T'on Ma (25 page)

Turning over on her side, wishing her mind would hush, she heard footsteps outside on the porch. There was a soft knock on their door, which Liam answered.

"Dad, come in."

"No. Come outside where we can talk."

"All right." Liam closed the door behind him and the two men stood beside the bedroom window, unaware that it was open.

"Are your quarters all right?"

"Yes, son. Everything is fine. Your mother and sister have turned in for the night."

"Good. You sure you don't want to come in?"

"No. I don't want to disturb your wife."

"What is it, Dad? Something's on your mind."

"Yes, there is." Patrick looked steadily at his son for a moment before he began. "You know how very proud I am of you. West Point. Army officer. I don't have any buttons left on my shirts. Someone says your name or asks about you and I just pop them off."

The two men chuckled at that. "But your mother and I are concerned - very concerned - about your choice for a wife."

"Concerned? Why?" Liam asked, sounding perplexed.

"She's not the type we'd hoped you'd marry."

"Not the type? What type was I suppose to marry?" Liam scowled.

"Someone with more than an eighth grade education. Someone raised around culture and society who could help you further a political career once you left the Army."

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Liam looked across the compound and then back to his father. "Does the fact that I'm so in love with her I can't breathe make any difference at all to you?"

"So, you love her. Good for you. But you didn't have to marry her. Have your fling here in Texas and then, when you get home, marry the right woman."

"My
fling!"
Liam was past irritated and now at full-bore angry. "How
dare
you talk about her like that!"

"Liam, face it. She was with the Apaches for over a week. You know she was raped. Had to be." Patrick knew the shame and stigma that people - voters - would attach to his son over this.

"I know for a fact that she wasn't. I am the first man she's ever had."

"If you say so."

"You sound like you don't believe me."

"I think you'd say anything to defend your choice," his father countered heatedly.

"I need to go in now, before I say something we'll both regret," Liam snarled.

"Son, I'm just looking out for your best interest."

"Good night!" Liam stepped into his house, slamming the door behind him. Cursing under his breath, he came into the bedroom only to see Lana sitting up, knees to chin, arms around knees, sobbing.

"Oh,
damn!
Did you hear that?" he asked. She nodded and pointed to the open window. Liam threw his head back, furious at his father. Walking over to her, he sat on the edge of the bed and drew her to him.

"Honey, I am so sorry. So terribly sorry. My father can be such an insensitive, belligerent bully. He had no right to say those things about you. And I promise, I will get this all straightened out in the morning."

He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Please, Lana, please don't let them make you cry. I can't stand it."

Grabbing his shirt with both hands, she jumped into his arms, sobbing. "They hate me. They all hate me. Your mother - Mary - all of them. I'm not good enough for you. I wish I was dead!"

Liam rocked her back and forth, holding her while she cried. His family would pay, and pay dearly, for hurting her like this. No one made her cry.
No one.

"Sweetheart, baby, if you die, then kill me, too. Because I can't live without you. Do you hear me? I love you so much. And
they're
not good enough for you. I'm sorry they ever showed up!"

"You shouldn't say that," she huff-huffed against his chest. "They're your family. They love you."

"You're
my family," he whispered. He laid her back on the bed and began loving her tears away with his caresses and kisses and velvet hands in the night.

Two Hawks' eyes jerked open, jarring him out of a deep sleep. Sweat beaded his forehead, his heart raced; his blanket lay in a tormented twist. He looked around at the sleeping warriors to make sure he hadn't awakened them. It was the dream, again.
Her
dream. T'on Ma had been calling to him, crying for him. Even awake, he could feel the sorrow in her voice. What was wrong? Why wouldn't his heart let her go? She had chosen another. Frowning, he turned angrily on his side, folded his arms across his chest and tried to find sleep.

Early the next morning, Mary answered the knock on the guest quarter's door. Liam pushed his way in.

"Are the folks up yet?" he asked curtly.

"I don't know. I don't think so." Mary looked puzzled.

Liam walked over to their bedroom door. "Time to get up!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!

"What?"
Patrick jerked the door open, still in his nightshirt, his hair frazzled. "We're not ready for company."

"I don't care!" Liam snapped. "This isn't company." Leaning around his father, he called, "Get up, Mother. Now!"

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"I will come in there and drag you out if you're not here in one minute."

Patrick started to challenge Liam's attitude, but something in his son's eyes stopped him. There was a hardness, a steel he'd never seen before.

"You'd better come out, Maeve," Patrick advised.

Within a few minutes, Patrick, Maeve and Mary sat on the sofa, still in their nightclothes and robes. Liam stood over them, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

"We need to get something straight right now," he began. "I'm sure you two know what Dad and I talked about last night after dinner, so don't pretend you don't."

Both women looked wide-eyed at him, shocked. He'd never spoken to either of them like this.

"Lana heard everything you said last night, Dad."

"Oh, Liam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

Liam interrupted him. "She is my wife. I love her and I will
always
love her. She is not one of your high society debutants, for which I am eternally grateful. I can't stand those women! She might not have a high school education or have gone to finishing school, but she is the most intelligent woman I've ever met. And I'm including the two of you in that." He pointed to his mother and sister.

"You won't find anyone with more heart or courage or love if you looked for a thousand years. And - pardon me for upsetting your delicate sensibilities, Mother - she was a virgin when I took her to bed. I can assure you that she isn't one now. I make love to her every chance I can. There's that much passion between us. Do you remember what that's like, Dad? Passion? Making love to your woman with so much feeling and emotion that you think your chest is going to explode?

"Liam!"
His father tried to stop him.

"No. I'm not done. That's how I feel about her. That's how much I love her. And if you - any of you - hurt her like that again, you will never see me as long as you live. You will never see our children. You could give me a million dollars, and I would spit on it. Are we clear?"

When no one spoke, he said, "Good!" He looked each one in the eye. "Now, when you see her today, you'll be civil - without all of these subtle little jabs. She picked up on every one of them yesterday. If you can't be sincerely nice to her, then stay the hell away!"

"There's no need to be vulgar," his mother fussed at him.

"No. There isn't. So don't be!" With that, he walked to the door. "I'm on duty all day, but I've told Lana to get me if she needs me. Hopefully, I'll see you all at lunch."

He closed the door behind him and walked back to his quarters. Lana was up and making coffee.

"Morning, beautiful," he said, all trace of his earlier anger gone, and then turned her around to kiss her. "Sleep good?"

"Yep," she smiled. "I always sleep good in your arms."

He kissed her contentedly once more and then sat at the table. "I talked to my folks."

"When? This morning?" she asked incredulously.

"Yep. Got 'em out of bed and everything." He chuckled.

"They must have really appreciated that," she grinned.

"Ah, probably not. However, they will be on their best behavior today. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Oh, Liam, honey." She sat next to him and took his hand. "They can treat me like I'm the Queen of England, but that won't make them like me or accept me."

"Maybe not, but it will keep them from hurting you. They're just too snobbish for their own good. In time, they'll come around."

"Let's hope so." She stood up. "What would you like for breakfast? Eggs and toast or oatmeal?"

"Are you on the menu?" he asked hopefully.

"Only if you want to be late for work."

Sighing heavily, he said, "Eggs and toast, then."

Liam had been gone over an hour when there was a knock at the door. Lana opened it to discover Toby and Jason standing there, a large trunk between them.

"The Missus sent us over with this," Toby explained.

"Please, come in." Lana stepped back and gestured to the living room.

The two men picked up the trunk and carried it through, setting it with a thud on the floor next to the wall.

"Becca will be along in a minute to help with that," Toby told her.

"All right. What is it?"

"Don't rightly know."

"Have you had breakfast? Would you like some coffee?"

Toby and Jason exchanged uneasy glances with each other. To refuse the daughter-in-law of Mr. O'Connell was unthinkable. But to have her serve them breakfast was even more unheard of. Unwittingly, she had put them on the horns of a sticky dilemma and they weren't quite sure how to get out of it. Fortunately, Becca stepped through the open door.

"Morning, Miss Lana," she called out.

"Good morning, Becca."

"What are you still doing here?" Becca turned to the two men. "Shoo. You've got work to do in the stables."

Looking relieved, they nodded once at Lana and gratefully went to their chores.

"The Missus wants me to help you unpack this," Becca said as she walked over to the trunk, a large key in her hands. Kneeling, she unlocked it and pushed open the heavy lid. Lana peered over her shoulder, curious about the trunk's contents.

"What is all this?" Lana asked as she brought a chair over. "Here, sit down."

Once Becca was seated, she began talking as she pulled out items and unwrapped them.

"This trunk is full of things Miz O'Connell wanted Liam to have when she heard he was married. It's got china and tablecloths and such like."

Becca held up the most delicate porcelain teacup Lana had ever seen. It put her mother's Delft pattern to shame - complete and utter shame. The porcelain looked like it was made of pearls, with elegant dark pink roses hand-painted around the border. The rim and handle were trimmed in real gold. Lana was afraid to touch it.

"I don't know where we're going to put this," she fretted. "I don't have a china cabinet."

"Oh, don't worry 'bout that," Becca said. "There's one coming."

"There is?"

"Yes'm. Being freighted special. Heard tell it was coming through New Orleans by ship." The elderly woman reached in and picked up another item, carefully unwrapping it. "They's sending a big bed and some other furniture, too."

"Where are we supposed to put all of that in this tiny place?"

Becca laughed at that. "I don't rightly know. You'll figure it out."

"Do you drink coffee?" Lana asked.

"Yes'm."

"Good. So do I." She went into the kitchen and poured them each a cup. When she handed a cup to Becca, Becca looked up at her in surprise.

"Why'd you do that?"

"You were busy," Lana explained.

Becca shook her head at Lana's foolishness, but took a sip of coffee before she continued working.

"May I ask you something?" Lana broke their silence.

"Yes'm."

"How long have you worked for the O'Connells?"

"How long? Well, I was born into the house, so I reckon all my life."

"All your life," Lana repeated as she let that sink in. "So I suppose that's your home."

"Yes'm. As much as I'll ever have. They could sell me, but I'm too old now. No one would buy an old woman like me." She chuckled at that, but Lana failed to see the humor.

Becca pulled out a beautiful Irish lace tablecloth and walked over to the kitchen table with it. Spreading it carefully across the table, she nodded. "That looks better."

It dawned on Lana that Becca was used to having beautiful things surrounding her in the house where she worked. This place must look awful to her.

"I suppose we seem pretty bleak here at the fort," Lana said as she carried over a beautiful porcelain serving bowl and set it in the middle of the table.

"Well, just a little."

"There's not much call for finery out here," Lana explained. "It's all heat and dust and soldiers. Not many womenfolk around."

"Then the ones that are here need to do better. Keep things civilized."

Lana rolled her eyes at that.

The last thing Becca took out of the trunk was a beautiful bedspread. Lana had never seen anything so fine, as used to homemade quilts as she was. The soft baby blue fabric had dozens of satin stripes down its length. Exquisite dark blue and purple flowers with tiny green leaves had been embroidered between the satin stripes. There must have been hundreds of them by Lana's count.

"Oh, Becca, this is gorgeous!" Lana took it from her and went into the bedroom. Spreading it across the bed, she stood back to look.

"Now the room looks dingy next to this," she sighed.

"I'm glad you like that," Becca smiled as she stepped through. "It took me more'n two years to do all that."

"You
made this?"

"Yes'm. Just finished it right before we was to leave for here."

Lana took the woman's two arthritic hands in hers and stared at them. "You must have been in so much pain with all of that needlework."