Lucas (12 page)

December 01, 1861

“The Lord giveth, and
the Lord taketh away.”

Lucy barely heard the
words the preacher spoke as she stared at the heaping mound of dirt that concealed
the body of the once stranger who had become family to her. She’d spent the
better half of the morning collecting an armful of heather foliage and the cold
resilient camellia blossoms from Sophia’s winter garden and thought it only
fitting to have them for Liam, here under the big oak tree. She still wondered
how they could bloom amidst the snow.

The temperatures had
dropped severely over the last few days. Those in attendance were wrapped in
thick coats and woolen hats, but their faces were red from the cold and their
breath near frozen as it touched the air.

“He is now reunited
with his sweetheart, Sophia, and his grandson, Henry,” the preacher continued.

The warm touch of flesh
brushed against her hand. Startled, she glanced up to see Lucas, stoic and
strong, face forward, looking out into the expanse of the Deardon property
overlooking the grave. She slipped her hand into his to offer a moment’s
comfort, but he held it tight and didn’t let go.

It felt so good, so
right, that they were here together, grieving together for a man they both had
barely known, but dearly loved. She leaned into him, gaining strength from his.
It seemed so unfair that Lucas had just found his grandfather again only to
have him ripped away so suddenly.

“Now, we’d like to hear
a few words from Liam’s family.” The preacher looked at Sam and Hank, who both
joined him in front of everyone and shook the man’s hand.

“Dad would have been
surprised to see so many of you here,” Sam said with half a smile as he rubbed
his hands together. “I wish our brother Gabe and our sister Leah could be here
to see it.”

Lucy glanced around.
The whole settlement of Thistleberry had taken time away from their farms,
ranches, and work in town to be here. There weren’t many children present, but
Lucy hadn’t expected them to bring their youngsters out in this cold.

“He was gruff and
stubborn, but always fair,” Sam continued, “and I know that he enjoyed being a
part of this community. It was his idea to provide a Thanksgiving feast each
year to the Thistleberry orphanage,” he nodded at Mrs. Hamilton, the orphanage
proprietress, “and taught us that good fortune brings with it the
responsibility of caring for those in less abundant circumstances. He taught us
how to find the joy life has to offer and hold onto it.”

Hank took a step
forward. “He passed from this good earth doing what he loved—spending time with
his friends and family on Thanksgiving Day.” He brought his hands up to his
mouth, blowing his hot breath to warm them. “He will always be in our hearts.” Hank
simply nodded at the preacher to conclude the service. Hank had been a man of
few words ever since she’d known him. She wasn’t sure why she would expect
anything more now.

Lucas squeezed Lucy’s
hand, then released it as he stepped up to the grave and turned around to face
everyone in attendance. “I know most of you don’t know me,” his cheeks and nose
had a rosy glow—the only indication he felt the cold, “but my name is Lucas
Deardon and I am Liam Deardon’s grandson.”

An awed murmur rolled
over the crowd.

“Many of you may know
Gabe. I am his son, and I feel it only appropriate that I say a few words on
behalf of my father.”

Lucy placed her hand at
her chest and bit her lip. She knew this would be hard on him, but also knew it
would be healing. A light wind picked up and Lucy rubbed her wool-covered arms
against the chill.

“Death took my granddad
from us unexpectedly, with so much still left to say and do. I have to admit
that I feel a little cheated of the time me and my brothers spent separated
from our Granddad. I only returned recently and was blessed enough to spend a
few days with him before the Good Lord saw fit to take him, but in that time my
eyes were opened to the goodness of his heart and the bond that family
shares—no matter how long we’ve been apart.”

He looked at Hank, but
his uncle avoided his eyes and dropped his gaze to the ground.

“I know my father would
be too stubborn to say it, but my brothers and I missed out on a great
opportunity to get to know my granddad, to work alongside him, and to learn
from him.” He looked at Seth. “Whisper Ridge, and the people here,” he looked
directly at Lucy, “have become like home to me and I will miss them when I
return to Oregon.”

He’s leaving?

“Thank you all for living
as he taught…How did you put it, Uncle Sam? Caring for those in less abundant
circumstances.”

Sam nodded.

“I was a stranger and
he took me in.” Lucas paused. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “You
can’t find a better example of living the Lord’s teachings than that, Preacher.”

The pastor held up his
bible.

“Granddad taught me in
a short time what I’d failed to learn in the past twenty some odd years—the importance
of taking chances, and not just the kind that finds me bucked off a wild
mustang with an injured shoulder.”

Everyone laughed.

“He taught me to remember
that life is only what you make of it,” he said kicking at the ground, “and to…”
he looked up at Hank, “…to forgive. Thank you.” Lucas locked eyes with Lucy’s
and strode back to where she stood, scooping her hand into his, and led her to
the opposite side of the grandiose oak, away from prying eyes and ears.

“I am taking one of
those chances right now, Miss Lucy. With you,” he whispered as he reached for
her hand. “Granddad had it right all along and I couldn’t see it, but somehow,
he knew that you and I…that we…could create the most amazing life together. I
know the tournament was supposed to determine your beau, but I don’t want to leave
it to chance. I don’t want to wait anymore. Marry me, Lucy Russell. Be my
wife.”

She’d given up hope a
long time ago that she would be able to marry for love. Her stepfather had
touted her to the available men in New York as a good housekeeper, a cook, a
washerwoman. But, she’d grown tired of caring for someone else’s family and had
wanted a family of her own.

Lucy wasn’t silly
enough to believe that what she felt for Lucas Deardon after a single week was perfect,
but it
was
love—if only in the newest sense of the word. She loved him. In
that moment, something changed inside of her. She saw her life in a new light.
She’d come west with a promise of a new life and she’d found that—grateful it
wasn’t as Gilroy Hearn’s mail-order bride. But she had to ask herself why Lucas
wanted to marry her.

Now that Liam was gone,
she felt a little lost and longed for his direction, his guidance.

“Mr. Deardon…I…”

“Ashes to ashes and
dust to dust,” the preacher’s words were supposed to lead in to the music that
would conclude the service.

The cathartic sound of
bagpipes playing pulled Lucy’s thoughts back to the wake. She slipped her hand
from Lucas’s.

“I have to go.” She
hurried to the edge of the graveside and looked out at many unknown and
familiar faces alike, then glanced back over her shoulder to see Lucas standing
there, his brows knit together, his face solemn.

Seth and Daniel moved to
stand next to her as their bagpipes transitioned into the song they had
rehearsed. The air went still, and for a brief moment, the sun warmed her
unopposed.

“Amazing Grace, how
sweet the sound…” she closed her eyes as she sang, allowing the words to fill
her heart. “I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, but now, I see.” She
glanced back at the shadow of the tree.

Lucas was gone.

“A singer?” Lucas
shoved his hands through his hair. “Real funny, Granddad.”

Alone in his room, he
sat down on the corner of the bed with a nice view of the oak tree out the
window. He pushed open the glass and listened, despite the tremendous chill
that whirled into his room. He pulled his coat up tighter around his neck.

“I once was lost and
now I’m found…”

Lucas scoffed. He’d
thought he’d been found, but right now he felt lost all over again.

He had to give it to
her, Lucy’s voice was like that of an angel’s. He didn’t remember much about
his mother, but he could still hear the sound of her voice as she sang him to
sleep. That voice that had brought so much comfort and then had caused so much
pain.

He remembered a time,
not too long ago, when Jonah struggled with the same thing. Lucas’s own advice
to his brother came back to him in perfect clarity.

Not every woman is
going to be like mama
,
he’d told him. And at this moment, he sure hoped he was right.

Lucy finished up her
song and bagpipes subsided—the only sound that followed was the creak of the swaying
trees as the new breeze passed by. More than a few townsfolk wiped their eyes
as one by one they stood and slowly made their way up to the house.

Several of the women
from town and varying homesteads throughout the valley had worked together to
provide a light luncheon for the folks who’d come to pay their respects. Lucas
knew he should be out there greeting guests, thanking them, and introducing
himself, but what was the point? He would just be leaving for Oregon in a few
days and it wouldn’t matter if anyone in Thistleberry remembered him.

Quit wallowing, Deardon.

Knock. Knock.

Lucas looked up to see Sam
leaning against the frame of the open door.

“What you said out
there was real nice, Lucas.” His uncle stepped inside. “Brrr.” He shook his
shoulders. “It’s freezing in here,” he said as he crossed the room, closed the
window, and then moved to sit next to him on the bed. “You must know how much it
meant to your granddad to have you here. He was very proud of the man you’ve
become. Couldn’t stop talking about you the other night.”

“I’ve been trying to
understand why Dad kept us away from him. From Whisper Ridge. What was so
horrible that he couldn’t forgive? What drove him away?”

“That’s not an easy
answer, kid.”

“Sure it is,” Uncle
Hank said in a matter-of-fact tone as he stepped into the room. “Your father
didn’t want to see the truth and in order to save his precious pride, he left.”

“The truth about what?”
Lucas looked at Hank.

His uncle scrubbed at
his stubbled neck with the backs of his fingers, but did not answer immediately.
“Maybe it’s best you don’t know.”

“Best for who?”

“He’s got a right to
know, Henry.”

It was the first time
Lucas had ever heard anyone call his Uncle Hank by his given name.

“Let’s just say that
your mother had one foot out the door long before she left for Chicago.”

“How’d you—”

“Your granddad told
us.”

Lucas stood and faced
both of his uncles. “I am not a child anymore. You can tell me what happened.
Why did we leave? What? Did my mother try to get a job singing here?” He
couldn’t imagine what was so hard to tell him.

What could possibly be
that bad?

Hank stood up, threw
his hands in the air, and stormed for the door. “Your mother tried to ruin
everything. With Mara and me. She…She…” Hank shook his head.

“She crawled into
Hank’s bed one night while Mara was out of town visiting her mother,” Sam
finished for him. “But Mara came home early and found Lorna…in her bed. With a
sleeping Hank.”

“I can’t listen to this
again.” Hank stomped out of the room.

“Hank went immediately
and told your pa, but Gabe wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t believe him. Couldn’t
believe that the mother of his children and the love of his life could have
done such a thing. He chose to believe the yarn that Lorna’d spun for him,
claiming that Hank tried to take advantage of her.” Sam patted Lucas on the
back. “They fought. Dad sided with Hank. Gabe left. End of story.”

Lucas felt like he
should be surprised at Sam’s words, but somehow it all rang too true.

“But Mama walked out a
long time ago. He had to have known what she was then. That Hank had been telling
the truth. What kept him away after that?”

“Do you know your
father at all?” Sam asked with a chuckle.

Lucas breathed a laugh.
Gabe Deardon was a prideful man and his vanity had kept him separated from his
family for the past fourteen years. Hell, it was what had separated all of them
in the first place. Suddenly, Lucas felt sorry for his father. They had all missed
out on so much. He dropped his head.

“I think it’s time for
me to go home.” He sat up to look at his uncle.

Sam studied him, an
undiscernible expression resting on his features. After a moment he nodded with
a reassuring smile. “You are home, Lucas.” And with that, he stood up and
crossed the room, pausing at the door and turning back to look at him. “Dad’s
lawyer, Mr. Tacy, has called for a meeting so he can read the contents of your
granddad’s will. He wants to begin at noon. Join us in the main study. If you
still want to leave after that, I won’t stop you. But I might advise you to
stay until spring. Wouldn’t want you to freeze to death on the trail. It is
winter, after all.” His uncle bobbed his head. His pursed lips scrunched together
as if he was trying to stop himself from saying more. With one last nod, he
left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Reading Granddad’s
will?

Lucas had only known
the man five minutes. How could anything in Liam Deardon’s last testament make
him stay?

Knock. Knock.

He glanced up, but when
the door didn’t open immediately, he pushed himself up off the bed and swung it
open wide, half expecting Seth and Daniel to coax him downstairs.

“We need to talk.” Lucy
marched past him and into the room.

“Come on in,” he said
to the empty hall. He turned to look at her and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Her cheeks were flushed and her hair curled slightly, framing her face and
falling in light disarray over her shoulders. Even with her arms folded and her
lips absent of their natural curve, she was easily the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen.

“A man does not just
propose marriage to a woman and then walk away.” Her chin raised as she turned
slightly away from him.

“I’m not the one who
walked away.” Heaven help him, but he liked seeing her flustered and off
kilter. It made her a little more vulnerable and, he guessed, that didn’t
happen very often.

“I’d made a prior
commitment. To sing. At your grandfather’s wake!” Her voice grew louder as she
spoke, then softened eerily. “What did you expect me to do?”

“Answer.” It was simple
enough.

Lucy opened her mouth,
then closed it again. She threw her arms up, her hands brushing the air before
she dropped them to her sides. Her eyes flitted over his. “Mr. Deardon, I…”

Lucas closed the
distance between them in a few purposeful strides.

“I think we’re beyond
the formalities, don’t you? My name is Lucas.”

She bit her lip.

He groaned.

“I understand that you
agreed to sing for my grandfather’s wake, and I feel bad that I didn’t even
know that you
could
sing, but I have to know something.”

“Mr. Dear—” She put her
hand up in front of her and closed her eyes. “Lucas, I…” she shook her head,
her eyes unable to meet his.

He placed his crooked
finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could see her clearly.

What are you doing,
Deardon?

Alarm bells sounded in
his head and he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. His heart
pounded in his ears, his jaw flexed, and everything inside of him said he
should step back, but he could not make himself pull his hand away from her.

“Tell me you don’t want
to get married.” The intoxicating scent of citrus infused in her hair filled
his nostrils as a light breeze worked through the house, blowing her tresses in
wisps in front of him. “Tell me you dream of running away and singing on a big,
fancy stage.” He captured her hand and pinned it to his chest. “Tell me you
don’t think about me. Tell me you don’t want me,” he pleaded, “and I will leave
for Oregon tomorrow and you will never see me again.”

Painstaking silence.

“I can’t tell you any
of those things,” she finally whispered.

Damn.