Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02] (10 page)

Tavin turned the chisel and raised the sledgehammer again to strike and drive the steel deeper into the granite. A splitting line of holes had been placed by the quarry master, the first steps in the long process to break the block of stone away from the larger mass. About six inches apart, the holes were drilled approximately three inches deep. Next, iron wedges would be used along with pieces called feathers—long narrow shims—to widen the hole and further encourage a break along the so-called cleavage plane. Granite was easy to process in this manner, and the breaks were usually quite clean.

“Make sure you get these chisels to Smithy,” he told Jimmy, one of the younger men. The blond-haired youth looked up and nodded. Each of the quarries had a blacksmith on-site. The man was probably the most valuable of all the employees, since it was his job to keep the tools sharpened and in good repair.

Tavin finished and pulled the chisel out. He reached for a dust spoon and cleaned the rock bits from the hole. It was just deep enough. Jimmy was already positioning the shims, and Tavin would soon begin the process of driving the wedges.

“Here’s the last of ’em,” Tavin said, tossing the boy his chisel. “Bring up another set when you come back.”

“Sure thing.” The young man hurried to collect the chisels and darted off the rock and up a wooden ladder.

Tavin rubbed his hands and winced at the blisters that had formed. His hands were naturally calloused from hard work, but drilling the rock always brought about sore spots that he never experienced with other activities. He wiped them against his bare chest, dampening them from the sweat that had formed. The moisture seemed to ease the pain a bit.

The sun overhead bore down and heated the rock around him. Tavin remembered days long past when he would quarry along with his father for other owners. The work was always exhausting. Tavin had little satisfaction in quarry work—unlike stone carving. Carving designs and artistic script into stone gave Tavin a sense of accomplishment. It was akin to leaving a part of himself in the rock. Cutting stone from the ground, as he was doing just now, was not as creative. Who knew where this rock would end up? Who knew how it would be used?

“Gawking off like that won’t get the stone cut.”

Looking up, he found his younger brother, Gillam, standing on the ledge some ten feet above. Tavin crossed his arms and shrugged. “I’m playing foreman.” He grinned at his brother. “Isn’t that how it’s done?”

Gillam laughed. “Nah, you aren’t in the shade. Any foreman worth his salt knows to get out of the sun. That’s how I do it.”

Tavin laughed, too, and stretched his arms over his head. “Then you’d do well to get back to your shade and leave me be. I have real work to do.”

“Aye. I can see that well enough. I did come with a purpose, however. Father wants to see you. He said to leave what you’re doing.”

Tavin relaxed and reached for his shirt. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Gillam nodded and disappeared from view. Tavin couldn’t help but wonder what his father wanted from him. It wasn’t like him to take a man from his job in the middle of the day.

“Maybe he’s reconsidered my promise,” Tavin muttered to himself. “Maybe he’s come to realize how impossible this situation is.”

“As ye know, there’s an outbreak of measles in the area,” Tavin’s father began. “Ye lads took the disease when ye were young.”

Tavin exchanged a look with his brother, Gillam. “Aye, we did. So what is this about?”

“Yer mither fears the wee lads have taken the sickness. She’s not quite sure, but her suspicions are usually correct.” Robert MacLachlan dusted off his trousers and picked up a sheaf of papers. “Ne’ertheless, we must see to this granite. Yer mither thinks it might be well if we were to remain here at the quarry in case the doctor puts them in quarantine. I figure to have some cots put up here in the office. We can warm our meals on the stove.”

“Won’t Mother need some help?” Tavin asked.

His father shook his head. “She dinnae want to risk exposin’ us in case it turns out to be somethin’ other than measles. We’ll know soon enough. We’re already down a man here at the quarry—Harry Withers. Could be Harry has taken the measles or some other malady. I cannae be sure.”

“We’ll just have to make do,” Gillam said, shoving back
an errant lock of hair. He looked very much like Tavin and their father with his dark hair and green eyes. The worry in his expression matched that of his father’s. “I will stay here. I don’t want to cause danger to Irene or the babe she carries.”

Father nodded and Tavin did likewise. “I don’t much care where I sleep,” Tavin said with a shrug. “I’ve certainly had worse than this.”

“There’s somethin’ else. A wee matter of the union officials and their desires to see all of the quarries belongin’ to the Stonecutters.”

Tavin shrugged. “Is that such a bad idea?”

“I dinnae ken,” his father replied. “I’ve been on both sides of this, and I cannae say either one has all the answers. The man I bought this place from was of a mind that no man would tell him how to set his prices. The men aren’t used to bein’ a part of the union, but I cannae say they would be against it.”

“I think it’s something to consider,” Tavin replied. “The unions have helped to get hours regulated and pay increases. Of course, in the past we’ve been on the side of the laborer, and now you’re the owner. I suppose it could make a big difference.”

“Aye,” his father agreed, giving the papers in his hand a wave. “Of course, there could be trouble. We’ve already had some problems, and there’s no way of knowin’ for sure if the union was to blame or not, but it could be their way of scarin’ us into sayin’ yes.”

Tavin considered his father’s words a moment, but it was Gillam who spoke up. “I suppose we keep prayin’ about the right way to go, Father. You said yourself that was the best way to gain wisdom.”

“Aye, that I did.”

That solution wasn’t one Tavin wanted to dwell on. Since losing Emmalyne Knox, he’d given up on God answering his prayers. He picked up his cap and headed for the door. “You two figure out what’s to be done about the unions. I’m going to get back to work.”

Tavin opened the door and came face-to-face with Luthias Knox. The older man seemed surprised to find Tavin there and did nothing to hide it.

“What’re ye doin’ here?” Luthias asked with a scowl.

Nodding toward the office, Tavin said only one word before pushing past the older man. “Business.”

Emmalyne tried hard to pique her mother’s interest in basket weaving, but nothing she said seemed to raise her spirits. “There are plenty of lakes around here and fishing is quite popular, Mother. Just think of it. We might even be able to raise enough money for a trip to see Aunt Eileen.” This sparked a hint of interest in her mother’s expression, and while Emmalyne was heartened by her response, she was also fearful she might be encouraging her mother in a direction that would only mean another sorrow and disappointment.

“It would take a great many baskets to earn enough for such an endeavor.” Mother frowned and shook her head. “Besides, your father would never be lettin’ us go. You heard him—he thinks it a waste of money and time.”

“But if we raised the funds ourselves, he couldn’t complain about the cost,” Emmalyne countered, hoping it was true.

“He could and he would. You know how he is.”

Emmalyne couldn’t deny that. She took a seat at the table
opposite her mother and leaned closer. “Why did you ever marry such a man? You have always been a loving and kind soul. It seems strange that you should marry someone so harsh and cold.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d thought them through, and Emmalyne suddenly wished she could take them back.

Her mother gave a sad smile. “Weren’t always so. Luthias was a good and loving lad in his youth. There wasn’t a man around who could steal my heart away from him.”

Imagining her father as a loving and kind youth was difficult for Emmalyne. “What happened to make him so heartless, then? I’ve never known a time when he wasn’t this way. It’s only gotten worse as the years go by.”

“You know that your father blames me for the death of . . . of the girls.” Her mother’s thoughtful expression sobered. She looked Emmalyne in the eye. “He also blamed me for the death of his family. I’m the one who encouraged him to run away and for us to be wed. We were madly in love, and it wasn’t hard to convince him.”

“Were your parents against the wedding?”

“Not so much that, but I was just sixteen. They wanted me to wait another year or two, and I was unwilling to hear their arguments.” Mother looked at her hands and the slender gold band she wore. “I loved Luthias with all of my heart, and he loved me. We didn’t wish to wait for any reason.”

“So you ran away together.” Emmalyne had always known of her parents’ elopement, but her mother had never offered many of the details.

“We did. Your father came for me just after midnight. I had packed a bag and left it near the privy. When he came, I slipped from bed and snuck out the window, wearing nothing
but my nightdress.” She smiled at this memory. “It was quite chilly and damp. The weather almost changed my mind.”

“But it didn’t,” Emmalyne interjected.

Her mother looked up. “No. It didn’t. Luthias promised me that his love would warm me and keep me safe. I told him I’d just as soon put on my dress and boots. He laughed at me and collected my bag. We were well away from the house, however, before I stopped to dress.”

“It sounds as though Father was quite different then.”

“He was. He was happier. He laughed and enjoyed life.” She paused to gaze out the window. “But then the fire took his family.”

“Tell me about it, Mother. What happened?”

“No one could say for certain, but the house caught fire in the night and took the lives of all within. Luthias was devastated at the news. We had just returned to announce our marriage and planned to tell his folks first. We knew they would assume that was what had happened, and they weren’t nearly so against us marryin’ as were my folks. We selfishly thought to have an easier time of it with them and maybe even get their help in explaining the matter to my family.”

“But they were dead?”

“Aye. Luthias and I went out to his family’s farm, where we were met by the neighbors who told us the sad tale. I stayed with them while Luthias rode on to survey the scene for himself. He came back a changed man. He hardly spoke two words to anyone. There was a funeral that week, and we buried his father and mother, two younger sisters, and a brother. He didn’t speak a word during the entire service, and even afterward he remained silent as people paid their respects.”

“Like he did when we buried Doreen and Lorna,” Emmalyne whispered, remembering her father’s stoic silence.

Mother fell silent for a moment, and just as Emmalyne thought the story had concluded, she began to speak again. “It wasn’t until nearly two weeks later that he said to me what had happened was my fault. He told me that if I hadn’t convinced him to elope, he would have been with his family and could have gotten them to safety.”

“But there was no way of knowing that,” Emmalyne protested. “He might have been killed, as well.”

“I said as much, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead, he left me with my parents and went to deal with his parents’ farm. My mother was beside herself. She feared I might be with child and that Luthias would never return. But I wasn’t expecting, nor would I be for a time. Your father wouldn’t even touch me.”

Emmalyne could only imagine the heartache of a young woman, deeply in love, who then was rejected for something over which she had no control. Her mother’s pain must have been quite overwhelming.

“What happened to the farm?” Emmalyne asked.

“He had to sell it. Your father took a terrible loss on the land, but he used the money to set us up in a little place near a quarry. He used some of the money to buy tools and apprenticed himself to learn the business of quarrying stone. However, once the quarry master learned your father was an educated man, he approached the owner about other possibilities for Luthias. Your father was soon taken from the laborious work and put into the office, where he was taught to keep the books. This was more to his liking. He didn’t have to work with the other men or even see them except
on paydays. He preferred it that way, and he seemed to grow even more stern and hard.

“I finally worked up my nerve to ask about his coldness,” Mother continued. “He told me I was to keep the house and the wash, cook his meals, and tend to his needs . . . but above all, I was to do it in silence. He said he might have made the mistake of being caught in my spell, but he would right the matter in his own way.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

“By taking away his love?”

Her mother nodded. “I cannot even tell you what he was thinkin’,” she said, her lips trembling. “I suppose he thought the spirits of his family members might be appeased by his sacrifice of being miserable. All I could do was stand by and watch . . . and . . . endure his anger.”

“As we’ve all had to do.” Emmalyne reached out to touch her mother’s hand. “I am sorry, Mother. I didn’t ask about this to cause you more pain. I’ve just needed to understand why Father is the way he is. I’ve often seen other fathers show tenderness and affection, and I’ve wondered why I was denied it. I thought I had done something grievous to cause Father to act in such a manner.”

“Nae, ’twas never you, Emmalyne. Oh, for sure he was disappointed when I gave him a third girl-child, but it wasn’t so much about you as it was my failing. Always it’s been about my failings.” Mother bowed her head. “I oft wish I’d ne’er been born, or that the good Lord would take me now . . . or give me the strength to . . .” She fell silent.

Emmalyne winced and wondered if her mother was contemplating ending her life.

“You used to tell me that our being here on earth was proof that our work was not yet done,” Emmalyne said carefully.
“That God was still using us to further His will. Obviously He has a plan in all of this for you, or you wouldn’t be here, Mother.”

She raised her gaze. “Unless this is my hell . . . my punishment.”

“And is that how God would treat His children . . . His faithful? You have remained true to Him throughout all the agonies and losses. Surely God honors your love and faith, rather than punishes it.”

“I would like to think so,” Mother replied. “But no one knows the mind of God. We have no right to question why He allows such pain.”

“Perhaps we have no right,” Emmalyne said, “but surely He is a loving Father and allows for His children to seek answers and wisdom. Would He punish us for our questions? Our doubts? Did not even Jesus allow for doubts when Thomas demanded to touch the wounds in His hands and side? As I see it, Scripture is full of times when people questioned God and asked for understanding. God is a loving Father. You have told me so since I was a little child at your knee. How is it that He is less than so with you, Mother?”

She saw her mother’s pain-filled expression soften. “Yes, He is a loving Faither. You are right to remind me of it. I suppose the sorrows of life have caused me to doubt that.”

“Then we must do what we can to put those sorrows in their place,” Emmalyne said, getting to her feet. “I wonder if you might take a walk with me. The doctor said that fresh air and exercise in the sunlight would do you good. I plan to walk to the MacLachlans. I thought by now they would have dropped in to see us, but since they have not, I believe it would be the right thing for us to do.”