A Hope Remembered (16 page)

“You’ve never worn that dress to church before either. It matches the green in your eyes.”

He noticed what she wore? “What of my work trousers?” she countered, to school her feelings. “You hadn’t seen those before today either.”

His voice held no trace of mirth or sarcasm as he said, “A beautiful woman like you would make rags look stunning, Nora.”

The heartfelt words and the way he delivered them rendered her speechless. It had been so very long since a man had called her beautiful.

Lyle walked out of the pub then and approached them, saving her from having to form a suitable reply. “I believe I shall retire for the evening, Ashby.”

“Already?”

“I can walk back myself,” Lyle said, his gaze jumping between the two of them. Nora’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she realized how it must have looked when she and Colin exited the pub together.

“Nonsense.” Colin tucked his hands into his pockets. “Father is likely wondering where we ran off to after dinner. It’s time I went back as well. Shall I send for the automobile?”

Lyle shook his head. “Even with a bum leg, it’s too nice a night for riding in a car.”

“Very well. Would you like to walk with us?” Colin asked her.

Nora wanted to, very much, but she hadn’t spoken with Bess or Mary yet. “You two go ahead. I have some visiting to do.”

Colin’s face clouded with obvious disappointment. Nora pressed her lips together to hide a pleased smile. “We’ll see you in church tomorrow then?”

She nodded. “The choir’s singing, remember?”

“And you have a solo part.”

The reminder brought a tremble of nerves to her middle—she’d never sung a solo in public before. Nora suppressed her anxiety, though, with the reminder that Colin would be there. He was her friend, after all, and his presence would help her stay calm.

After she’d bade the two men good night, she went in search of Bess and her family. Mary and Jack weren’t around anymore, but she found Bess and several of the farmers’ wives inside the pub’s kitchen. One of the older women spotted Nora and invited her to join the group. She happily complied.

Before long, one of the fiddlers announced the last song. The pub wasn’t nearly as full as it had been earlier. Nora was asked to dance by a tall, skinny lad, probably five years her junior. Still, she enjoyed the opportunity to dance one last time. When the song ended, she slipped out of the pub. Dusk had now settled over the valley.

Nora breathed in the scent of wet earth as she walked toward her cottage. She’d enjoyed the evening and the whole week. The air might be chilly away from the crowded pub, but inside she felt nothing but warmth.

“Thank you,” she whispered heavenward. “I don’t know all Thy reasons for wanting me in Larksbeck, but I’m grateful to be here.”

She smiled to herself as she climbed the hill to the cottage. A life here in England was beginning to feel not only possible, but gratifying.

The sound of Phoebe barking met her ears before the house came into view.
How odd
, Nora thought. Phoebe didn’t usually mind being left alone.

Something about the dog’s incessant yelping erased Nora’s smile. She quickened her pace, but she stopped short at the sight of the jagged hole in her newly replaced window.

“Phoebe? Are you all right?” Nora rushed into the house, dread pulsing through her.

The puppy clawed at her legs as she entered through the front door. Nora knelt and pulled the whimpering dog into her lap. “What’s wrong, girl?”

Phoebe jumped from Nora’s grip and scrambled into the adjacent room. A large, dark object sat on the wood floor near the dining table. Phoebe growled at it.

Goose bumps riddled Nora’s arms as she entered the room and squatted down to examine the object. It was a stone, like the ones used for walling. Nora glanced from the stone to the window. No wonder there was an ugly hole there—someone had thrown the rock through her window. But had it been an accident or a prank?

Below the window, she spotted a piece of paper. She picked it up to read the words scrawled in a heavy hand in the middle of the page:
Go back to where you came from.

Icy prickles of fear chilled her entire body and stole her breath. Someone wanted her gone. As if in agreement, the cottage door flew open and crashed against the opposite wall. Nora’s heart leapt into her throat as she scrambled to hide in the room’s shadows. Phoebe launched into another round of frenzied barking at her feet.

When nothing but a blast of cold air entered the cottage, Nora climbed shakily to her feet and shut the door. “There, there, girl,” she soothed, though her voice trembled as much as her body. “It was only the wind.”

She leaned against the door for support, her gaze dropping to the paper still clutched between her fingers. All traces of happiness or acceptance had vanished like the sun on a stormy day. What to do now? But her mind felt too on edge to form any proper solutions.

“Come on, Phoebe. Let’s get some tea.”

Nora started down the hall, but stopped halfway to the kitchen. There was one thing she could do tonight. She returned to the front door and dropped the latch into place.

For the first time since coming to Larksbeck, she would sleep with the doors locked.

Colin jerked awake. His room was bathed in semidarkness, and except for the ticking of the mantle clock, silence permeated the night. Something had disrupted his sleep, though. He lay still, listening, his eyes staring at the canopy of the four-poster bed.

Just when he’d convinced himself he must have imagined the noise, a shout of pain and agony split the quiet of the house. Colin tore off his covers and shot to his feet. Was something wrong with his mother or father? He pulled on his robe, threw open the door, and paused to listen again. When the loud, anguished cry repeated, he realized it wasn’t coming from his parents’ rooms. It was coming from Lyle’s.

Sir Edward lumbered into the hall, carrying a lamp. “What is the meaning of this, Colin?” Lady Ashby appeared as well, her dark hair arranged in a long braid down her back.

“It’s Lyle,” Colin said over his shoulder. He went to Lyle’s door and knocked. The only response was another shout. Anxious for his friend, Colin opened the door and stepped into the room. “Lyle? Are you all right?”

He heard his parents come up behind him. His father’s lamp cut through the room’s darkness, illuminating Lyle’s look of horror.

“Ashby, I can’t shake them,” Lyle screamed. He sat straight up in bed. “They’re all over me.” He flailed his arms as if trying to bat away a fly. “I’m hit; I’m hit.”

Colin swallowed hard, memories slamming into him at hearing Lyle’s words. The room seemed to fall away and he, too, was back in his biplane, the sky thick with German fighters. He’d motioned for Lyle to get back to base. Miraculously, his friend had, though it was the last time Lyle flew in the war.

A hand on his arm brought Colin back to the present. He glanced down into his mother’s worried eyes. “Is he dreaming?”

Colin nodded. “Go back to bed. I’ll make sure he’s all right.”

She took the lamp from his father and handed it to Colin. “Would you like me to ring for some tea?”

“No.”

Lady Ashby kissed him on the cheek, then followed a grumbling Sir Edward out of the room. Not wasting any more time, Colin strode to the bed and set the lamp on the side table. Lyle was weeping now. Colin gripped his friend’s shoulder and shook him. “Lyle. Wake up. You’re dreaming. It’s not real—not anymore.”

Lyle fought his grasp, but Colin held on. He gave his friend another firm shake. “Wake up, chap. Everything’s okay.”

After another minute, Lyle’s face relaxed and his eyes widened. “Ashby?” he said, his voice heavy with confusion.

Colin sank onto the end of the bed. “You were having a nightmare.”

Lyle ran a hand over his jaw. “Did I disturb the house?”

“No.” He needn’t tell Lyle about waking his parents, and for all Colin knew, the servants hadn’t heard a thing. “Would you like some water?”

Lyle shook his head. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

Colin shrugged off the apology. “Does this happen often?”

The lamplight accentuated the red of Lyle’s face and neck. “I can’t help it, Ashby. I’ve tried everything—medicine, staying awake all night. Nothing makes them go away altogether. I’m surprised I haven’t had more this last week.” Lyle collapsed back against his pillows. “The nightmares are one of the reasons Mae left.”

Colin studied his hands, wishing there was some way he could help. While his peace of mind might be bothered now and then with grief over his brother’s death and the way his life had been altered, his occasional dreams about the war only meant a less than restful night—nothing compared to what Lyle was dealing with.

“At first, she didn’t seem to mind my leg being gone or my half-ghastly face,” Lyle continued, his voice low and full of pain. “She was real sweet with the bad dreams in the beginning, too. Making sure to wake me and offer comfort. But after I’d been home a month or so, things started to change. She didn’t understand why I couldn’t get out of bed to go to the office some days. My father and his partners were giving all the easy cases to me, ones that even the most inexperienced of solicitors could handle.”

Lyle scrubbed at his eyes. “I hated feeling useless and pitied. By my parents, by our clients, by Mae. Eventually she found herself a job—said I didn’t have to be the only one making money for us. She didn’t understand that I wanted to do just that.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “She started working later and staying over at her parents’, so my nightmares wouldn’t disturb her sleep. It wasn’t long afterward we decided things were over. I heard a few weeks ago she’s engaged to some lieutenant.”

“Bet he has nightmares like the rest of us,” Colin quipped.

As he’d hoped, Lyle chuckled. “Probably worse, being army and all. Poor Mae.”

“She’s really better off with some fifty-year-old farmer than any of us ex-soldiers.”

Lyle gave another light laugh. “Should have told her as much when I had the chance.”

Colin stood and dragged one of the armchairs by the fireplace to the side of the bed. The more Lyle talked, the more he seemed to relax.

“Remember Hugh Shepherd?” Colin asked as he sat down in the chair. “After his first flight against the Germans?”

A real smile shone on Lyle’s face. “When he threw up all over your boots?”

Colin laughed at the memory. “It was only funny because we all knew we’d come close to doing the same thing. Even Christian.” He propped his feet on the bed and rested his elbows on the chair arms. “Wonder what Shep’s doing these days.”

“Heard he’s back in Cornwall with his wife and two girls.”

Lyle told him about running into a few other pilots they’d flown with. Soon the conversation turned to their time in France. Some of their shared stories made Colin laugh until his sides hurt; others brought a hard lump to his throat, especially those involving Christian or their other friends who hadn’t made it home.

By the time the clock on the mantel chimed three, Colin could barely keep his eyes open, and yet he felt strangely buoyed up as well. Releasing a yawn, he stood and bade Lyle good night. He shuffled back to his room and collapsed onto his bed, without bothering to remove his robe. A niggling thought in the back of his mind told him there was something he needed to do in a few hours, but he pushed it back as sleep reclaimed him.

S
unday morning dawned gray and rainy, but Nora refused to let her mood match the weather. She firmly set aside her anxieties over the rock through her window as she ate breakfast and dressed for church. She spent longer than normal arranging her hair and choosing which dress to wear.

Only because I’d like to look nice for my solo.

But she knew the real reason. Colin would be at church again, and she wanted to feel as beautiful as she had last night at the dance when he’d complimented her.

Because of the rain, she left Phoebe in the house, instead of tied up outside as the puppy typically was when Nora went anywhere during the day. She also locked the doors and pocketed the key. She hated no longer feeling safe and secure with the doors unlocked.

With her umbrella protecting her against the wet, she headed down the road toward Larksbeck. Every few minutes, she glanced over her shoulder to see if Colin and Lyle were coming up behind her yet. They still hadn’t appeared by the time she reached the bridge, leaving Nora to assume they’d driven instead of walked.

“Ready for our song today, Miss Lewis?” Mr. Bagley asked when she reached the church.

Nora stood on the doorstep and shook the water from her umbrella. “I think so, yes.”

“I have no doubt your solo will be perfect.”

“Thank you.”

She slipped into her customary pew in front of Bess’s family, making sure to leave enough room on the end for Colin and Lyle. The church soon filled, despite the steady rainfall outside, and the pastor stood to welcome the congregation. Nora twisted in her seat to look at the door. Where was Colin?

He’ll be here
, she reassured herself.

Colin had said as much, and she trusted him. He wouldn’t have forgotten about their choir number or her solo today. Despite his grumblings about Nora roping him into regularly attending church, he hadn’t missed a performance yet.

Still, she couldn’t stop fidgeting. She shifted on the hard bench, glanced in the direction of the door, folded and unfolded her hands in her lap. The pastor began his sermon, but Nora couldn’t concentrate. Perhaps Colin and Lyle had chosen to sit in the back instead of causing commotion by coming forward to her pew. Once she’d convinced herself that’s where they must be, she was able to listen better.

When the pastor announced the choir’s song, Nora stood with the rest of the singers, her heart beating fast with nervousness. She could do this. One look at Colin’s reassuring grin and her confidence would return.

She filed into her place and looked toward Colin’s customary spot, down and to her left. Another man stood there. Nora scanned the faces of the congregation. Colin wasn’t seated in any of the pews either. Icy threads of panic made her stomach clench. As if from a distance, she heard the first notes of the organ. Mr. Bagley smiled at her from his place in front of the choir. Her solo was first.

Where are you, Colin?

Nora stared into the eyes of the villagers, but instead of friendly gazes, she imagined hard glares. One of them had tossed a rock through her window; one of them wanted her gone from this place. Or was it all of them? She’d felt accepted into the community this week, but now she wasn’t sure who to trust.

Her mouth felt dry, her throat clogged. Could she even get the notes out?

The organist repeated the song’s introduction. Nora had missed her cue. Mr. Bagley frowned, then nodded to her. She shut her eyes for a brief second, gathering her resolve. Whoever wanted her to leave was mistaken if he or she thought Nora would simply tuck tail and run. She wouldn’t give up. This was her home now. She had a right to be here.

Opening her eyes, she tilted her chin upward and began to sing.

The whoosh of curtains being pushed aside nudged Colin awake. He sat up and rubbed at the kink in his neck as dim light flooded his room. Raindrops pattered against the window.

“Good morning, sir,” Gibson said in his usual monotone. “Your breakfast is ready.” He motioned to the tray on the nearby table. “Unless of course you want lunch.”

Colin stood. “What time is it?”

“Half-past eleven.”

After eleven? He hadn’t slept this late in years. Colin sat at the table and drew his napkin over his lap. His stomach rumbled in anticipation of food.

“What will you be doing on this wet Sunday, sir?”

Sunday usually meant church with Nora.

Colin jumped up, his napkin dropping to the carpet. Nora was supposed to sing her solo today, during the choir number, and he’d slept through both. How could he have let her down, especially after last night at the dance? He hadn’t been able to get the image of her dancing out of his head. The way her red hair had flowed down her back and her blue-green eyes shone with enjoyment.

“I’m going out, Gibson.”

His valet arched his thick gray eyebrows. “Out, sir?”

“Yes,” Colin grumbled with mounting impatience. “Is Mr. Lyle up yet?”

“I don’t believe so.” Gibson stepped forward to assist Colin into a day suit.

Once dressed, Colin grabbed some toast from off the breakfast tray. “Tell Mr. Lyle I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Shall I call for the automobile?”

Colin shook his head. “I’m not going far.”

“Very good, sir.”

He turned toward the door, but not before he caught a flash of emotion in Gibson’s weathered gaze. Did his valet suspect what Colin was only beginning to realize? He was falling for Nora. The idea sent a thrill shooting through him, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. What would that mean for his father’s plans?

Colin shoved the troublesome question to the back of his mind as he bounded down the stairs. Right now, he knew one thing for certain—he needed to see Nora and apologize.

Rain pummeled the ground outside, but Colin didn’t want to waste any more time going back for an umbrella or a hat. Streams of water ran down the road, cutting paths through the mud. Colin stuck to walking on the narrow strip of grass on the road’s side, though here and there a protruding hedge forced him into the mire for a few moments.

The road leading up to Nora’s home wasn’t much better. By now, his suit was completely soaked and he had to keep wiping water from his eyes. He sloshed his way up the hill to the cottage and knocked on the front door. Phoebe barked from inside.

A minute or two passed before he heard Nora call out, “Who is it?”

“It’s me. Colin.”

To his surprise, he heard the sound of the latch being released. When had Nora started locking the door, and during the day, too?

The door swung open and he hurried inside. Nora hadn’t yet changed out of her church attire. She wore a dark blue dress that heightened the blue in her eyes, and her hair was arranged in such a way to show off the long lines of her neck.

After closing the door behind him, she stood in the entryway, making no attempt to invite him to sit down. “You’re dripping an ocean onto my floor.” She fixed him with a stern glare.

Colin glanced at his shoes and the water he’d tracked in. “I’ll clean it up.”

Phoebe came forward from behind Nora to sniff the hem of his trouser legs. When she’d finished, the dog turned and trotted down the hall, as though she, too, wanted nothing to do with him.

Colin shoved his hands into his sodden pockets and cleared his throat. “I’m very sorry, Nora. For missing church today…and for missing your solo.”

Her gaze wouldn’t meet his as her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’ll get a rag for you. To wipe up that puddle.”

She started down the hall, but he caught her wrist in time to stop her. He gently pulled her around, grateful when she didn’t jerk away from him.

“I wanted to be there—I had planned to be there, believe me.” His thoughts derailed as he stared into her large eyes. They revealed the hurt she was trying so hard to mask with anger. Why hadn’t he been at church with her, watching her face light up as she sang? Being with Nora brought him the greatest happiness.

“What happened?”

Her accusing tone broke the trance he’d been under. “It was Lyle. He had a nightmare last night. He was reliving the flight when he got shot. We stayed up quite late, talking about the war. I suppose I was more tired than I thought.”

The rigidness in her shoulders and face melted at his words. Colin allowed himself an inward sigh of relief. Perhaps she would forgive him after all.

“Is Lyle all right today?”

“He was still asleep when I left.” Colin couldn’t help rubbing the soft skin of her wrist with his thumb as he continued. “I think he’ll be fine, but the nightmares will likely last a long time. He’s had a hard go of it since coming home.”

“What about you? Do you have nightmares?”

Recollections assailed him at the simple question. He was no longer in the small cottage but sitting in his biplane flying toward a squadron of German planes—the air filled with explosive sounds, the mix of fear and adrenaline in his gut, the innate drive to shoot instead of be shot.

“Colin?” She covered his hand where it still gripped hers.

He shook himself back to the present. “I’m fine. On occasion there’s a bad dream, but nothing as real as what Lyle experiences.”

“But the memories are still there.”

She voiced it as a statement, not a question, but he dipped his head in a simple nod anyway. Nora would understand. While she might not have fought over a battlefield as he had, she was battling the repercussions of the war, too. Would she be forever scarred by those outcomes? he found himself wondering. Would she someday have room in her heart for someone else besides her deceased fiancé?

Nora broke free first. “If it was Lyle who made you miss today, I forgive you.”

Though he suspected she was teasing him, a rumble of jealousy rolled through him. “Just for Lyle?”

She gave a soft laugh, but the merriment ended as fast as it appeared. Her whole demeanor appeared unusually somber this morning. “I’ll get that rag.”

He let her go this time. A shiver stole up his back, making him acutely aware of his wet clothes. Despite a fire glowing in the parlor hearth, the cottage still felt cold and abnormally drafty. The source of the slight breeze seemed to be emanating from the dining room. Colin looked inside and noticed several pieces of wood had been propped into the broken window, but air still leaked through.

“A rather unusual window covering you have there,” he said, pointing at the wood as Nora came down the hall, a rag in hand.

“It’s not on purpose.” She nudged him aside so she could wipe the floor.

He knelt and gently pried the cloth from her hands. “Allow me.” Colin dabbed at the puddle, then wiped at his shoes and the hem of his pant legs. “I thought you already fixed that window.”

“I did.” Nora climbed to her feet. “Someone threw a rock through it last night.” Her voice, though calm, still held a hint of fear.

Colin stood slowly. “Was it a child’s prank?” If so, he’d hunt down the culprit and have his backside tanned.

Nora shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She went into the dining room and held up a piece of paper. “I found this with the rock.”

The single sentence was easily read, even from across the room—
Go
back to where you came from.
Shock hit Colin in the gut at the threatening message. Someone wanted Nora gone.
Like you?
his mind argued. Guilt, hot and condemning, replaced his earlier cold. Though he would never stoop to tactics of fear or bullying, he, too, had been charged to get Nora to leave.

“Do you know who did this?” he asked, almost afraid of her answer.

“No.” She folded her arms tight, the ugly note crushed in one fist. “I—I thought I was being accepted here. But I guess I was wrong.”

The blatant hurt and vulnerability in her expression were too much for Colin. He gathered her to his chest and held her tight. She fit perfectly in his embrace, as if his arms were meant to hold her and no one else.

She sniffled once or twice, the only indication she’d shed a few tears, but there was no loud sobbing or hysterics. There couldn’t be a braver, stronger woman anywhere else. Or one he would ever cherish holding half as much as he did Nora.

“What will you do?” he murmured after a few minutes.

She stepped back, despite his silent wish to keep her in his arms. “Fix the window again?” She brushed at her cheeks and lifted her chin. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home now.”

Colin wanted to kiss her soundly at hearing her resolve, while another part of him wanted to slink away in shame. He’d been right about one thing, though, when he’d told his father that Nora wasn’t likely to give up easily.

Whoever had committed the act wanted her gone as much as his father. Could it be Sir Edward? Anger pulsed through Colin at the possibility, tensing the muscles of his neck and shoulders. He had a sudden desire to pound a fist into someone’s jaw.

He’d promised his father he would help save Elmthwaite, but he would do it on his own terms. His deadline wasn’t until the end of the month—he wouldn’t be pushed into securing an agreement with Nora any sooner.

“Since there’ll be no walk today, I’ll make you some tea,” Nora offered. “You can dry out in the kitchen.”

Colin trailed her down the hallway. With great effort, he swallowed his fury and guilt and took a seat at the table. No sense mulling over things he didn’t know for certain yet. The minute he returned to the house, he would find out if his father was behind the act of violence against Nora.

Phoebe rose from her spot in the corner to lie against his shoe. He rubbed at the dog’s ears as he tried to think of something he could do to make things up to Nora, to coax a smile back to her face.

“How would you like to go for a ride in my aeroplane?”

The sudden light in her eyes told him he’d hit upon the perfect solution for cheering her up. “Really?” she said, setting two cups and saucers on the table.

“If it isn’t raining tomorrow, we’ll go.” It was high time he shared the thing he loved most with the woman he cared most about.

“I don’t know anything about flying.”