Paradise Falls (22 page)

Reeling under the sting of this final humiliation, Fiona fled to her room, unaware that her reaction confirmed in everyone’s mind that she was grieving the loss of someone dear to her.

W
inter descended upon the land with all its fury, painting a bleak, bitter landscape. The fields of the Haydn farm, like the hills beyond, lay frozen under a blanket of ice and snow. The air was now so frigid it shot icy darts to the lungs of anyone who dared to breathe it in too deeply.

The only creature up and about when Fiona left for school each morning was Chester the hound, who roused himself from sleep in the hay to wag his tail from the doorway of the barn as she began her long, silent journey to school. Her students arrived in pony carts and sleighs, wrapped in fur robes and swathed in scarves that left only their eyes uncovered.

Each morning she and Will VanderSleet chopped through thick layers of ice in the creek to fill the buckets of water. Logs burned continuously during the day, and the children gathered close to the fireplace for warmth.

A simple visit to the outhouse required many minutes of preparation for her students, as they pulled on boots, coats, scarves, and mittens. When they returned, they stood in front of the fire until their backsides were warm enough to sit at a desk.

With each passing day Fiona grew more eager to escape the Haydn farm and take refuge in her work. Life in the Haydn house had become one of strained silences, broken only by the occasional quarrel between Rose and Broderick. Gray had become distant and sulky, and Fiona’s shy attempts to draw him into conversation had been met with defeat.

Though she had gone over every moment of that fateful morning in her mind, she could come up with no other logical explanation for his behavior except Flem’s kiss. Somehow Gray believed that she had invited it. What was worse, Flem’s words had been calculated to make his family believe that she had wanted to leave with him. But why? Was this retaliation for having rejected his advances? Or was there something more here? Could it be something deep and dark and hurtful between Flem and his brother that made him want to strike out in such a mean-spirited way, using her as the weapon?

She didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that Flem had succeeded in driving a wedge between her and Gray, or the fact that Gray thought so little of her.

This much Fiona knew. Flem had managed, in one simple act, to forever change those who loved him. The Haydn family, which had only recently begun to experience joy and laughter, were now even more subdued and distant than ever. Rose was so miserably lonely without Flem, who had been her only joy, that it seemed her poor heart was shattered beyond repair. The gulf between Rose and her husband seemed wider than ever, and she now found fault with everything Gray did, with even more venom than before.

Late at night, while Gray and his father sat in stony silence by the fire, and Rose brooded in the kitchen, Fiona huddled alone in her cold room and pondered how Flem could have done this to people he claimed to love. What made a person so occupied with self, he would pursue his own pleasures at any cost?

She had begun to surmise that it was something he’d learned at his mother’s knee. Once he’d discovered that his charming smite and insincere flattery could get him anything he wanted, he simply used those gifts on everyone he met.

She pushed aside thoughts of Flem. Added to her worry over the Haydn family was the fact that she’d received no letters from her mother in many weeks. She could think of only one reason why her mother wouldn’t write, and that was illness. The thought that her mother might be sick and suffering, far from the comforts of her familiar home and loving daughter, was almost more than Fiona could bear.

She drew the blanket around her shoulders and started yet another letter to her mother.

Dear Mum

You and Da would be so proud of the progress I’m making with my students. The two oldest lads, who were once at odds, have now become good friends, and the two of them have been helping me prepare the schoolroom each morning. All the students can now read at least a little, and they’re getting better at their sums.

I’m saving my money, Mum, so that when school is out I can send for you. I’m hoping I can find a room in town to rent, so that we can be together. I can’t wait to see you again. It’s been too long.

Fiona was horrified to see a tear slip onto the page and smear the words. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, before blotting the moisture from the paper.

With a sigh she put aside her letter and crawled into bed. It was so cold her teeth were chattering. She huddled under the blankets and prayed she could soon escape into blessed sleep.

* * *

Fiona was in her room preparing some challenges for her students. During these long, isolated days, without a brief respite outdoors, they tended to grow restless. She’d found that by challenging their minds, the hours flew by faster.

She looked up at the tap on her door and was surprised to hear Broderick’s voice calling her to supper. When she hurried to the kitchen she found Rose serving the table, and Broderick seated as his usual place.

She glanced around. “Aren’t we waiting for Gray?”

Rose, who had been sulking for days after a particularly bitter dispute with her husband, set a platter of wurst and sauerkraut in the middle of the table. “He knows what time we eat.”

Broderick helped himself to the food before passing the platter to Fiona. “He was taking a load of logs to town.”

“That’s no reason to be late for supper.” Rose snapped the kettle down on the stove. “Why can’t he think about the rest of us?”

Broderick sighed. “He can’t make the farmers who are buying the logs work faster, just because his mother wants him home for supper.”

Rose took her place at the table. “Then he ought to get an earlier start in the morning.”

“If he started any earlier it would be the middle of the night.”

Rose slapped the table. “Why must you always defend him?”

Broderick set down his fork. “Why must you always criticize him?”

The object of their discussion stomped up the steps and threw open the door, bringing with him a blast of frigid air. He had to lean against the door to secure it.

When the latch was fastened he turned. “Sorry I’m late.”

“And well you should be.” Rose glared at him “Your boots are leaking all over my clean floor.”

He removed them and set them on a rug by the backdoor before hanging his coat and scarf. While he rolled his sleeves and washed his hands in a basin he said, “I stopped by the station to see if Gerhardt had any mail.”

Rose touched a hand to her heart and Fiona could see that the poor woman was desperately awaiting the rest of his news.

Gray turned. Seeing them both watching him he shrugged. “I’m sorry. There was nothing.”

As he took his place at the table and reached for the platter Rose’s pent-up emotions exploded. She shoved away from the table and got to her feet, staring at her son as though he were a complete stranger. “I can’t bear this any longer.”

Gray and his father merely stared at her.

She paced to the stove, then back to her chair, while the others watched in silence.

“I can’t bear not knowing what has happened to Fleming.”

Broderick sat back in his chair. “What do you intend to do about it?”

Rose paced to the stove, turned, and walked back to the table. “Grayson must go to Chicago and find Fleming.”

“And where do you think I should look, Ma?” Gray filled his plate.

“Someplace where there is music and laughter.” She began pacing again, talking to herself. “Fleming is an accomplished pianist. By this time he will have secured himself a place to work and a place to live. If there is a symphony, perhaps he is working there. I’m sure his fellow musicians would help him find a clean, respectable place to live.” She nodded, pleased with the image that presented. “Yes, something fashionable. I’m sure of it.”

Gray began to eat, but before he’d managed two bites, his mother snatched the plate away. “How can you sit here and calmly eat when your brother may be going hungry?”

“You just said you believe he has a job and a place to live.”

“I pray it’s so.” She stalked to the stove and set aside Gray’s plate absently. “I need to know. I’ll die if I don’t know what’s happened to my son.”

“And what do you want me to do when I find him?”

She turned. Her eyes burned like twin flames, making her pallor even more pronounced. “You must convince him to come home.”

“You want him to leave his job with the symphony and his... fashionable quarters, and just come home?” He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sneer. “And if he won’t?”

She clenched her fists. “You’ve always been bigger and stronger. You can force him to come home with you.”

“Force him. You want me to toss him over my shoulder like a sack of grain and carry him home.” Gray turned to his father. “Is this what you want?”

Broderick gave a long, deep sigh. “I don’t know. If your mother is right, and he’s found his dream, I don’t believe he will return, even by force. But I want you to try. God knows, there’ll be no peace in this house until your mother is assured in her mind that Fleming is safe.”

Without a word Gray shoved away from the table and walked out of the room. Minutes later they could hear his footsteps as he climbed the stairs. Several hours later, when Fiona went to her bed, he was still in his room. Whether brooding or packing, no one knew.

* * *

As she did every morning, Fiona carried her lantern to the kitchen to fetch her lunch before leaving for the schoolhouse. Gray stood at the stove, filling a cup with strong hot tea. It gave her a jolt to see him, clean-shaven, his dark hair carefully combed, dressed in his Sunday best.

A frayed carpetbag stood by the door.

“It’s true then? You’re going to Chicago?”

He didn’t bother to turn around. “Was I given a choice?”

Fiona stood a moment, watching him lift the cup to his mouth and drink, all the while keeping his back to her.

From her pocket she withdrew the envelope she’d intended to leave on the kitchen table. “I’ve written my aunt’s name and address. I was hoping you might be willing to visit, just long enough to see why my Mum hasn’t written.”

He turned then and gave her a long, steady look. “How long has it been since you heard from her?”

“Christmas.” She carefully schooled her features and fought to keep her voice from trembling. “If she is ill, I need to be assured that she’s being cared for.”

“Of course.” He accepted the envelope just as Rose and Broderick stepped into the kitchen.

It was plain that they’d been arguing. Rose’s face was flushed, her mouth a thin, tight line of anger.

Like Gray, his father was dressed for traveling. “If you’ll fetch the wagon, Grayson, I’ll drive you to the station.”

“There’s no need, Papa. It’s dark, and you’ll have to return alone.”

The older man straightened his shoulders. “Old Strawberry and I know the way. We could make it there and back in our sleep.” He turned to Fiona. “We can drop you at the schoolhouse on our way.”

“That will take you too far out of your way, Mr. Haydn.”

“We have time.” He glanced at his son. “Go on now.”

Gray relented, knowing there was no way of changing his father’s mind. A short time later, when they heard the approach of the horse and wagon, Fiona and Broderick stepped outside and joined Gray on the high, hard seat.

Rose remained on the porch. Her voice was as brittle as the frozen branches of the trees in the yard. “Don’t come home without your brother.”

When Gray made no reply she shouted, “Do you hear me? Don’t come home without Fleming.”

Fiona shot a sideways glance at Gray, but was unable to read anything in his stony countenance. She thought of the tears and the almost loverlike embraces Rose had lavished on her younger son, yet for this son there wasn’t so much as a kind word as he embarked on the same journey.

Gray flicked the reins and the horse started forward. When Fiona turned, she could see that Rose had already fled the cold and had returned to the warmth of her kitchen.

“It’s just her way,” Broderick said softly.

Gray didn’t bother to respond.

They rode the rest of the way to the schoolhouse in silence. When Gray brought the horse to a halt, he climbed down and held out a hand to assist Fiona.

She stared up at him, wishing for something, anything, to ease the tension between them. In the end all she could manage was, “I wish you a safe journey, Gray.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best to find your mother.”

“I can’t ask any more than that. I’m grateful to you, Gray. I hope and pray you find her in good health.”

Hearing the way her voice trembled, he touched a hand to her arm and seemed about to say something. Seeing the hopeful way she was staring into his eyes, he took a step back and climbed up beside his father.

She stood watching as the wagon was swallowed up by the darkness. Soon the only thing she could see was the swaying of the lantern, until even that disappeared from sight.

“D
id I hear the wagon?” Rose nearly dropped the loaf of bread she was lifting from the oven. She set the pan down and hurried to throw open the backdoor, smoothing her hair and stripping aside her apron.

Fiona walked out onto the porch to stand beside her.

They had received word from Gerhardt Shultz that the train from Chicago would be arriving this day. Broderick had already driven the horse and wagon to town, leaving his wife to take out her nerves in the kitchen. She had been cooking since early morning, preparing all of Flems favorite foods. The air was perfumed with the fragrance of chicken and wurst, breads dark and light, and sauerkraut. Both a bundt and a strudel were cooling on the windowsill.

Rose shielded the thin winter sun from her eyes. “Do you see anything?”

Fiona nodded. “I do. Yes.”

Rose gave a nervous little laugh. “You see? I wasn’t imagining things.”