in the newest sense of the word. She loved him. In that moment, something changed inside of her. She saw her life in a new light. She’d come west with a promise of a new life and she’d found that—grateful it wasn’t as Gilroy Hearn’s mail-order bride. But she had to ask herself why Lucas wanted to marry her.
Now that Liam was gone, she felt a little lost and longed for his direction, his guidance.
“Mr. Deardon…I…”
“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” the preacher’s words were supposed to lead in to the music that would conclude the service.
The cathartic sound of bagpipes playing pulled Lucy’s thoughts back to the wake. She slipped her hand from Lucas’s.
“I have to go.” She hurried to the edge of the graveside and looked out at many unknown and familiar faces alike, then glanced back over her shoulder to see Lucas standing there, his brows knit together, his face solemn.
Seth and Daniel moved to stand next to her as their bagpipes transitioned into the song they had rehearsed. The air went still, and for a brief moment, the sun warmed her unopposed.
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…” she closed her eyes as she sang, allowing the words to fill her heart. “I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, but now, I see.” She glanced back at the shadow of the tree.
Lucas was gone.
Chapter Twenty
“A singer?” Lucas shoved his hands through his hair. “Real funny, Granddad.”
Alone in his room, he sat down on the corner of the bed with a nice view of the oak tree out the window. He pushed open the glass and listened, despite the tremendous chill that whirled into his room. He pulled his coat up tighter around his neck.
“I once was lost and now I’m found…”
Lucas scoffed. He’d thought he’d been found, but right now he felt lost all over again.
He had to give it to her, Lucy’s voice was like that of an angel’s. He didn’t remember much about his mother, but he could still hear the sound of her voice as she sang him to sleep. That voice that had brought so much comfort and then had caused so much pain.
He remembered a time, not too long ago, when Jonah struggled with the same thing. Lucas’s own advice to his brother came back to him in perfect clarity.
Not every woman is going to be like mama, he’d told him. And at this moment, he sure hoped he was right.
Lucy finished up her song and bagpipes subsided—the only sound that followed was the creak of the swaying trees as the new breeze passed by. More than a few townsfolk wiped their eyes as one by one they stood and slowly made their way up to the house.
Several of the women from town and varying homesteads throughout the valley had worked together to provide a light luncheon for the folks who’d come to pay their respects. Lucas knew he should be out there greeting guests, thanking them, and introducing himself, but what was the point? He would just be leaving for Oregon in a few days and it wouldn’t matter if anyone in Thistleberry remembered him.
Quit wallowing, Deardon.
Knock. Knock.
Lucas looked up to see Sam leaning against the frame of the open door.
“What you said out there was real nice, Lucas.” His uncle stepped inside. “Brrr.” He shook his shoulders. “It’s freezing in here,” he said as he crossed the room, closed the window, and then moved to sit next to him on the bed. “You must know how much it meant to your granddad to have you here. He was very proud of the man you’ve become. Couldn’t stop talking about you the other night.”
“I’ve been trying to understand why Dad kept us away from him. From Whisper Ridge. What was so horrible that he couldn’t forgive? What drove him away?”
“That’s not an easy answer, kid.”
“Sure it is,” Uncle Hank said in a matter-of-fact tone as he stepped into the room. “Your father didn’t want to see the truth and in order to save his precious pride, he left.”
“The truth about what?” Lucas looked at Hank.
His uncle scrubbed at his stubbled neck with the backs of his fingers, but did not answer immediately. “Maybe it’s best you don’t know.”
“Best for who?”
“He’s got a right to know, Henry.”
It was the first time Lucas had e
ver heard anyone call his Uncle Hank by his given name.
“Let’s just say that your mother had one foot out the door long before she left for Chicago.”
“How’d you—”
“Your granddad told us.”
Lucas stood and faced both of his uncles. “I am not a child anymore. You can tell me what happened. Why did we leave? What? Did my mother try to get a job singing here?” He couldn’t imagine what was so hard to tell him.
What could possibly be that bad?
Hank stood up, threw his hands in the air, and stormed for the door. “Your mother tried to ruin everything. With Mara and me. She…She…” Hank shook his head.
“She crawled into Hank’s bed one night while Mara was out of town visiting her mother,” Sam finished for him. “But Mara came home early and found Lorna…in her bed. With a sleeping Hank.”
“I can’t listen to this again.” Hank stomped out of the room.
“Hank went immediately and told your pa, but Gabe wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t believe him. Couldn’t believe that the mother of his children and the love of his life could have done such a thing. He chose to believe the yarn that Lorna’d spun for him, claiming that Hank tried to take advantage of her.” Sam patted Lucas on the back. “They fought. Dad sided with Hank. Gabe left. End of story.”
Lucas felt like he should be surprised at Sam’s words, but somehow it all rang too true.
“But Mama walked out a long time ago. He had to have known what she was then. That Hank had been telling the truth. What kept him away after that?”
“Do you know your father at all?” Sam asked with a chuckle.
Lucas breathed a laugh. Gabe Deardon was a prideful man and his vanity had kept him separated from his family for the past fourteen years. Hell, it was what had separated all of them in the first place. Suddenly, Lucas felt sorry for his father. They had all missed out on so much. He dropped his head.
“I think it’s time for me to go home.” He sat up to look at his uncle.
Sam studied him, an undiscernible expression resting on his features. After a moment he nodded with a reassuring smile. “You are home, Lucas.” And with that, he stood up and crossed the room, pausing at the door and turning back to look at him. “Dad’s lawyer, Mr. Tacy, has called for a meeting so he can read the contents of your granddad’s will. He wants to begin at noon. Join us in the main study. If you still want to leave after that, I won’t stop you. But I might advise you to stay until spring. Wouldn’t want you to freeze to death on the trail. It is winter, after all.” His uncle bobbed his head. His pursed lips scrunched together as if he was trying to stop himself from saying more. With one last nod, he left, pulling the door closed behind him.
Reading Granddad’s will?
Lucas had only known the man five minutes. How could anything in Liam Deardon’s last testament make him stay?
Knock. Knock.
He glanced up, but when the door didn’t open immediately, he pushed himself up off the bed and swung it open wide, half expecting Seth and Daniel to coax him downstairs.
“We need to talk.” Lucy marched past him and into the room.
“Come on in,” he said to the empty hall. He turned to look at her and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair curled slightly, framing her face and falling in light disarray over her shoulders. Even with her arms folded and her lips absent of their natural curve, she was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“A man does not just propose marriage to a woman and then walk away.” Her chin raised as she turned slightly away from him.
“I’m not the one who walked away.” Heaven help him, but he liked seeing her flustered and off kilter. It made her a little more vulnerable and, he guessed, that didn’t happen very often.
“I’d made a prior commitment. To sing. At your grandfather’s wake!” Her voice grew louder as she spoke, then softened eerily. “What did you expect me to do?”
“Answer.” It was simple enough.
Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it again. She threw her arms up, her hands brushing the air before she dropped them to her sides. Her eyes flitted over his. “Mr. Deardon, I…”
Lucas closed the distance between them in a few purposeful strides.
“I think we’re beyond the formalities, don’t you? My name is Lucas.”
She bit her lip.
He groaned.
“I understand that you agreed to sing for my grandfather’s wake, and I feel bad that I didn’t even know that you could sing, but I have to know something.”
“Mr. Dear—” She put her hand up in front of her and closed her eyes. “Lucas, I…” she shook her head, her eyes unable to meet his.
He placed his crooked finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could see her clearly.
What are you doing, Deardon?
Alarm bells sounded in his head and he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. His heart pounded in his ears, his jaw flexed, and everything inside of him said he should step back, but he could not make himself pull his hand away from her.
“Tell me you don’t want to get married.” The intoxicating scent of citrus infused in her hair filled his nostrils as a light breeze worked through the house, blowing her tresses in wisps in front of him. “Tell me you dream of running away and singing on a big, fancy stage.” He captured her hand and pinned it to his chest. “Tell me you don’t think about me. Tell me you don’t want me,” he pleaded, “and I will leave for Oregon tomorrow and you will never see me again.”
Painstaking silence.
“I can’t tell you any of those things,” she finally whispered.
Damn.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lucy had come to Thistleberry, Montana, with every intention of marrying a perfect stranger, but she hadn’t expected the turn of events that would lead her to fall in love with Lucas Deardon. She looked up into his eyes and knew she could never deny the feelings that had taken root deep inside of her. What was she afraid of?
He waited an answer, his hand gently caressing her jaw and skimming her bottom lip. Her gaze moved from his eyes to his mouth.
Oh, my goodness. He’s going to kiss me.
The hand holding hers to his chest dropped to her waist, but she didn’t move, reveling in the feel of his taut muscles beneath his fancy buttoned shirt. As he bent his head down toward her, her breath caught in her ribs and she closed her eyes.
“Lucas,” a woman’s voice called from his doorway, “have you seen Lu…”
Lucy jumped back, her fingertips shooting to her mouth, brushing her lips.
“Well, this makes everything so much more interesting.” Mara leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest and a smile that claimed to know more than there was to tell.
“What do you mean more interesting?” Lucas asked, narrowing his eyes at his aunt.
“I mean, Gilroy Hearn is downstairs in the parlor room waiting to speak with his mail-order bride. You know, the man she was supposed to marry.”
Lucy didn’t dare look at Lucas. She hadn’t wanted him to find out this way. Not that there was much to tell. Liam had explained to her many times that her mail-order intended had run away with another woman and she was better off without the likes of him.
She hadn’t understood his reasons at the time for why he’d felt responsible, but he had provided more than she could have dreamed—a roof over her head, food to eat, gainful employment with a fair wage, and most importantly, his friendship. It was now comforting to know that he had been such an important part of her family’s history.
Gilroy Hearn?
What was the cowardly brute doing here now and what did he want with her? Didn’t he have a bride he needed to be looking after? She stepped toward the door and stopped.
Gilroy Hearn, she repeated in her mind. The more she thought about him, the angrier she became. How dare the man show his face here after everything he’d done? She g
lanced into the mirror, pinched her cheeks, and squared her shoulders.
“I’ll be right down.” To her annoyance, her voice cracked as she slipped around Lucas and out the door, ready to give Mr. Hearn a piece of her mind.
“I hope you’re not planning on letting her get away,” she heard Mara tell Lucas before she nearly tripped down the stairs.
She’d left Lucas yet again without an answer.
Coward. Stop being so wishy-washy. She’d come west to get married and waiting for the man she loved to say the right words in return was just plain silly. Yet, she knew she needed to hear them.
When she walked into the parlor, a man of average height and mousy brown hair stood staring at one of the photographs on top of the piano, his hat in his hand behind his back.
“Hello,” she called in greeting.
The man spun around to face her. “Miss Russell?” he asked, his brows raised and his voice higher than what she had expected.
“Yes, I am Lucy Russell. The mail-order bride you abandoned,” she said matter-of-factly. “How can I help you, Mr. Hearn?”
The man was better looking than she had expected, but there was an air about him that put her on guard.
He rushed forward and collected her hands in his, shaking them both with eagerness. “Please, call me Roy. Forgive me for not being at the stage to meet you. I was otherwise…detained.” He stood just a few inches taller than her, his hair was slicked back against his head, and a straggly line of whiskers, stretched thin above his lip, extended slightly beyond the width of his mouth.
“By a woman, I hear.” She wanted to retrieve the words the moment they were out of her mouth. They sounded quite snippety. Be polite, she reminded herself, forcing a cordial smile.
His face fell slightly as he let go of her hands, his brows scrunched together. “I guess my mama is a woman. She’s been real sick and needed someone to look after her.”
The Deardons Complete Mini-Series Page 19