Longings of the Heart (13 page)

She walked to the house and slowly climbed the steps. It had been two days since he’d left.
If he were going to get over
being angry, he would have done it by now, wouldn’t he? Where
can he be?

Hannah had considered going to the Athertons’ to see if he was there but decided against it. She didn’t want anyone to know that they’d fought and that he was gone. She sat on the top step and allowed her eyes to roam over the green grasses and then to the river. The earth smelled damp and the air was cool. “Where is he? Lord, have I lost him forever?” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

The creak of the barn door cut into the quiet. Hannah looked up to find Quincy staring at her. With a quick nod and wearing a cheerless expression, he strode toward his cottage, Jackson at his heels. Hannah swiped away her tears and hurried inside.

She shut the door and, fighting to keep her emotions under control, returned the broom and dustpan to their place beside the hearth. She could feel tears burning, and the agonizing ache inside would not relent. Holding back the anguish, she looked at the lifeless hearth. She ought to build a fire and make something to eat. John would be hungry when he returned.

Her grief suddenly overwhelming her, Hannah dropped to her knees and sobbed, “Lord, please do not allow this. Make it right. I beg you. I was wrong. All of this is my fault. I know John deserves better than me, but . . .” She fought to catch her breath as she imagined life without him. “I can’t bear to lose him. Please bring him home.”

For a long while Hannah remained on her knees, praying and beseeching God, seeking his forgiveness and asking that he mercifully restore her marriage. Weak from weeping, she finally stood. She poked the ash and then added tinder to the glowing coals. She went to the front porch to get wood and stopped there to watch the empty road. If only John would return.

Quincy walked out of the barn carrying a pail of milk. He headed toward the house. Using the corner of her apron, Hannah wiped away the remnant of her tears, turned to the stack of wood, and picked out a few pieces. She faced Quincy. “Good day,” she said, her words sounding hollow.

Quincy held out the pail. “Patience needed milking and I figured ye might be needing some fresh.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll take it in for ye.” Quincy hurried up the steps and opened the door, standing aside for Hannah.

Hannah remained just inside the doorway, watching while Quincy placed the milk on the counter. He turned as if to leave, then stopped and looked at Hannah. “Not to worry. He’ll be back.”

“I pray you’re right.”

Quincy removed his hat. “I could find him if ye like.”

“Where do you think he’s gone to?”

“Sydney Town, most likely.”

Taking in a shuddering breath, Hannah couldn’t keep from looking toward the roadway. She willed John to appear. “If you go, I want to go with you.”

“Don’t figure that’s a good idea. Most likely he’d rather ye didn’t.” He spoke in a quiet, even tone. “If it was me, I’d be discomfited if me wife came looking for me.” He smoothed back short-cropped hair and offered a kind gaze. “I’ll find him for ye.”

Hannah felt a flicker of hope. “It would do my heart good to know he’s well.”

“I’ll do me best.” Quincy returned his hat to his head. “I’ll leave straightaway, then.”

“Can you wait a moment? I’d like to write him a note. Please wait.”

Quincy shrugged. “S’pose it’ll do no harm. I’ll get me horse ready and be back.” He walked toward the barn.

Hannah closed the door, then took pen, ink, and paper down from a shelf. Sitting at the table, she opened the ink bottle and dipped in the pen. She held the pen above the paper, but couldn’t think of what to say.
What will bring him back to me?

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. “Father, give me the words. Tell me what John needs to hear so he can believe in me again. Please open his heart to me.”

She put the pen to the paper. “My dearest John. I pray Quincy has found you well and safe. I’ve been worried to distraction and utterly desolate since you left.

“The fault for all that has happened rests upon my shoulders. I should have told you the truth long ago. You said you feel betrayed, and you should. It was wrong of me to keep such a ghastly secret, especially from you, the one I trust above all others. Please believe that if it were possible to go back and begin again, I would tell you.

“I beseech you to forgive me. I need you. I love you. I will always love you.” Hannah stopped and stared at the paper. What more could she say? She signed it, “Always your loving wife, Hannah.”

She blew on the paper to dry the ink and then reread what she’d written. Squeezing her eyes closed, she prayed, “Father, help him understand, help him to forgive me.” She folded the letter in half and held it against her chest as she walked to the door.
Bring him back to me.

When she opened the door, Quincy stood alongside his horse at the foot of the porch steps. He looked uncomfortable and glum. “I’m ready to go.”

“Give him this.” Hannah extended the note. “Make sure he gets it.”

Quincy tucked the letter into his coat pocket. “Not to worry. I’ll find him.” He shoved his foot into the stirrup, pushed up, and settled into the saddle. “I locked Jackson in a stall inside the barn. Figured it best to leave him here with ye.” With a quick tug on the reins, he turned the horse toward the road and trotted off. Hannah watched until she could no longer see him and then stepped back inside and closed the door. The house felt empty.

“I must speak to Lydia.”

She added wood to the fire, then took down her cloak from its peg beside the door, pulled it about her shoulders, and hurried out of the house toward the barn. After making sure Jackson had water, Hannah saddled her mare, and without thought of the disagreeable stirrup stockings, she settled atop the horse and headed for the Athertons’.

When she approached the Atherton home, Hannah was reminded of her unconventional mode of travel by the stares she received. Perhaps the wagon would have been a better choice, but it would have taken too much time to harness the horse, and riding was faster. Under the circumstances she cared little what others thought.

She rode directly to Lydia’s cabin, dismounted and tied the horse to the porch railing, then walked up the steps and knocked on the cottage door. No one answered.
She must be
in the main house.

Hannah headed toward the Atherton home. When she reached the back porch, she didn’t bother to knock but stepped inside, striding through the porchway and into the kitchen. It smelled of baking.

Mrs. Goudy smiled at her. “Hannah! Grand to see you!” She set a pie on the broad kitchen counter. “What a pleasant surprise.” She gave Hannah a hearty hug. “I wish you’d come to visit us more often.”

The woman’s kindness broke down Hannah’s reserve, and she could feel the sting of tears. “I’m glad to be here,” she barely managed to say.

Mrs. Goudy held her at arm’s length. “What is it, dear? What’s the trouble?”

“I’m fine, truly. Just a bit emotional is all.” Hannah couldn’t tell Mrs. Goudy that John was gone. She’d want to know what could make him so angry that he’d leave.

“Is that all?” Mrs. Goudy eyed her with suspicion.

Deidre wandered into the kitchen and turned cold eyes on Hannah. She reminded Hannah of a cat gazing at some unsuspecting little bird.

“Why, Hannah, what are ye doing ’ere? It’s not like ye to come all this way during the week.” She glanced out the window. “And where’s that handsome husband of yers? I was hoping to have a word with him.”

There was something in her tone, something threatening that set Hannah’s nerves on edge. “He’s off on business,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. “I thought it a fine time to visit friends.”

“Oh.” Deidre swept up a loose tendril of blonde hair and tucked it in place. “Well, if yer looking for Lydia, I saw her in the parlor a few moments ago.” She smiled—it was not the warm smile of friendship but rather a cool and dismissive one. With that, she walked toward the pantry.

Mrs. Goudy returned to the stone oven and retrieved another pie. She glanced at Hannah. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Absolutely.” Hannah edged toward the door leading to the dining room. “I’ll just have a look to see what Lydia’s up to.” She tried to keep her tone light.

Hannah moved through the familiar dining room, crossed the stone entryway, and stepped into the parlor and onto its colorful rug. Lydia was cleaning a window and didn’t notice her.

“Lydia.”

Her friend turned about with an “Oh!” She pressed a hand to her throat. “You frightened me. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I guess I was off in my own world.” She smiled. “Grand to see ye. It’s been too long since ye’ve come for a visit.”

Hannah hugged her. She needed to talk, but not here. “Can you take a bit of time so we can chat?”

“Of course. Please, sit.”

“Can we go to your cottage?”

“All right.” Lydia’s expression turned to concern. “What is it? Something’s not right.”

“I’ll tell you, but not here.”

“All right, then. I’ll let Mrs. Goudy know where we’ve gone to in case she needs me.” Lydia moved to Hannah and placed an arm protectively about her shoulders. “Come on. We’ll talk.”

The two friends sat across from each other at Lydia’s small table. “Are ye thirsty?” she asked. “I can get us something to drink.”

“I am. It was a bit of a ride here. A glass of water would suit me fine.”

“Ye came by yerself?” Lydia moved to a counter and lifted a pitcher of water. She filled two glasses and carried them to the table, setting one in front of Hannah.

“Yes.”

“And on horseback, I see.”

“I did. I like to ride.” Hannah sipped the water, uncertain just how to begin the conversation.

“So, what’s brought ye all the way here in the middle of the week?”

Hannah set her glass on the table. She looked at it and not at Lydia. “John’s gone.”

“What do ye mean, gone?”

“We had a terrible fight and he left me.”

“Oh.” Lydia rested an arm over the back of her chair. “I thought ye had something dreadful to tell me.” She offered a gentle smile. “He’ll be back, most likely in time for dinner. Men don’t like to miss a meal.” She patted Hannah’s hand. “Ye don’t need to fret so. Every couple has their rows now and again.”

“You don’t understand. He left two days ago.” Hannah ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “I told him about Mr. Walker and the baby.”

Lydia took in a sharp breath. “My Lord. And he left, eh?”

“Yes. It was awful. Just as I’d feared. He was so angry. I’ve never seen him like that . . . never.”

“I’m sure he’ll see reason and be home soon.”

“I don’t think so. He accused me of enticing Mr. Walker. He believes it was my fault.” Hannah could feel the stabbing pain of John’s accusations.

“Truly not.”

“He said he could never trust me again.” Hannah’s eyes brimmed with tears. She tugged a handkerchief out from beneath the cuff of her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.

“Oh, he doesn’t mean that. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re angry. I’m sure he’ll get over it. He just needs a bit of time.” Lydia laid a hand on Hannah’s arm. “He’ll come to his senses and realize the truth.”

Hannah gently blew her nose. “I want to believe that, but when I told him that I’d prayed the baby would die, he became enraged. He said no decent woman could want her own child dead.” She pressed trembling fingers against her lips. “I’ll never forget the look of revulsion in his eyes. He hates me.” Heartache shot through her. “He’ll never forgive me. Never.”

Lydia moved around the table, knelt beside Hannah, and put her arms around her. “I’m sure that’s not true. He’s angry is all. John could never stop loving ye.” She patted Hannah’s back the way she might a child. “He’ll be home, ye’ll see. Yer love is stronger than this.” She smiled and gently wiped tears from Hannah’s cheeks. “I know it is.”

“How can you know that?” Hannah was sure Lydia was wrong. Fear brought more tears. “I’m afraid. What if I’ve lost him?” She glanced at the window, hoping she might see him. Of course that was a silly notion. “Quincy thinks he may be in Sydney Town. He’s on his way there now to see if he can find him.”

Lydia returned to her seat. “He will, and he and John will come home. Ye’ll see I’m right.” She rested her arms on the table. “The two of ye will grow old together, I’m sure of it.”

Hannah nodded. “That’s what I always thought. But you didn’t see how angry and how hurt he was. He felt utterly betrayed. You and Mrs. Atherton were right.” She tried to keep her chin from quivering. “I should have told him the truth before we were married.” She covered her face with her hands and massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “But I know that if I’d told him before, I would have lost him for sure. I may have lost him anyway.”

“Try to be hopeful.” Lydia’s eyes teared. “We all must be.”

Lydia rarely cried. Something must be terribly wrong to move her to tears. “What’s happened? What is it? Something besides my problems is bothering you.” Hannah dabbed at her eyes and carefully tucked her handkerchief inside her cuff. “Here I’ve been talking about me and John, and you’ve troubles of your own.”