Sycamore Hill (43 page)

“You’re jealous!” Ross accused, not without a tinge of
satisfaction tainting his voice.

Marba did not speak for a moment. “I’m not jealous,” she then said
quietly, “I stopped loving you a long time ago. Katrina’s father taught me a
lot about men like you. I knew what you were before I ever let you touch me.”

“Then why did you?”

“Hope, maybe. A foolish dream. I don’t know. What does it matter
now? But please leave her alone,” Marba pleaded. I stared at the door, seeing
movement as Ross stepped away. He didn’t shut the door, and I could still hear
what was going on, though I wished I didn’t.

“Did you ever stop to think that I might love Abigail?”

“I’d be happy if you did,” she said, sounding sincere. “But you
haven’t got it in you to really love anyone. It’s not your fault. It’s just the
way you are. You always want the unattainable. You have to try and make every
woman fall in love with you. Even that poor, pathetic creature, Prudence
Townsend....”

I sat up, unable to stop listening now.

“What do you know about her?” Ross asked, his voice dropping.

“I know you used to go see her late at night. And whenever you
were around, she watched you. Oh, Ross! Did you add her to the notches on your
bedpost too? Did you feel any guilt when she hanged herself? I don’t doubt for
a second that she did it because she was in love with you. She was a dreadful
little snob with her ridiculous airs of importance, and I hated her for the way
she treated Katrina. But she didn’t deserve your brand of calculated cruelty.”

“I’m sorry she did that,” Ross said in a flat tone of
defensiveness. “But I don’t feel any guilt about it. Why should I? I didn’t
give her the rope. I never made her any promises.”

“But you did make love to her.”

“I accepted what she gave, sure. Who wouldn’t? But then she
started talking about settling down and getting married. The last time I saw
her, she was boring me with gushy talk about my making a fine father, and
wouldn’t I like to have a son just like me someday. My God! Can you imagine me
with a kid strapped around my neck like a millstone for the rest of my life? I
thought I was doing her a favor when I quit seeing her.”

“You just stopped seeing her? Without any explanation?” Marba
asked, quietly expressive.

“Well, what the hell! What was I supposed to do? It would have
been worse if I had dragged it out any longer. And she knew anyway how the
whole affair was going to end... or she damn well should have. She was the
worst kind of clinging vine.”

“Oh, Ross.”

I didn’t listen anymore. Sagging back against the pillow, I
suddenly knew exacdy why Prudence Townsend had killed herself. She had been
carrying Ross Persall’s child.

Standing at the window the following morning, I saw Jordan riding
into town. He passed over the crest of the hill beyond town and rode right beneath
my window. My heart jolted at the sight of him, and I watched as he continued
up Main Street, stopping finally in front of Olmstead’s store. Had he heard
anything about what had happened at the schoolhouse? But how could he have? And
what possible difference would it make?

Sighing heavily, I leaned my head against the window frame. I kept
the curtain drawn back so that I could gaze out with Sycamore Hill stretching
before me. My eyes kept straying back to Jordan’s sleek stallion as it shifted
impatiently at the rail. Jordan came out of the store and stood unmoving on the
steps. He rubbed the back of his neck in a weary gesture. Then he descended the
steps hurriedly and gracefully swung up into the saddle. He paused once on his
ride back up Main Street, casting a long glance up McPherson to the burned-out
schoolhouse. Then he came back toward the hotel.

My heart began to pound. Drawing back so that I could not be seen
from the street, I continued to watch Jordan. I was unable to tear my gaze
away. Could he feel me watching him?

Jordan slowed as he came abreast of the hotel. My heart was
thundering in my chest. He drew his horse in and then dismounted. When he
walked into the hotel, I gripped the material of the curtains in an agony of
tension and hopeful longing. Was he stopping to see me, or did he have another
reason for coming here?

Five minutes later Jordan reappeared. Raking agitated fingers
through his hair, he remounted and turned back toward the road out of town. He
set his horse at a leisurely trot that quickened almost immediately as he
crossed the bridge. I watched him galloping away, thinking I would never see
him again. Finally he disappeared over the rise of the hill.

I turned away, heedless of the tears that streamed down my face.
Crossing the small room, I sank down onto the bed and gave myself up to sobs of
desolation. “Oh, Jordan....”

I never once noticed Katrina watching me silently from the
doorway.

***

Most of the swelling in my face from Hallender’s beating had gone
down after the first few days. The bruises were still ugly, though they were
gradually fading to yellow and purple across my cheekbones and eyes. My head no
longer hurt, but I still suffered from dizziness now and then, though not from
the blow Hallender had given me. Morning sickness still beset me each day, and
I tired easily. Since seeing Jordan ride away, I had little appetite and was
listless and depressed most of the time. I felt guilty for Marba’s attempts to
cheer me. And Ross was constantly coming in to visit me. Doctor Kirk was the
only one who understood my mood and the reason for it.

A week after Ross had carried me to the hotel, the Reverend Hayes
came to see me. I prayed he had not come to argue or sermonize on my
shortcomings. He had not, and he sat down after making a swift study of my
face. He looked slightly horrified by it. Then he got right to the point of his
visit. “Doctor Kirk says you’re doing well. Will you be ready to restart
classes in, say, another week?”

“Don’t you think I’d frighten the children?” I asked with a slight
smile. He flushed a bit. I regretted my comment immediately and smiled
apologetically.

“The schoolhouse is unusable, I know,” he said. “But there’s
always the church. There’s plenty of room there. We could set things up
temporarily, until a new schoolhouse could be built. There are already plans
underway.”

“That sounds good.” I nodded.

“Then you agree to restart classes in a week?” He seemed greatly
relieved.

“I’m sorry. No.”

“Do you need more time?”

“It’s not that.” I swallowed heavily. “I’m leaving Sycamore Hill.”

Hayes sighed, not surprised by my announcement. “If you do that,
you leave us all in an awful lurch,” he said almost blandly. I felt guilty, but
I knew there was no way I could stay on. Hayes would be the first to tell me to
leave if he knew the truth of my condition.

“I’m sorry about that. But I... I just can’t stay. I hope you
understand.” There was no way he could understand the real reason for my
wanting to leave. I hoped that he would believe my intimation that it was the
experiences at the schoolhouse that made me wish to resign.

“You could at least do us the courtesy of remaining until we find
a replacement.”

“It was my understanding that it took you a year or more to find
one after... after Miss Townsend... died.”

Hayes looked down. “I don’t expect it will be any easier to find
another this time,” he muttered, disgruntled by the prospect. When he glanced
back up at me, he seemed momentarily discomforted. “I can understand your
hesitation, of course,” he said. It was the closest he had ever come to an
apology.

“I hoped you would,” I murmured inanely, feeling guilty for the
unuttered lies that hung in the air. My experience with Hallender was enough to
make anyone wish to leave. Let Reverend Hayes believe it was reason enough for
me.

Hayes shifted uneasily in his chair, his eyes moving about the
room in vague curiosity. He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth told me about her
talk with you,” he began with obvious embarrassment. “I know we’ve never gotten
on. Is that part of the reason you’re leaving?”

“No, please,” I said, embarrassed as well. “I know you were always
concerned with what was best for the children. It’s just that we didn’t agree
on some things. I wasn’t always very tactful.”

“The children need you, Miss McFarland,” Hayes said, relieved but
determined. “You’ve done a good job with them since you came. Your teaching
methods aren’t, well, aren’t always orthodox.” He smiled. “But they were
learning,” he added quickly, afraid I would take offense.

“Thank you for that.” I smiled slightly.

“You can’t just leave them high and dry now,” he went on. It was
just the sort of guilt appeal that the Haversalls had used on me when I had
suggested leaving to begin my own life. It had worked then, and under different
circumstances it would have worked now as well. The choice had always been
there for me to make before if I had had the strength to follow through.
Mistaken gratitude and guilt-ridden responsibility had bound me then. Now it
was the birth of my child. There were moments when I almost rejoiced with the
knowledge of the baby within me. Other times I felt almost overcome with fear
of our future.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Hayes looked at me for a long moment.

“There’s no way I can change your mind, Miss McFarland?”

“No. I am sorry.”

He stood up. “I won’t say I like your decision,” he told me
frankly. “You did your job in spite of our differences. If you need a
reference, I’ll give you a good one.” At my surprised look, he seemed almost
insulted. “I’m a fair man. In your shoes I don’t suppose I’d want to stay here
either.”

I could not look at him.

“Good day to you, Miss McFarland. And good luck,” he said flatly,
putting on his hat as he left the room.

***

“You’re really leaving then,” Marba said regretfully. “Isn’t there
any way we can change your mind?” Katrina held a plate of cookies in front of
me, but I shook my head having no appetite for them.

“No, thank you, Katrina.” I glanced up at Marba sitting across
from me. “I really can’t stay, Marba,” I told her unsteadily.

My plans to depart on the Oakland stage in the morning were
already made. I had even purchased my ticket, and my few possessions were
packed and ready in my carpetbag and small trunk. The bank president had been
by the previous day to give me the reward for returning the bank money. I had
not wanted to accept it, but had little choice. I needed it to support myself
until the baby was born and I could find employment. The money belonged to the
people of Sycamore Hill, and under any other circumstances I could not have accepted
the reward at all. It was only right that all of it should have been returned.
However, pride had to be set aside due to necessity and circumstances.

“Please,” Katrina added to her mother’s appeal. The little girl’s
eyes were filled with soulful pleading. Never had I felt more guilty and
dreadful.

I reached up and cupped her sweet face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.
But I just can’t.”

Her eyes filled. “Even if... even if Mr. Bennett asked you to
stay? Would you if he asked you?” she pleaded.

The shock of her unexpected question caught me completely off
guard. What could Katrina know about my relationship with Jordan Bennett? I
wondered in near panic, hoping that my feelings didn’t show on my face. My
smile wavered. “It wouldn’t make any difference,” I managed to answer. It would
never happen, I added to myself.

“Katie, what makes you ask such a thing?” Marba queried, looking
between her daughter and me.

Katrina turned. “I saw Miss McFarland crying. She... she said his
name.”

I felt Marba’s eyes turn on me in a curious stare.

“Go wash your face, honey,” Marba instructed her daughter gently.
“Then would you go downstairs for a while so that I can talk with Miss
McFarland alone?” Katrina nodded her small bowed head. She shuffled dejectedly
out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I stood up and walked
uneasily to the window, looking down on Main Street. I could feel Marba
watching me closely. We had talked many times since I had come to the hotel.
After the first night I had moved into the room next-door. Marba had come often
to sit with me, and we had covered a myriad of subjects, though never touching on
anything too highly personal.

“Abby?”

“The weather has cleared,” I said quickly. “I thought it would be
raining again this afternoon and even tomorrow when I leave. But it’s clear.” I
winced, thinking of tomorrow morning. I closed my eyes and saw Jordan’s face. I
opened my eyes again, trying to purge myself of him. What was the use?

“I always suspected there was more to your leaving than what happened
with Hallender,” Marba said quietly, ignoring my efforts to avoid the subject.
I turned and gave her a purposeful, surprised look.

“What else could there be? I should think that experience would be
enough.”

“Oh, yes, for anyone else. But not for you.” She smiled kindly.
“You love the children, and you feel a heavy responsibility toward them. I
remember how upset you were two days ago, when Hayes came to see you and ask
you to stay on. You would, I think, if something else hadn’t entered into your
decision. How does Jordan Bennett fit in?”