A Promise for Tomorrow (25 page)
“I’ll read to her real good,” Brenton promised, helping himself down from the table.
“You’ll have to make sure she stays right with you and doesn’t go near the fire or get outside,” Victoria admonished, clearing the last of the breakfast dishes away. She had never thought to enjoy menial tasks, not after her privileged upbringing, but her mother had told her that it would do her good to learn. And now she was happy to have learned because she was beginning to realize she would be very content marrying and having children.
Kiernan had observed her homemaking talents when he had visited the family and had been impressed. He had also been pleased by her ability to cleanse his wounds and tend to his needs. When she had stitched his shirt back together and darned the holes in his socks, Kiernan had offered her high words of praise. It was because of his reaction that Victoria thought perhaps sewing and cooking might well become her only ambitions in life. Her mother might enjoy book learning, but she felt happier working with her hands.
Arranging Brenton and Jordana in the front room, Victoria knew she’d have to hurry. She decided to leave the dishes until after seeing Kiernan. She put water on to heat and paused only to gather up a bit of leftover breakfast to take with her. Kiernan was a big eater, and her most frustrating problem this last week had been to supply him with food. Twice she’d gone to see him only to find that he’d helped himself to some of the canned foods they’d stored in the cave. It had been no easy task to hide the empty jars from her mother until she could clean them and replace them along with the other empty containers.
“I’ll be right back,” she promised Brenton and Jordana. “Be good and maybe Mama will let me bake cookies.”
She slipped out the back door and hurried down the path, past the outhouse and to the wooded area that butted up against the rocky wall of the mountain terrain. The cave was scarcely twenty yards from the back door, but still Victoria worried about leaving her siblings alone.
She reached the cave, lifted the bar that held the board gating in place, and swung the door open. “Kiernan?” she called out.
“Top o’ the morning to ya,” he replied and eased out of the shadows.
“I’ve brought you something to eat.”
“Ah, a lil’ traveling food,” he said, sweeping a hand through his disheveled red hair.
“What do you mean, traveling food?” Victoria asked, fearing that she knew only too well what he meant.
“I need to be gettin’ back to my people. I need to find Red and see if he’s alive or dead.” He took the cloth-wrapped breakfast from her and went to sit on a nearby rock. He munched on the biscuits and bacon while Victoria paced a path in front of him.
“What will they do to you when you go back?”
He shrugged. “Don’t rightly think I’ll announce my arrival.” He grinned. “Then again, don’t rightly think anyone’ll care.”
“But what if they do? My father says that the sheriff intends to find out whether Red started this thing or not. He says that they’ll put Red and anyone else responsible in jail until they learn the truth of the matter.”
“What they say and what they do is ofttimes different. They’re shorthanded for workers now. I don’t think they’ll be carin’ about the skirmish half so much as keepin’ time with their contract.”
“But they might,” Victoria protested. “They just might throw you in jail because you’re his brother.”
Kiernan laughed. “Couldn’t be any worse than the ship I came over on. Coffin ships, they call ’em, and with good reason. Either ya end up in one or ya feel like ya’ve just spent yar last moments buried alive.”
“Tell me about it,” Victoria said, hoping to stall for time. There had to be some way she could keep Kiernan from risking his life by rejoining the workers at the tunnel.
“Not much to tell. At least not for yar delicate ears. It was dark and cold and smelly, and death was all around us.” His face contorted at the painful memory. “We ate porridge once a day, and after a week of it, most would just as soon go hungry. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why I have such an appetite now.” He grinned apologetically. “Now, ya don’t need to be hearin’ this. What of yar folks? Have they been a-wonderin’ about yar trips to the cave?”
Victoria shook her head. “I’ve tried to plan it out for when they weren’t around. I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”
Her heart ached to tell him how she really felt. Looking at him now, she could almost speak the words. His laughing green eyes and auburn hair were only a part of his attraction. She loved his rugged face with the prominent nose that suggested a Roman ancestor or two; she even adored the broad set of his eyes and the fullness of his mouth. She fancied herself to be in love with him, and it hurt that she couldn’t simply speak the words and let him know how she felt. But what if he didn’t return her love? She would simply die if he rejected her. Best to just leave things be for now.
“Well, ya won’t have to be a plannin’ anymore,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m leavin’. Do ya suppose the way is clear for me?”
She nodded, not knowing what else to do. “Papa has gone to the tunnel, and Mama and Miriam are delivering a baby.”
“Good.” He grabbed up his blankets and folded them over for her. “I can’t thank ya enough for what ya did.”
“I wish I could have done more. I should have hidden you in the house instead of this cold cave.”
“Ah, but ya be forgettin’,” he said, touching her chin gently with his fingers, “I was livin’ in a tent before this. The cave is a mite bit warmer, truth be told.”
She felt her knees begin to shake at his touch. He was so close to her, and the warmth of his fingers on her face was enough to make her feel faint. “I’m . . . ah . . . I’m glad . . .” She couldn’t find the words to speak. It was as if his eyes could look through hers clear down into her heart.
“Yar a good girl, Victoria. I won’t forget yar kindness.” He kissed her gently on the cheek, then went to the opening of the cave. He was limping a bit, but he could put weight on his leg without grimacing in pain. He paused and quickly glanced back at her. “I’ll be comin’ to see yar family later. Now, don’t ya forget me.”
With that he was gone and Victoria was left behind. She reached up to touch the place where his lips had kissed her. His Irish brogue rang in her ears.
“Now, don’t ya forget me,”
he had told her, as if such a thing were possible.
Victoria hurried to the opening, hoping for one more glimpse of him, but he was gone. Only the tracks in the snow suggested that he’d truly been there. “Oh, Kiernan,” she sighed and wished fervently that she might age by at least four years in the next few minutes.
Gathering her wits about her, Victoria barely remembered to retrieve the venison before exiting the cave. She moved as if in a dream. He was so handsome, and she loved the way he talked and the way he cared about his family back in Ireland.
The house was quiet except for the monotone reading of Brenton. She sighed. All was well. Her escapades hadn’t caused any problems for her brother or sister, and relief washed over her as she realized suddenly just how much might have happened in her absence. She would have to be more responsible in the future.
The future. It seemed so unreachable. So distant. How she longed for it, and the maturity it might offer her. “Please wait for me, Kiernan,” she whispered and lovingly touched her hand again to her cheek. “Please don’t forget me.”
PART III
February–December 1850
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Finds us farther than today . . .
A P
SALM OF
L
IFE
—H
ENRY
W
ADSWORTH
L
ONGFELLOW
It was to festivities celebrating the birthday of George Washington that Margaret and Joseph Adams returned to Washington City. Margaret found herself duly impressed with all that had transpired in her absence. Washington had always been a city in one form of transition or another, but the evidence of this was never so clear as when Margaret stepped from the train. New buildings stood as proud sentinels to the nation’s capital, while all around these rang the bustle of activities, with vendors seeking to ply their wares and disgruntled congressmen arguing as only congressmen could.
“My, but it has changed,” Margaret commented as they boarded a hired carriage.
“You’ll find the world greatly changed, my dear,” Joseph told her as he took hold of her gloved hand.
Margaret smiled. Her subdued nature greatly contrasted the celebratory spirit that was evident in the streets around her. Washington’s birthday was rivaled only by the Fourth of July in celebration and anticipation. “It seems so chilly for them to be out and about like this,” she commented, noting a group of children playing a circle game of tag.
“I remember many were the times in our youth we endured the cold for the sake of a good party in honor of the general.”
“But, of course, you are right,” Margaret replied, still taking in the sights and sounds of the town from which she’d been so long absent. “I have missed it in some ways. In others, I’m just as glad to have left it behind.” She stared thoughtfully around, wondering how it would be to see Oakbridge again. “I do long for home.”
Joseph squeezed her hand. “We will be there before you know it. Remember I told you about our little railroad?” She nodded and he continued. “I have a private car which will stand by ready to take us to Oakbridge. The trip will pass quickly and smoothly, taking just less than an hour. It’s really quite a wonder. We don’t have a real locomotive engine, but the horses have a much easier time pulling along the rail than they would over open roads.”
“I think I prefer the horses,” Margaret said, smiling at her husband. “It will give us a pleasant time to sit alone and enjoy each other’s company.”
“I’m grateful for that time, and for the times to come,” Joseph admitted. “I thought I’d lost you, but now I find that you are returned to me.” His eyes misted with tears, and Margaret knew in her heart what the years of separation had cost him. They’d cost her no less.
“I can scarcely remember those early years in the asylum, and yet the one thing lingers—I never stopped wishing for you to come and make everything right.”
“I wish I could have,” Joseph said, his tone revealing his sorrow.
Margaret shook her head. “It’s for the best, I suppose. I learned so much from my time away. In truth, as we’ve discussed before, I was a totally different woman then. I was self-absorbed and concerned with much that had no real bearing on our lives.” She gazed down at her hands, knowing the futility of wishing that she could take back the hurtful things she’d said and done in the past. “I feel renewed. God has brought me through a dark shadowland and into the light. I am resolved to be a good wife and mother.”
“But you always were,” Joseph countered. “We raised children, not perfect beings. They needed direction and faithful guidance, and you always offered that. We have beautiful, accomplished children, and you are as much to credit as anyone.”
“I long to see them all,” Margaret said softly. “I wish Carolina had remained in Baltimore until we passed through. Still, I understand her need to be with her husband. I’m glad she is happy with James. Perhaps one day soon she will come and bring her family to see us.”
“I’m certain she will. I know how she longs to be with you again.”
“She told me when she visited a few years ago. I believe it was before the birth of her youngest.”
Joseph smiled. “I remember. She’d just learned that she was expecting Jordana and she wanted to come and share the news with you.”
“She was so grown up I scarcely knew her. So mature and graceful.”
“So much like her mother.”
Margaret shook her head. “No, she’s always been more her father’s daughter. Adventure runs in her blood.”
“Along with the wanderlust, eh?” Joseph said with a laugh.
But instead of laughing, Margaret frowned. “I should never have kept you from your desires to travel. Wanderlust does not have to be a bad thing.”
“It was exactly as it should have been. We aren’t going to spend our new future together regretting a past that can’t possibly be changed.”
“Oh, look!” Margaret exclaimed. “We’re crossing the Potomac. How cold and gray it looks.”
“Well, it is February.”
“February. Time ceased to have meaning to me while I was sick. It seemed days lasted for years,” Margaret said wistfully.
“For me, as well,” he whispered and pulled her into his arms. “I was never complete without you.”
Margaret turned in his arms and gazed into the loving blue eyes that held her captive. “It will be a good life, Joseph,” she promised him. “No matter our course, it will be a good life—together.”
“Grandmother’s home!” a chorus of children called out.
Entering the foyer of her home, Margaret peered out from her cloak to find a half dozen children dancing circles around her. She didn’t recognize the faces. They were her grandchildren and yet she was meeting them for the first time.
“Let your grandmother take off her cloak and warm up near the fire,” Joseph suggested to the brood. He reached up and helped to take the wrap.
“Mother,” Virginia said in a hushed tone.
Margaret glanced up to find her eldest daughter standing at the foot of the stairs. She looked to be at least ten years older than her actual thirty-three years. Gray streaked her hair and her body was desperately thin. No more the belle of the county, Virginia had become a haggard old woman before her time.
“Virginia,” Margaret whispered her name as if trying it for the first time. She held open her arms and received her daughter’s hesitant embrace. “How I’ve missed you.”
It seemed those simple words broke through the tension of their reunion. Virginia tightened her hold and sobbed. “Oh, Mama, I’ve missed you, too. You don’t know how many times I wished desperately to have you here.”
“Well, I am here now,” Margaret said, trying to cheer her daughter.
