Twice Loved (copy2) (44 page)

Something indefinable had changed between the two men. As Rye stood now beside Dan’s bed, they each sensed the tether of lifelong sanguinity binding them together with a strength that superseded their rivalry for the same woman. They would both always love her, but—the realization hummed between them—they would both always love one another, too. To remain on this island together was to sentence themselves to certain hurt. The time had come for final separations. The pain in Dan’s chest was, at that moment, more than just physical, and the softening of the expression in Rye’s pale blue eyes did not quite disguise a sudden glitter there.

But at that moment the door opened and a rush of cold air ushered Laura and Josh into the keeping room. Something in Rye’s stance told the two Dan was awake.

Josh rushed to the bedside, hung over it on his belly, and cried happily, “Papa! Papa! You’re awake!”

Laura was right behind him, leaning to touch Dan’s brow. “Dan, thank God you’ve made it. We’ve been so worried.” She smiled down tenderly, a wealth of concern etched on her brow, but lifting somewhat as she saw his revived color. “Josh, come. We mustn’t bring the cold near Papa with our coats. Warm up by the fire first, then you can talk with him again, but only for a while. He’s got to rest.”

“But, Mama, I got to tell Papa about my skates and about how Rye brung him here and Mr. McColl tried to—”

“Later, Josh.”

Dan noted Laura’s swift interruption and how assiduously she sidestepped crediting herself or Rye for saving his life. But from Josh, Dan was to learn, during the days that followed, all that had transpired. The child painted the facts very vividly, until the information formed a concise picture of all Rye and Laura had done during the time he himself had been unconscious.

***

Dan’s recovery was slow and painful. He was confined to bed for two weeks, racked by a cough that at times threatened to choke him. But he grew stronger as the days passed, and he had hours and hours to lie and ponder the curious fact that when he himself was in dire need, the islanders found Rye the natural one to turn to for help; the fact that when the local apothecary proclaimed his fingers lost, Rye refused to accept his word without a fight; the fact that when McColl would have covered his chest with vicious burns, Rye’s anger raged out of control; the fact that for four nights and three days Rye and Laura had fought tenaciously to save his life. And had won.

Dan watched the two of them together, having plenty of time to do just that, for Rye came every day to carry wood and water for Laura, to bring fresh milk from town and greetings from the islanders and an analgesic balm for Dan’s fingers and a potent medicine for his cough, though he offered no more alcoholic spirits, not even for medicinal purposes.

Dan’s mother came every day, too, and from her Dan pieced together the few fragments of the story he was unable to glean from Josh.

Dan could not help but note the change in Josh’s attitude toward Rye. The boy had clearly accepted Rye’s daily presence in the house, and though it was Dan whom the child still referred to as Papa, there was a camaraderie between Rye and Josh that somehow had little to do with bloodlines.

There came a day in mid-December when Josh was hunkering crosslegged at the foot of Dan’s bed and Laura was sitting in a chair nearby, hemming sheets.

“Papa, when will you teach me to skate?” Josh inquired. Laura looked up and scolded gently, “Josh, you know that Papa’s not well enough yet to go out in the cold air.”

Dan had not questioned Laura about Rye’s claim that she was going to the Michigan Territory in the spring, but by his closest count, this was the seventh sheet he’d seen her hemming. He watched the needle flash as she raised her hand and drew the thread tight. Then Dan turned back to Josh.

“Why don’t you ask Rye to teach you to skate? He’s a very good skater.”

Laura looked up in surprise.

“He is?” Josh’s voice went several notes higher whenever skating was mentioned.

“Oh, he’s every bit as good as I am. We did plenty of skating together when we were boys.”

“And Mama, too?”

Dan’s eyes moved to Laura. “Yes, and Mama, too. She went everywhere we went, Rye and I.”

There was no sting in Dan’s words. Instead, he went on in a mellow tone, relating the story about the time they’d built a fire on the frozen surface of the pond and it melted the ice and fell through into the spring-fed water, nearly taking them all with it.

As Dan talked, Laura felt the breath catch in her throat, and a fierce gratitude grip her heart. Dan, oh, Dan, I understand the gift you are giving, and I know what it is costing you.

Though he would not meet her eyes, she knew Dan was aware of her studying him, listening to his every word. He was still talking when Rye arrived, to be immediately assaulted by Josh, who pitched himself against Rye’s legs, looked up, and begged, “Will you take me skating, Rye? Will you?”

Rye glanced from Laura to Dan, then back down at the boy with the untamable rooster tail. Absently, Rye smoothed it down. “And whose idea was this?”

“Papa’s. He said you and him skated all the time when you was little.”

“Papa’s, huh?” His eyes moved to the alcove bed where Dan was resting. “You sure about that?” Still with an eye on

Dan, Rye started shrugging out of his jacket.

“Sure I’m sure. Just ask him!”

But just then Dan cleared his throat. “I ... ahhh ... I promised I’d teach him, but there’ll be no getting out for me for a while, so I thought maybe ... well—” Dan gestured with his palms.

Rye moved nearer the bed. Though he stood with thumbs hooked at his waist, it took an effort not to reach out and squeeze Dan’s shoulder. “Say no more. I’ll have him on the ice before the week is out.”

Their eyes met and held, then wavered, and finally parted in the face of indomitable emotions that suddenly sprang up between them.

Before another hour was up, Laura found herself alone with Dan, for Josh had been so persistent, Rye had finally agreed to take him to the cooperage to pick up his own skates, then on to one of the island’s many ponds to make use of the last couple of hours of daylight.

The house grew still when the two were gone, and Laura sensed Dan’s eyes following her as she moved restlessly about the keeping room, folding sheets, putting away needle and thread, adding a log to the fire. It was the first time they’d been alone in the house in weeks. A spasm of coughing gripped Dan, and Laura turned toward him as she always did, offering a cup of soothing tea. When she brought it, he shifted into a sitting position with the pillows plumped behind his back, accepted the cup, then captured Laura’s hand before she could escape.

“Sit down.”

She perched on the edge of the alcove bed, and for a moment Dan kept her hand, rubbing it distractedly with his thumb, finally releasing it to hold his mug with both palms.

“Rye tells me he’s going to the Michigan Territory with the first thaws and that you’re going with him.”

It was curious how calm Laura felt at this moment, after weeks of anticipating a great gush of guilt. “Yes, Dan, I am. I wish ... I wish there was another answer I could give that wouldn’t hurt you, but I believe it’s time for honesty among all of us. Perhaps I should have told you two weeks ago, when Rye and I made the decision, but I was waiting for you to get stronger.”

“I’ve got eyes, Laura. I’ve been watching you hem those sheets to take along.”

She stared at her lap and groped for something to say. “They say it gets very cold in the Michigan Territory this time of year, and ... and settlements are remote.”

“So I’ve heard.” His voice was deeper and gruffer than usual from days of coughing, but as he spoke now, the words were very quiet.

She looked up and met his eyes squarely. “We’ll be taking Josh along with us, Dan.”

“Yes, I know.”

The room grew still. Outside, a soft snow had begun, but inside the fire glowed gold and pink. Dan’s face was pale, but he was growing stronger each day, yet Laura understood—it took more than physical strength for Dan to face the truth.

“And I know why you sent him off with Rye—so the two of them could have some time alone, to get to know each other.” She lightly touched the back of Dan’s hand, which lay on the quilt. “Thank you.”

For a moment Dan’s eyes were tormented, then he quickly erased the drawn lines from his face, but continued gazing at Laura. “I know everything you two did,” he said. “I know how Rye picked me up off the street and brought me here and saved my fingers, and how angry he got at McColl, and how the two of you tended the fires day and night to keep me from dying of pneumonia.” His voice fell to a murmur. “Why did you do it?”

Her eyes caught and reflected the light from the fire and met Dan’s with an openness and lack of guile that told the truth with an eloquence no words could convey. “Don’t you know?” she breathed. But to say she loved him—they both loved him—would be to cause Dan unnecessary hurt, thus she only studied the play of emotions that turned his eyes soft with understanding.

“Yes ... I guess I do.”

Self-consciousness suddenly mushroomed between them, for the words need not be said to be felt. He took her hand, squeezed it in a grip that demonstrated surprising strength for a debilitated man. “Thank you,” came his gruff words. For a moment they both concentrated on their joined hands.

“Don’t thank me, Dan, just ... just please don’t jeopardize your life like that again.” She beseeched him with her eyes. “Please, don’t drink anymore.”

“I’ve already promised Rye I won’t.”

She sighed and slumped her shoulders in relief. Then she gently withdrew her hand. “Dan, there are some things, some 
other
 things, we must talk about that are very hard to say.”

“I think I know, Laura. I’m no fool. I don’t need to sleep out here in this alcove bed anymore. I know the real reason why you and Josh sleep in there.” He nodded toward the linter room.

Laura felt the blood press upward to paint her cheeks a discomfiting red. She nervously pleated and repleated the skirt over her knees, unable to lift her gaze to Dan as he went on.

“Laura, I found the busk a long time ago.”

“You did?” Her eyes flew up and her face flared to an even brighter hue.

“I did.”

“Oh, Dan, I’m so sorr—”

He presented a palm to cut her short. “We’ve been doing enough feeling sorry around here, don’t you think? There’s been you feeling sorry for me and Rye feeling sorry for you and me feeling sorry for myself, and Lord knows I’ve been the worst of the lot. At first when Rye came home, it was impossible for me to face the truth, then after I found that busk, I guess I knew this was inevitable.”

“This?”

“That I’d lose you to him.”

Hearing him voice it brought a great, crushing feeling to Laura’s heart. He looked tired and beaten and for a moment the urge to protect was there again within her.

As Dan studied Laura, he saw a weariness to match his own. “It’s been hard on you, being caught in the middle. Most of the time I forgot that and thought only of myself.”

“Dan, I want you to know that I ... I tried very hard to avoid Rye. You were so good to me, and you deserved—”

Again he silenced her with a movement of his hand. “I know. Rye told me. He laid it all out in the open the day I woke up. I’ve thought a lot about it since then, and I realize you can’t help your feelings any more than I can help mine. That’s what I fought against for the longest time. But after I had seen the busk and had proof of your feelings—both of yours—I went to see Ezra Merrill and initiated divorce proceedings.”

Laura’s teeth caught her lower lip and she stared at Dan in disbelief for several seconds. “Y ... you’ve already seen Ezra?”

Dan nodded. “In September. I was angry at... at you and Rye. Oh hell, that’s the only way I could make myself go talk to Ezra—if I got angry enough. But once I’d talked to him I wasn’t able to carry through with it, and that’s when I ... well, I started staying at the Blue Anchor in the evenings. Then the rumor started about Rye and DeLaine Hussey and I got hopeful again and went back to Ezra and told him to stop everything.”

Laura’s heart was thumping hard. She remembered the time Dan had manhandled her, venting his frustrations. Yes, it would have taken anger to make Dan act.

“Ezra, of course, knows the whole history of the three of us, and I suspect he had the foresight to guess exactly how unsettled the situation was. He said he’d already filed the proper papers and had explained the situation to Judge Bunker, but he advised me that even though I wanted to withdraw the papers just then, maybe I ought to wait until ... well, just wait and see. He said nothing would be acted upon without both of our signatures and an appearance before the judge, so we—”

Just then Dan was clutched by a spell of coughing that doubled him over. When he reclined against the pillows once more, he was winded. During the pause, Laura’s mind reeled with questions, but finally Dan went on.

“The papers are still there, Laura, up at the town building, in probate court.”

Their eyes met, and unconsciously she counted the months until spring.

Dan’s voice grew even more raspy as he went on. “Even my own mother realizes I’ve held you against your wishes ever since Rye’s return.”

There was no soothing response Laura could offer. She remembered very clearly the things Hilda Morgan had said.

“And do you know what else she told me?”

Laura only stared at Dan, not moving a muscle.

“She told me you and Rye had given me back my life and that it was time I gave you back yours. ”

A poignant silence fell. A sense of impending ache settled between them. Faraway, a bell tolled as evening came on, and in the candlelit room all was silent but for his words hovering between them. “Christmas being the season of giving, I thought it might be the appropriate time to ... give you what I know you want most, Laura—your freedom.”

Laura felt a lump gathering in her throat. She swallowed, but the emotion could not be gulped away. No matter how badly she’d wanted her freedom, she’d never expected this overwhelming sense of loss at getting it.