Wishes on the Wind (13 page)

    Unexpectedly, rough hands swept her from her feet and out into the night air. She was coughing violently when she saw two other men drag David Lang's limp form into the open.

    She was staring at his motionless body, shaking uncontrollably, when the blazing roof crashed to the ground, but she no longer saw the flames. Instead she turned to look at the people around her Millicent Lang crying over her nephew's prostrate figure, her husband, stricken, beside her Grace Lang weeping in Mr. Hutton's arms Mrs. Hutton and her daughters clutching each other, silent, staring. Johnny Law, Mr. Townsend, the stable hands, miscellaneous guards… all were safe. Only David Lang was

    Suddenly David Lang was coughing, his lean body jerking with violent spasms as he sought to draw cleansing air into his tortured lungs. He was gasping, choking. He twisted momentarily toward her, and she saw tears streaming down his cheeks.

    But he was alive.

    Turning slowly, Meghan walked back to the house. She was strangely numb. Experiencing neither elation nor sadness, she had only one thought. The fire had not won this time as it had with Da and the boys.

    From the fringe of darkness surrounding the fire, Sean watched his sister walk back toward the house, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He saw her look back at the stable as she reached the doorway, and fought the desire to rush from his hiding place to take her in his arms and reassure himself that she was safe and well.

    Meg stepped out of sight and a low, ragged sound escaped Sean's throat. Covering his eyes, he gave full vent to his terror as he sobbed deep and long into his hands. If anything had happened to his Meg…

    He'd not thought for a minute when he'd heard the Mollies were planning to burn the Lang mansion that there was any chance Meg would be in danger. During her month of employment, she'd never returned home later than six, and he'd known the Mollies wouldn't make their move until dark, when they could sneak past the guards with a measure of safety. His horror upon realizing Meg was in danger was worse than anything he had suffered in his life.

    He had been halfway up the hill when he had first spotted the flames, and was all for running straight for the house without thought of cover before he came to the crest of the hill and realized that it wasn't the house that was afire, but the stables. Frantically searching the crowed gathered outside the stable, he had seen Meghan standing a distance from the others as all attention focused on a motionless figure lying on the ground. His relief had been overwhelming.

    David was lost again in the choking smoke that haunted him. The heat seared him. Disoriented, he staggered blindly, each faltering step seeming to take him deeper into the fire.

    Echoes of shrill, frenzied whinnies increased in volume, reverberating in his ears as an unseen fire licked at his face and hands, burning him. Almost mad from the sound, he turned to see Fabian, and his fear turned to terror. The great horse reared above him, flames leaping from his eyes and mouth, pain reflected in every sinew of his powerful body as he twisted and thrashed in agony.

    But David's own pain was such that he was helpless to aid the tortured animal. Instead, gasping for breath, the pounding in his head so severe that he could not think, he struggled to remain standing.

    He sank to his knees as flames began consuming the great animal beside him. The sounds of Fabian's physical torment grew louder, and David called out, but his scorched throat refused to emit the sound. The horse reared once more in the throes of an agonizing death, his powerful hooves lashing out, and David grunted in pain as he was struck to the ground.

    The smoke and flames a deadly blanket above him, David managed to turn his head. Fabian lay beside him, his eyes empty sockets from which fire blazed. The smell of burning flesh caught in his nostrils, and he retched at the realization that it was his own.

    The flames were devouring him, and David cried aloud as life seeped from his body slowly, excruciatingly. The echoes of Fabian's cries mingled with his own as he called for deliverance.

    But no one heard him.

    "David!"

    The sound of his name dragged David from the edge of an endless eternity.

    "David, speak to me, dear. Please."

    David opened his eyes to Aunt Letty's tear-streaked face, but he could not respond.

    "David, dear, please."

    David closed his eyes to his aunt's plea. He could do no more. He was gone, you see. He had ceased to exist.

    Meghan knew the face of mourning, and as she looked around the silent Lang kitchen, she recognized it plainly. Two days had passed since the fire, and in the Lang household she was no longer an outsider foisted upon the staff by Mrs. Lang's guilt. The fire had succeeded in burning away the ragged edge of resentment against her, and she was now treated with courtesy and respect, if not affection. She knew the staff's change of attitude would be more complete if she were to display the same guise of mourning as they, but she felt little of their despair. Instead, a familiar resentment was building inside her that she sensed she would soon find impossible to conceal.

    The whispers, the catering, the low sympathetic clucks all turned her stomach. There had been no real tragedy here, and she would not pretend there had been. David Lang was alive. And he had shown himself unworthy of the life restored to him by throwing it back in God's face. He had accepted the gift as he had all the other advantages in his life, without gratitude.

    Da and the boys would not have done the same.

    Father Matthew's words returned to her mind with a clarity that could not be ignored, and Meghan paused in her angry thoughts. He had advised her against bitterness, telling her it would hurt her and her own more than those against whom it was directed. But her present bitterness was difficult to overcome.

    Darting a glance at the silent staff around her, Meghan reached for another potato and skillfully peeled it. No, she'd not grieve for one who'd received more than he deserved, while Da and the boys had received far less.

    No, she would not shed a tear.

    "Are you angry with me, Meg?"

    The courage to ask that question had been difficult for Sean to find. In the two days since the fire, Meghan had been unnaturally quiet, but all in Uncle Timothy's household had attributed her silence to the shock she had suffered at the Lang fire, with its reminder of Da and the boys' deaths. But it was tonight, after she   spent some time in Ma's room with Aunt Fiona, that she had emerged with an accusation in her eyes.

    Sean breathed deeply and steeled himself for his sister's reply.

    Her eyes were still averted from his, and Sean looked around the kitchen to make certain curious ears were not within hearing distance. But it was late, two hours past supper. Aunt Fiona had retired to her room, and Uncle Timothy had not yet returned from his favorite
she been
. Since the other boarders seldom lingered past the meal hour, he had been certain he would find his sister alone when he followed her downstairs a few minutes earlier.

    His gaze lingering on her small face as he awaited her reply, Sean felt a familiar thickness rise in his throat. She'd be a beauty someday, would be his Meg. Her features were so fine, and her eyes were shining mirrors of her bright soul. O'Connor was written as clearly across her face as it was across his own, but where he was a pleasant looking fellow, Meg's unusual beauty was growing each day. He saw that, now that the thinness of childhood was beginning to slip away. She'd always been a tiny lass, and she was still, but her daintiness was beginning to take on a different shape. It meant that she'd soon be courted by some young fellow, and the truth was that there wasn't a man good enough for Meg in this valley, where the sun was dulled by a dusty mist from the colliery that never truly settled to the ground, and where a man was bound to groveling in the earth for the whole of his life from the sheer lack of a choice to do else and survive.

    Aware that Meg still had not responded to his question, Sean swallowed against the painful frustration that now directed the course of his life. His eyes still on his sister's averted face, he told himself as he had so many times before that the future Da wanted for them had died with him. The responsibility for Meg's future and his own now was his. The only trouble was that he had almost bungled it, and bungled it badly. And Meg, the other part of himself, the only good and joyful part that remained, had come close to suffering for it.

    Sean bit down on his lower lip, a frown tightening his youthful brow. He'd not had the courage to speak truthfully to Meg of the fire on the hill, but he knew Aunt Fiona had finally spoken to her of his behavior that night. He also knew he needed to set the matter straight between them, and that the time had come to do it.

    "Meg?"

    Meg's eyes snapped up to his with a suddenness that was as startling as her whispered question.

    "Did you have something to do with the fire, Sean? I want you to tell me true, for I've not the heart for the pain of not knowing."

    Reaching out a tentative hand, Sean rested it on his sister's narrow shoulder as he attempted a smile.

    "And I've not the heart to see you turn from me another time. Nay, I had no hand in it, but I knew of the plan."

    "You knew some were to set fire to the stables in the hopes of burning innocent animals alive, or maybe catching a poor stable boy, ignorant of the affairs of the valley? Where's the justice in that?"

    "It wasn't to be the stables, Meg. It was to be the house itself."

    Meg's gasp tore at Sean's heart, but his bitterness would not allow him shame.

    "It's no worse than what's been done to some down here. Whole families have been put out to starve when Master Lang closed a shaft through a whim, and troops called in to bring us all to our knees when we strike in protest."

    "But the fire was deliberate!"

    Tears welled in Meg's eyes, and Sean felt the first pang of true regret for the events of that night on the hill. Touching his sister's cheek with a gentle hand, he whispered hoarsely, "I never for a moment thought you'd be in danger, Meg. I thought you'd be safe at home when it all came about, so I had no fear for you at first. It was only afterward, when I came home and Aunt Fiona told me you were workin' late that I" Sean paused to take his racing emotions under control, a defensive frown darkening his brow. "But you've naught to fear now. I've heard it from good sources that the organization's put the house off limits that they've found it's not worth the risk."

    Meg shook her head, her bright eyes cloudy as she looked up into his face. "Strange to hear one of my own say it's not worth the risk of one life, when he speaks of taking others."

    "Meg, you've been too long at that place. You're forgettin'"

    "I'm forgetting nothing, Sean! And I want you to make me a promise. I want you to tell me you'll not let something like this happen again without giving warning. Tell me, Sean!"

    "Meg"

    Her blue eyes intent, Meghan stared into his face with a gaze that seared him, and Sean felt his anger melt away. This was his Meg, after all, and he owed her something for the way he had almost failed her. The cost would be slight in granting her this   request, for, in truth, it would change very little. "Aye, I promise."

    With a choking sound, Meg stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist to hug him close. Closing his arms around her in return, Sean felt his throat tighten.

    Aye, this was his Meg after all, and he sore loved her.

    "Mama, David won't talk to me!" Facing her mother in the hallway outside David's room, Grace continued despairingly, "I tried and tried and talked and talked. I attempted to feed him breakfast, too, as you asked, but he wouldn't take a thing. He opened his eyes and looked at me, but I don't think he saw me at all. Oh, Mama, do you suppose he's blind?"

    Letty drew her daughter into her arms, glancing over her shoulder toward the door to David's room. She had experienced similar fears many times in the past three days.

    Stepping back, Letty tilted up her daughter's pretty face and saw that it was blotched and wet with tears. There was still more child than woman in this girl who usually made such a great effort to appear mature.