Tomorrow's Dreams (52 page)

“It might also create a stronger bond between you,” Hallie pointed out. “Before you decide, you should speak with him. He's terribly anxious to see you. When I left the men, he was trying to cajole your brother into helping him out of bed so he could come to you.”

“You're right … as usual,” Penelope admitted with a wan smile. “I do need to talk to Seth.”

“Good.” Hallie sat up and ineffectually smoothed her now crushed amber silk skirts. “Now, I know Jake is eager to see you. And no,” she added as if reading her mind. “He's not going to scold you. He simply wants to hug you and make sure you're all right.” Pressing a kiss to Penelope's forehead, she stood up. “May I tell Seth that you'll visit him later this afternoon?”

Penelope nodded as she sat up.

Nodding briefly in return, Hallie started for the door, only to pause with her hand on the knob. “Pen?”

Penelope looked up.

“You won't always feel the way you do now. The hurt will ease in time, I promise. Remember that when you speak with Seth.”

“It looks like you'll be back to your irrepressible old self in no time,” Penelope heard Hallie say as she approached the open door to Seth's room. Picking nervously at her black crepe skirt, she paused on the threshold to peer at the pleasant scene within.

Seth, colorfully garbed in his favorite red velvet dressing gown, sat in an overstuffed chair by the fire while Hallie tended his scalp and Louisa tucked a striped lap robe over his propped-up legs. Completing the cozy tableau were her brother, who lounged against the mantel, filling Seth in on their latest business venture, a sugar refinery, and Lisbet, who sat Indian-style on the floor, staring worshipfully up at Jake.

Penelope smiled faintly. She'd be rich if she had a dollar for every woman she'd seen look at her handsome brother like that. She surveyed her brother critically for a moment, then shifted her gaze back to the man in the chair. As much as she loved Jake and as undeniably handsome as he was, in her eyes he couldn't hold a candle to Seth. Not even with Seth in his present, admittedly diminished state.

Her heart ached at the sight of him. Her poor love. His face was thin, all sharp planes and sunken hollows, his golden skin bleached to the ashen pallor of one who'd been gravely ill. The flesh around his closed eyes was dark, almost bruised-looking, shadowing a purplish hue that perfectly matched the cheek and lip contusions left by Harley and his gang several days earlier.

Hallie had removed his cap of bandages to examine his surgical wound, exposing a head shaved smooth on one side with spikes of unevenly cropped hair on the other. The jagged line of neat black stitches bisecting his shaved left side bore grisly testimony to just how close to death he'd come.

A sob escaped Penelope as she stared at the evidence of his suffering, suffering that she in her foolishness had caused.

Louisa looked up from her fussing at the sound. “Penelope. Come in, dear,” she invited cordially, while Hallie gave her an approving nod, and Lisbet and Jake voiced effusive greetings.

Seth didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The way he looked at her as she stepped into the room, so warm and loving, expressed his welcome far more eloquently than mere words.

As she approached him, Hallie gave his shoulder a fond squeeze and said, “I was just telling Seth how remarkably well his recovery is going. He'll be back on his feet in no time.”

Penelope nodded, feeling suddenly awkward. Not quite certain what to say or do, she stopped next to his chair and resumed fidgeting with her skirt, only half listening as Jake launched into a description of a new refining process he'd recently seen demonstrated. As she stood fretfully unraveling a piece of jet braid trim, uncomfortably aware of the speculative glances being shot in her direction, Hallie interrupted Jake, exclaiming:

“Oh Lord! Will you look at this? I'm all out of boric acid.” She waved an empty green bottle in the air. “I can't finish tending Seth's scalp until I get more.” She shifted her gaze meaningfully from Seth to Penelope, then to her husband. “Jake, darling. Will you run out and buy me a new bottle?”

Jake lifted one dark brow in acknowledgment to her transparent ploy and nodded. “I'll be glad to, provided Lisbet will be kind enough to show me the way to the nearest pharmacy.” He smiled and held out his arm to the girl on the floor.

Lisbet jumped up so fast that Penelope wondered if she had springs instead of legs beneath her skirt. As Jake escorted the young girl from the room. Louisa gathered up the pile of soiled gauze strips from the dressing table, inquiring, “Would you like me to help you tear some fresh bandages, Dr. Parrish?” At Hallie's reply in the affirmative they, too, left, leaving Penelope alone with Seth.

For a long moment neither spoke. Finally Seth murmured, “I know I look awful, sweetheart, but you won't turn to stone if you look at me.”

Though the words were uttered lightly, they were shaded with pained self-consciousness that made her long to pull him into her embrace and comfort him the way she had the night he'd cried in her arms. It was remembering that night and her pledge to marry him, a pledge she now knew she must break, that stopped her.

Pasting a reassuring smile on her lips, she looked up from the now shredded braid to meet his gaze. “You don't look a bit awful,” she declared, reaching over to stroke his cropped hair. “You could never look anything but handsome.”

He shuddered and caught her wrist, stopping her before she could touch his head. Drawing her hand to his lips to kiss it, he said, “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I've seen myself in the mirror. I know I look like a dog half gone with mange.” He gave her one of his crooked grins. “As much as I hate having you see me like this, I had to assure myself that you're all right.”

That he, who'd been beaten within an inch of his life and almost died because of her deceit, was unselfishly concerned for her well-being shattered the hastily erected dam of her emotions. As her pent-up guilt, remorse, and sorrow spurted forth in a gut-wrenching rush, she slowly crumpled to her knees before him. “Oh, Seth,” she choked out brokenly, clutching at his lap robe. “I'm so sorry. I-I've made such a mess of everything.”

“Shh, Princess. Don't,” he soothed, leaning forward to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. “What happened was as much my fault as yours.”

She shook her head. “You were just trying to protect me.”

“And you were trying to protect your son. So you can't be blamed, either.” He cupped her chin in his palm and tipped her head up to stare at her face. His eyes soft with tenderness, he said, “We were both simply doing what we thought best. I think it's time we forgive ourselves for our mistakes and get on with living the rest of our lives.”

She smiled faintly. “Your mother told me that Martin Vanderlyn was your father. You truly do have the rest of your life to live as you choose.”

“And I choose to live it with you, if you still want me.” His eyes sparkling with the topaz heat she knew so well, he begged, “Marry me, Penelope. We'll have a good life together, one filled with love and joy. We'll do everything we planned … we'll make tomorrow's dreams come true.”

She opened her mouth to tell him that all their dreams would be impossible now, but he cut her off before she could speak. “I can offer you a real name now, a proud one to give to the houseful of children we'll have. Not,” he added, his voice growing gentle, “that those children will ever replace Tommy. He'll always be a cherished part of our lives, I promise. And though it's true that I never really knew him, I expect you to acquaint me with him through your shared memories.”

He leaned nearer until his lips were scant inches from hers. “Please say yes, sweetheart. Say you'll be Mrs. Seth Vanderlyn.”

Penelope pulled away, her already broken heart splintering into a million excruciating slivers. “I can't,” she whispered. “I'm sorry … but I can't marry you.”

He looked as stunned as if she'd punched him in the belly.

“Can't you see, Seth?” She tugged desperately at his lap robe, wanting to weep at the hurt in his eyes. “Our marriage would never work. Not now. Though I love you as much as ever … more even … there's too much pain and sorrow between us for us to ever find peace together. We'd just destroy each other.”

“You were once willing to gamble on our love, and against much greater odds,” Seth whispered hoarsely. “You dared to believe then; can't you do the same now?”

She stared down at the gold, blue, and white wool blanket pleated between her fingers, tears blurring her vision as she shook her head. “Believing then meant having faith in you. And I did so willingly. I knew that even if madness tried to take you, you would find some way to overcome it so you could remain with me. But this”—she shook her head again—“this means believing in myself. Believing that I can look at you and not think of Tommy … not be reminded of my failures, my regrets.”

She released the lap robe to sit back on her heels, forcing herself to meet his bleak gaze. “Please forgive me, Seth. But I can't believe. I haven't the strength.”

He reached up to massage his temples with a sigh. If ever a man looked beaten by life, it was Seth Vanderlyn. “You feel that way now,” he murmured, closing his eyes as if it hurt to look at her, “but in time you might change your mind. Perhaps you should wait a few months before giving me an answer.”

“And if the answer is still no?”

“All I've ever wanted was to make you happy, Penelope. But if you decide that my love can't do that, then I won't press you.” He dropped his hand to his lap and slowly opened his eyes. “Would you do me a favor and make one last bargain with me? I'll never ask you for another.”

She smiled in spite of the heaviness crushing her heart. “Name it, Mr. Tyler … uh … Vanderlyn.”

He smiled faintly at her use of his new name. “My mother and I have decided to merge Vanderlyn Brewery with Queen City. By my calculations, the whole transaction should take about six months. Afterward I'll return to San Francisco. If at that time you've changed your mind, I want you to ask me to marry you and I'll do so immediately. Otherwise, I'll know the answer is still no and never bring up the subject again.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

As they shook on their bargain, Penelope prayed,
Please, Lord. Please give me the wisdom to make the right decision
. Then she pressed her free left hand into the folds of her skirt and crossed her fingers.

Dare to Believe

Sleep soft and safe, my darling one,

And seek tomorrow's dreams.

Laughter gay

Shall light your way

If you follow your heart.

—Penelope Parrish

“Song of Dreams”

Chapter 28

S
AN
F
RANCISCO
, S
PRING
1871

“What is it, Jake?” Hallie asked, looking up from wiping oatmeal from their one-year-old son, Teddy's, face. “Not bad news, I hope?”

Jake shook his head. “Seth is back in town. He's paying us a visit this afternoon.”

Penelope didn't miss the way both Hallie and Jake glanced in her direction at the news, visibly gauging her reaction. Nor was she blind to their exchanged frowns when she merely smiled and continued tying a napkin over the elegant silk gown of the fashion doll her five-year-old niece, Ariel, was pretending to feed poached eggs.

In truth, Jake's announcement was no surprise to her. She'd seen the servants unloading Seth's distinctive scarlet and gold trunks from his equally distinctive black and gold carriage when she'd driven past his Rincon Hill mansion the previous morning.

Driving past the sixty-five room Italianate showpiece, their House of Dreams as they had dubbed it when he'd commissioned it built during their ill-fated engagement, had become part of her daily routine since returning to San Francisco. On mornings when the street was deserted, she'd pull her parasol-top basket phaeton to a stop in front of the house, pretending that it was her home and that Seth and Tommy awaited her arrival beneath its stylish mansard roof. She'd sit there lost in her daydreams until the clattering of another vehicle drew her back to her own hollow reality, at which point she'd resume her daily trek out to Laurel Hill Cemetery to lay fresh flowers on Tommy's grave.

Tommy
. She smiled as she sat the now properly bibbed doll next to Ariel's plate. Hallie had been right. She now more often smiled than cried when she remembered her son's gentle sweetness. Though she still felt an emptiness when she thought of him, his memory was no longer unbearably painful. Even the sight of his bunny, which she had lovingly tucked away in a memory box along with his silver rattle, his birthday gown, and other belongings that Seth had so thoughtfully sent to San Francisco, no longer evoked terrible feelings of guilt and failure.

Her smile faltered a bit at the thought of Seth. True to their bargain, he'd never once mentioned marriage or in any way pressed the issue by hinting at his feelings in his unfailingly amusing correspondence. And for that she was eternally grateful.

But now the time had come for her to keep her end of their bargain and answer his proposal, an answer she didn't have despite months of contemplation.

It wasn't that she didn't love him. The way her heart ached every time she looked at the photograph of them perched atop the circus elephant told her she did, as did the crushing loneliness she suffered every night as she lay awake yearning to feel the satiny warmth of his body wrapped around hers.

But was love enough to make their marriage work? Was it enduring enough to weather the bouts of darkness that still plagued her? Was it strong enough to withstand the attending bitterness? Could she look at Seth every day for the rest of her life and not feel a constant renewal of the grief that was just now starting to ease? Was she brave enough to risk failing another person she loved? She had so many questions she couldn't answer, so many fears she couldn't assuage.