Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02] (8 page)

“Aye. They do.”

The sound of a wagon approaching caused Tavin to crane his neck in the direction of the road. “Are you expecting company?”

His father shook his head. “I cannae say I am.”

As the wagon drew nearer, however, Tavin felt the blood drain from his face. He recognized the older man in the driver’s seat as Luthias Knox. “What is he doing here?”

“He works for me,” his father answered casually, continuing to pack tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.

Tavin bristled. “I didn’t realize.” He felt his heart pounding as Mr. Knox caught sight of him and frowned. The older man halted the horses and just stared across the yard at Tavin, as if seeing a ghost.

“Remember yer promise to me, son,” his father reminded him quietly. “Yer gonna help me quarry the granite.”

“But that was before I knew he would be here. Does that mean . . . are they . . . is she . . . ?” He couldn’t even ask the question. Getting to his feet, Tavin looked at his father. “I can’t stay.” He stormed back to the house, not bothering to explain whether his words were meant only for the moment . . . or for the future.

“We’ve a fine porch now,” Emmalyne told her brother. “I appreciate all the fixing you’ve done.” The two were sitting on the back of the wagon, legs swinging, as they enjoyed a few minutes together after the evening meal.

Angus shrugged. “I suppose it’s not so bad.” He smiled and motioned toward the house. “You’ve managed to make the house fit to live in, so I think of the two of us, you’re more to be thanked.”

“The whitewash made all the difference. It really brightened up the walls. Maybe one day we can splurge and get some real paint and some wallpaper, but for now I’m content. At least things are clean.”

“Aye.” Angus frowned as he cast a glance around the yard. “There’s still much work to be done out here. I suppose there’s time to benefit from the plum trees and the berries.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on them, to be sure,” Emmalyne replied. “I wish I’d had more time for a garden. Seems a shame to have good ground and do nothing with it.”

“I don’t know when you would have had the time for that,” Angus said with a shake of his head. “Father expects too much of you.”

“No more than he expects of you.” She gave him a tired smile. “Father sees it as our duty.”

“Like you forsaking marriage to care for him in his old age. I think the notion is admirable enough, but there’s no reason a woman can’t be married and care for her parents, too.”

“It’s all water under the bridge now.” She tried to keep the regret from her tone. Angus already knew how much her father’s decision had hurt her. There was no sense dwelling on it.

“I’ve tried to talk to him,” Angus said, fixing Emmalyne with a sympathetic look. “I’ve told him that you’ve been more than faithful to help them. I reminded him that it’s nearly 1900, that to keep such old-fashioned notions is out of line. He said I was the one out of line.”

Emmalyne laughed. “I can well imagine. But really, Angus, you needn’t worry about me. I’ve accepted my lot in life. I have my regrets, but I’ve also moved forward. God has always given me great comfort in my obedience to Father.”

Angus seemed less than convinced. “I know in those early days there were a great many tears. I find it hard to believe there are none now.”

“I didn’t say that,” she admitted. She had tried to keep her emotions hidden away, knowing her father and mother would be less than receptive should she break into tears. However, there were still times when her heart got the better of her. “I simply said that God has always given me great comfort. He’s faithful to heal my wounds.”

“Wounds that should never have been made. Honestly, I think you should have eloped with Tavin and been done with it.”

Emmalyne winced at the sound of his name being spoken aloud. Sometimes it flowed over her like a gentle, haunting
breeze, but other times it was like a knife to the heart. “So, have you managed to meet any fetching young ladies?” she asked, trying for a change in the conversation.

He looked at her oddly for a moment. “Just when would I have done that? Father keeps me so busy, I’ve scarcely had time to draw a deep breath.”

“Are you going to start working with the other men soon? Father said something about that a few nights ago.”

“Aye. I’ve been mostly helping him get his office in order and learning how to handle the horses. It’s been decided I can best help with the transportation. I fill in for a couple of the other men, and soon I’ll be responsible for my own team.”

“So you aren’t going to actually quarry the stone?”

“No, not just yet. Perhaps in time. There’s a big contract that has to be filled and apparently plenty of men are available to help at this point. It might be different later on, but for now I’m just as happy to do this. At least I won’t be breathin’ in all that rock dust.”

She nodded. “I suppose you’ll get enough of that just being at the quarry.” The sound of the front door opening caused them both to turn toward the house.

At the sight of their mother coming outside, Emmalyne and Angus couldn’t help but exchange a brief glance.

“How are you feeling, Mother?” Angus asked, sliding off the wagon and walking to where she was taking a seat on the porch.

“I’m feelin’ a bit done in,” she said, settling into the rocker. “Supper was good, Emmalyne. I almost forgot to tell you.”

Emmalyne smiled. “Thank you. I’m glad you’ve come outside to enjoy the evening.”

“Your faither said he was going to bring me a post from
my sister. He forgot it in the barn when he got back from town, and he went to fetch it.”

“A letter from Edinburgh or Glasgow?” Emmalyne asked.

“Edinburgh. He said it was from Eileen.”

“It will be wonderful to hear what she has to say,” Emmalyne said, sitting down on the porch step. “Do you suppose you can read it to us all?”

“I will,” Mother promised. “It’s so nice to get news from home.”

Emmalyne couldn’t hold back her smile. It was the happiest she’d seen her mother in weeks. Father came around the corner of the house just then, the envelope in his hand. Seeing them all gathered on the porch, he slowed his pace and frowned.

“Ye ken there’s work to do.”

“We do know,” Emmalyne said with a nod. “But Mother says there’s a letter from Scotland. We wanted to hear the news before we get back to our tasks.”

Her father scratched his cheek and handed the letter over to his wife. “The hens look settled,” he said, looking to Angus. “Ye made them right cozy.”

“They should be safe from the foxes and anything else that might bother them,” Angus agreed.

Mother had opened the letter and was scanning it quickly. She looked up suddenly, and Emmalyne thought she’d never seen such joy in her mother’s expression.

“What is it, Mother? Good news?”

“Eileen wants us to visit. She said they have more than enough room.” Mother looked to Father, as if awaiting his approval. “Just think of it—Emmalyne and I could go for a wee trip home.”

“Hardly a wee trip,” Father argued. “Yer sister’s daft if she thinks I can afford to be sendin’ ye.”

Mother frowned. “We could make the trip worth our time. Think on it, husband. You were jest sayin’ the other day that there werenae any decent wools to be had. I can bring some fine pieces home with me.”

“It’s nae gonna be that way,” Father said, starting to sound angry. “Everyone wants to be spendin’ ma money. They act like it jes grows in the ground around here. Tell yer sister that ye cannae be affordin’ to come for a visit. Tell her there’s too much work to do here.”

Mother’s eyes clouded, then filled with tears, and Emmalyne feared she would soon be sobbing uncontrollably. Speaking up seemed the only way to forestall it. “Mother has a good thought, Father. We could bring back all the things you’ve said you missed from home.”

Father’s face reddened. “I won’t hear anythin’ more on it. Angus, I need yer help in the barn.”

“Aye, Father.”

Emmalyne waited until they’d gone to address her mother. “Perhaps Father will change his mind in time.”

“No, he won’t.” Mother let the tears slide down her cheeks. “Oh, Emmy, my life here is a misery, for sure.”

It was the most her mother had voiced about their move, and Emmalyne longed to comfort her. “Mother, you must not let this defeat you. The doctor believes your sorrows are getting the best of you. I pray you will fight against the sadness.”

Mother looked at her for a moment, then got to her feet. “I can’t. It consumes me.” Her voice broke as she reached for the door. “It will be the death of me.”

Emmalyne stared at the house for several moments after her mother’s departure. What could she do? What could she say? She thought to pray, but it seemed so feeble, so insignificant. How could a few pleading words to the God of the universe resolve this situation? Surely God had matters of greater importance to handle.

The burden of it all suddenly felt heavier than it had in years. Where was God in moments like this? Emmalyne had been raised to believe that obedience to God would protect a soul from the devil’s torments. But that hardly seemed to be the case now.

Realizing her ponderings were getting her nowhere, Emmalyne went into the house and lit a couple of lamps. She had mending to do and knew there would be little time on the morrow for such things. Tomorrow she would need to bake and wash clothes. If there was time, she would see to some of her other projects, as well—a bevy of things needed her attention. Despite suggesting her mother make curtains, Emmalyne knew the chances of it happening were slim. So there was another task she would need to add to her list of duties, along with making a few new rag rugs.

She thought of the years they’d spent in Minneapolis and how much simpler her life had been there. She could sew and earn a bit of money on the side—at least enough to buy some of the little things she enjoyed—things her father would not agree to pay for. Here in the more remote area of Minnesota’s quarry and farmland, she found provisions still available, but extra money would be much more difficult to come by. Not only was she far too busy to take on anyone else’s sewing, she was too isolated to come in contact with possible customers.

Picking up one of her father’s work shirts, Emmalyne tried hard not to think of how different her life might have been had she married Tavin. Angus said she should have eloped, and God knew that Emmalyne had often wondered if she’d made the right choice in staying.

The Bible was clear that she was to honor her mother and father. There was no way around that statement, and yet Emmalyne couldn’t help but wonder exactly how far that command went. Were honor and obedience the same thing? Her father’s anger at God kept them from attending worship. He made it clear he wanted no part in church attendance for himself or his family. How was obedience to that command biblical? Didn’t the Bible also state that they should not forsake gathering together with God’s people?

She had so many questions and few answers. How her heart ached. Emmalyne thought for a moment of Dr. Williams and how kind he’d been to her. He seemed genuinely interested in her, but Emmalyne knew it was to no avail; she would have to keep her distance or explain the matter of her circumstances. Neither choice made her very comfortable. Then she thought of the MacLachlans. They weren’t that far away, and yet Emmalyne still had not had a chance to visit. Nor had their old friends made any attempt to come to the Knox house.

“Perhaps Morna and Fenella have no desire to see me again,” she murmured, pushing the needle through to mend a tear under the arm.

“What was that?”

She looked up to find her brother watching her from the doorway.

She forced a smile. “It was nothing. If you have any other
mending for me, you’d do well to bring it now. I’m nearly done with this shirt and only have a few more things to tend to.”

“No. I’ve nothing more,” he said. “I’m going to head to bed afore long. Father said we’ll be up before first light. As if I didn’t know that,” he added wryly.

Emmalyne stopped her needle momentarily. “I won’t be up much longer myself. I’ll see to it that you have a good hot breakfast in the morning. Oatmeal and berries, cream, and perhaps some smoked pork.”

Angus’s expression grew thoughtful. “It won’t always be this way, Em.”

She was startled at his words. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged as if not truly understanding his own statement. “I can’t say for sure, but I just feel a certainty that you won’t always be here like this. I’ve taken to praying for answers—for clarity.”

She’d never heard her brother speak of prayer before. “I’m glad you pray, Angus, but I’m not sure what can be done about any of this. Mother in her misery needs so much more prayer than I do. She is so grieved.” Emmalyne drew a deep breath and let it go. “The doctor says her sadness could damage her health, and I fear I see that happening. She’s growing more frail . . . and just when something comes along that seems helpful, Father inevitably finds a way to put an end to it.”

“A trip to Scotland would do her well,” Angus said, “but I’m sure Father will never let it happen. You know how he is with money, and this move has set him back quite a bit. He complains about it all day long, despite the fact that I know Mr. MacLachlan reimbursed him for a good portion of the
expense.” Her brother shook his head. “I don’t think Father knows what it is to be happy.”

Emmalyne cast a glance back to her sewing. “I’m not sure any of us do.”