White Dawn (26 page)

“Yes. I love him.” With all her heart—what was left of it.

Her father looked confused. “Well, what else is there? Why are you so sure this can’t be a real marriage?”

Concern lined his features. He’d been shocked when Emily had told him that John would be leaving to return to his grandfather.

“Look at what happened to my mother! It’s a risk I can’t take,” she whispered, dropping the remaining sliver of stick that she’d broken.

Matthew Sommers’s eyes clouded. “Daughter, love
is
a risk. Perhaps the greatest a man or woman can ever take.” He paused, his gaze sharp. “Tell me, what would you do if you weren’t with child? Would you marry him? Would you risk your heart for him?”

With trembling lips, Emily nodded. “It’s
not
just me, though. I can’t put my child through what I’ve gone through.” At her father’s raised brows, Emily was forced to confess what her childhood had been like: “It’s not fair to the baby or to John.” Her voice dropped. “I don’t think I could bear watching it happen.”

Matthew stopped and turned Emily’s face to his. “Is it fair to deprive this child of a father’s love?”

“John’s not the father.”

Matthew smiled sadly. “There’s more to being a father than planting the seed, child. I’m your father, yet Timothy Ambrose was your father in many ways that counted.”

Emily yanked away, angry and disgusted. Her voice trembled with bitterness. “Exactly! And he failed. He never loved me. He didn’t want me. He hated me.”

“Well, there was never any love to begin with. He married your mother to please someone else. To save her reputation. Not because he loved her and wanted to claim you. He never wanted to marry. His hatred of his mother had destroyed any feeling he had toward women. He wanted nothing to do with them.”

At Emily’s surprised look, Matthew smiled sadly. “I was around him enough to know of his contempt. Plus, Beatrice eventually told me how he’d come to be traveling with her and her father. Timothy Ambrose had no room in his life for a woman. Especially one who’d sinned.”

“We were reminders of his own mother,” Emily whispered. That much she’d known. Timothy had never let her or her mother forget that women were creatures of sin. So why had Timothy never told her the truth? Why had he pretended? Pride? He’d have done anything to protect his reputation. Having others know that Emily wasn’t his child would have been the last thing he’d have wanted.

Emily stared at her hands. She didn’t want to feel
sorry
for Timothy.

Matthew took her by the shoulders. “That’s no excuse, I know. But if you can understand the pieces of the past, then maybe you won’t fear the future so much.”

Emily felt her father’s fingers press into her flesh. She glanced up.

“Love is the key, Emily. Had Timothy loved your mother, it wouldn’t have mattered. Had I known, I’d have married her, and your life would have been much different. I’m so sorry things happened this way, but don’t deny yourself, or this child, the gift of love. Trust me. You’ll regret it all your days.”

Emily wanted to believe her father. Badly. She wanted to marry John and be his wife, form a family—a true family with love and laughter.

“Do you trust this man with your life?” her father asked.

Startled and confused by the abrupt change of topic, Emily nodded. “Of course.”

“Then give yourself and your child to him. Part of loving someone is trusting them with your heart as well as your life. The gift of love is rare and should be guarded and cherished. It can be taken away in the blink of an eye. Think about that. I’ll see you in the church.” And with that, he left.

Emily watched her father walk away, then turned her attention to the rough water of the lake. Trust. She did trust John, didn’t she? In times of trouble she knew he would protect and take care of her.

And love? She loved him. Knew he loved her. She’d known it for a long time now. And she’d shared herself with him, made love with him, because she loved him back. But, she realized with sadness, she’d held back, hadn’t given herself completely over to him. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to trust him with her heart. Even before she realized she was with child, she’d held some part of herself away.

Putting her hand over her abdomen, she recalled John’s gentle handling of the hawk, the humorous byplay and devotion between him and Fang.

She thought of how he’d treated her, kindness when she’d been most vulnerable. He could have treated her with contempt, considered her ruined and not worthy except to bed. She knew when she returned to civilization, she’d never be able to tell anyone else of her time with her Indian lover. And if her child bore the dark looks of the father, she and that child would forever be spurned.

But John had never seemed to care that she’d spent the summer living with an Indian. And even after she told him of the baby, he’d professed his love, and his desire to become the baby’s father.

He loved her.

The words made her heart swell. Suddenly a life without love didn’t seem worth living. No matter that she’d found her father. If she returned to his farm with him—without John—she’d always feel empty inside. And what would she tell her child? That she, out of fear, had denied them a father’s love?

Remembering her own desperate need for that exact thing, Emily knew she couldn’t deny it to her child. She couldn’t deny herself love. Or John. She needed him to feel whole. Alive. Like the grass and flowers needed fresh water to grow and renew, she needed John’s love and friendship. Without him, she’d become a stale pond.

Her smile faded. Love
was
the answer for her and John. But there was one other thing she needed to do before she went to him. When she did, it would be with a clear mind, and an open heart.

Hurrying, she ran to do what was necessary.

From the stable door, John watched Emily enter the church. Would she go through with the wedding? He glanced at the position of the sun. If she did, soon they’d be married. Man and wife.

He turned and found the stall where his horse waited. The animal nickered softly. “Eat your fill now. We’ll be riding out soon.” Picking up his saddlebags, he finished packing them. After the wedding, he’d head back home—to a shack that would be unbearably empty without Emily.

He thought of his cousin. Willy would gloat. And his grandfather? John’s heart grew heavier. He’d wanted to make the old man happy.

John led the animal from the stall and started saddling it. He wanted to be able to leave immediately after the ceremony. Any prolonged goodbyes would be too painful. She’d made her decision. He’d promised not to push.

Push, hell.
He wanted to shout at her and shake some sense into her. He rested his forehead on the saddle. He’d told himself he could let her go, had accepted it, felt the pain of it—but in truth, he’d only deluded himself. The pain he felt now was far worse than he could have imagined. And it would get worse.

His heart felt numb. It had broken beyond the point of pain. His eyes burned. He couldn’t deny the truth any longer: she didn’t need him anymore. She had her father now, and from what he saw, the man loved her. Staring out the open door, seeing only a gray cast to the sky, John realized the sun was truly gone from his life.

John spotted Matthew heading his way. He turned and resumed his travel preparations.

“You planning on just giving up?”

John didn’t turn. “It’s better this way. She has you now. That’s all she needs.” His lungs couldn’t expand enough to draw in a deep breath, so his sigh wasn’t as big as it might have been.

“There’s a reward for her return.”

Those words brought him around. His eyes blazed as he stared at Emily’s father. “It wasn’t for the money. Was never for the money.” He tightened the girth strap. When his horse protested, John loosened it and gave the animal a rub behind the ears by way of apology.

“I know, son. I was just checking. So, I repeat: You just going to give up? You’re not going to fight for her?”

John glanced over the horse at Emily’s father. He looked like a man set upon righting things. “Would have thought you’d want her to yourself a bit.”

Matthew grinned. “I do. But I want her happy more than that. And I don’t think either of you will be happy apart. Think about it. Her mother and I were denied a life together. Don’t want my daughter to have the same difficulty. You might not get a second chance.” He turned and left John to his thoughts.

Staring at the big, trusting eyes of his horse, John grimaced. He wanted to fight for her. But how?
What can I do to convince her to stay? I’ve said the words. What else is there?

There had to be some way to convince her. He paced. He looked around. The horse just bent its head to greedily snatch up bits of hay strewn on the ground for dinner.

Emily entered the small, whitewashed church. She found Father Jacob at the altar, getting ready for her wedding.

“Child, you should be getting ready,” he scolded lightly. But his eyes were kind and questioning.

“I need to talk to you, Father.”

The cleric led her to a bench and motioned for her to sit. She couldn’t. She paced, then faced him. “I’m angry at my mother.” She stopped herself. “No, it’s more than that. Sometimes I hate her. And I shouldn’t. She’s gone. But it doesn’t seem to matter.” She clenched her hands.

The hurt and anger she felt for her mother felt like a hard, cold ball in her stomach. Seeing her mother’s grave had made it grow until Emily felt as though she’d choke on it. She knew enough of what hate could do to a person, and she was afraid of what it might do to her if she didn’t get rid of it.

“Sit, Emily,” the priest said.

Ready to be healed, she obeyed.

“Tell me why you feel this way.”

Emily gripped her fingers tight. “She knew why my stepfather hated me and treated me so badly. She knew and never stopped him. Then she left me to die.” The words were torn from her. “She abandoned me. She was the only person I could count on, and, in the end, it didn’t matter.
I
didn’t matter.”

Father Jacob took her hands in his. “Could she have stopped him?”

“No. But she didn’t have to go with him. She could have stayed with me. And lived,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. If her mother had refused to go with Timothy Ambrose, had stayed hidden in the woods, she’d be alive today. And that was another reason, Emily realized, why she couldn’t forgive her.

“There are no easy answers, child, and you know that. Sometimes things happen for reasons we cannot understand.”

Emily wiped at her tears. “You mean, if Timothy hadn’t left me behind, if we’d just continued on, I’d have been killed, too?” That thought also haunted her dreams. If her stepfather hadn’t left when he had, the savages would have spotted their little campsite and killed them all.

The kindly priest smiled grimly. “Perhaps. Or you would have been taken captive.” He stood. “Let the past go, Emily. Forgive your mother. And—”

“Timothy wasn’t my father,” she said, cutting him off, unable to mask her defiance.

The priest took her hands in his. “He was in some ways. A poor father, but he had that role for sixteen years. And he did provide for you. Forgive him. Forgive both of them. Don’t judge too harshly, child. You have a choice to make. You can either choose to dwell on the past, or seek a future free of bitterness. You know what resentment and bitterness lead to. Don’t let them destroy your heart. Think about that. And pray.” Then the priest walked away, leaving Emily alone with her thoughts.

Emily closed her eyes and made herself relive that day. She saw how her mother had tried to fight for her, saw her grief when her stepfather rode off. Then had come the attack.

Emily also recalled how her mother and Millicente had tried to find a way to leave. The tension eased from her when she remembered that Millicente had said she’d rounded up help to go after them but had arrived too late. Though the help came too late for her mother, Emily knew the woman had been trying to get Emily to safety. To happiness.

Perhaps her mother had left her behind in the hope that Millicente and her husband would find her, that any fate was better than one with the vengeful Timothy Ambrose. Emily didn’t know for sure, but suddenly, she believed it.

Her mother had loved her. And even with her dying breath she had tried to confess the truth to her. Maybe her mother had been weak, unable to stand up to her husband. But in the end, she’d set the wheels in motion to make things right. Perhaps that was enough for Emily to make peace with it.

She closed her eyes and drew an old, happy memory of her mother reading to her. Emily sat in her lap, secure in her mother’s arms. Even after reading the book, her mother had continued to hold her until Emily fell asleep. It had been a rare day when Timothy had been gone. Emily still recalled the soft, gentle voice that had sounded like sweet music in her ears as sleep claimed her.

With a start, Emily realized her mother hadn’t been talking. She’d been singing! The words were lost, but not the voice. She’d thought it angels singing to her while she slept.

Tears slid down her cheeks. The tiny memory was so much. It was a sign that the woman had cared; she had just hidden it from her husband so that he would have no more reason to hate Emily. Her mother had loved her.

Leaving the church, Emily ran to find John. She had to talk to him before the ceremony, wanted them to marry for real—forever. Seeing her father coming toward her, she asked, “Have you seen John?”

“In the stable,” he said.

Emily flung her arms around him. “Thank you, Father. I’m going to marry him.”

Running through the door, she crashed into someone. Strong hands reached out to steady her. “Easy, Sunshine.”

“John! We’re getting married.” Through her tears, she stared up at him. Tall, handsome, he was the most precious sight she’d ever seen.

John narrowed his eyes at her, his fingers still gripping her shoulders. “Damn straight we’re getting married. I was just coming to tell you. And not just for today. I’m not letting you go. We marry. We
stay
married. And we stay together.”

Emily grinned. “Precisely. For better or worse. No matter what. You’re mine. You’re my friend, my lover, and soon you’ll be my husband and the father of this child. So you’d better be sure, because I won’t let you go.”

John froze, his gaze searching hers. “Do you mean it, Sunshine?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” She reached up and touched his face, skimming the tips of her fingers up the hard planes of his cheekbones. “I was so wrong. I love you, and if you’re still willing, if you still love me, I’d like to be your wife. Forever.”

“Because of the baby.” His eyes were guarded even though his arms wrapped her in his embrace. The sudden change was obviously too much for him to hope. She had to convince him!

“Because I love you!” The words glided over her tongue. She hadn’t said them in a long time, and they sounded so right. More than right: they sounded heavenly.

“Love wasn’t enough before. You were afraid to trust me. Why now?”

Emily couldn’t look away from the happiness shining in his eyes, from the clear path she saw into his very soul. “I didn’t trust
myself,
John. I was so afraid of making the same mistake as my mother, I let my own doubts stop me from listening to my heart.
I
was angry. But you’re not Timothy; I’m not my mother. We are two different people. We’ll make mistakes, but they won’t be their mistakes.”

“No, I’m not him, and you are not your mother. And what’s more, you’ll fight me or anyone else who tries to hurt your child.” He smiled proudly at her.

Laughing softly, Emily reached behind him and ran her fingers through his hair. “Our child. And I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt you as well.” Lifting herself up onto her toes, she brought his mouth to hers and kissed him.

The kiss was warm and sweet. John groaned and kissed her back gently, tenderly, fighting to keep the passion at bay. She was his—forever. His Lady Dawn had returned, bringing the brightness of a sunny day.

“Do you know how much I love you, Emily?”

She pulled back. Her lips curved into an impish grin. “I think so. You might have to show me often, though. And tell me over and over to make sure I don’t forget.”

John chuckled. “Every day, Sunshine. Every day.” He lowered his mouth back to hers.

“In case the two of you have forgotten, there is a wedding in a few minutes and neither of you is dressed.”

John broke off the kiss. They turned to face Emily’s father, who was looking mightily pleased. “I think she’s beautiful just as she is.” He smoothed the hair from her face. It tumbled down her back in ripples.

“Ready to get married, Sunshine?” he asked her. “For real? Forever?”

“I’m ready,” Emily said, staring at him.

They followed Matthew out, back to the church, and inside took their places. John kept his eyes on Emily as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. He couldn’t stop himself from meeting them, from taking her arm so he could walk her the rest of the way. Matthew joined a sobbing Millicente. The older woman seemed so happy.

John repeated his vow when asked, his gaze on Emily. He let her see that he meant each word he spoke. He held her hands while she spoke her vows with tears in her eyes.

Then, when Father Jacob asked if he took her for his wife, he brought her hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I do.”

Emily reached up to caress his cheek as she repeated the same. “I do.” And she did. Forever. She waited for the priest to declare them man and wife. To her surprise, Father Jacob then asked John, “Do you, John Cartier, claim this child that Emily carries as your own child, to love the babe in sickness and in health? No matter what, so long as you shall live?”

John lowered his hand, the one that still gripped Emily’s to her abdomen. His fingers lay over hers. Beneath the warmth of their hands, Emily felt a slight fluttering. He replied, “I do. Whether this child is a boy or a girl, I’ll love it with all my heart.”

“Then I pro—”

Emily stopped the priest with her hand. John’s touching addition to their vows was the sweetest, most beautiful thing he’d ever done for her. He couldn’t have found a better way to prove his intentions. And she wanted to repay him in kind.

“I, Emily Ambrose Sommers, give this child into the loving hands of John Cartier, the man I love more than life itself. He shall be this child’s father forever.” She brought his other hand down to rest over their child.

John blinked rapidly, but the tears of joy and love he shed were there for all to see.

Father Jacob set his Bible down with a wide grin. “Then I pronounce you man and wife. You are now a family.”

Emily lifted her face to her husband’s. “I love you, John,” she whispered.

“I love you, Mrs. Cartier.” His kiss didn’t disappoint her, and no one protested when he scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the church. He set her upon his horse and together they rode off to find a private glade where they could start their forever.