Blue Moon (15 page)

Finally he turned his back on the Ohio and looked over at Bridges.

“I’m ready to leave any time you are.”

Olivia leaned into kneading a pile of bread dough, pressed it down with the heels of her hands, straightened, pulled it toward her, pressed it against the floured tabletop again. She blew a stray curl out of her eyes. It was another day like most, full of endless chores and challenges. Since Noah had left, the days seemed empty and the nights endless. No longer did she catch herself watching for a glimpse of him or hoping he might suddenly appear at the door. He had been gone nearly a month now and she had finally convinced herself that he wasn’t coming back.

Without Noah to trail after, the boys always seemed to be underfoot. She would have found it hard to keep her spirits up if it weren’t for the fact that Susanna was slowly acting more like her old self and her father seemed much happier. There was a glimmer of hope that the couple might find the love they had once shared.

She was up to her elbows in dough when the boys came running through the door, Little Pay filthy but otherwise unscathed. Since his near-drowning, his string of accidents had ended and he had been far more attentive to his mother, even a bit more patient with Freddie.

They ran over to the table, where Freddie proceeded to poke a dirty finger into the bread dough. Olivia grabbed his wrist and pretended she was going to munch his finger off.

“Why can’t we go to town today, too? I never even been there oneth,” Freddie whined, pulling his hand out of her grasp. He swung on the edge of the table and then disappeared beneath it.

“You have, too,” Little Pay reminded him. “When we moved here.”

“I wath too little to remember.”

All morning long she had tried to explain to them that they would all stay home so that Susanna and their father could go into Shawneetown alone. Little Pay had not argued, but Freddie continued to wage a hard-fought campaign.

“Run out and pick some flowers for your mother, why don’t you?” She looked over at Little Pay as if to say, “Please, get him out of here.”

He reached under the table and started tugging on his brother’s arm. “Come on, Freddie, let’s go.”

“Aw …”

“We can race to the woods.”

“Mark, thet, go!” Freddie shot out from beneath the table, and ran out the door with Little Pay charging after him yelling at the top of his lungs, “Cheater! You’re cheating!”

Olivia laughed and shook her head.

“Livvie, would you mind braiding my hair for me?” Susanna walked up behind her.

Olivia gathered up the dough, dropped it in a heavy crockery bowl, and covered it with a dishtowel. She dusted off her hands on her apron.

“I would love to,” Olivia assured her. “It’s been a long, long time, hasn’t it?” She looked into Susanna’s blue eyes. Her stepmother’s heart was mending.

Susanna led the way outside with her brush and some pins in her hands. Olivia followed. Susanna sat down on a tree stump near the door and handed over the brush.

“Are you certain you don’t want to go into town with your father?”

“Not at all. I’m too tired to go today.”

“All right then,” Susanna said. “If you’re sure.”

Olivia relaxed as she combed out Susanna’s long blond hair. Since Little Pay’s accident in the stream Susanna had taken to joining in more, looking out for the boys, and even taking more pride in her appearance. When Payson asked Olivia to go to Shawneetown with him, she suggested that Susanna might want to go instead. Susanna had surprised them by readily agreeing, and a while later she even requested a hot tub of water for a good soak.

“You don’t seem tired, Livvie, even though I know we work you too hard.”

“I’m just thankful to be here,” she said. She forced herself not to let her mind wander back to Heron Pond and the man who had wanted her to stay with him.

A long silence stretched between them while Olivia brushed out Susanna’s hair and then separated it into three thick sections for braiding.

“Where were you, Livvie, all that time? Can’t you tell us yet? Were you with Noah?”

Olivia’s hands stilled. An image of Darcy standing over her, his satin dressing gown open down the front, flashed behind her eyes. She took a deep breath and told a half-truth.

“Noah brought me to Shawneetown.”

Perceptive enough to hear the evasion, Susanna did not ask for more detail. Olivia lost herself in weaving the braid, twisting skein over skein of thick hair.

When her father came around the corner of the cabin and walked up to the two of them, Olivia could not help but notice that there was an awkward nervousness about him.

He watched her braid Susanna’s hair for a few seconds. “I’ve got all the cured pelts Noah left us and a box of tomatoes loaded,” he said.

“They’ll make good barter for some of the things we need,” Olivia said.

“You certain you don’t want to come along? You and the boys could ride along in the cart.” He had borrowed Bob Carver’s oxcart for the journey.

Olivia shook her head, glad Freddie wasn’t around to hear the offer.

“No, Daddy, you and Susanna need a day away from us, I’m sure.”

Besides, she thought, she had no intention of going into town and be reminded of the day she arrived with Noah. Nor did she want to be anywhere near so many strangers coming and going on the river. If Darcy had put out a reward for her return, the kind of river scum he dealt with would be looking high and low for her. Until a little more time passed, she didn’t want to risk running into any of them in town.

Freddie and Little Pay came around the house with bunches of brown-eyed Susans clutched in their hands.

“We got you some flowers, Ma,” Little Pay said, thrusting them at Susanna. She took them with much fuss. Then, almost shyly, as if she no longer had the right, she kissed each boy on the cheek and thanked them.

“What if I weave a few of these into your braid?” Olivia suggested.

Susanna agreed, and by the time Olivia was finished, the boys pronounced their mother as beautiful as a queen. Payson stepped forward, took her hand, kissed it and then made a low bow, like a courtier of old. He went inside to get his rifle. Not, he reminded them, that he could actually hit anything with it. Susanna sent the boys in after him.

When they were alone, she stood up and took Olivia’s hand, blushed and dropped her gaze. Her grip tightened. She swallowed a few times, working up the courage to speak.

“Livvie, I can’t leave this hanging between us any longer. I hope someday you can forgive me for what happened on the river.”

“Oh, Susanna, please. It’s over now. We’re all here, we’re all fine.” Olivia spoke without thinking. She had forgotten the baby Susanna lost, until she saw Susanna’s tears. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Hush,” Susanna shook her head. “Let’s not speak of what happened again. I can tell that you’ve suffered, Livvie, and if it’s any consolation, I have hated myself for begging your father to send you off with those horrible men that day.”

“Please, Susanna, don’t.” Olivia didn’t want to be reminded, nor did she want to hear her stepmother beg for forgiveness she could not yet fully give.

“I thought that you were surely dead, Livvie, and when God took my baby, I was certain He was making me pay for what I said that day. I know something terrible must have happened or you would have told Payson where you were. I know it’s never far from his mind.”

Olivia glanced frantically toward the door, praying her father wouldn’t choose that moment to come outside. “I can’t talk about it, Susanna,” she whispered, trying to head off her panic, the terrible memories and lingering fear that Darcy still might find her. “Not yet.”

“Then we won’t speak of this ever again.” Susanna leaned over and kissed Olivia on the cheek. “I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday.”

Susanna rode high on the swaying oxcart, looking out across the fields Payson had cleared and plowed by himself and marveled that this man of letters, this mule-headed, inexperienced husband of hers had accomplished so much while she had been so mired in mourning. Glancing over her shoulder, she surveyed the modest cabin on the edge of the wood where the boys stood in the yard waving good-bye, until they lost interest and ran off to play.

When she turned back around, the cart was passing her baby girl’s grave.

“Payson, please stop.”

She saw him hesitate and thought he might be about to deny her request. He drew inward and shut down at first, but then he straightened, studying her carefully. Pulling on the ox’s rig, he stopped the animal in its tracks. Then he walked over to help her climb down.

Susanna had never even been close to the little mound beneath the spreading oak where her infant daughter lay buried. Payson had taken the baby from her and carried it away before she was ready to let it go. She had seen the crooked little white cross marker from the cabin, but could not bear to look at it until Livvie had come home and forced her to go outside, into the sunlight.

Tears stung her eyes as Susanna knelt beside the grave and ran her hand across the new grass that sprouted over the tiny bump in the soil, pulling up a few straggling weeds and wilted dandelions. She was ashamed that this forlorn little grave for the baby with no name had been abandoned by everyone, even her mother. Susanna reached up, pulled one brown-eyed Susan out of her braid, then another and another, until she had them all in her hands.

Then, leaning over the grave, she slowly formed the letter B for
Baby
on the grass.

Payson walked up behind her and must have sensed her need to commune with the infant she had never known, for he remained silent until she rocked back, rested on her heels and sighed.

“There’ll be others, Susanna.” He spoke softly, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She stared down at the yellow blossoms, so bright, so vibrant with life against the green grass, and felt her heart stir. It had been so long since she had felt any inkling of love left within her, for herself or anyone, that she was overwhelmed with the brilliant flood that began to fill her.

Hopeful, she turned to look over her shoulder at him, saw the unconditional love in his eyes. It was the first time since the day she had begged him to give Livvie away that she had seen the same enduring love that had persuaded her to marry him reflected there.

Payson knelt beside her in the grass, put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

“Will there, Payson? Will there be other babies?”

“ ‘Bid me live, and I will live / Thy Protestant to be; / Or bid me love, and I will give / A loving heart to thee.’ I love you, Susanna. You and the boys and Livvie are my life. There’ll be more babies, whenever you are ready.”

She lifted her mouth to his, knowing his kiss would be gentle, knowing the past was slipping behind the present. Knowing that they could begin again.

Chapter 13

Sandy Shoals, Kentucky

The Prince of the Ohio walked into Hunter Boone’s tavern and trading post on the Mississippi, pausing just inside the door to watch his old friend serve up beer in heavy wooden mugs to a boatload of men standing shoulder to shoulder along the bar. To the naked eye, Hunter had not changed in three years. Still a commanding figure, he stood head and shoulders above the other men, taking coin, filling mugs, and wiping down the bar while keeping up a stream of conversation.

It was early in the day, so the long trestle tables set up around the cavernous room in the log structure were mostly empty, but the aroma of baking bread filled the air. Noah’s stomach rumbled at the pleasurable thought of digging into a noon meal. Hunter’s sister-in-law, Hannah, and his wife, Jemma, knew how to fill a man’s stomach.

He knew what would happen as soon as the men at the bar saw him, but there was nothing to be done for it, so with rifle in hand and his pack slung over his shoulder, Noah walked across the room. It didn’t take long for Hunter to look up and recognize him. When he did, the big man in buckskins left the bar and strode across the room, grabbed Noah in a bear hug, and pounded him heartily on the back.

“Where in the hell have you been? I already know all about some of the Prince of the Ohio’s latest exploits. Heard you not only launched in the worst current in years, but delivered the boat safely to Natchez.”

Noah nodded. “That’s about the size of it.”

“Along the way, did you warn another pilot what was beneath the surface a half a mile up ahead, and save him from capsizing?”

The men at the bar had stopped talking and were listening intently to the exchange. Noah shifted, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Noah said, careful to keep his voice low.

“You’re gonna be a bigger legend than you were before. How did you do it?” Hunter clapped him on the back again, took his arm and led him over to a table near the bar and motioned for him to sit down. “Here, let me take your rifle and your pack. You’ll stay the night, of course. Hell, stay a week or two. It’ll be great for business Wait until Jemma sees you.” Hunter glanced over at the patrons at the bar, then back at Noah. “You look good. Real good, Noah. Better than I expected.”

Noah nodded. “Thanks.” He hoped Hunter would eventually let him get a word in. There was so much he wanted to say to the man who had brought him back from the brink of death and then talked him into living.

At a sign of movement in the door to the cabin addition where the women did the cooking, Noah turned his head and saw Jemma Boone drying her hands on an apron tied around her burgeoning waistline. With her blond hair, blue eyes, and ready, dimpled smile, she had an angelic look about her that belied her mischievous nature. She recognized him immediately and her face lit up. Noah stood as she crossed the room to greet him.

“Noah LeCroix, you’ve been away far too long.”

She reached up to hug him, catching him off guard. He had never put his arms around a woman carrying a child before; for an awkward moment, he did not quite know how to maneuver. Jemma made him blush when she burst out laughing.

“Hunter says he likes it when there’s more of me to love, and right now there’s plenty.” She walked over to Hunter and sidled up close enough to slip beneath his arm.

At the easy but telling gesture, an anchor of loneliness tugged at Noah’s heart.

“I hear you sold your soul to the devil,” she laughed.

“You know better than that,” Hunter told her. “Noah drives too hard a bargain. The devil couldn’t afford to trade with him.”

Noah finally laughed, thinking of the bag full of gold Bridges had paid him after he delivered the family safely down to Natchez. It had taken him two weeks to come back up the Trace as far as Sandy Shoals, but the solitude of the trail had been worth the delay.

“Where you headed?” Hunter asked as he took Noah’s pack and rifle and stored them behind the bar.

“Home to a cypress swamp in southern Illinois.”

“I’ve heard a lot about that section of Illinois. Fertile river valleys that overflow like the Nile. Didn’t somebody buy a tract of land last year on the delta between the Mississippi and the Ohio and name it Cairo? I’ve often thought of moving up there.” Hunter quickly glanced over at Jemma. Her smile had quickly faded. “Well, not until the children get older,” Hunter added.

“Children?” Noah looked at Jemma and then Hunter.

“This is the second,” she said proudly, smoothing her hand over the bulge beneath the apron. “We’ve already got a little boy.”

Noah looked up at Hunter. “I can’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged, embarrassed again. “I don’t know. It’s just that … well, I guess it was bound to happen.”

Jemma and Hunter both laughed. “Wait until you see him,” Hunter boasted. “He’s the cutest little imp on both sides of the Mississippi.”

“He’s only saying that because Derek looks just like him,” Jemma said.

Noah watched the looks they exchanged and found himself having to look away. Jemma promised him the best meal he had eaten in years and bustled off to the kitchen after telling Hunter that she would send his brother, Luther, in to tend the bar so that he and Noah could talk.

A young traveler at the bar, tall and lanky with a thin blond beard, was watching Noah with awe.

“You’re really him, aren’t you?” The young man took a swig of ale and raised his mug. “To the Prince of the Ohio. I never thought to see you in person.”

Uncomfortable, Noah merely shrugged him off and sat down at the table with his back to the room. Hunter slid onto the bench across from him.

“You doing all right?” Hunter wanted to know. He leaned across the table, watching Noah carefully.

“Yeah. I hate all of that, though.”

“I figured you did. Been feeling all right?”

Noah nodded. “Great.” How did a man explain a heartache that would never kill him—just make him hurt morning, noon, and night? He had thought that time and distance would have driven Olivia out of his mind, but it had only intensified his feelings.

Jemma brought out a plate heaped with ham and beans and biscuits and gravy and then made the rounds of customers. As Noah dug in, Hunter was content to let him eat without any more questions. They settled back into the easy, quiet comradery they had always shared. Finally, when Noah had finished most of the meal, Hunter shook his head.

“Something’s on your mind.”

Why deny it
, Noah thought. “Yeah. A couple of things.”

“Such as?”

Noah lowered his voice, leaned toward the center of the table. “You’re going to think I’ve lost more than my eye.”

“Go on.”

“You’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Why don’t you get to the point and let me be the judge of that?”

“Water talks to me.”

Hunter laughed until he realized Noah was perfectly serious, then sobered and scratched his head.

“Water talks to you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

“What in the hell does it say?”

“It doesn’t really speak in words so much as it gives me a notion of where it’s going and what’s hidden beneath it.”

Hunter frowned. “That’s how you knew to warn that other pilot? The
water
told you?”

Noah was sorry he had said anything at all. If Hunter did not believe him, no one else would. He was beginning to understand why his mother had left her clan behind to live in isolation.

“How long has this been happening to you?”

“A few weeks.”

“I don’t know what to say, Noah. I never heard anything like it.” As if he did not want to hear anything else about talking water, Hunter changed the subject.

“You said you had a couple of problems. Maybe I can help with the other.”

Noah doubted it. At that point, Jemma came back into the tavern with a bright-eyed child riding her hip. The boy was a miniature version of both of them, complete with thick blond hair and sky-blue eyes. He had Jemma’s dimples and smile. Suddenly, Noah envied his friend something that until now, he never knew he wanted.

Jemma walked up beside Noah. The toddler popped his fingers into his mouth and stared down at him.

“This is Derek Noah Boone,” she said proudly. “Derek, say hello to your uncle Noah.”

The boy drooled but did not utter a word. Jemma tried to hand Derek over to Noah, but the child kicked and squirmed, wanting nothing of the sort. She gave him to Hunter instead and went back to work. Noah watched Hunter jostle the baby to a comfortable position and pull his empty mug over so that Derek could play with it.

“Are you happy, Hunt?” The question was out before Noah could call it back.

Hunter looked over at him as if he had not heard right. “Am I happy? What do you mean?”

“All this,” Noah said, gesturing around the tavern. “You told me once you weren’t going to live in one place any longer than you had to, and now here you are with a wife and a family.”

A contented smile slowly spread across Hunter’s face. “Yeah, well, that was before Jemma O’Hurley ran into me in New Orleans and changed my mind.” He considered Noah carefully. “Somehow, I get the feeling your other problem involves a woman.”

Noah shrugged.

“It’s about time,” Hunter said, sounding relieved. “Tell me about her. Where did you meet her?”

“I found her.”

“Don’t tell me the water led you to her.”

“No. She was lost in the swamp where I live now, which is another long story. I helped get her back to her family in Shawneetown.”

“And now?”

“She’s still got a lot of things to settle.”

“You love her.”

“I want her. All the time. Is that the same?”

“Does she want you?” Hunter’s expression darkened to an angry scowl. “If she’s the kind of woman who would let that eye patch stand in the way—”

Noah shook his head. “Nothing like that. It’s just that she’s been hurt. It’ll take her some time.”

Noah was not a talker to begin with, and uttering such confidences was nearly choking him. As he collected himself, he watched Derek grab Hunter’s shirtfront, pull himself up to a standing position on his father’s thigh, and take hold of a handful of Hunter’s hair. Hunter easily extricated himself, sat the boy down and began to bounce him on his knee. Derek proceeded to pound the tabletop with his fists.

“You’ve had nieces and nephews, Hunt. A family. What do I know about being a husband or a father? I saw my father only a few weeks a year. I don’t know how to hold a child, let alone talk to one. Even if she wanted to be with me, Olivia deserves more, especially after all she has been through.”

Derek started banging the wooden trencher against the table. Hunter tried to talk over the noise.

“They don’t come better than you, Noah. You think I would give Derek just anybody’s name?”

Payson Bond, Susanna, their boys, the struggling farm, the crude cabin, Olivia—all of them were never far from Noah’s mind. Neither were his doubts.

“How do you do it?” he asked his friend. “How does any man stay no matter what happens?”

“If you have to ask, then you aren’t really in love,” Hunter said, with such surety and conviction that Noah began to doubt himself.

“But how will you know what answers to give your boy when he starts asking you questions? How can you even let yourself love him without being scared to death every minute of the day that something might happen to him? How do you face ever losing Jemma now that you have given her your heart?”

“Noah—”

“How in the hell do you know what to do?”

Hunter sighed. His gaze roamed the room until he found Jemma, watched her for a long moment, and then looked back again.

“Every family faces loss. There is not a father, mother, brother, sister, cousin, or friend that has not lost someone. No one is spared the death of a loved one—unless, of course, he chooses to hide himself in a swamp for his entire life and never know another living soul. But death has already touched you, Noah. Your father deserted you. You lost your mother and survived.

“As to having a family, there are no lessons on how to be a good husband and father, at least nothing written down like those guidebooks the emigrants from back East carry around with them. I just do the best I can. That’s all any man can do. I know you well enough to know that you would do just fine.”

Noah was still about as confused as he had been when he walked in.

Hunter straightened Derek’s long shirt. “If you love her, Noah, don’t let her go because you can’t foresee the future. Just take one day at a time,” he said.

Noah thought of Olivia, of all she had yet to settle within herself, of the fear that never left her, of her deep commitment to her family. He wished things were easier.

Derek was tired of the mug and began to squirm and fuss. Hunter shifted him to his hip. Before he stood up, he leaned across the table.

“Noah, if I were you?”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone else about the talking water.”

Shawneetown

Olivia ignored the incessant chatter of the young Scottish girl beside her as they headed into town accompanied by Little Pay and Freddie. There might be but a year’s difference in their ages, but Molly MacKinnon seemed centuries younger. Two weeks ago, Molly had appeared at the cabin door without a word of explanation or apology, begging to have her fetch-and-carry job back, promising Payson that she wasn’t about to run off again. She was willing to work for room and board, but when he told her that Olivia was with them, that they would no longer be needing her, Molly had stood on the threshold cussing a blue streak, not at him, but at herself, for ruining the opportunity to enjoy three meals a day.

As bemused by the girl’s spunk as she was moved by the obvious signs of poverty in Molly’s ragged, soiled gown, her bare feet, and her need of a good sudsing, Olivia had interceded for her, convincing her father that she could certainly use the extra help. Besides, she had added, Noah had already put by enough venison and ham to feed all of them
and
Molly.