Tears escaped as if a dam had burst when Braden felt Amy, solid and alive and strong in his arms. Her vitality and calm filled him with the courage to face the pain of Maggie’s death. Until this minute, he’d clung to his anger and guilt, afraid of the tears as if once he began to cry he might never stop.
Vaguely, he felt Amy pat his back. He heard murmurs of comfort spoken so quietly he couldn’t make them out. He thought she spoke of God, or maybe she spoke to God.
Braden knew a prayer was long overdue. God, forgive me. I’ve blamed You. I’ve been angry at You. I’m so sorry.
Braden remembered the words Ian had read to them one Sunday morning. “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”
“ You’re my strength, Braden.”
But he hadn’t been strong enough. Even though Maggie had demanded a lot of Braden, God had promised to renew his strength. God, why didn’t you make me strong enough?
The awful sight of Maggie bleeding, begging him to save her, dying in his arms faded into the memory of how she’d been before. She had a wonderful smile, though not so bright as Amy’s. Amy’s white teeth glowed out of her tanned face. Maggie had a gentle laugh, precious to Braden because he hadn’t heard it often. Amy had at first appeared to have an overly serious nature. One of her gentle smiles had been rare indeed. Now, on occasion, she shared a husky and generous laugh. He’d even heard her giggle with Meredith while they set the meal on the table. Once, under Tucker’s merciless teasing, Amy had laughed so hard she’d held her stomach as if it hurt.
Braden realized he was comparing his wife to Amy. His tears stopped as soon as he realized the disloyalty of his thoughts. He felt compelled to say, “My Maggie was a gracious, gentle lady. Aye, she had the manners and temperament of an angel.”
Braden thought of a few times Maggie hadn’t been so sweet. She didn’t lose her temper, but she did complain and gave way to tears and long, pouting silences. Braden had learned to give her what she wanted to keep peace in his home.
Amy had lost her father; she’d been left homeless with only a stranger to care for her. She’d been exhausted from the trip. But she’d handled it all. She’d fought her way through the loss, the exhaustion, and the fear. She’d squared her shoulders and taken on the household so Meredith could rest. And she’d done it quietly.
Even Meredith, tired out from the baby growing inside her, hadn’t whined and demanded Ian stay in the house as Maggie had with Braden. Meredith had accepted Amy’s help out of necessity but kept working. She’d sewn three shirts this week out of the fabric Ma had sent, one for each of the men. Braden had seen no new clothing for Meredith or Amy as of yet.
Braden remembered how Maggie needed to be complimented for things. He’d loved to put that glow in her eyes when she’d show him a shirt she’d mended or a cake she’d baked. Even while he did it, Braden thought of his mother baking daily for the large household, gardening, canning, and cleaning all day. Ma sewed or knit in the evening, her hands never idle, her thoughts always on what came next and who needed her help.
Amy reminded Braden of his mother, a hard worker with no need for thanks because she saw herself as part of the family and worked to make the family run smoothly. Ma and Da had trained their young’uns to say please and thank you, but they didn’t work for the thanks they earned with it. Not his mother, not Amy, not Meredith, only Maggie.
Braden realized he still held Amy. It had felt so natural he’d kept hanging on. He stepped out of Amy’s arms, pulling away so abruptly that she stumbled toward him when she didn’t let go quickly enough. He dashed his shirt sleeve across his eyes.
He saw the confusion in her eyes and dropped his gaze to her soft lips. He thought of the northern lights in the sky when they were together on the trip up here. He’d been drawn to her then, and the very idea had shocked him. Now he wanted to pull her close. He wanted her warmth and strength not just for a day but forever. Braden shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her. The pain of losing Maggie was too fresh; caring for another woman felt like a betrayal. He had to say something to rebuild the wall he needed to protect his heart.
“There’s no room in a family for lies and secrets.” His tone shocked him. The rough edge of it calling Amy a liar. “If you women don’t tell Ian the truth, I will.”
He found safety in his anger and looked at the little woman who’d just built a smokehouse and had plans that would feed the family for the winter. Amy had gone fishing yesterday, leaving Meredith home alone all day. Now here she planned to do it again. Maggie never would have done that. Maggie would have stayed at the house where she belonged.
Glaring, his temper came rapidly to a boil to cover his guilt. “If you’re going to go off on your own and leave Merry, you’d better tell us so someone can be there in case she needs help.”
Amy’s jaw dropped. He saw the tracks of tears cutting through her grubby face, tears she’d cried for him. She’d worked up a sweat building the chimney and then apparently scratched her nose and cheeks with dirty hands.
Maggie kept herself neat and clean.
“Braden, what is wrong?” Amy’s kindness only made him more furious. He felt like a polar bear, lashing out at her for no reason except his own bad temper. But he couldn’t stop.
“Are you going to keep lying to Ian or not?”
“We did not lie. We just—”
“Just didn’t tell the truth.” Guilt rode him like the gnawing hunger of an empty belly after a long winter’s hibernation. “Don’t dress it up fancy to make excuses for yourself. That makes you a liar.”
Amy’s head jerked back as if she’d been slapped.
Braden had to lock his muscles in place to keep from reaching for her and telling her she was wonderful, beautiful, brave, and strong.
Amy met his eyes, as if she accepted his condemnation and believed every word. “I—I will tell Merry. Now that you know, she will need to tell Ian, of course. I think we should let her be the one to tell him.”
Braden held her gaze for a moment longer. Then with a single nod of his chin, he said, “Do it before the end of the noon meal, or I will.”
He turned and plunged into the woods, afraid to be near her for another second.
Amy sank onto the nearest rock. What had happened? One second she’d been in Braden’s arms, comforting him, feeling closer to him than she ever had to another human being. The next, he’d been calling her a liar and threatening her if she didn’t admit everything to Ian.
She never should have hugged him. The mission teachers had told her about a woman’s proper demeanor. She’d shocked Braden and once again reminded him of how poorly she compared to the refined wife he’d lost.
A gust of wind carried a thick blanket of fish-flavored smoke over her, setting her to coughing. If it hadn’t been for that, she might have sat on that rock forever.
The smoke reminded her of dinner, and fighting back tears of shame for the way she’d flaunted herself at Braden, she hurried toward the house. She needed to give Meredith a few minutes to prepare herself before Ian got home.
She strode toward the cabin, her mind jumping around like a speared salmon fighting its fate. A sudden crackling in the brush drew her attention. She turned to face the noise, resting her hand on the hilt of her knife, tucked in its scabbard and tied around her waist with a thin leather belt. She always carried it in case she needed to cut saplings or dig for roots.
Ian and Tucker had warned her that they’d seen the white fur of a polar bear and its tracks in the woods, but not this near. She knew how hungry the huge animals were in the spring. The smell of smoking salmon would draw them. That’s why she’d used the heavy rocks to build the smokehouse, rather than just hang the fish over an open fire. Keeping a watchful eye on the woods, she listened for the heavy breathing of a bear, watched for a flash of white fur against the brown of the trees and the green of the cedar branches.
She heard something more, but it didn’t sound like a bear, more like a footstep. Human. A cold chill raced up her spine as she backed away from the thick undergrowth and remembered the menace of those soft footfalls that late night aboard the Northward and how she’d never stayed on the deck alone again. She pulled her knife. “Who is there?”
She continued backing away, keeping her eyes open, listening for movement that meant someone circled her. She heard nothing. As soon as she put enough paces between her and that thicket, she pivoted and raced for the cabin.
By the time she got to the house, she had begun to doubt the strange flash of fear. Feeling foolish for racing through the woods, she slowed her steps and tried to steady her breathing. Running a hand through the wisps of black hair that had escaped her braid, she tidied herself. No sense frightening Meredith just because Amy jumped at her own shadow. With a shake of her head, Amy entered the cabin to see Meredith sitting on Ian’s lap.
They were both grinning.
Amy forgot all about that strange moment in the woods. “You told him.”
Meredith nodded. Ian jumped from the chair with Meredith still in his arms and whooped, twirling her around in the air.
Amy stepped back so she wouldn’t get plowed over in the tiny cabin, laughing at Ian’s antics.
“Ian, stop. I’m going to throw up.” Meredith slapped at his shoulder, but then she went back to holding him tight. She didn’t look sick. She looked wonderful. Amy saw none of the greenish hue to her skin. Her eyes glowed with joy, her cheeks were flushed pink from laughter, and her lips were slightly swollen, no doubt from Ian’s kisses.
“Well, good,” Amy said, “because Braden found out today. He insisted that we tell Ian… today.”
Meredith, perched in her husband’s arms, arched a brow at Amy. “You talked with Braden this morning?”
“Yes.” Amy refused to say more despite Meredith’s open curiosity. “Ian, take your wife outside so I can cook some dinner. This cabin is not big enough for me and a dancing couple.”
“I’m feeling better.” Meredith squeezed Ian’s neck until he grunted. “I think I could help cook today.”
“Not right now.” Amy shook her head. “I think you need to go and spend a few minutes with your husband. You can try cooking tonight.”
Ian smiled, whirled Meredith one more time, and then swept toward the door with his wife still in his arms.
Amy jumped out of the way, laughing at Ian’s nonsense. She turned to watch them go and saw Braden standing at the edge of the clearing. Ian and Meredith didn’t see him; they were too caught up in their own joy. Could it have been Braden she’d heard in the woods? Would he have kept quiet if she’d come upon him, rather than speak to her, even after he’d seen her fear?
With his heart in his eyes, Braden watched his brother and Meredith. The grief cut lines into the corners of his mouth and deepened the lines in his forehead.
The happy couple vanished into the woods, and Braden turned to Amy.
Anger replaced grief, and even from this distance, she could see the accusation, as if she’d betrayed him somehow. The betrayal boiled down to Amy being alive while his beloved Maggie was dead.
I am in love with him.
From out of nowhere, the knowledge swept over her as powerfully as an avalanche. His expression couldn’t have hurt as much as it did for any other reason. At that moment, she’d have done anything to take away his pain, even given up her life in exchange for his Maggie’s if God granted her the power to make such a trade.
Her eyes held Braden’s. Then, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her a moment longer, he turned away and disappeared into the trees in the opposite direction his brother and sister-in-law had gone.
Amy fed the family and, with some argument, settled Meredith in for an afternoon nap. After the excitement of telling Ian her news, she looked exhausted. Meredith protested, but she fell asleep almost before Amy left the room.
Amy tended the fire in her smokehouse, then set off through the woods. She planned to haul home a much larger catch today. Knowing she had the smokehouse to build first, she hadn’t taken the time to carry more salmon home yesterday. Settling into the long, silent strides her father had taught her when he took her along to his trap lines, she covered a mile and had two more to go. She moved easily up the rugged mountain, reveling in the beauty of her home.
She might not have come after the uncomfortable moment in the woods earlier if she hadn’t convinced herself the noises, assuming they were human, were from Braden sulking. That stopped her from mentioning the incident at the table while they ate, too. Although she should have said something, the meal was a joyful one with Meredith and Ian elated over their news, and it had been easy to keep her vague fears to herself.
A still, small voice whispered to her to wait, to take someone along, to not strike out alone in the woods. The only thing that gave her pause was leaving Meredith alone. But Ian and Tucker had always left Meredith when they went to the mines, so they must believe it to be safe. Amy ignored her doubts in favor of action.
Her mind firmly on Braden and the way he’d held her and then pushed her away, she only distantly noticed the terrain. She’d climbed this path before, after all. She reached the summit of the modest mountain that separated her from the rich salmon run. She paused at the top, drinking in the hundreds of scenic peaks that made this look like a footstool for God’s grand throne. The small mountain she stood on wasn’t even high enough to be capped with snow. She followed a trail that skirted a cedar stand on her right hand and on her left dropped away in a sheer fall.
Only a few stunted trees clung to the rugged mountainside. A lip of the trail stuck out far enough that the cliff face wasn’t visible for nearly a hundred feet. She looked over the edge and saw, far below, the silver waters of the stream she sought.
Beautiful—the rushing waters audible even from this high, the soft hush of the wind flowing over her like the breath of God. Sighing, inhaling the cold crisp air, she turned to head down.
Swift footfalls sounded behind her.
With only seconds to react, Amy whirled to face the direction of the running steps, but hard hands caught her before she could turn fully around. A vicious shove launched her into midair. As she fell, cruel, satisfied laughter rang in her ears. Laughter she now remembered. Laughter she’d heard in Seattle as she’d fallen under the hooves of a charging horse.