Honor (43 page)

Is this the man over whom I once felt such anguish?
Any lingering resentment Honor might have held toward Darah was extinguished by Alec’s presence. This type of confrontation did not fit in her life. Honor continued to inch away from him. The open door was just a step farther . . .

He moved forward and captured her by the shoulders. “To see you living here in this humble cabin. Oh, what have I done?” The words sounded artificial, as if on the way here he’d practiced all these phrases in an attempt to ensnare her. They only repelled her.

Honor shrank from him, her fear racing, nearly making her light-headed. “Let me go, Alec!”

“You should have been mine!” He bent to kiss her.

She turned her head to the side and tried to pull away. Alec held on to her, gripping her tighter. Honor panicked and shrieked. If only Samuel could hear her!

Striding toward the cabin, Samuel looked through the open door and gasped. A finely dressed man was trying
to kiss his wife. Honor was attempting to get away. Fury shot through Samuel.

“Stop!” Samuel roared, the first word he’d said aloud in many years. He charged into the room.

His wife turned her head toward him. “Help me!” The words were plain on Honor’s mouth.

Samuel grabbed the man with both hands and threw him backward. The intruder hit the wall and fell to the floor.

Honor signed that the man was Alec, looking for Darah.

Darah’s husband—the man who owned land that was rightfully Honor’s! Samuel’s hand itched to make the man hurt.

Alec regained his feet and came at Samuel, his riding crop in hand.

Samuel yanked the crop from him and tossed it away.

Alec aimed a punch toward Samuel’s face.

Samuel dodged it easily. He pummeled the man who’d hurt his wife, his Honor. Then it wasn’t just Alec he was hitting; it was all the men who’d ever looked at him as if he were a freak or dolt. A red haze filled his eyes. He felt his throat contract with rage.

Then slender arms closed around his neck from behind.
Who, what . . . ?
Honor had wrapped her arms around him, pulling at him. He gasped, awakened from the haze.

He reeled backward and looked down. Had he gone too far?

Alec Martin slid to the floor, and Samuel realized that he’d backed the man against the wall and nearly beaten him senseless.

Samuel staggered to a chair and collapsed.

Honor bent to look at him. “Is thee all right?” she signed.

He nodded, gasping, his knuckles aching and stinging.

His wife bent forward and kissed his forehead. Her fingers flew. “Thank thee. I was so frightened. How did thee know I needed thee?”

“I noticed a strange horse tethered behind the kitchen.” Still panting from exertion and the mindless rage, he swallowed and leaned back, resting his head against the chair. He noted she made no effort to go to the man who sat on the floor, his head in his hands, and found satisfaction in the fact.

Honor took a deep breath as Alec rose shakily to his feet. He stared at Honor and Samuel side by side, confronting him—united again, Honor realized. Alec’s split lip bled, and his shirt was disheveled and bloodied, one eye already showing bruising.

“I see you believed that lying, insane wife of mine,” Alec said in an ugly tone she’d never heard him use before today.

She signed this for Samuel and replied, “Yes, we do. Please leave. And don’t return.”

“Where is Darah?” Alec demanded.

Samuel grabbed Honor’s arm. “Tell him he will never find her.” She did.

Alec swore violently at them.

Samuel must have sensed this and moved to his feet,
approaching Alec. “Tell him to leave before I throw his unconscious body off my land.”

Honor took satisfaction in repeating this.

Alec cursed her again, picked up his battered hat, and passed her with a sneer. “You deserve this, Honor Penworthy. Living in a sty with a deaf pig.”

Honor didn’t deign to reply, merely stared at him with all the disdain she could muster. Soon she heard hoofbeats and, from the doorway, saw Alec speed away.

Though tears flowed, she turned and poured water into a basin. She motioned for Samuel to pull the rocker close to the table. With trembling fingers, she washed the blood from his hands and applied iodine to his broken skin. Alec had barely touched her husband. Only a faint bruise on his jaw appeared.

When she’d finished caring for him, she leaned over and kissed his mouth, something she hadn’t done for weeks. The feel of his lips caressing hers drew her closer. “Thank thee. He terrified me.”

To soothe her, Samuel urged her onto his lap, nestling her softness against him. They had been apart so long. Feeling how she still shook, he wanted to say something calming to her, really speak to her, let her know how deeply he felt for her at this moment. But aside from his outburst at Alec, he never spoke words aloud. Could he say what he wanted? Would his unusual voice repel her, as it had others when he was a boy?

He closed his eyes and asked God for strength, courage. “Honor,” he said slowly, hoping the word had been audible, understandable. “I’m sorry.”

Her expression showed her shock. She signed, “Thee can speak like Caleb. Why doesn’t thee speak to me?”

“My voice sounds odd,” he said, hanging his head. Speaking words exhausted him as always.

She nodded slowly, putting a hand on his arm. “It sounds wonderful to me,” she signed.

“No matter what you say, it sounds strange.” Samuel lapsed into sign. “That’s why I don’t speak. I don’t know why, but a person has to be able to hear his voice to sound like himself.” Rampant emotion roiled through him with every word he conveyed. He felt each nick and cut to his knuckles. He was clumsy and inadequate. But his wife had resisted her cousin’s husband—even though he was handsome and whole.

Honor waited, her expression soft.

“I’m sorry about my jealousy,” he went on. He’d plainly seen her revulsion as Alec had pressed his attentions on her. In that moment, all traces of his jealousy had vanished, burned up. His only regret was that it had taken so long—Honor had proved her faithfulness time and again. Samuel leaned back into the chair, spent. “I’m sorry you had to suffer . . . seeing him, having to witness a fight.”

Honor shuddered. “I finally saw Alec as he really was. I realize now that both Darah and I were too young, too innocent to understand his true nature, what kind of man he actually was.”

A profound gratitude filled Honor. She rested her palm on Samuel’s cheek. “I felt betrayed by Darah, but I see now God was protecting me. He would have protected my cousin, too, but she did what she knew she shouldn’t. Yet
in the end, he gave her a way out.” She bowed her head, letting all the old hurt drain out only to be replaced with relief.
The Lord saved me.

Samuel exulted in her gentle touch. “I’m sorry,” he signed.

Being done once and for all with the past, she even felt lighter. God had brought her a good and kind man to be her husband, and the Lord had made so many other provisions through their marriage as well. Their union had eased Miriam’s passing for Samuel, provided care for Eli and Caleb, brought security for herself and Royale, and connected Samuel with the hearing world and brought about his dream of his own glassworks.

She stroked his face and leaned forward, placing another kiss on his mouth. She remembered not his jealousy but his kindness to the runaways they hid, his exceptional benevolence to Darah and her maid. “I am glad thee is my husband.”

“I am grateful you are my wife,” he signed. Then he did something he had wanted to do but had not allowed himself. The jealousy and resentment had kept him from touching her so intimately, touching what connected them so deeply.

Samuel laid his hand upon his wife’s abdomen, fully aware, perhaps for the first time, of the new life within. The wonder of it brought his face up to hers. She too looked amazed. She laid her hand on top of his and kissed him again, then rested her forehead against his.

Suddenly the courage he needed rose in him. “I love you, Honor,” he said aloud. “I love you.”

She moved her head so their eyes met. Her gaze delved
deeply into him as if reading his very soul. “I love thee.” She spoke the words so plainly it was as if he could hear them. She said the words again in sign.

Tears rose in his eyes, joy overflowing. “I love you, Honor,” he repeated.

Once again her lips dipped to his. Her kiss was slow and thorough and thrilled him to his marrow. Then she rose and latched the door. When she turned, he saw a light in her eyes he’d never witnessed before.

He stood and opened his arms.

She took her time reaching him, all the while smiling at him, promising him her love. Then she was in his arms, so soft, so yielding, a miracle.

He savored what he hoped would be the first of many moments like this—he would remember it all his life.
Thank God. Thank God.

H
ONOR LAID HER TINY
napping daughter into the cradle by the crackling fire, warming them both against the December chill. She had just finished her two weeks of lying-in and was so happy to be free of the bed. Now she had a letter to write. Micah would be driving into Cincinnati tomorrow and could mail it for her.

Over the past few months, her life with Samuel had changed. A week after Alec had come here, his badly beaten body had been found dead near the Cincinnati wharf. The night watch had found Alec’s ornate calling card on the body, and the sheriff had traced him back to the inn where he’d been staying. The innkeeper had recalled that the dead man had asked about the way to the deaf glassblower in Sharpesburg.

So the sheriff had sent a deputy to them. Samuel had identified the body and paid to have Alec buried in
Cincinnati. Samuel’s theory was that Alec went back to the city boiling for a fight and started one with someone he shouldn’t have. Honor had written Darah and enclosed a clipping from the newspaper about Alec’s murder. Unfortunately, through correspondence with the lawyer Bradenton, Honor had been informed that Alec had left his whole estate, including High Oaks, to his nearest cousin. So Darah was disinherited but free. And prospering in Canada.

Honor now had a happier letter to write. She brought out her box of stationery, the wax and seal, a writing pen, and ink. She trimmed the quill and began writing.

December 15, 1820

Dearest Cousin,

I am happy to announce the birth of Blessing Miriam Cathwell two weeks ago on November thirtieth. She is plump and healthy, and my neighbor Charity agrees she is a most content and beautiful little girl.

I was glad to receive thy letter. I think thy decision to remain in Canada is wise. Though I grieve over the plight of our people, we are helpless except to pray for their safety and future freedom. Let the Martin land go to Alec’s cousin. I agree thee is better off to make a new life far from unhappy memories. Both Samuel and I were encouraged to hear that thy lace business is thriving. And that thy maid had found a good husband.