Dakota Born (23 page)

“Yes,” Lindsay answered. “You knew my grandparents?”

“Very well. Very well, indeed. Your grandmother was a brave woman.”

“Lindsay's living in her grandparents' old house,” Gage commented.

“What do you mean about my grandmother being brave?” Lindsay asked, leaning forward.

“I admired her deeply,” the priest continued.

“I did, too, but I didn't know her very well,” Lindsay said. “Were you close to her?”

He shook his head, obviously intending to say nothing more.

“But you called her brave,” Lindsay reminded him.

“For overcoming her unhappiness.” His answer was vague.

Gage watched as Lindsay grew still. “My grandmother was unhappy?”

Her remark seemed to take the old priest by surprise. “It was a long time ago, child, and best forgotten.”

“But I don't
want
to forget. I want to know everything there is to know about her.”

“It all took place during the war years…So many young men died.”

“Did my grandmother lose someone?” Lindsay's voice was intense.

“Lose someone? You mean a young man?” The priest shook his head. “No, no. Well, not exactly.”

After that, Father McGrath turned the conversation to other matters, despite Lindsay's attempts to ask him about her grandmother.

When dinner was finished, Leta and Father McGrath lingered over coffee talking quietly, while Kevin sat there looking bored. Gage took advantage of the opportunity to lean toward Lindsay. “Do you think Father McGrath might know something about that brick?” he whispered. “The hollow brick in your fireplace?”

Her eyes widened and she pressed her finger to her lips. “No one knows about that but you and me.”

“All right, I won't say any more.”

Eager to escape the conversation, which consisted mostly of stories about people who'd once lived in Buffalo Valley, Gage got up to leave the table. “I'm going out to check some equipment in the barn,” he said. “If you'll excuse me?”

“I'll go with you,” Lindsay volunteered.

“Me, too,” Kevin said with unmistakable relief.

His mother must have signaled Kevin not to join them because he sat back down with a shrug. “Never mind, I'll go with Gage another time.”

Fully dressed in their winter coats, Gage and Lindsay left the house, Tramp following on their heels. She buried her hands deep inside her pockets and had wrapped a muffler around her neck. A matching knit hat covered her head. Only her eyes were visible, and that was enough, possibly too much for Gage. She was watching him a little too intently, and he found it unnerving. Lindsay was only passing through Buffalo Valley—and his life. He didn't
want
to feel anything for her, but the attraction grew more intense with each meeting.

“I take it you don't want to talk about your grandmother,” he said abruptly, leading the way to the rear of the small apple orchard where he kept his bees.

“Why'd you kiss me?” she asked, ignoring his question.

If he had the answer to that, he would've been in town thirty minutes after she returned. Instead he'd waited, attempting to sort out his feelings before they talked again.

“Well?” she demanded.

“I don't know.” At least he was honest, whether she wanted to hear it or not.

“That's not good enough.”

“Fine. If you have a theory, I'd be pleased to hear it.”

“You didn't
plan
to kiss me?”

“Hell, no!”

“But you wanted me to come back to Buffalo Valley. You said so.”

“Yes.” He couldn't very well deny it.

“Why did you care, one way or the other?” Her voice was softer now.

“The school…”

“This has nothing to do with the school.” Her irritation was back.

“What do you want from me?” Gage muttered.

“The truth.”

He scoffed. “You don't want the truth. You can't deal with the truth.”

“The hell I can't.”

It seemed to him that she asked everything and offered nothing. “What are
you
looking for?” he shouted. “For me to lay my heart on the line—is that it? Sorry, you're too damn fickle for that. You love someone else, remember? Monte what's-his-face.”

His words were followed by a shocked silence. Then, “You're the most stubborn, unreasonable man I've ever met. Even more than Monte,” she muttered under her breath.

“Me?” Never in all his life had he met a more exasperating woman. “I'm not going to let you jerk me around, Lindsay, nor will I let you use me. You say you want to get over your old boyfriend so you don't want a relationship—fine, then don't give me come-hither looks. And don't expect everything to be on
your
terms. You want me to help dig up some old secret about your grandmother. No way. Leave me out of this.”

“
Come-hither looks?
How can you say such a thing?” she asked tightly.

Before he could answer, she turned to run back to the house. Gage started after her, but he really didn't know what he'd do if he actually caught up with her.

“Lindsay,” he called, wanting her to stop before she fell. “Lindsay, it isn't safe—”

He was too late. She stumbled in the hard snow, staggered a couple of steps and fell forward, catching herself with her hands.

He was at her side instantly. Before he could stop himself, he'd pulled her into his arms and he was hugging her and telling her how sorry he was.

His arms were around her and hers around him. Their breath rose like mist as they knelt in the snow clinging to each other with a desperation he'd never felt before.

“I kissed you because it's all I can think about,” he confessed.

“Don't you know?” she said, staring up at him, her eyes huge and so very blue. As blue as cornflowers in spring. “Kissing you is all I can think about, too.”

T
he conversation with Father McGrath had raised questions Lindsay couldn't leave unanswered. He'd told her Gina Snyder had been brave and that she'd been unhappy. But why? And about what? Lindsay had to believe Father McGrath knew more than he was telling. She suspected that whatever he'd left unsaid had to be linked to what she'd seen as a child.

Her memories of that summer's night remained vivid in her mind. The tears that streaked her grandmother's face had glistened in the moonlight. She'd wept as she held her treasure—whatever it was—before hiding it inside that hollow brick. It was gone now and Lindsay couldn't help wondering if her grandmother had found another hiding place. She'd looked everywhere she could think of and found nothing. But Lindsay knew she couldn't rest until she'd uncovered all she could.

With school and rehearsals for the play, plus the renovation of the theater, Lindsay didn't have a lot of time to dwell on it. She was gratified by the way everyone in town had mobilized to help the high school and to work on the theater. Hassie organized people, requesting their assistance and scheduling tasks. She'd talked Joshua into taking care of the lights, Gage and Dennis into doing carpentry chores, Sarah into repairing and cleaning the curtains. And so on…People in Buffalo Valley did not say no to Hassie. Lindsay had frequent meetings with her to discuss the theater's progress, and one day, when the opportunity presented itself, she asked about her Grandma Gina. Hassie hadn't lived in Buffalo Valley during the war years, but suggested Lindsay contact Lily Quantrill, a longtime friend of Gina's. At Hassie's request, Heath had kindly approached his grandmother, who'd agreed to talk to Lindsay that weekend.

Luckily—despite his earlier assertions about wanting nothing to do with her search—Gage was willing to help her. He arrived early Saturday morning to drive her into Grand Forks.

“I made us a thermos of coffee for the drive,” Lindsay said, when she opened her front door. Although they'd talked since Sunday, planning this excursion into the city, Lindsay felt shy around him. She could hardly believe the things she'd said and done. He'd shouted that she was fickle, that he wasn't willing to lay his heart on the line for her—so she'd handed him hers. They'd held each other in the snow, kissed until she thought she'd melt, then returned to the house, holding hands.

His mother had immediately noticed the change in their attitudes toward each other and all but crowed with delight.

Lindsay didn't know where their relationship was leading, but after much reflection decided it wasn't necessary to be sure of the future. Her relationship with Monte had made her cautious and somewhat insecure about her own judgment. For now, she liked spending time with Gage, enjoying his wit and his friendship, and was grateful for his help in deciphering her grandmother's secret.

“You talked to Lily Quantrill?” Gage asked.

“Last night,” Lindsay said. “I told her to expect us about ten this morning.”

Gage glanced at his watch. “Then we'd better leave now.”

“I'm ready.” She reached for her coat, muffler, gloves and hat. She hadn't appreciated what it meant to be cold—really cold—until she'd moved to Buffalo Valley. She'd bought an insulated coat and boots through the Land's End catalog; everything else had been given to her. So far, anyway, she was well equipped to deal with snow and cold.

“I thought we'd go out for lunch when we're finished,” Gage said as he helped her to his truck cab.

“That would be a real treat.” She needed to be back for rehearsals at three that afternoon. She was also scheduled to meet with Sarah Stern to discuss costumes and props. Sarah had been in to talk to the class on Friday and had brought a recently completed quilt, as well as some books that showed different quilt patterns; she'd also brought examples of the natural dyes she used. The students were enthralled, as was Lindsay. Sarah had graciously agreed to let them use one of her quilts in the Christmas production.

Lindsay found Gage studying her, and he looked so damned sexy it was all she could do to keep from kissing him. She laughed and Gage glanced in her direction. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I'm happy, that's all.”

“I am, too,” he said with a grin.

“I'm excited about this morning,” Lindsay admitted. “This is the first real chance I've had to learn anything new about my grandmother. My dad just doesn't know any of this history.”

“Well…I hope Mrs. Quantrill can answer your questions.”

“So do I.”

As promised, Lily Quantrill was waiting for them in her suite on the top floor of the retirement center. She sat regally in her wheelchair, a crocheted blanket over her lap. Her hands, gnarled and veined, rested on the arms of the chair.

“You want to ask me about your grandmother?” Lily asked, before Lindsay had a chance to sit down. Clearly this woman wasn't one to waste time on idle chatter.

“Yes,” Lindsay said, “if you don't mind telling me about her.”

“You wouldn't be here if I did,” the older woman muttered. “Now, what do you want to ask?”

“How well did you know her?”

“We grew up together, and I considered her one of my dearest and closest friends.” She gestured imperiously. “Sit down, sit down.”

“Could you tell me about the war years?” Lindsay asked as she perched on a small, elegant couch. Gage sat stiffly beside her, obviously uncomfortable on such a feminine piece of furniture.

The old woman paused and looked quickly from Lindsay to Gage, then back to Lindsay. “You know about that, do you?”

“No,” Lindsay responded, then regretted her honesty. If she pretended she knew, she might learn something that Lily Quantrill would otherwise be unwilling to tell her. “I was hoping you'd explain…”

Mrs. Quantrill paused, apparently choosing her words carefully. “Did you know she was in love with Jerome Sinclair?”

“My grandfather?” Gage said, his shock causing him to sit even straighter.

“I assumed that's why you're here,” Lily snapped.

“I didn't know,” Gage said unnecessarily. His gaze sought out Lindsay's. “They were never married.”

“There's a very good reason for that, if you'll give me a chance to continue.” Lily Quantrill spoke in a softer voice as she began her story. “Gina Colby was smitten with Jerome from the time she was in junior high. In seventh grade, she told me she planned on marrying him one day. I remember I laughed and asked her if Jerome knew about that.” She smiled at the memory, lost for a few moments in an era long past. “Gina told me Jerome loved her, too, only he didn't know it yet. Can you imagine? But I'll tell you what. She was right.” Lily shook her head. “We were all so young at the time. Jerome was a couple of years older than Gina and me. He was a tall, skinny kid, but none of us had much to eat back then.

“That was during the dust bowl years, during the Great Depression, and we were all so poor we didn't have two nickels to rub together. People today don't understand what it was like to live in those times.”

“I'm sure that's true,” Lindsay said, not wanting to get sidetracked. “You said there was a good reason my Grandma Gina didn't marry Gage's grandfather.”

“There was.” She paused, and a sadness entered her eyes. “Gina thought he was dead.”

Gage reached for Lindsay's hand and held it tightly. “My grandfather was captured by the Japanese in 1943 and kept in a POW camp for two years,” he said hoarsely.

“All Gina learned was that Jerome was missing in action. We both knew what that meant. She grieved for him something fierce and even took sick for a time. Her mother was beside herself, not knowing how to help her. She was afraid Gina might die from her grief.”

“How long was it before she married my grandfather?”

Lily closed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe six months. Maybe even a year. Anton had been exempted from the war for medical reasons. He farmed with his father and that was his contribution to the war effort. He'd always loved Gina and pursued her for months before she agreed to see him. She seemed like a new woman after she married Anton Snyder.”

“Then the war ended and my grandfather returned to Buffalo Valley,” Gage said without emotion.

Lily nodded. “By that time, Brian had been born—Lindsay's dad—and Gina and Anton had settled down on the farm. Anton had taken over from his father, and the two of them made a good life for themselves.”

“Did she and Jerome ever talk about it?” Lindsay asked. She could imagine her grandmother's shock at discovering he was alive. Her shock and his pain. It hurt to think of what they must have endured, loving each other all those years and then pulled apart by war.

“They must've sorted everything out…eventually. Whatever was said remained between the two of them, but I know the early months were difficult for them both. Gina had no way of finding out that Jerome had survived. The Japanese hadn't released his name. It'd been over two years, and he'd already been through one hell only to return home to another.”

“That must be why Father McGrath called her brave,” Lindsay said, thinking aloud. “She was married to my grandfather, and yet all those years she loved another man.”

“I believe Gina always held a special place in her heart for Jerome, but he was the love of her youth. As a woman, an adult, the man she genuinely loved was Anton, always Anton. She pledged her life to him and her heart, and she stood true to her vows. The years proved that.”

“But Gina and Jerome—they still lived in the same place!”

A faraway look came over Lily Quantrill. “I suppose that sounds strange to you young people, but those days weren't like times now, when vows mean nothing. Gina was married to Anton and bore his sons. While it might seem hard to believe, both Jerome and Gina lived in this community, raised their children, went on with their lives. They didn't have any choice.”

“What about my grandfather?” Gage asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Was he happy?”

“It's difficult to say, but I think so. It wasn't easy for him when he came home. He was bitter when he found Gina married, but he didn't hold it against her.” She paused, shaking her head. “The war had been hard on him. He'd never been much of a talker, but he grew even quieter afterward. He eventually married your grandmother Molly, and it's my belief that he found his own peace…and eventually, happiness.”

Gage and Lindsay left ten minutes later, declining coffee. On the drive into Grand Forks, they had talked and laughed, but now both were silent.

“She loved your grandfather,” Lindsay finally whispered. “I know she did.”

“In her own way.”

Lindsay stared down at her hands, weighing her thoughts. “I…I don't suppose it would do any harm to tell you now.”

“Tell me what?”

“How I knew about the brick.” She hesitated, recalling that long-ago promise. She'd told her grandmother she wouldn't tell and had kept her word all these years.

“Lindsay?”

“I…promised her.”

“What?”

“I promised I wouldn't tell, but it was your grandfather…You have a right to know.”

Gage reached for her hand. “It's fine. It doesn't matter.”

She nodded, grateful for his understanding. “She loved him, Gage, more than we'll ever know. For years she wept for him. I'm sure what Mrs. Quantrill said about her loving my grandfather was true, but her heart belonged to her first love. I'm absolutely certain of it.”

Inexplicable tears filled her eyes and she glanced away, not wanting Gage to see. But he must have noticed because he pulled into a vacant lot and shut off the engine.

“Lindsay.” Her name was the gentlest of whispers.

She turned to him then, and he took her in his arms and held her close.

They clung tightly together, as if holding on to each other now would make up for what their grandparents had lost half a century ago. They didn't speak. They didn't need to.

 

Joanie waited until Saturday night, when the children were asleep, before she approached Brandon.

The television blared out the laugh track of a situation comedy as she carried her husband a mug of coffee. He sat in the living room, shoeless feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Can we talk?” she asked, sitting on the edge of his chair.

He looked away from the television with obvious reluctance. “About what?”

She reached for the remote control and turned off the television. “This is serious, Brandon.”

“All right,” he said, dropping his feet to the floor, tensing. He straightened, his shoulders as stiff and unbending as his stubbornness.

“I need to ask you something.”

“If it's about Christmas—”

“This has nothing to do with Christmas.” Her husband had already made it plain that it would be a meager holiday season. Each of the children would get one gift. He and Joanie wouldn't exchange gifts at all, not with each other. Not with anyone. Joanie wouldn't be doing the normal holiday baking, either. This Christmas there was nothing to celebrate, as far as Brandon was concerned.