Scattered Petals (33 page)

He knew that wouldn’t happen. There were too many barriers to overcome before that particular dream became reality. It wasn’t simply what Zeke Dunkler had done to her. Zach knew there was also the hurdle—the huge hurdle—of his past with Margaret. Though he wished it were otherwise, he could not forget Priscilla’s face when he’d told her what had happened that night by the river. She’d looked at him as if he were no better than the bandits and had recoiled with horror. Zach couldn’t blame her. How could he, when he still blamed himself? If only he hadn’t drunk the whiskey. If only he’d had more self-control. If only . . .

Zach averted his head, fearing his expression would betray him. While one portion of his brain was on the alert for danger, the other continued to think about the two women in his life. Though Margaret was part of his past, he could not ignore her importance. She was what John Tallman had called “unfinished business.”

There was no undoing the sins he had committed or the pain he had caused Margaret, though tomorrow, if God was with him, he might atone for them. Tomorrow Zach might be able to put his past behind him, and then perhaps the nightmares would end. Unfortunately, that would not help his future.

No matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he longed for her, he could never make Priscilla his true wife. As wonderful as these days of traveling together had been, they had also provided constant torment. It had been difficult enough, riding next to her, sharing three meals a day, wanting to touch her. The days were bad; the nights were worse. Though he’d kept a decorous distance between their bed rolls, Zach could hear her breathing, and he lay awake, listening to the soft sounds she made. Each time Priscilla sighed, he remembered how wonderful it had felt to have her arms around him. As he closed his eyes, he recalled the comfort she had given him, and he ached, knowing that would not be repeated.

Perhaps this was his punishment for that long-ago sin. Now that he was approaching Haven, prepared to ask forgiveness from the woman he had wronged, he had discovered what true love was. Zach loved his wife with every fiber of his being. He loved her; he would do anything for her, but he knew she would never love him. How could she when he was not worthy of her love? This sham of a marriage was all Zach would ever have.

Priscilla knelt next to the river, hesitating only a moment before she dunked her head into the water. It was the first time she’d washed her hair anywhere other than at home, and it felt strange. Being outdoors was only part of the reason. What bothered Priscilla more was knowing that Zach could watch her perform such an intimate task. He wouldn’t, of course. He’d told her he would remain at their campsite, far enough away that he could not see her but close enough that he could come if she needed help. There was, he reminded her, always the threat of snakes and what many Texans considered more fearsome, a particularly ferocious animal called a javelina. The wild boar had been known to attack settlers without provocation. That prospect had been almost enough to dissuade Priscilla from washing her hair. Almost, but not enough.

She raised her head, squeezing the excess water from her hair before she began to soap it. It felt so good to be doing this. Thanks to Zach’s decision to follow rivers, she’d been able to wash her face and hands and sponge the worst dirt off her clothing each evening, but there hadn’t been time to do more than brush her hair. Now she would be more presentable when they reached Haven.

Perhaps it would make no difference. He claimed it would not. But Priscilla wanted everything to be as perfect as possible for Zach. Tomorrow he would face his past. If Margaret had not hardened her heart, Zach might find peace. But if she had . . . Priscilla frowned, considering the possibility the woman Zach had once planned to marry might not forgive him. If that happened, she didn’t know what he would do.

Lord, show me the way to help him. There must be something I can do.
Priscilla dunked her head once more, rinsing the soap from her hair. As she began to comb it with her fingers, removing the largest tangles before she reached for her comb, she remembered Zach’s expression when she had spoken of her parents.

“You were lucky to have their love.” Though his voice was steady, for some reason he had refused to meet her gaze. “You deserve love.” And then he’d quickly changed the subject.

Priscilla’s hand moved instinctively, pulling the comb through her hair, as her thoughts whirled. Was that the answer? Was that the reason Zach’s eyes were so haunted? Was it possible he believed he was unworthy of a woman’s love? Surely he knew that love was a gift, not something to be earned, but perhaps he did not. Priscilla stared into the distance, trying to recall everything he’d told her, especially the night they’d spoken of Margaret.

What if he thought that the night he and Margaret had spent at the river had made him repulsive to a woman, just as she feared that the bandit’s attack had sullied her forever?

Priscilla winced as she thought of her own behavior. She loved Zach, but she had never said the words. The day they’d spoken of Lawrence would have been the perfect opportunity to tell Zach he was the man she loved, but she had remained silent. Worse, she had given him no signs—no special smiles, no kisses, no loving touches. How was Zach supposed to know that she loved him when she shied away each time he came close?

Priscilla closed her eyes and bowed her head.
Dear Lord, I believe Zach is the man you chose for me. I know he needs me. I know he needs my love, but I’m afraid to give him that love. Please, Lord, grant me the strength to show Zach how much I love him.
She knelt silently, waiting for her Lord’s answer, and he gave it. Filled with peace and a sense of purpose, Priscilla rose and returned to the camp.

Though normally she braided her hair as soon as she brushed it, today she left it loose. Though normally she sat several feet away from Zach as they ate, today she left only a few inches between them. Though normally she kept supper conversation simmering, today she was largely silent, all too aware of the man who was now so close to her, the man who was giving her surreptitious glances, the man whose eyes held something she wanted to believe was love. He would never speak the words; Priscilla knew that, for to tell her he loved her would make him vulnerable. He would not risk rejection, for that would only confirm his belief that he was unworthy of love. As difficult as it would be, Priscilla had to take the first step.

When the meal was over and the pans once more stored in their saddle bags, Zach started to walk away. That was the routine. He would leave her alone. She would climb into her bedroll. He would return only when she was settled and possibly asleep. It was time to break the routine.

Priscilla watched as he turned. Now. She had to do it now, before she lost the tiny bit of courage that still remained. She stretched her hand out, as if to stop him, but he didn’t see her.

“Don’t go.” Was that her voice, that pitifully weak croak?

Zach turned back and gave her a reassuring smile. “I won’t be far away. You’ll be safe.”

“I’m not afraid.” It was a lie. She
was
afraid, but not of snakes or javelinas or other marauding predators. She was afraid of him. No, that wasn’t true. She was afraid of herself, that she would fail, that at the last moment she would pull back in fear as she had the day he’d given her the locket. She could not let that happen, for Zach needed her, and this was her only chance to help him.

“I don’t want you to leave.” This time her voice sounded almost normal, though there was no disguising the tremor. Zach said nothing, but his eyes held a question. He deserved an answer. Priscilla took a deep breath, searching for the words to make him understand. A few yards away the river flowed silently, its surface dappled with sunlight and shadows. Her heart expanded with a sense of rightness. It was not by chance that God had led them here. An encounter by a river had caused Zach’s nightmares. Perhaps another encounter, this one sanctified by holy vows, would exorcise them.

She exhaled slowly, then willed her voice to remain steady. “When we talked about Lawrence the other day, I told you he wasn’t the man God had chosen for me.”

“Did you lie?” Zach demanded, his voice harsher than normal.

“No, but I told you only part of the story.” Priscilla took a step toward him, then another and a third, stopping when they were no more than a foot apart. “I should have told you everything then, but I was a coward.”

“You? A coward?” Zach’s voice rose in surprise. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”

He was wrong. “If I’d been strong, I would have told you the truth. The truth is, Lawrence is not the man God chose for me. You are.” Priscilla stretched out her hand, hoping Zach would take it in his. Though she wanted to show him that she did not fear his touch, Mama had impressed on her the fact that a lady could do no more than extend her hand. She must never be so brazen as to actually initiate a touch.

To Priscilla’s disappointment, Zach did not grasp her hand, but his eyes lit with something that she believed was hope. “What do you mean?”

“God meant us to be together. That’s why he brought both of us to the Bar C.” Slowly, Priscilla lowered her hand to her side. Zach wasn’t ready for a gesture. He needed more words to break down the barriers he’d constructed over half a lifetime. Priscilla kept her eyes on his face, searching for signs that he understood. “I believe God wants us to help each other. We both have parts of our past that are painful, but they’re over.”

Furrows appeared between Zach’s eyes. Was it possible that he did not know how much he’d helped her? He’d saved her life, but that was only the last of many, many things Zach had done for her. “I don’t know how I would have survived these past six months if it hadn’t been for you. You were always there, every time I needed someone.” Priscilla touched the locket he’d brought back to her. “You even found this for me. There’s no way I can repay you for all you’ve done.”

“There’s no need. I wanted to help you.”

As I want to help you.
But she wouldn’t say that, for she sensed that Zach would consider accepting help a sign of weakness. “Our past is behind us,” she said, “but we have the future. I believe it can be a good one.”

Zach nodded. “I want us to be together.”

“So do I.”
Oh, so do I!
Priscilla swallowed. Zach had given her the opening she needed. It was up to her to take the next step and walk through that opening. Though she wanted to smile, Priscilla could not force her lips to turn upward. Mustering every ounce of strength she possessed, she said, “I love you, Zach.” His eyes widened, and she sensed that, though he wanted to believe her, he did not. “I love you, and I want ours to be a real marriage.”

Blood drained from his face. “You mean . . . ?”

“Yes, Zach.” It was time. No matter what Mama had taught in her deportment lessons, Priscilla could not wait for Zach. She had to be the one to act, the one to prove beyond any doubt that she loved him. She closed the distance, putting her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. “I want to be your wife in every way.”

Zach pulled away so that he could see her face. “Are you certain?”

“More certain than I’ve been of anything.” The smile that had remained frozen deep inside Priscilla blossomed as she nodded.

Joy filled Zach’s eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. “Oh, my darling,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. And then there was no need for words.

20

The chirping of birds wakened her. For the briefest of moments, Priscilla wasn’t certain where she was; then as memories flooded through her, she smiled. Patience had been right. She had told Priscilla that the love a man and a woman shared was pleasurable. But Patience had understated reality. It was more than pleasurable; it was wonderful.

For so long, Priscilla had feared a man’s touch, certain that anyone, even Zach, would bring back unbearable memories. That had not happened. To the contrary, Zach’s gentle touch and his sweet words had banished the horrors of the bandit’s attack. She had believed that no man would want her, that Zeke Dunkler’s act had destroyed her hope of a normal life. She had thought that she would feel unclean for the rest of her life, that a good man would consider her used goods. She had been wrong. Zach’s kisses had washed away the shame, making her feel beautiful and clean, inside and out. Priscilla smiled again. This was a new day, and she was a new woman—Zach’s wife.

She sat up and looked around. Where was he? When her mind registered the soft plunk as something fell into the river, she bit her lip. Though the night had been wonderful for her, perhaps she had been wrong in believing God had brought her and Zach to this spot. Perhaps she, in her effort to help Zach, had reopened wounds. Was he reliving the hours he and Margaret had spent by a river? If so, that might make today’s meeting more painful. Oh, why hadn’t she considered that? Priscilla scrambled into her clothes. Not bothering to braid her hair, she hurried toward the river. As she feared, Zach was there, kneeling on its bank. When a twig crunched beneath her feet, he turned.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” His posture and the expression on his face told Priscilla he had been praying. For forgiveness?

Zach shook his head, as if he’d heard her thoughts. “You weren’t interrupting. I had just said ‘amen’ when I heard you. I know the Lord won’t mind my sharing my prayers with you.” Zach smiled as he rose to his feet. “I was thanking him for giving you to me.”

The worry that had filled Priscilla’s heart disappeared, melted by the warmth of Zach’s smile. Last night had not been a mistake, for Zach’s smile was the brightest she had ever seen, and his eyes sparkled more than newly fallen snow. Even his posture seemed different, as if he had sloughed off a weight. When he opened his arms, she ran into them, letting him enfold her in his embrace.

“I love you, Priscilla,” he murmured as he stroked her hair. “No matter what happens today, don’t ever doubt that.”

She smiled and raised her face for his kiss. “I love you too.”

Though never a garrulous man, Zach was quieter than normal as they rode toward Haven. The reason, Priscilla was certain, was apprehension. She tried but failed to imagine how she would feel if she were in his boots, if today was the day she might come face to face with someone she had loved but wronged and a child she had abandoned before it was born. Though Zach had spoken primarily of Margaret, the anguish she had heard in his voice told Priscilla that he had spent half his life wondering about the child. Today he would learn whether he had a son or a daughter or whether Margaret had followed through on her threats.

“If I calculated correctly, we should be there in less than an hour.” When Zach had suggested they stop for a midday meal, Priscilla had suggested they eat while riding. Now that they were on the final leg of their journey, she did not want to waste any time, for each hour increased Zach’s anxiety.

“Where do you want to go first?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been praying, but God hasn’t given me any answers.”

“Maybe he’s waiting until we arrive.”

“Maybe.” Zach said nothing more until they topped a small rise. Reining in his horse, he pointed to the settlement in the valley. “That’s it. That’s Haven.”

Priscilla looked down. The community was even smaller than she’d expected, no more than thirty or forty buildings clustered around one main street.

“I wonder if my house has changed.” There was a pensive note to Zach’s voice.

She smiled. “That’s your answer. That’s where we’ll go first.” It made sense. Seeing the place where he’d grown up and the changes time had made would ease him into the meeting with Margaret. When she learned that the Webster home was on the outskirts of town, Priscilla realized the wisdom of starting there. Zach’s entry into Haven would be observed by few.

His former home proved to be a simple white frame house, considerably smaller than the Lazy B. Though the house was freshly painted and obviously well cared for, the yard boasted only a few flowers. The reason, Priscilla suspected, was the two young children playing catch with a large hound. Between two active boys and the dog, flowers would have little chance of survival.

Zach smiled at the boys’ exuberance. They were so caught up in their game that they paid no attention to the strangers on horseback, although Priscilla suspected that strangers were rare in Haven. “It’s a good place to raise children.” Zach looked around, his eyes moving slowly as he studied the house and the outbuildings. “It didn’t change much.”

That, Priscilla suspected, was good. “Where did Margaret live?” she asked when Zach seemed ready to move on.

“At the other end of town. We might as well try there. Even if she’s moved out, whoever lives there now ought to know where she is.”

Priscilla and Zach rode slowly through the middle of town. Haven was, as Zach had said, smaller than Ladreville and, judging from the condition of many of the buildings, less prosperous. Its stores had been built with an eye to utility rather than boasting the fanciful European architecture of Ladreville’s commercial establishments. Though the towns differed, their residents had at least one thing in common: curiosity. As Priscilla and Zach rode down Main Street, curtains parted and people emerged from the buildings.

Zach seemed oblivious to the stares. Instead, he appeared intent on studying the town. Perhaps that was the reason for his leisurely pace. But Priscilla suspected the slow walk that frustrated both Charcoal and Dancer was more likely a wish to delay reaching Margaret’s childhood home.

“This is it,” Zach said as he reined in Charcoal. The house was similar to Zach’s former home, a simple frame building, but there were differences. Besides being a bit larger and having two stories, this one was painted pale gray and surrounded by a swath of brightly colored flowers. No children played on the grass here; no dog tumbled against the picket fence. Priscilla guessed that only adults lived here now. Even if Margaret had remained, her child would be close to fourteen— almost an adult.

“The addition is new.”Zach nodded toward what appeared to be one or two rooms awkwardly grafted to the side.

“Ready?” When Priscilla nodded, Zach slid from his horse and helped her dismount. Saying nothing, but keeping her hand clasped in his, he led the way up the front steps and knocked on the door.

“I’ll get it, Mama.” As Zach tightened his grip on her hand, Priscilla realized he recognized the woman’s voice. Margaret still lived here, and so, it seemed, did her mother.

A moment later, a brown-haired woman perhaps an inch or two shorter than Priscilla opened the door, her pleasant expression fading as she stared at Zach.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

She had changed. She was plumper now, and lines had begun to form at the corners of her eyes and her mouth. Her hair was different too, coiled in a knot at the base of her neck rather than being plaited. Despite the changes, Zach knew he would have recognized Margaret anywhere.

“I’ve come to see you,” he said, pleased that his voice betrayed none of his nervousness. He had Priscilla to thank for that. The night she had spent in his arms had banished the worst of his doubts, disproving his deepest fears and showing him that one woman—the woman he loved—loved him. This woman was another story. Zach looked steadily at Margaret. “We have unfinished business.”

Her lips thinned, and the brown eyes that had once sparkled when she looked at him were cold. “You’re not welcome here.”

Though her reaction was what he had expected based on the one letter he had received, Zach had hoped that the years would have changed Margaret as much as they had him. But it appeared that hope would not be realized.

“We won’t stay long.” Zach tugged on Priscilla’s hand, drawing her closer to him. The affection he had once felt for Margaret was nothing compared to the love that blazed inside him for Priscilla. She was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She was the one whose love would help him through this afternoon.

“Margaret, I’d like you to meet my wife. Priscilla, this is Margaret Early.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed as she studied Priscilla. Did she see a tall, beautiful strawberry blonde with emerald green eyes, or was Priscilla nothing more than another unwanted visitor? Margaret looked down from the front stoop, her expression openly hostile. “I’m Margaret Morgan now. Hank and I married soon after you left.” As if recalling her manners, she stepped back into the house and nodded briefly. “You might as well come in. No point in giving the town anything more to gossip about.”

“Who is it, Margaret?” The older woman’s voice came from a distance, sounding slightly querulous, as if she resented her daughter’s absence, no matter how brief. Mrs. Early had been friendlier fifteen years ago, but there was no telling what the years had wrought.

Margaret turned and raised her voice so it would carry clearly through the house. “It’s just some people passing through. They needed directions,” she lied. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Though Margaret had closed the door behind them, she did not offer Priscilla a chair or even a glass of water.

“Is your mother well?” Zach wondered if Mrs. Early’s health was the reason for the addition to the house. Her voice had sounded as if it came from that direction. Perhaps she could no longer climb the stairs.

Margaret shook her head. “She hasn’t been the same since Pa died.”

Though the last time he’d seen Mr. Early had been decidedly unpleasant, Zach had always liked Margaret’s father. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

A scowl crossed Margaret’s face. “There’s no point in pretending, Zach. You don’t care about me or my family or my son.”

Zach felt as if the breath had been knocked from him. A son! Margaret had borne a boy, and he had lived. The child he’d dreamt about existed. “We have a boy?” He wanted to hear her say the words.

Margaret shook her head. “
We
have no children. Hank and I have a son.”

The joy that had surged inside him vanished. He had been wrong. The child he had fathered had not been born. Zach shuddered as he remembered the pools of blood that had ended Priscilla’s pregnancy. Had Margaret suffered as his wife had? He hoped not. Priscilla squeezed Zach’s hand, as if she knew the direction his thoughts had taken and wanted to comfort him.

“Congratulations.” Somehow, he forced the word out.

Margaret stared at him for a long moment, indecision apparent in the way she moved her lips without forming words. When she spoke, he suspected it was involuntarily. “Hank’s the only father Paul has ever known. Don’t try to change that.”

As the import of Margaret’s words registered, Zach felt himself grow light-headed. Priscilla slipped an arm around his waist and drew him closer, as if she feared he would fall. He wouldn’t. He was simply giddy with the knowledge that the child was his. Zach closed his eyes for a second, letting relief wash over him. His nightmare had not come true. Despite her threats, Margaret had not rejected their child and had not chosen to end its life before it had been born.
Thank you, Lord.

The child, his son, Paul. What had once been a nebulous concept—a child—was now a reality. Zach took a deep breath, thinking of all that he’d learned today. He knew that his child had been born, that it was a boy and that his name was Paul. If that was all that he had learned, he would have been satisfied, but Zach also knew that Paul had had a father in his life, a man who had raised him as if he were his own child, a man who had done what Zach had been afraid to do. That was more than he had dared hope. God had blessed Paul.

Zach raised his eyes to meet Margaret’s. There was only one more thing he wanted. “I won’t interfere. I came here to ask your forgiveness, not to claim my son, but I would like to see him.”

Her eyes were cold, her expression wary. “Why should I trust you? Go back wherever you came from, Zach. I don’t need you, and neither does Paul.”