Woman of Grace (27 page)

Immediately, Abby rose and pulled her into the comforting circle of her arms. “Hush, sweetheart. Hush,” she crooned, stroking her hair. “I always wondered, but I didn’t know how to ask. Ah, curse them all for doing this to you! They’ve taken so much from you, crippling your beautiful heart and generous nature. But the Lord
can
heal all, if only you let Him. He can heal even this.”

“How, Abby?” she sobbed. “How can God heal this?”

“Perhaps by bringing you to the man who was always meant for you. He uses us to help each other, you know?”

Was it possible? Hannah wondered. Could the Lord heal even this most grievous of wounds? Oh, if it could only be!

She hadn’t told Abby the full truth, when she said she feared she would never be able to find pleasure in the act of physical union with a man. She
had
felt pleasure, even desire, in Devlin’s Christmas kiss. That realization, though, had frightened her. How
could
she suddenly find something heretofore so revolting and degrading even remotely pleasurable?

Hannah didn’t understand, and what she didn’t understand she feared.

He uses us to help each other …

Abby’s words, like honey flowing onto the tongue and down one’s throat, filled Hannah with a warm, comforting feeling. Perhaps she and Devlin
could
help each other. Maybe they could, with the Lord’s help, eventually heal the terrible wounds life had inflicted upon them both.

“So, what do I say to Devlin?” she asked finally. “I’ve no real proof, other than what this picture suggests, that Jackson’s his son. And how do I convince him my love for him is separate from the fact he’s Jackson’s father?”

“Perhaps it would be best to broach one subject at a time.” Abby grinned, then released her and walked back to her seat. “Men, poor dears, don’t deal well with too much good news all at once.”

“Well, of the two, I’m guessing he’ll take the news about Jackson best. I think I’ll try that first.” She extended her hand. “Could I borrow the daguerreotype for a day or two, and think on it a bit more?”

Her friend picked up the little print and handed it to her. “If you need some help …” Abby took up her bowl, and began snapping the beans in two with renewed determination.

Hannah watched the chestnut-haired woman for a moment, then pocketed the daguerreotype. In thoughtful silence, she turned her attention to her own bowl, pondering all the while how she could possibly tell Devlin the truth about their son.

16

The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.

Nahum 1:7

She knew if she thought about it long enough, she’d find some way to avoid ever doing it. Hannah couldn’t help herself. She feared Devlin’s reaction to hearing the news about Jackson, feared the possible repercussions. And feared, most of all, losing his friendship.

But Abby was right. Devlin had the right to know. All she could do, she resolved, was tell him, then make it clear she expected nothing that he didn’t wish to freely give. Nothing need change between them, nothing save that he accept Jackson as his son. If he wished it so, life could go on just as it had before.

Still, it took another two days for Hannah to muster up the courage to approach Devlin. That evening, she lingered in Devlin’s kitchen rather than head immediately back to her bunkhouse. She’d had the foresight to plan ahead, and had asked Beth to watch Jackson in the bunkhouse after supper. By now, the little boy was probably already snug in bed himself.

One way or another, he didn’t need to be present when his father finally learned the truth about him. If there were problems, if Devlin took the news badly, Hannah didn’t want Jackson in the middle of it. He was totally innocent in the matter.

Devlin finally sauntered into the kitchen after tucking his children into bed. At the sight of her, sitting at the table, a dark brow arched in surprise. “So, what’s the occasion?” He walked to the cookstove and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Is there a problem with one of the children?”

She waited until he came to the table, sat, and finished stirring two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee before replying. “Yes, it’s one of the children,” Hannah then forced herself to say. “It’s about Jackson.”

“Oh?” Tentatively, Devlin sipped his coffee, apparently found it cool enough to drink, and took a longer, deeper swallow. “What’s wrong with the lad? He seemed fine at supper.”

Pulling the daguerreotype from her shirtwaist pocket, Hannah slid it across to him. “There’s nothing wrong with Jackson. It’s just that it’s been brought to my attention that he looks an awful lot like these two boys.”

Devlin frowned, picked up the daguerreotype, and studied it. “But this is a picture of Conor and …”

His voice faded. His eyes widened. From her vantage point across from him, Hannah could see his face blanch beneath his tan. Then, ever so slowly, he dragged his gaze up to meet hers.

“What are you trying to tell me, Hannah?” Devlin demanded, an edge of wariness in his voice.

She inhaled a steadying breath.
Here it comes now.
“This wasn’t my idea, or even something I finally faced until it was brought to my attention. But even you must see the striking resemblance between Jackson, and you and Conor as young boys.”

“Abby’s in the middle of this, isn’t she? She’s bound and determined to keep you here at Culdee Creek, and now that you’ve gone and broken off with Evan—”

“No.” Her worst fears were materializing. Devlin didn’t want to hear this and was seeking to cast blame where it wasn’t deserved. “You’re wrong, Devlin. Conor was the one who first noticed the resemblance, and
he
mentioned it to Abby. Abby then told me, because she thought I should be the one to tell you. Because you had the right to know.”

He shoved his mug of coffee aside so violently its contents sloshed over the sides. “Why now, Hannah?” Devlin snarled, leaning forward on the table. “Why, over two years since Jackson’s birth, do you suddenly feel it’s now necessary to tell me?”

“I didn’t really know until two days ago, when I saw the daguerreotype. I’d wondered at times, noticing the features you and Jackson shared. But I also realized that another dark-haired, brown-eyed man could’ve easily fathered him. Now,”—she gestured to the print he still held in his hand—“now I can’t so easily pretend or make excuses.”

As if burned, Devlin flung the daguerreotype on the table and buried his face in his hands. “I’m only glad Ella didn’t live to see this day. This would’ve destroyed her, broken her heart.”

Hannah shook her head. “I think Ella would’ve handled this better than you, Devlin. It’s you it would’ve destroyed, because you would have had to endure yet another living example of your transgressions. And you couldn’t have handled that.”

At her words, he jerked his head up and glared at her. “What makes you think you know about me? Just because you think you’ve got your proof to dangle in my face for the rest of my days? Well, I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, but I’m sick to death of feeling guilty. You’re not going to get me to accept that child as my own!”

That child
. Sweet Lord, how it hurt to hear Devlin speak of Jackson in such a way! But why should she be surprised? she asked herself. Whenever Devlin was threatened, he closed himself off from others and lashed out.

“I never said I expected you to accept Jackson as your own,” Hannah said, a sad smile hovering on her lips. “I hoped you would, but I didn’t expect it. I can take care of him just fine all by myself. And no one—aside from Conor and Abby, of course—need ever know. It’s up to you, Devlin. But at least I gave you a choice, rather than hid something you might someday have wanted to know.”

“How kind.”

His sarcasm, after all this time and all they had been through, cut her to the quick. Hannah scooted back her chair and stood.

“I’m sorry, Devlin, that this isn’t what you want to hear. I guess I hoped that we’d be able to deal with this together, to help each other become better people through it.”

“I don’t need your help, or anyone’s, to make me a better person!”

“We all need one another, Devlin.”

“Well, I don’t need you!”

All Hannah’s hopes crumbled beneath the onslaught of those cruel words. She had been a fool to imagine this could’ve turned out any other way.

“Do you still want me to work for you?” Hannah asked softly.

He stared up at her for so long, Hannah began to wonder if he had even heard her question. Then, just as she opened her mouth to repeat her words, she saw something crumble, go bleak and hopeless in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, lowering his head. “This isn’t the best time to ask me anything. You’ve handed me a big wad to chew on tonight. It’s best you just leave me be.”

“I didn’t tell you this to punish or manipulate you, Devlin. I did it because I respect and care for you, because I couldn’t bear to be less than honest with you anymore. And I did it because I wanted Jackson to have his father in his life.” Her voice caught, and it was a moment before she could go on. “What else would you have had me do? What else, Devlin?”

“I reckon I don’t know, leastwise not right now.” Devlin took his mug and drank from it deeply, before finally looking back up at her. “Look, I’m sorry, Hannah. I don’t mean to hurt you. But I’m going to need some time to work through all this.” He set aside his mug and met her gaze. “Will you give it to me?”

It wasn’t what she really wanted to hear, but she knew the request came hard for him nonetheless. Considering how things had gone tonight, Hannah supposed she could content herself with that. She
had
given him a big wad to chew. What man wouldn’t be overwhelmed by such news?

“Yes,” was her ragged but resolute reply, “I’ll give it to you.”

After Hannah left, Devlin pondered the contents of his coffee mug for a long while, the memory of her words running through his mind like a fast-moving stream. She had said Jackson was living proof of his transgressions. But then she had also said it was his choice what he chose to do about it.

His choice … yet when had he ever truly had a choice about anything? Devlin smiled grimly. Well, he supposed he had made a choice when he had decided to visit Sadie Fleming’s. And he had also made a choice when he had chosen Hannah over all the other girls there.

It didn’t matter that prostitutes weren’t supposed to get in the family way. But why, oh why, had it fallen to his lot to father her child? And would he never, ever be able to put all this behind him?

Footsteps sounded on the front porch. For an instant, Devlin thought Hannah must have returned. Then he realized the footsteps were heavy, as was the knock on the door.

With a weary sigh, he pushed back his chair and rose. After what he had just learned, he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more visitors tonight. Being ranch foreman, though, sometimes demanded twenty-four-hour service.

To his surprise, Evan stood at the door. Devlin scowled. “What can I do for you?”

“Can I come in? We need to talk.”

A premonition prickled down Devlin’s spine. “Does this have to do with the ranch? If not, it can wait until tomorrow.”

The young man took a step closer. “No, it can’t. I’ve got something that’s been rubbing me raw for a long time now. Tonight, hearing the angry voices and knowing you were riled up with Hannah was just about the last straw. We need to talk, get things out in the open once and for all.”

An impulse to slam the door in Evan’s face filled Devlin, but he resisted it. This was Conor’s son and his cousin. Evan was family.

He swung wide the door and motioned him in. “Suit yourself.” Without another word, Evan strode in. “Want a cup of coffee?” Devlin asked as he closed the door behind him and followed the young man to the kitchen table.

“No, thanks.” Evan took the chair recently vacated by Hannah. “What were you two fighting about this evening?” he demanded. “I saw her leave, and she didn’t look any too happy.”

“None of your business.” Devlin, coffeepot in hand, returned to the table, refilled his mug, then set the pot on a sun-dried, clay trivet Devlin Jr. had made him for Christmas. Flipping his chair around, he straddled it and faced Evan. “Any other questions?”

“She’s going through some difficult times right now,” Evan said through gritted teeth. “She’s got a lot on her mind. You don’t need to add to her confusion.”

Where was this heading? Devlin arched a brow. “And what confusion would that be? Her confusion over you?”

Crimson crept up the young man’s neck and face. “Hannah cares for me. Your interference—”

“And how exactly have I interfered, Evan?” Despite his best efforts to contain it, Devlin could feel his anger rising. First Hannah showed up and dropped the biggest surprise of his life in his lap. Now Evan was sitting here—in his own house no less—and trying to tell him what he could and couldn’t do in regards to Hannah! “It was never my choice that my wife die so that I needed to hire Hannah to take care of my children and home!”