The Vow (38 page)
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said. “I want to mourn him, but I can’t.”
“I know. At least if we knew what happened to him…” His voice trailed off.
Hannah turned. “Is there some way we can find out?”
Reiver’s wide jaw hardened. “I think we should let it go for both our sakes, don’t you?”
She stepped back a pace and stared at him in shock. “Don’t you want to know what happened to your own brother, Reiver?”
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He shrugged. “Australia is at the end of the world. It would take too much time and money that could be better spent on the mill. Even then we still might not know. Surely you can see that.”
Hannah bowed her head. “You’re right.”
He drew her hand through the crook of his arm. “Come back to the house.
Elisabeth is waiting.”
But Hannah couldn’t stop thinking of Samuel.
Hannah lay the small bouquet of late yellow roses on Abigail’s grave, then bowed her head in silent prayer that ended with a promise never to forget. A film of tears blurred her vision, so she didn’t get a good look at the man standing at the edge of the cemetery, watching her.
When she blinked, he vanished.
Hannah shivered, but more with excitement than uneasiness. The man had been standing near a tall weeping willow tree, half-concealed by long green fronds that swept the ground, and too far away for her to get a good look at him.
Still, he seemed so familiar.
“It was just a passerby, that’s all,” she told herself, striding through the cemetery’s shifting, dappled light. Yet she found herself looking for him, unable to shake the feeling that he wanted her to follow him. She walked faster.
The homestead loomed ahead, quiet and empty. Or was it? Hannah walked around the building and stopped when she saw the open back door.
“Georgia?” she called, peering inside. “James?”
No answer. Just faint, echoing footsteps.
Heart pounding, Hannah rushed upstairs to what used to be Samuel’s studio. The door creaked when she pushed it open. She wasn’t alone.
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He was standing in the middle of the room, his back toward her, but she knew who he was. Hannah held her breath, not daring to move for fear that she was dreaming.
Then he turned and she saw that he was real. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock.
“Hello, Hannah,” Samuel said.
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At least she thought the man standing there was Samuel.
His height hadn’t changed, or his physique, though he looked much thinner.
His hair, as dark and curling as she remembered, now fell to his collar, and two wide swaths of gray flared out from his temples. A gray-flecked beard concealed half of his handsome countenance. The ghostly pale blue eyes that Hannah remembered always brimming with laughter and understanding, now seemed curiously devoid of their former fire.
Uncertainty filled her. “Samuel?”
He didn’t move. “Hannah…it’s been a long time.”
The voice, that unmistakable voice that had murmured such sweet endearments to her and sent her spirits soaring, sounded flat and weary…
“Eight years,” she said.
“What happened to my studio?”
“Reiver turned it into a storeroom.”
Hannah stood there, suddenly awkward and unsure. What should she do next? She wanted to fling herself across the dusty room into his arms, to feel the welcome hardness of his body against hers, to drown helplessly in his love again.
Yet he made no sign that he would welcome her embrace, no tentative step toward her, no outstretched arms to enfold her.
Then she saw why.
She had noticed that Samuel held his right arm close to his body as an injured bird would protect a broken wing. Puzzled, she stared at it. Then she saw
The Vow
that the cuff of his coat sleeve had been shortened to just above the wrist, turned up, and sewn shut.
Samuel had no right hand.
The blood drained from Hannah’s face as she stared goggle-eyed at where Samuel’s hand used to be. The hand with its delicate touch that had evoked such pleasure, the hand capable of depicting such beauty in his paintings and engravings…
Because she knew he would disdain her pity most of all, Hannah tried to remain composed and unaffected, but the shock overwhelmed her. When the studio tilted ominously to one side and she swayed along with it, she gasped for breath and leaned heavily against the door to keep from fainting.
Samuel crossed the room slowly, his footsteps sending dust motes spiraling into the hot, stale air. When he reached her side, he made no attempt to touch her, just stared out of empty eyes. “I don’t want pity,” he said, each word clipped and strained, “yours most of all.”
But he did need her strength. She took another deep breath to banish the light-headedness and moved away from the door. “You’ll get no pity from me, Samuel Shaw.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Welcome home.”
His eyes held hers defiantly. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened to my hand?”
“Not unless you wish to tell me.”
He spoke as if he were repeating an uninteresting story he had told a hundred times before. “I lost it in a mining accident in Australia. There was a cave-in, and a ton of rock crushed my hand. The doctors had to cut it off.”
Hannah cried inside when she thought of the pain he must have endured, and the horror when he realized that he would never paint again. She let out the
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breath she had been holding. “I—I don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ seems so inadequate, but I am sorry this happened to you, of all people. And it’s sympathy, not pity,” she added hastily when she saw him stiffen.
“You always did know just what to say to make a person feel better.”
“I’m just glad you’re home.”
He smiled wryly. “I don’t think Reiver will be overjoyed to see me.”
“Reiver’s changed,” Hannah said. “That’s why he agreed to invite you to James and Georgia’s wedding.”
Samuel rocked back on his heels. “My baby brother is getting married?”
“Didn’t you know? We sent a letter to Australia inviting you to the wedding.”
He shook his head. “I never received it. Of course, I’ve been traveling around so much, it’s no wonder.” He smiled. “James getting married after all these years… I still can’t believe he worked up enough nerve to court someone.”
Puzzled, Hannah said, “If you’re not here because of the wedding, why did you return?”
Dared she hope his love for her had drawn him back?
“Isn’t it obvious?” He held up his right arm. “I’m a cripple now. I can’t earn a living. What else is there for me to do except slink back to my family like a whipped dog with my tail between my legs and throw myself at their mercy?”
Hannah reared back, eyes flashing with anger. “For someone who doesn’t want pity, you’re certainly adept at pitying yourself, Samuel Shaw! This is your family. You will always have a place here, no matter what your circumstances.”
Her voice softened. “No one will think of you as a whipped dog or a charity case.”
He turned away. “Forgive me for the outburst. Self-pity and bitterness aren’t attractive traits, and I try not to indulge in them too often.”
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“No one could blame you if you did.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “In spite of what happened in the past, Reiver is your brother and he cares about you. He won’t turn you away.”
I will see to that.
Samuel said, “Will you tell him that I’m here, and prepare everyone for how I’ve…changed? That’s why I came up here first.”
“I’ll tell him,” Hannah said. “But we’ve all changed. You should be prepared for a few shocks of your own.”
She turned and left the studio.
As she hurried across the lawn to the mill, Hannah’s thoughts skittered through her mind with dizzying speed. She felt as though her world had suddenly turned upside down. Her former lover had become a cold, withdrawn stranger.
She blinked, forcing back helpless tears. She could certainly understand why.
How could an artist like Samuel endure life knowing he would never paint or engrave lithographs again? How could he avoid not turning bitter?
She quickened her step. He was home now. His family would shelter and succor him, and Hannah would make him whole again.
She found Reiver, James, and Benjamin together in the machine shop.
Benjamin looked at her oddly. “Mother, what’s wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have.” Hannah paused to catch her breath. “Samuel is here.”
“Uncle Samuel?” Benjamin’s face lit up with anticipation and he looked past his mother’s shoulder at the door.
Reiver’s brows rose in surprise. “Samuel? When did he arrive?”
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“And where in the hell is he?” James added, putting down the broken gear he had been repairing.
Hannah raised her hands to silence them. “He’s in the homestead, but before you all go charging off to see him, there’s something you’ve got to know.”
Three faces stared at her expectantly.
Hannah knotted her long fingers together. “Samuel had an accident in Australia.” Her voice broke. “He lost his right hand.”
The three men looked as though they had been struck by lightning.
Reiver stepped forward, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. “Are you saying…?”
“Are you deaf?” Hannah snapped, her self-control slipping. “The doctors amputated his hand.”
“Poor Uncle Samuel,” Benjamin said, shaking his head.
“You musn’t say that to him,” Hannah said. “The last thing your uncle needs is our pity.” She looked from Reiver to James. “That’s why I came ahead, to prepare you for the shock.”
Reiver nodded absently. “James, why don’t you go back to the house and tell the others? I’ll go to see Sam.”
Hannah joined Reiver, matching his long stride as he hurried out of the mill.
“Are you going to let him stay?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied. “He’s my brother. He may stay as long as he likes.”
He looked at her askance. “Did you think I would turn him away? I told you I was willing to forget the past.”
Hannah made no comment, for she had wondered what Reiver would do.
She said, “He’s changed a great deal in other ways, so try not to look shocked.”
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Even though Hannah had warned him, Reiver couldn’t believe the change, in his brother when they came face-to-face in the homestead’s parlor a few minutes later.
Gone was the charming, outgoing Samuel with the sparkling eyes and contagious zest for life that drew people to him; in his place was a hollow man, all shadows and silences.
Reiver went to him without hesitation and hugged him. “Welcome back.”
When they drew away, both men had tears in their eyes. “I know we didn’t part under the best of terms,” Samuel began.
“That’s all in the past.” To his surprise, Reiver found that he meant it. “Let’s forget it, shall we?”
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Samuel swallowed hard. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to earn my keep now, but—”
“Don’t talk nonsense. You’ve bailed us out more times than I can count.” In his daydreams Reiver once thought he’d relish seeing his brother humbled someday, but never like this. “We owe you.”
Hannah said, “Once James is married, he and Georgia will be moving out, so you may have the homestead all to yourself.”
Samuel thanked them, then added, “I’d like to see the others. Is Mrs.
Hardy…?”
“Still alive?” Hannah said. “Yes, and as sharp-tongued as ever. Benjamin and Davey have grown into fine young men you won’t recognize, and we have several new additions to the family?”
“You’ve had more children?”
Reiver’s gaze flew to Hannah. He held his breath as a flicker of pain crossed her face, but it vanished the moment she smiled. “Not exactly, but you’ll see.”
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Walking up to the main house, Reiver watched Hannah and Samuel together for any sign that their mutual passion had flared anew, but he sensed nothing except an exaggerated politeness that affects people after long absences.
Hannah chatted easily, telling Samuel that later she wanted to hear all about his travels in California and Australia. He said he was amazed at how much Coldwater had grown in his absence. And the mill, he added, stopping to look.
So Reiver told him how they had acquired the Bickford farm and planned to expand the mill even further one day.
When they arrived at the main house, Reiver saw Samuel stiffen, as though girding himself for battle, before going inside.
They entered the parlor, where everyone had gathered to welcome Samuel home. Judging by the bleak, stricken expressions, Hannah could see that her family hadn’t had enough time to absorb the shock.
Please don’t let anyone say something hurtful, she said to herself.
James greeted his brother first, hugging him as Reiver had done. Then he proudly introduced Georgia, who managed to keep her curious gaze focused on Samuel’s face.
When Samuel greeted her with, a curt, unsmiling nod and a simple “hello,”
Georgia looked disappointed, as if she had been expecting quite a different reaction from a man of his reputed charm.
She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at long last, Samuel. We were hoping you’d be home in time for our wedding.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Samuel said. Then he noticed his two nephews.
“Benjamin? Davey?”
They stepped forward, suddenly shy.
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Samuel shook his head. “I can’t believe how you’ve grown.”
“I am almost sixteen, Uncle Samuel,” Benjamin said, extending his right hand. When he realized his mistake, he turned bright red with embarrassment, muttered, “Sorry,” and stuck out his left instead.