8

The ferry ride to Tappahannock was smooth and cold.

Reed pounded his feet to keep the feeling in them while the ferryman pulled them into dock. The still pause Reed felt when Hugh first suggested this outing remained. What would ye have me do, Lord?

“Ye’re quiet.” Hugh prodded.

“I’ve been wondering about the purpose of this outing. I think I would have preferred backgammon by a warm fire.”

“And a pair of storm-colored eyes.” Hugh smirked.

“Instead of ye? Any day.”

A derisive laugh erupted from Hugh once again.

“Laugh if ye will. Yer turn will come soon enough.”

“Not me, my friend. I don’t need some woman to tell me when I can and when I can’t.”

“Here, here!” Agreed Griff.

Reed cocked his head to one side. Why in the world did the Lord have him here? “I don’t have to get married, Hugh.”

Griff stiffened.

Hugh’s chuckle fell short of mirth. “Whatever ye say.”

They mounted their horses. Reed and Hugh rode side by side on the road to Tappahannock. Griff lined up behind Reed.

“Are ye so lost ye don’t understand a blessing when ye see one?”

“Right here.” Hugh said keeping his focus forward. “Not lost.”

Silence stretched between them and the couple of miles to Emerson’s Tavern.

Warm bodies and a roaring fire in the large stone hearth on the north wall filled the tavern with a stifling heat. Reed was still glad the feeling was returning to his toes. Hugh melted into the crowd to find a table. Reed and Griff each ordered a tankard from their friendly host, who returned presently balancing sloshing mugs.

“Ye meant what ye said back there, didn’t ye?” Griff spoke directly into Reed’s ear.

For the first time this Christmastide, Reed took a serious look the recent rival for Ann’s hand. “Yes.”

Griff raised his tankard in salute. “Then ye deserve her.”

“No. I don’t.”

Griff’s eyebrows raised.

“But I mean to have her anyway.”

A huge grin warmed his cousin’s face as they banged their tankards. Contentment brought peace even as the fire brought heat.

Griff looked to floor as he scuffed his boot. “About Ruby…”

Contentment scurried into a mouse hole of instant apprehension. “What about my sister?”

“Oh, don’t tell me ye too have been bitten by the fickle emotion that is love?” A returning Hugh jeered. “There is not a table to be had. I fear we must default to my second plan.” Hugh continued before either could answer.

“Second plan?” Reed and Griff sounded together.

“Fireworks.”

Reed shook his head.

“Have ye seen fireworks?” Hugh’s eyes widened like a twelve year old.

A spark of excitement ignited at the very thought. In London, Reed had received an invitation to fireworks. A last-minute, unexpected trip ordered by his father had thwarted the occasion.

“I have heard they’re loud.” Griff grinned.

“How did you come by these fireworks?”

“Italy.”

Reed glanced at his cousin. Excitement bounced out of Griff.

“I have set them up at the old Johnson place.”

Reed didn’t trust his old friend, but fireworks? “No one occupies the old cabin?”

Hugh shook his head. “Abandoned.”

“No animals?”

“No.”

It’d been too rainy and snowy for anything to catch fire. The noise should be reasonably contained so far out. It was closer to home. He could be home in about ten minutes, once he’d seen the display. He was just kidding himself. He’d always wanted to see fireworks. A remote location. No one present. It should be all right.

~*~

Wrong.

The one-room Johnson cabin rested quietly in an overgrown field. Moonlight glittered off tall grasses bent with snow. In the middle of the clearing sat a large box. Hugh approached the box.

Griff pointed to the dark cabin. “Is that?”

A sharp spark lit Hugh’s face, and he ran back to where Reed waited with Griff.

A golden-orange glow blossomed into the sky as though someone had captured the sparks of a bonfire. “Loud” did not describe the continual bangs and pops of the explosion of light.

A baby cried in between the burst of rockets.

A screaming woman ran from the cabin carrying a bundle.

Another rocket flared, and the woman hit the ground curling herself around the bundle.

Griff ran.

Hugh remained where he stood. Fireworks launched behind him as he stared the screaming woman and her child.

“Can ye stop them?” Reed shouted across the distance.

Hugh walked toward the horses silhouetted by the last of the orange sparks.

The baby’s cries settled as night regained its hold on the field.

The woman watched Hugh mount.

“We are sorry for the noise, Ma’am. We did not know ye were here.” Griff offered.

“Ye were not meant to know I was here.” The clip of her voice was that of an educated lady. Not the sound Reed expected to hear. Her gaze stayed trained on Hugh’s path into the darkness.

“I have a better place for you and your baby.” Reed looked to Griff. “Take her to Mother Gibson’s.”

~*~

An explosion rattled the window panes. Deep in the house voices called out in alarm.

“I told ye.” Clementine pierced Ann with her hazel eyes.

The squiggly line of worry that had receded with Mother Gibson’s earlier words sliced like a dagger. Mother Gibson had long since retired for the night. Ann and Clementine remained next to the fire.

“I love my nephew as much as anyone should, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the Archer tree.”

Ann had her doubts about the events that would lead to an explosion like that, but she couldn’t help herself. “Are you not an Archer yourself, Mrs. Foster?”

Clementine had the good grace to laugh. “I knew we would get along the minute I saw ye across the room glaring at my nephew.” She closed the book and glanced toward the footsteps in the hallway. “Let me just say—save yourself the sorrow. My sister’s life has not been an easy one. I wouldn’t like to see you beaten down by the likes of my brother.”

Doubt replaced the certainty Ann had felt earlier while Mother Gibson sat next to her. “What of forgiveness?”

“One is not expected to be kicked around.”

“I agree with Mrs. Foster, Annie.” Her father approached. “Who knows what traumas have been wrought this night on unsuspecting and innocent people?”

An image flashed through her memory of the first time she’d seen Richard Hobson hobbling with his newly fashioned crutch. Ann sheathed her knife and slid it into her pocket. “Should we not wait until he has a chance to explain himself?”

“Normally I would agree with you, daughter, but there is no reason to believe this man has changed his habits. The minute his friend beckons, he leaves, and who knows what has ensued? I was willing to indulge ye mother in her latest wish, but—”

“I am afraid I have to agree with yer father on this one.” Clementine rose. “As I said. I love my nephew, but a rotten apple is a rotten apple. God can forgive such a man, but ye do not have to live with him.”

Mentally, she acceded their point. Did she wish to spend her life wondering about what mischief he might cause? Worrying about her children? He may not be guilty of anything this particular night, but if the past was anything to go by, it wasn’t likely. Especially with Hugh Pollard involved. “Ye’re right, Papa. I do not know what I was thinking.”

“I pray my own son is not to blame for any of this foolishness.” Clementine dropped an arm around Ann’s shoulders and gave a squeeze. “I shall retire and leave his father to deal with him. I shall see ye in the morning.”

“What do ye do when ye think ye’ve got it right and all along ye’ve been wrong?”

Her father opened his arms. Ann stepped into the familiar warmth. “Ye shake the dust off yer sandals and ye move on to the next town.”

“I doubt it will be that easy.”

“It never is, Annie. It never is.”

~*~

Reed bowed to the woman and ran to his horse knowing that his more congenial cousin would persuade the woman to remove her baby to more hospitable accommodations.

The lack of cultivation of the Johnson place worked in Reed’s favor. The narrow road, nearly reclaimed by the surrounding woods, couldn’t hide anyone in a hurry. Reed heard Hugh round the bend toward Tappahannock. Once he’d rounded the bend, Reed gave Knight his head, and the stallion proved his worth. Reed caught Hugh just as the road widened. “Stop!”

“I don’t have to stop for ye.”

“Hugh, we were friends.”

Hugh pulled an abrupt stop. “That’s just it. We were friends.”

“I have one question for ye.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it? I don’t answer to ye. I don’t answer to anybody.”

“We all answer to higher Power, Hugh.”

“Ye think yer so much better than everyone else.”

“Did ye know that woman was in the cabin?”

Hugh paused with outrage in his expression. “What?” His mount shuffled as he sat forward. His voice was low and vicious. “How was I supposed to know Jane was there? I told you it was abandoned when I placed the fireworks there.”

Shock wiped the anger from Reed. “Ye know her.”

Hugh’s own shocked face answered Reed’s question.

“That child is yorn.”

Hugh’s outrage returned. “I do not know that.”

“I have instructed Griff to take them to Mother Gibson’s. Ye may visit them there.”

“Why should I visit a bawd and her brat?” He scoffed and rode off.

“And what makes ye think she is not a widow?” Reed asked into the night. Disappointment in his old friend rode with him home. He’d known that things and people would be pruned from his life after he’d chosen Jesus, but it had yet to be easy to say goodbye. Griff met him in the hall.

“She’s at Mother’s, safe and warm.”

“Did she say who she was or why she was in the old cabin?”

“Silent as a painting.”

“Nothing?”

“She said thank ye.”

“Hugh called her Jane. I think the child is his.”

Griff let out a guff and slapped his leg.

“Meet me at daybreak, we have to ascertain her purpose. Perhaps Hugh was mistaken.” Reed didn’t think so, and by the look on Griff’s face, he didn’t either.

“Ye don’t plan for us to see her alone, in the morning?”

“Do ye have a better idea? We cannot risk any unfounded stories about her being told. Even if they were untrue, she would be ruined whether Hugh compromised her or not.”

“I see yer point, but I still don’t believe it’s a good idea. The two of us, alone.”

“Can you think of a suitable woman to bring?” Reed waited while his cousin thought. “Neither can I. Meet me at daybreak.”

 

~*~

A rosy dawn kissed the door of Mother Gibson’s house when Reed ascended the steps followed by his cousin.

The lusty cry of a hungry baby met them at the door.

She was tall, raven-haired, and tired. The child rested in her arms clearly wishing to finish its breakfast. “If ye will wait in here,” she motioned to the parlor, “she will be asleep in a few minutes.” Without waiting for an answer, the woman and her child disappeared to the back of the house.

“This was a bad idea.” Griff clumped across the room to stir the fire.

Reed stayed near the door. Half the hour had gone by the time the woman returned.

She dropped a curtsey. “Thank ye for ye kindness to me last night.”

“How came ye to be in the old Johnson cabin?” Griff asked from his stance by the fire.

She kept her focus on Reed. “I have come seeking Mr. Hugh Pollard.”

Reed’s hopes for her crashed. “May I ask ye name and from where do ye hail?”

Calm, as if she’d rehearsed a speech, she brought her hands together at her waist. “My name is Janet Jefferson Pollard. I have come from Fredericksburg to find my husband, Mr. Hugh Pollard.”

Relief punctured the weights sitting on his shoulders. He sent a grin to Griff who grimaced.

“Hugh Pollard. Married.” Sarcasm dripped from the staccato words.

Reed felt the weight return.

“Mr. Hugh Pollard of Wildwood Plantation.” Janet responded, never once taking her gaze from Reed.

“Griff.” Reed summoned. He bowed to Mrs. Pollard. “Ye are welcome to stay here until ye can make other arrangements for ye and the child.”

Mrs. Pollard curtsied.

~*~

Reed sat with a cup of tea waiting for Ann at the breakfast table.

Ringing footsteps stopped at the door. “At last, Reed. I have had the very devil of a time trying to talk to ye.” Betsy clumped into the room pulling on a riding glove. “Mr. Carson says we have to leave after that astonishing explosion last night, but I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”

Frustration rose to the edges of his civility. He’d studiously avoided any private conversation with Betsy for the length of her visit.

She remained in the doorway blocking his escape.

“We can have nothing to say to each other, Betsy.”

“Don’t be silly, of course we have.” She waved her gloved hand. After pouring herself a cup of tea, she sat across from him.

“Ye are married.”

“Of course I am. Why do ye keep saying that? Do ye think I forget?” The crease between her eyebrows deepened. “Anyway, it is precisely why I must speak with ye.”

“Proceed.”

“Hugh is up to something—isn’t he always?” She released a giggle. “I believe he is trying to sabotage yer chances with Miss Wright—or anyone else for that matter.”

“What has that got to do with ye?”

“Nothing. He tried to include me in his shenanigans. It told him I was married woman, and it was time he grew up. He said something foolish about he wouldn’t be governed by a skirt.” She laughed the same tinkly laugh of early girlhood. “Imagine a skirt governing anything. Anyway, Mr. Carson says he’s the kind of man that’s just no good.” She leaned into whisper. “He even wonders if Hugh is actually Christian. I told him that was silly. He’s been attending church as long as the rest of us.” She giggled again, and Reed wondered how she’d ever turned his head. The giggling stopped, and she sobered. “I thought ye should know. It cannot be a good thing to have someone out to do ye a mischief underfoot.”

After last night he was inclined to agree with Carson. He’d have to spend a little time getting to know Betsy’s husband. “Thank ye for telling me.”

“I would have told ye sooner if ye would have given me the chance.”

“Ye have my sincere apology.”

She gave him generous smile. “Apology accepted. Ye will always have a friend—is that the time?” A gloved hand covered her cheek. “I will be late, and Mr. Carson hates it when I’m late.” She rushed from the room in time to nearly topple Ann.

The look on Ann’s face caused him to cross the room. “Ann, are you all right? I have never seen ye look so…”

“I did not sleep well.”

“That makes two of us. May I get you something? Coffee? Tea?” He added with a smile, “Eggs and bacon?”

“Nothing, thank ye.” She proceeded into the room, and selected a piece of toast and a cup of tea.

“Will ye sit?”

She sat in her usual chair, but was so downcast that he dared not tease her to another.

“I shall go for a ride.” She left the toast on the plate. “Alone.”

A cold wind blew up his spine from the storms in her eyes. “Why?”

“Everything appears to be fine in yer world, Mr. Archer.” She placed a finger on the edge of the bread and quickly removed it. “I have come to a decision.”

A foreboding descended on the room.

She stiffened her back and focused her stormy eyes on him. “Our experiment is over. I will not marry ye.”

His heart paused. Sunlight paled. He remained while she exited the room.

“Reed?” His mother’s light touch woke him to anger.

“What is it, Mama?” he snapped.

She took a step back.

Anger deflated at her recoil. “I will not hurt ye, Mama. Not ever.”

“I know that.” She brought nervous fingers clutching a kerchief to her heart and continued. “I came to ask ye what ye got up to last night.” She swiped with the handkerchief. “Ye might as well tell me the whole thing—including who was hurt. We will have to take care of any damage, of course—” Her assertiveness drifted as her hand dropped. “Clementine said—”

Anger surged. “Oh? Just what did Aunt Clementine say?”

She retreated nearer to the doorway.

“Mama.” He swung away from her. Lord, his spirit called before he could form the words. Would it ever be over? Would he have to leave his hearth and home? Resolution eased into his soul, and he knew what he had to do. “Please sit down. May I get ye some tea?”

Trembling she took the edge of a chair near the door.

“I meant what I said.” He placed a cup before her. “I will never lay a finger on ye or Ruby in anger.”

Wide-eyed and pale she took him in.

“I cannot help being angry at this moment, but it is not at ye.”

“Clementine—” she began.

He raised a hand to silence her. “Whatever Aunt Clementine said was surely brought on by my own conduct in times past. Yes, I was angry about that for a moment, but what could she have said about me that wasn’t true?”

Tears filled his mother’s eyes.

“Don’t cry, Mama. Aunt Clementine and I will be fine. And what ye heard last night was fireworks in an empty field. Nothing more.”

The tears left. “Nothing more?”

“Nothing. No one was hurt. Except for the disturbance of sleep. They were loud.”

“Oh, Reed.” Her eyes cleared and so did her understanding. “That was Ann I saw leaving?”

Reed nodded. Hopelessness pulled on his spirit. He’d lost her, but he did not have to lose everything.

His mother smiled at him. “Don’t give up on her yet. She’s spunky. The kind of woman who’s not afraid of ye.”

How did his mother know?

“Ye must tell her the truth.”

“First she’d have to speak to me.”

~*~

Ann sat next to Mattie in the parlor. Jacob stood behind Mattie. Ruby and her mother sat on opposite sides of the hearth. Griff took a spot next to the mantel behind Ruby. All remaining guests perched on settees and chairs around the room. Irritation scratched through muted whispers. Her parents seemed the most cross. Murmurs silenced when Reed appeared.

He strode across the room without his usual confidence. Rather an inner strength emanated from his stance. This was no longer an errant boy. He’d returned a man, and he’d come to face the music.

Ann slid to the edge of her seat and repressed the need to take his hand so he would know he was not alone.

“Friends,” he began, gaze focused on the floor. He clasped his hands in front of him, raised his head, and caught her gaze before he scanned the room. “Friends. At university I used to meet with a group whose aim was to seek our Lord in all of life.”

Murmurs filled the parlor. Scratchy irritation was soothed by genuine interest.

“I made a life changing decision in those days, and since that day I have endeavored to live my life subject to Him who saved my soul.”

The murmurs ceased.

Mrs. Archer dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes.

“I have no doubt that the events of last evening caused many of you to lose sleep among other things.”

“What other things?” Uncle William called out.

Aunt Clementine put a hand on his arm with a look of solidarity for Ann.

Reed ignored him. “Last night, after we found the tavern overfull, an old friend invited me to see some fireworks in an abandoned field. That is what you heard. The explosion was loud, but no one was harmed.” He looked directly at Ann.

So he was not in his cups. A twinge of remorse stabbed her. She should have given him a chance to explain himself before assuming the worst. Ann once again itched to leave the room, but this time she wished she could leave it with Reed. However, first she would have to speak with her father. One glance at the beloved face confirmed that she would need to do more than a little convincing.

“I hope you will accept my sincere apology for the disturbance. I promise you, I have not come home to lead a marauding band of ne’er-do-wells in the neighborhood.”

The company stood at once, and good will was restored.

Ann slipped to her father.

“Ye’ve changed yer mind?” he asked before Ann could speak.

“If God can forgive him can we not?”

He pulled her to the hall. “Annie. Are ye absolutely sure?”

“Aye. I cannot believe it myself, but yes. Unfortunately, I’ve botched it. He’ll not ask for me now, but at least we can be friends.”

“Don’t ye worry about that, my dear. He will.”

Ann could not be so sanguine. She’d told Reed from the beginning that she would not have him. Then, when he most needed someone to believe in him, she’d failed. No. He’d not come around again. Ann trudged up to her room to finish the dress for her sister Olivia’s baby’s doll.

~*~

Reed watched Ann enter the breakfast room.

“Good morning, Mr. Archer,” she said keeping her head down.

“Miss Wright.”

She filled a plate with ham and potatoes and took the seat opposite him at the foot of the table.

He scooped up his cup of coffee and joined her. “The last time we found ourselves down here, ye took me on a merry chase. Should I expect another this day?”

She momentarily reached under the table. “Happy New Year.” She placed something wrapped in a silky crimson cloth and a blue ribbon on the table. “It’s a gift of friendship.”

“For me?”

“Open it.”

He pulled the ribbon and the cloth fell away from two carved wooden blanks.

“It’s a knife handle. Yer blacksmith will know what to do with them.”

“A carving knife.”

“Yes.”

“I have something for ye, too. But first I must ask ye something.”

Ann’s stormy-blue eyes widened.

“What is yer assessment of the outcome of my proposal?”

Confusion passed through her countenance.

“My proposal, yer trial, that we determine if we will suit?”

“I thought I gave you an answer yesterday.”

“Ye didn’t have all the facts.” He took her hand, heart beating a call to arms. “Shall we try again?”

Her grin appeared and her eyes sparkled like sunlight kissing the peaks of wavelets on the Bay.

“So, Miss Archer, what is your assessment of our experiment?”

A twinkle returned to her smile. “Will ye argue with my judgment?”

“Never promised I wouldn’t argue.” He quoted back, arms crossed.

She shrugged and cocked her head to one side.

“Well?”

“I believe that my original premise was an absolute failure.”

His heart pounded.

Laughter escaped her lips. “I believe my original premise that we will not suit, and therefore should prove to everyone the we should never marry, failed.”

Relief breezed through him.

“Then my discussion with yer father was not in vain?”

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “What discussion might that be?”

“The discussion where I offered for ye hand, and yer father said I had his blessing as long as I had yorn.”

Reed stood and offered his hands. Ann stepped into his arms. “Annie Wright,” he looked down into those stormy eyes. “Will ye be my wife?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“I can make it longer.” She waved her arm in the general direction of the house, “Consult with…”

He caught her lips before she could get away.