Eve and Her Sisters (43 page)

She was gazing into his eyes and he into hers. Her voice was no more than a sigh in the air when she whispered, ‘What am I?’

‘Perfect. Beautiful and perfect and everything a man could ever want.’

‘You . . . you loved Mary.’

‘As a boy. As a man there has only been you. Will only be you . . .’ Emboldened by the fact that she had not rebuffed him thus far, he seized the moment and put his arms round her. He felt her trembling and when she allowed her body to fall against his, he drew in a long shuddering breath before taking her lips.

As though nature had orchestrated the moment, a streak of lightning directly overhead followed by a mighty crash of thunder which had folk screaming was followed by torrential rain. People were running hither and thither, stallholders were whipping their produce away and dashing for cover, and all was mayhem and confusion. In the midst of it all they continued to stand locked together, their arms round each other, their lips moving over each other’s faces, brows, eyes, cheeks as first one and then the other feverishly sought to merge closer. Gasping and murmuring, their frantic kisses interspersed by half-formed words of love, they stood lost in a place where time had no meaning, her bonnet hanging down her back by its ribbons and their eyes blinded by the pouring rain.

How long it was before Caleb gained control he didn’t know. It could only have been a matter of two or three minutes, but when he lifted his head and held her tightly against his breast, he was aware they were both soaked through and the water was running off the parched ground in a tide. ‘Eve, we have to get out of the rain.’

She nodded, half laughing, and he laughed with her. She cared for him. How long she had cared he didn’t know but in one way it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but that she was in his arms at last. Everything else could be worked out, he would make sure of that. She spoke, but another blast of thunder drowned her words. He bent his head. ‘What did you say?’

‘The fair’s over.’

He turned with her to look at the scurrying people and the stallholders salvaging what they could, and again the urge to laugh was strong. Whisking her up in his arms he twirled her round and round before he allowed her feet to touch the ground again, and then he kept her within the circle of his arms. ‘How soon will you marry me?’

She made a small movement with her head. ‘It’s only a year since Howard—’

‘I don’t care.’ His voice was thick.‘I’ve waited years for you.’

When she lifted her hands and cupped his face, bringing his mouth down to hers, he groaned softly, but when the kiss had ended, she said softly, ‘Caleb, there’s Alexander to consider. I would like him to get used to you before - before we tell him.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘I don’t know.’

The rain was like a sheet and now he tucked her into his side, saying, ‘Come on, you’ll catch your death. I’ll take you home and then we can start the process of him getting used to me there and then. But, Eve,’ he caught her to him again, his voice dropping so low she could scarcely hear him, ‘say you love me. Out loud. Say it.’

‘I love you.’ She smiled and in that moment she was radiant. ‘I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you and I’ll love you till the day I die and beyond. Through all eternity. Will that do?’

‘For now.’

Eve and Caleb were married nine months later. On the eve of her wedding, which was to be a village affair at Washington’s Trinity Church, Eve visited the churchyard where Oliver and Howard were buried. It was a beautiful June evening, the birds singing in the trees surrounding the churchyard and the air still scented with the May blossom which had been late that year.

She went alone. She had wanted it that way. It would have been Oliver’s seventh birthday the week before and now she stroked the steam engine made of flowers she had brought to the grave that day. His steam engine had been his favourite toy.

‘I love you, my precious baby.’ She pressed her hands against her chest to contain the pain. ‘My sweet, precious boy. My darling one.’

After a while she lifted her wet face to the sky. For months after they had died she had found herself raging at Howard every time she came to the churchyard. She had been so angry, so full of rage that he could have let their son die. But lately the anger had gone, to be replaced by a sad acceptance that her husband had loved his son with all his heart and had given his life trying to save him. It had been an accident, that was all. A tragic, senseless accident. And with the acceptance had come a measure of peace.

A deep twilight had fallen by the time she closed the gate to the churchyard behind her, and then she gave a little cry as a shadow close to the stone wall moved. Caleb stepped forward, taking her in his arms as he murmured, ‘I thought I’d find you here.’

She clung to him, the tears falling again. ‘I know he’s in a better place but I want him here, with me. He was only a little boy. A little boy, Caleb.’

‘I know, my love. I know.’ He let her cry for a while and then dried her tears. They had agreed not to see each other the night before the wedding, but he had felt compelled to come, suspecting she might visit this very place. He held her close, his heart aching for her. He would make her happy, he vowed silently. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, he would make her happy.

 

The next day half of Washington’s residents were there to throw rice and rose petals when the couple emerged from the church to the peal of church bells, the groom’s stepson held tight in his arms. No one, looking at Eve that day, would have labelled her plain.

When the newlyweds returned from their week’s honeymoon, they set in action the plans they had talked over during their engagement.After consolidating their assets into one pot, they purchased a property on the edge of Gateshead not far from the establishment where Toby had received his treatment.The enormous old manor house was ideal in that its extensive grounds boasted three barns and a number of outbuildings as well as a large stable block.The stable block was transformed into a comfortable four-bedroomed bungalow and once it was finished Nell and Toby and their family moved in. Toby’s days down the pit were over, his leg had healed but the damage to his knee in particular meant the limb was stiff and inflexible. Instead he was to manage the staff who would work in the workshops, vegetable gardens and orchard, and the animal husbandry section of the estate once it was all up and running.

While Toby supervised the remodelling of the barns and other outside work, Eve and Caleb presided over the alterations to change the manor house into a children’s home-cum-boarding-school. This included a one-bedroomed apartment in the basement for Mr Hutton whose official title was that of caretaker. Once the school was up and running, however, it was clear he had become everyone’s grandad.

Along with the changes to the original building, a new west wing was added. This provided Eve and Caleb with a large family home in which Tilly had her own sitting room and bedroom next to the nursery suite.Tilly’s duties were added to sooner than Eve had expected. In the midst of all the work, Eve discovered she was expecting Caleb’s child.

Luke Caleb Travis was born on a windy October morning four weeks after the Oliver Ingram-Travis home for boys and girls was officially opened. Caleb wept unashamedly when he held his son in his arms, and Alexander was delighted with his new baby brother. If it had been a girl he had intended to see it was sent back.

Twin boys followed eighteen months later, and then on Eve’s thirty-sixth birthday, with Nell urging her on and Tilly holding her hand, Eve’s longed for daughter arrived. When the news was announced in the morning assembly, the huge family the school had become cheered and stamped their feet so hard Eve heard it in the west wing.

The December day was bitterly cold and through the window of her bedroom Eve could see it was snowing heavily, but inside all was snug and warm. She glanced across the room to the roaring fire in the grate, then her gaze travelled over the pleasant furnishings and rested on the big framed portrait of her precious boys that Caleb had painted as a surprise for her birthday. He was gaining a reputation as a respected artist these days and regularly sold his paintings for considerable amounts of money.

Finally her eyes settled on Caleb who was sitting in a comfortable chair nursing his tiny daughter.The expression on her husband’s face was all Eve could have wished for.

She smiled softly and lay back on the pillows, shutting her eyes. She was richly blessed.

Enjoy
. . . A letter from Rita Bradshaw

 

Find Out
. . . All about the Michaelmas Fair

 

Discover
. . . Rita’s top ten writing tips

 

Don’t miss
. . . Rita Bradshaw’s other enthralling novels

 

 

Dear Readers

In one way it doesn’t seem two minutes since I wrote the ‘Just for you’ section at the back of my previous book,
Above The Harvest Moon
, but in reality many months have raced by. These have held a mixture of deep sorrow - as you can see by the dedication in this particular book - but also times of joy and even adventure.

In May, Clive and I went on the holiday I spoke of in the previous book: three weeks in Italy and Greece which encompassed a twelve-day cruise on the Med and took in oodles of archaeology. It was all wonderful and fascinating - and the sun shone every day so at least we had a taste of summer! - but Pompeii was the highlight for me.We had allowed ourselves two whole days (arriving at the site as it opened at ten o’clock and not leaving until it closed), and it outdid all my expectations. As I stood and gazed along the dusty, time-worn lanes and pavements in the ancient town I could almost see those folk of long ago going about their daily business, unaware that the mountain which loomed over them was going to bring such destruction. I felt I had the privilege of peering straight into their lives and it’s a humbling and strange experience.

Home again - to a six-foot-high pile of post! - life resumed normality, or as close to normality as it ever gets in the Bradshaw household. Family, work, church, friends - so much to do and so little time to do it, as the rabbit in
Alice in Wonderland
said, or something along those lines! And then everything came to a sudden stop in July. Clive and I grieved with our dear friends, Peter and Dorothy, on the death of their beautiful, brave daughter, Lizzie, and we continue to do so. We pray every day that the Lord Jesus will comfort and uphold Lizzie’s parents and her husband, Phil, and her brother, Richard.

It’s often said in situations like this that the departed loved one was a very special person who touched the lives of everyone they met, and in Lizzie’s case that’s absolutely true. She suffered her battle against cancer with huge courage and cheerfulness, her unswerving faith and trust in God testifying to so many people.The world’s poorer, and heaven’s richer, at her passing.