Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02] (6 page)

She put the brush down and went to the front door. “Oh, it’s Father and . . .” She fell silent at the sight of Mr. MacLachlan. Tavin had always favored him, and even now the resemblance was enough to silence her. Emmalyne swallowed hard. “It’s Mr. MacLachlan.”

“Oh dear. You must help me back to bed. I can’t be welcoming people in my condition.” Mother was already struggling to her feet.

Emmalyne returned to assist her mother, but found she was nearly to the bedroom. Rowena could move quickly enough when she needed to; perhaps her condition wasn’t quite as serious as they’d thought. Emmalyne decided she would allow her mother to get herself back to bed while she saw to the matter of welcoming their guest.

Her father halted the wagon and met Emmalyne’s curious gaze as she stepped out onto the porch.

“We’ve brought a few needed items,” he said, motioning to the back of the wagon.

Emmalyne saw several crates, and upon closer inspection found they held laying hens. She looked beyond that and saw that her father had procured an icebox. It was quite unlike him to even concern himself with such things, much less spend money on such a luxury.

“Well, if it isn’t little Emmalyne,” Robert MacLachlan said, stepping down from his horse. “Lass, ye do me heart good. Yer the very picture of springtime.”

Emmalyne couldn’t help but smile. “More like autumn with my red hair.”

“Perhaps,” he said, grinning. “’Sakes, Luthias, but ye ought nae keep such a beauty hidden away. She’s a right bonny lass.”

Emmalyne blushed. “And how are you, Mr. MacLachlan?”

“I’ve fared well enough. Morna too. Ye’ll come to visit?”

“Aye,” she replied.

“Visitin’ will have to wait,” her father interjected. “There’ll be more than enough work to keep her hand to.”

“Aye,” Emmalyne said again. She looked to her father’s stern face. “I see you’ve brought us an icebox.”

“We had an extra,” MacLachlan said before her father could respond. “Chickens too. And yer guid faither bought a milk cow.”

Emmalyne was more than surprised by this news. Just then the cow bellowed mournfully as if in greeting, and Emmalyne stretched on tiptoe to find it tied at the back of the wagon. It certainly would be nice to have a milk cow, but with no one but herself to care for such a beast, she knew her workload had just been significantly altered.

“She’s missin’ her wee one,” MacLachlan offered. “Sold the little fella only last week.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll make a fine addition to our family. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to milk a cow myself, but I’m sure it will all come back to me.”

Mr. MacLachlan laughed. “Ye ne’re forget such useful things. I’ll untie her and put her in the barn. The hens, as well. Ye can do with ’em as ye like.”

What she would like would be to go back to having no chickens and no cow, but since they lived a good distance from town, it was probably best that they keep both.

The two men made short order of the work, and by the time they brought the icebox into the house, Emmalyne was ready for them. She had a substantial area of the kitchen walls already whitewashed and a nice little spot for the icebox.

“I put some ice in it afore we came,” MacLachlan said as he patted the top. “Ought to be guid and cold.”

Emmalyne nodded. “Thank you.” She saw Mr. MacLachlan give her a glance and then look away, muttering something about it being a pity. She wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but it made her feel sad.

“It was guid of ye to help me,” Emmalyne’s father told his friend. “I’m sure we’ll be better for it.”

Feeling a bit uncomfortable with Mr. MacLachlan’s expression as he watched her, Emmalyne hurried to interject, “Would you like some tea or perhaps a scone? I baked them fresh this morning.”

Emmalyne waited for Mr. MacLachlan to respond, but he said nothing. He now was busy surveying the walls she had completed.

“I feel bad that we could nae make this place ready for ye. I knew it would need a good bit of work. We did get the pump runnin’ well. Water ought nae be a problem.”

“It’s not,” she assured him.

“’Tis no matter, Rabbie,” her father declared. “The lass is quite capable.”

“Aye, that she is.” Tavin’s father turned his gaze back to her. His eyes looked so like Tavin’s.

Without even thinking, Emmalyne asked, “Do you ever hear from Tavin?”

Her father frowned and grunted something about the wagon. He left the room before Robert MacLachlan had a chance to speak. Emmalyne was just as glad he did. She was embarrassed at having blurted out such a question.

“We get a letter from time to time, but Tavin ne’re seems to stay put for long. He was well the last time I heard.”

She nodded, realizing that to ask anything more would be unseemly. “And Fenella? Is she doing well?”

The man’s countenance changed, and a frown crossed his face. “I’m afraid she’s been quite unwell.”

“Oh no!” Emmalyne searched his face. He seemed unwilling to discuss the matter further, so Emmalyne didn’t pry. “I am sorry to hear that. I hope to make a visit to see her and Mrs. MacLachlan soon.”

“I’m sure Morna will be lookin’ forward to that.”

Without another word he turned to go. At the door he gave her a smile and looked as if he were going to say something, then must have thought better of it and departed. Emmalyne couldn’t help but wonder what he had wanted to add. Maybe he wanted to say something more about Tavin but knew her father would be displeased. Emmalyne frowned and turned back to the new icebox. She touched it rather tenderly, idly wondering if perhaps Tavin had used it at one time.

Her mind was filled with images of the dark-haired young man with his thick brown-black brows and green eyes. She was sure those eyes had been able to look straight through to her soul. How she missed him. Seeing his father only deepened her longing. How could it be that a woman could love a man so fiercely? Had she ever seen such love between her mother and father?

Years of longing and separation had toyed with her heart. Emmalyne hurried to busy her hands. Stop thinking about the past.

Stop thinking of what might have been.

Stop thinking of . . . Tavin.

Tavin MacLachlan sat quietly contemplating a now-tepid cup of coffee. All around him boisterous, rowdy men guzzled ale and told tales of hard times at sea. The ancient dockside tavern was no stranger to these men. If the walls could speak they would no doubt retell tales from a half-century ago. Tales of lives lost to rogue waves and acts of bravery that would rival Greek myths.

“You want somethin’ to put in that coffee?” the barkeep asked, looking hard at Tavin and awaiting his response.

“No. I’m just waitin’ to board the
Liza Jane
. Shouldn’t be much longer.” Tavin knew the man was concerned that little money would be made by Tavin’s patronage, but he didn’t really care.

The bartender shrugged and moved to the other end of the bar. Tavin downed the cooled coffee and slammed the mug down harder than he’d intended. His heart was torn between seeing this thing through and running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Going home to St. Cloud wasn’t something he’d planned to ever do again. The place was filled with memories that haunted him and refused to leave him at peace. It didn’t
matter that his parents had moved to a new house situated on the quarry land his father had purchased only a year ago—or was it two now? Why his father had given up the freedom of working for whomever he chose to manage his own business was beyond Tavin. Sure, working for yourself had its advantages, but disadvantages were many. There was no getting away from the greater responsibility that came with being in charge. It was something Tavin had learned more than once. He neither enjoyed being the boss nor sought it, but his natural leadership skills seemed to always put him in that role.

A brief scuffle across the room drew Tavin’s attention. Two large men seemed bent on pummeling each other, but then just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. The men laughed heartily, slapped each other’s backs, and returned their attention to their drinks.

“So where are you bound on the
Liza Jane
?”

Tavin looked up to find the barkeep had returned. “Heading west.”

“A lot of folks answer that call. You goin’ out to the Wild West to start a ranch?” the man asked with a cocky grin.

“No. I’m Minnesota bound.”

The man considered the answer a moment. “Never been. What’s it like?”

Tavin had no desire to continue the conversation. He put down a coin for the coffee and got to his feet. “Quiet,” he said, reaching for his bag.

Outside, the bright sunlight made a sharp contrast to the darkness of the tavern. Tavin had to blink several times in order for his eyes to adjust. He walked to where the
Liza Jane
was berthed and noted that the crew had finished loading her.

There’s still time to change your mind
, a voice seemed to whisper in his ear.

He shook his head. He’d deserted his family before when times weren’t nearly so bad. Now with his sister gravely ill and his father injured, they needed him. His brother, Gillam, wasn’t able to manage the business alone. Of course, the last letter he’d had was some months earlier. Could be things were much better now.

Or they could be much worse.
Again the nagging voice pierced his thoughts.

Guilt washed over him. Tavin knew he’d not been a good son to his parents. He hadn’t bothered to keep in touch very often to let his poor mother know that he was still alive and well. He was lucky to get a letter off to them twice a year, and usually it was from a different location, which he did not explain. The fact that this latest letter from them had caught up to him had been something of a miracle. Months old, the letter had found its way to him through some associates who happened to locate Tavin quite by accident. By the time they forwarded the letter, even more time had passed.

He had thought about trying to telephone someone in the St. Cloud area or sending his mother a telegram to learn more about his father’s condition, but it seemed an unnecessary expense. Besides, his parents lived far beyond the city limits and wouldn’t have a telephone. Who would he call? He didn’t know much of anyone in St. Cloud. After all, he’d been gone for nearly eleven years. He brushed away his concern for his father. Worrying wouldn’t change a thing.

“We’re ready to board our passengers,” a ship’s steward announced through a megaphone. “Please make your way forward and have your ticket in hand.”

Tavin slung his bag over his shoulder and reached into his pocket. He presented the ticket and waited for the man to look it over. The steward raised a brow at the lack of cabin assignment but said nothing. He no doubt knew that the captain of this steamer was more than happy to make a few extra dollars selling tickets to those who were willing to sleep on deck. So long as the Great Lakes and the weather cooperated with them, Tavin figured it would be an easy enough journey even without a room of his own.

The man directed Tavin to the appropriate deck and turned to the next passenger. Without another word, Tavin boarded the ship and went in search of a comfortable place to bide his time. He glanced down at the deck and pondered the days to come. Not looking where he was going, he ran headlong into a young woman.

“Oh my!” the redhead declared. Her bonnet slid to one side, and she quickly put up her hand to secure it.

“I apologize, ma’am,” Tavin said, tipping his own hat. He was startled for a moment at the woman’s brilliant blue eyes. They were so like Emmalyne’s that he nearly reached out to touch the young woman’s face.

“It’s all right,” she assured him. “I’m no worse for the wear.” She smiled and made her way past him to the rail.

Tavin couldn’t help but look after her for a moment. The color of the stranger’s hair was several shades lighter than Emmalyne’s and she was clearly younger. Nevertheless, the woman brought back a flood of memories that Tavin would have just as soon left alone.

He remembered every detail of the last time he’d gazed into Emmalyne’s eyes. It had been the night he’d asked her to elope. He’d been so angry that her father had put an end
to their engagement he could barely think straight. Luthias Knox had no right to put such a demand on his daughter, denying the couple their plans to start a life together.

“And she had no right to break my heart,” he muttered, not willing to even speak her name.

Emmalyne was reaching up to set a clothespin in place when Dr. Williams made his presence known. This time she managed to keep her composure.

“I hope you have a moment to speak to me,” he said with a smile and a tip of his hat.

“Of course,” Emmalyne replied, looking down at the nearly empty basket. “Let me finish here, and then we can return to the house if you’d like.”

“It might serve us just as well to stay here. What I have to say is better said without your mother present.”

Emmalyne’s hand went to her throat. “Is she that ill?”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“I suppose you did.” Emmalyne drew a deep breath and picked up one of her brother’s shirts. She spoke over her shoulder as she pinned it to the line. “Mother has been unwell for so long now, I suppose I feared the worst.”

“I can understand. I spoke to your mother about the past, and I thought maybe you could offer me more insight. She didn’t want to speak much on the matter.”

“On what matter?” Emmalyne asked. She secured the shirt and turned to face him.

“Mostly the past and what happened to cause her such sadness.”

“That’s easy enough,” Emmalyne replied, but she hesitated a moment, unsure of how much she should say. “My sisters died eleven years ago in a terrible storm that destroyed much of St. Cloud and Sauk Rapids. Many people were killed.”

“I’ve heard about that storm,” he said, nodding sympathetically.

“My two youngest sisters were among the victims. My father blamed my mother because she had sent them to town on errands. They didn’t get home in time and were killed by debris.”

“I am truly sorry. It’s easy to see why your mother bears such sorrow.”

Emmalyne picked up another shirt and hung it up before turning to the doctor. “That’s not the only sadness she’s faced. I suppose it isn’t for me to say, but I think she feels a sense of loss . . . well, in her marriage, too. My father is a very hard man. He shows little kindness or love. I know this wounds her.”

“I can well imagine. Has it always been so?”

“Not to hear her tell it. But apparently my father blames her not only for my sisters’ deaths, but for him not being able to save his own family. Mother had talked him into eloping and marrying against the wishes of his family. Soon after, a fire took the lives of my grandparents and several others. Father felt it was his punishment from God for having married Mother. Mother has borne this burden of guilt all of her life.”

“Hardly right to put such a thing on another person. She couldn’t have known a fire would start, much less take lives.”

“I know. I tell her that whenever the topic arises, but Mother can’t be comforted. You have to understand, my father is harsh
and ill-tempered most of the time. He might not speak on the matter to me, but I know he still brings it up to Mother from time to time. When my sisters were killed, Father was convinced it was more punishment from God. Now he hates God just as much as I think he hates Mother.”

Dr. Williams shook his head. “Such hatred could easily cause the kind of melancholia that I see in your mother.”

“Is that all that’s wrong?” Emmalyne asked.

“You make it sound trivial, but we’re learning more each day on the powerful effects of such sadness. We don’t yet know how best to treat it, but we see the degrading and devastating way it wears at the body. Some people have even willed themselves to die.”

Emmalyne wasn’t surprised by this, and she nodded. “I often worry that Mother would do exactly that . . . if she could.”

“She may well be on her way there,” the doctor said soberly. “I’m hopeful, however, that together we can help her to regain her health—to care about life again.”

“What do you suggest?”

“It’s important to get her involved again in daily activities.”

“But she’s always so tired.”

“Exhaustion goes hand in hand with the sorrow. You’ll most likely have to encourage her to do more. At first she will probably fight against it, but in time, I believe you’ll see a change.”

Emmalyne thought for a moment. “So I should give her small tasks to do?”

“To start that would be good. I would also get her outdoors, as I mentioned before. The sunlight and fresh air will do her a world of good. This is a lovely setting—she could enjoy the sun for a time, then perhaps retire to the shade.
You could arrange for her to sew or take up some reading. Anything to busy her mind. And if you could get your father to have a change of heart . . . that might help, as well.”

Emmalyne’s short laugh sounded harsh to her own ears. “If I could have done that, it would already be accomplished. Father makes life quite unpleasant for all of us.”

Dr. Williams frowned. “I am very sorry to hear that. Perhaps your father is unable to deal with his own guilt and grief. Perhaps his anger is the only way he knows to face it.”

Emmalyne didn’t want to hear anything that would reasonably explain her father’s attitude toward them. She found it much easier to simply consider him a heartless tyrant. “I don’t think it would be possible to ever know for sure, and even less possible for him to change.”

“The Bible says all things are possible with God.”

She took a deep breath and finally nodded. “Indeed. And for the most part, I have always believed that.”

“But not when it comes to your father?”

Emmalyne picked up the wicker clothes basket and shrugged. “I suppose a person has to be willing first.” She decided enough had been said about the subject. “Would you care to have a cup of tea before you go?”

The doctor smiled. “I would very much enjoy that, but I’m sorry I can’t this time. I’m expected back in town. Dr. Schultz has some business matters for me to attend to.”

“Maybe another time.”

“I would hope so,” he said. “It’s not often I get to enjoy the company of such a lovely young woman.”