Before the Dawn (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (3 page)

“My point is, that much happiness and caring and loving shouldn’t be thrown away. I can see what you’re doing, and you think you’re doing it for Karen, but you aren’t. You’re doing it for you. You’re too proud for your own good. You want folks to think you’re making a noble sacrifice by not tying Karen to a blind man, but the real truth is you are just plain scared. You’re scared she won’t love you anymore. You’re pushing her away before she has a chance to hurt you. You’re trying to act like you’ve stopped loving her.” He paused. “Have you? Stopped loving her, I mean?”

Trust Sam to ferret out David’s deepest fears and pull them out for casual inspection. “You know I still love her. I’ve loved her since the moment I first saw her. I will always love her. That’s why I have to break the engagement. I love her too much to tie her to a cripple.” A giant fist grabbed his heart and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe, trapping him as effectively as the cave-in.

“Don’t you think Karen should be the one to decide what she wants? I’m not saying it would be easy, and I’m not saying things won’t be different than you’ve planned, but you’re not even going to try? I want to know why.”

“I won’t be the object of her pity. One would think, after all we’ve been through, that my own family would support me in this decision. I was foolish enough to mention Frank and Bernice to Father, and he still can’t bring himself to talk about them. He shut me down.”

Sam emitted a low whistle. “That was either brave or stupid, or both. You’re lucky he didn’t punch you. Anyway, you’re not comparing Karen to Bernice, are you? That’d be plain foolish.”

David rose on stiff legs. “You’re meddling in something that is none of your business. I’ve made my choice. I’d like you to leave now.”

“Running me off won’t change anything. You’re scared, and you’re shoving people aside before they have a chance to reject you or make you feel less of a man.” Sam’s words hammered like a rock drill, hitting places so raw and fragile it took David’s breath away. “You’re afraid you’re not man enough to marry Karen and let her love you.” The chair creaked, and Sam’s voice came from higher up. “Don’t throw away everything you have with Karen. She still loves you. She can help you through this. We’d all like to help.”

“I don’t want to
need
your help. Can’t you understand that?” David flung wide his arm, lost his balance, and toppled. He crashed into a marble-topped table, hit the glass lamp standing on it, and sent it to the floor. The smell of kerosene enveloped him just before his head hit the rug, exploding bright, white stars in his brain.

“David?” Sam’s hands reached for him. “Are you all right?”

David shoved aside his brother’s help. Sharp pain stabbed up his broken arm. Gasping for breath, he held his good hand to his head. “Just leave me alone. Why don’t you just get out of here?”

❧

Karen jumped when the lamp broke, covering her mouth and gripping the edge of the study door.

Sam motioned her to be quiet. “At least let me help you get up. You don’t want to cut yourself on this glass.”

When David stood upright, cradling his injured arm to his middle, Karen exhaled and bit her lip.

Sam brushed at David’s clothes, until David shoved his hand away. “Go away, Sam.”

Karen jumped when someone touched her arm. Buckford stood at her elbow. She drew him away from the door to whisper, “A lamp got broken.”

“I’ll see to it.”

Sam edged through the doorway, glanced at Buckford’s retreating back, and then met Karen’s eyes. Everything she’d overheard watered her parched heart. Tears blurred her vision, and pain, sweet and sharp, flowed through her chest.

David still loved her.

She swung from hope to despair. What good did his still loving her do if he remained adamant about not marrying her? And who were Frank and Bernice, and why hadn’t she heard of them before?

All through dinner—at which David did not make an appearance—she played the what-if game. What if Aunt Hattie hadn’t gotten ill? What if Karen had been here when the accident occurred? Would it have made any difference? What if David didn’t change his mind? What would she do? Without David, Aunt Hattie was the only family she had left. Her thoughts scampered like squirrels in an oak tree while everyone transferred to the parlor.

Sam dropped onto the settee and plonked his boots onto the table. At his mother’s frown, he eased his feet back, a sheepish grin twisting his mouth.

Jesse took up his post by the mantel, hands behind his back, staring into the flames.

Buckford carried in a silver tray of coffee cups and poured the fragrant drink.

“Did you get the lamp cleaned up?” Sam took a cup. “I’m sorry about the mess. I got Dave riled up.”

The houseman nodded. “Everything is tidy now. He’s resting, though he didn’t eat much of the meal I took to him.” Buckford’s brows descended and he shook his graying head.

Matilda cleared her throat and smoothed her skirts. “We’ve accommodated David, hoping the bitterness would pass, and now that we can see it’s lingering, we haven’t changed our ways.”

“What do you plan to do?” Karen pressed her lips together to stop their trembling.

Matilda’s chin came up. For the first time that day, Karen felt like smiling. The fighting glint had returned to the older woman’s eyes. If anyone could right this ship, it was Matilda Mackenzie. “The first thing we have to do is stop showing pity. Feel sorry for him, cry for him if you must, but never in his presence. David must learn to live with his blindness, and so must we. We’ll find ways to help him be more independent, and we won’t take no for an answer.”

At her words, Jesse came to stand behind her, his hands blanketing her shoulders and squeezing.

She looked up at him, the affection between them evident even after all their years of marriage. “This will be difficult and, knowing David, will take more than enough patience from all of us, but I refuse to let him shut himself away from the rest of the world forever.”

Karen cradled her coffee, trying to warm her fingers. Sleet pinged against the windowpanes, and the wind whistled under the eaves. “Do you think he’ll change his mind about the wedding?”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Matilda leaned forward. “Karen, you must make very sure that David is still what you want. You do realize the blindness won’t go away? You can’t marry him and then decide in a few months or even years that you don’t want all that goes along with being married to a blind man.”

Jesse frowned and harrumphed.

Matilda tucked her lower lip in for a moment, her eyes tensing. “Well, she has to be sure.”

Karen glanced from Jesse to Matilda, then at Sam, who put his cup down and contemplated the crown molding. A strange undercurrent flowed through the room and around Karen. She frowned and set her cup down to clench her hands in her lap. “I’m sure. I love David, and I know he loves me.” Her glance flicked back to Sam whose mouth quirked. He nodded encouragement to Karen. “David, blind or not, is what I want, and I’m willing to fight for him. I’m willing to do whatever I can to assure him of my love.”

Matilda leaned forward and patted Karen’s arm. “Good. Then the changes for David will begin in the morning. It will take all of us together to bring this about. He’s gotten a fair dose of stubbornness from each of his parents. If you are certain, then I think I have a plan that will at least wake him out of his malaise.” She glanced over her shoulder at her husband. “Jesse and I have discussed this, and we’re in complete agreement.” Jesse returned his hand to her shoulder. “Sam, you will need to ride to town early with a message for Josiah Fuller.” She outlined the bare bones, and Karen could hardly believe what she’d come up with.

When she finished, Sam picked up one of the chess pieces from the table beside him and tossed it lightly into the air. “This could prove to be mighty interesting. Dave won’t know what hit him. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Matilda sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head to the side to rest on Jesse’s arm. “I have no confidence that I know what I’m doing, but we can’t keep on as we are.”

After chasing ideas and posing possible scenarios for another hour, Jesse finally sent everyone to bed.

Karen went through her nightly ablutions, her head and heart heavy, but once under the coverlet, sleep eluded her. Everything they’d talked about tumbled around in her head, and she sifted through what David’s blindness would mean to her.

She searched her soul long and hard. Though she had given Matilda her assurance that David’s condition made no difference in her love for him, she examined her heart to make absolutely certain. Could she spend her life happily married to a blind man? Would he give her the chance?

Flipping back the covers, she prowled the confines of her room, crossing and re-crossing the moonlit carpet, praying, wrestling, arguing, and praying some more. The limitless questions came from every corner of her mind, until at last she hit on the one question that answered the rest. It wasn’t a matter of would she be able to live happily with David, but rather would she be able to live happily anywhere without him.

THREE

In his dreams David could still see. Colors so vibrant and motion so vivid and beautiful it almost hurt. Sunshine bathed every flower and mountain peak in golden light. Every leaf and blade of grass stood out in crisp, glorious detail. He felt strong and steady, grounded and yet ready to soar like a bird. Karen stood before him in a flowing golden gown. She held an armful of pink roses, and her face glowed with love. She held out her hand to him, beckoning him to take it and walk with her along a creek bank where diamonds of light shattered off the water. His fingers touched hers, and warm, white brightness surrounded them.

Then he opened his eyes.

Dreams and sight vanished, swallowed by perpetual dark. Reality sat on his chest like a grinning stone gargoyle.

He ignored the door opening and the light footsteps tapping on the study floor, burrowing his head into the pillow and resigning himself to another dark day. His ankle knocked the end of the settee. He probably should sleep in his own bed instead of this narrow sofa, but that would mean navigating the house, and he preferred the safety and familiarity of the study.

“David, get up. It is after ten.” His mother’s voice cracked like a twig breaking.

He groaned and flexed the fingers of his mending arm.

She prodded his bare shoulder. “Get dressed. You have ten minutes. Your presence is required in the parlor. A family meeting.”

David grimaced at her brisk tone. “Have it without me. You don’t need me there.”

“Nonsense. You’re the guest of honor. I suppose, if you force us, we could hold the meeting in here with you in your current state of dishevelment.” She marched across the room and closed the door before he could muster another protest.

Stung, David moaned and tried to untangle his legs from the blanket. The clock ticked as he cradled his forehead in his good hand. He had no doubt Mother would make good her threat to hold a family meeting here with him in his nightwear should he fail to appear in the parlor.

He groped for his clothing, his head pounding so hard he could almost hear it. Biting down the bile rising in his throat, he castigated himself for being too proud to ask for assistance in taking his pain medications the night before. Though he would have welcomed the relief from the headache, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help after throwing everyone out of the study. His conscience pricked at behaving so poorly, but he quashed it.

David managed to dress, and after a fumbling search, found his boots. Unshaven and in yesterday’s clothes, he must look like a saddle tramp. Served them right for rousting him out when he felt so poorly. If the family wanted a meeting, they’d take him like this or not at all. He dragged across the study and groped for the door.

Their voices traveled across the foyer from the parlor—his father’s loud, Sam’s softer but just as insistent. Sam started again, but Mother interrupted him.

He couldn’t hear Karen. She must’ve gone, then. Her absence made him ache, but a small part of him felt vindicated. She’d left him. That proved he’d done the right thing.

He inched his way to the parlor doorway, noting that all the voices had stopped. They were watching him. Keeping an arm straight out in front of him, he groped for the doorjamb. Fabric swished, telling him his mother’s location at the same time his hand hit the fringe decorating the doorway. A boot scuffed and coins jingled in a pocket. Father, by the fireplace.

“Good morning, David.” Mother’s voice was as bland as cream. “Please, sit down.” She must be in her favorite chair near the hearth. “There is an empty chair just a few steps in front of you.” Her voice reminded him of a crisp winter morning. He grasped the back of the chair and directed himself into it, determined to hear what they had to say then retreat back to the study.

Father said nothing, but the poker clattered against the grate. The mine collapse, their argument of yesterday, his refusal to marry Karen—these things stood between him and his father, and the gap appeared to be widening.

“Morning, Dave.” Sam, off to the left by the bay window.

His mother cleared her throat. “We have much to discuss, and I don’t want to get sidetracked. David, I feel that we owe you an apology.”