Chase the Wind (18 page)

“Momma, how did you know you loved Dad?” she asked her
mother. Faith was also watching the two briskly scrubbing their face and hands to wash off the sweat and grime. Faith had to take a minute to answer, her mind going back to when she had asked
the same question of her own mother.

“I just knew. The first time I met him, I knew,” Faith answered.

“How did you know?”

Faith remembered that Sunday on the riverbank, a warm fall day like today, when Ian had first kissed her. “My toes curled up when he kissed me,” Faith said, a soft smile curving her face. Ian walked
up on the porch and bent over Faith, putting his hands on the
arms of her chair.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, the grin flashing as he
leaned over her.

“I was just remembering something,” she replied. He lowered his face and planted a soft kiss on her curved lips. Jenny leaned forward and saw her mother’s toes peeking out from between her father’s booted feet. To her amazement, she saw Faith’s toes curl
up as if seeking a purchase on the aged wood of the porch.

“And what was that memory that made you smile?” he asked
when he was done with the kiss.

“I’ll tell you later,” Faith answered. She extended her hands, and
Ian pulled her up from the chair.

“What were you looking at?” Jamie asked his sister after their
parents had gone into the house.

“Momma’s toes curl up when Dad kisses her,” Jenny informed him. Jamie looked at her as if she had lost her mind. , “You wouldn’t understand. You’re just a boy.”

“Thank God,” Jamie replied. Jenny stuck her tongue out at him as they went inside.

Later that night, when the twins were asleep in their loft and Ian and Faith had settled down for the night, Ian asked her again about what had made her smile.

“Do you remember the first time you kissed me?” Faith asked him.

“Yes, I do, it was that first Sunday, on the banks of the Ohio. I felt like I had been kicked by a horse.” Faith punched his ribs at the crudeness of his comparison. “Ooof,” he said, rubbing the injured area. “Yes, I remember,” he said softly as he pulled her close.

“Remember when I tripped over the quilt?”

“Yes. Come to think of if, you never told me why you had the giggles that day.”

“My mother told me I would know that I loved a man because my toes would curl up when he kissed me. That’s why I tripped— my toes were all curled up.” Ian burst into laughter. “Jenny was asking me the same thing today, and I told her that she would know she loved a man because her toes would curl up with his kiss.” Ian couldn’t smother his laughter; he let it out in whooping bursts. “What is so funny?” Faith asked, punching his ribs again.

“Oh, Faith, I love you,” he said when he got himself under control. “Let me give this a try and see what happens.” He pulled her down and began to rain kisses on her, stopping occasionally to see what condition her toes were in. He soon had Faith giggling out of control because he got confused and started kissing her toes. In the loft above, Jamie and Jenny listened in the dark to their parents’ laughter.

“What is going on down there that is so funny?” Jamie asked softly from his bed. A blanket hung in the middle of the room as a partition between them. Jenny leaned up on her elbow and looked at where she knew Jamie was lying on the other side of the blanket.

“You know,” she said into the darkness.

“No, I don’t,” Jamie replied. Jenny dropped back on her bed and kicked her blankets restlessly. “What?” he asked.

“Sometimes you are so stupid,” Jenny said in frustration.
“They’re making love.”

“What?”

“You heard me. How do you think we got here? Why do you
think Momma is expecting right now?”

“I try not to think about that.”

“You try not to think about anything, if you ask me.”

Jamie threw the first thing he could find at the blanket. Jenny
laughed as the blanket blew towards her with the impact of his
boot.

Chapter Eleven

It was time for the fall visit with Elizabeth. Ian would bring a string
of horses to trade, and Faith would shop for the special things that could only be found in the big city. Faith, Jenny and Jamie were out on the streets of St. Jo shopping for shoes. Jamie was being uncooperative because he had wanted to go horse trading with his
father and Faith had insisted that he come with her so she could
be sure of the fit. He was following her now, his arms full of pack
ages. Jenny was behind him, occasionally smacking his bottom
with the package she was carrying by a string. Jenny had decided
that her misery was worse, because not only could she not go horse
trading but she had also been made to wear a dress. Jamie had
assured his sister that the minute they were back at their grandma’s
he was going to give her a thrashing that she wouldn’t believe. Jenny had just stuck her tongue out at him, which drew a sharp
look from her mother. Faith’s patience was gone, and she was tired.
Her back hurt, too, her pregnancy making the long day on her feet
painful.

She was leading her family along to Elizabeth’s when someone
grabbed her arm.

“I thought that was you,” hissed a voice from her past. The chil
dren, who had been bickering with each other, crashed into her from behind. She jerked her arm out of a claw-like grasp and turned to look at the woman who had grabbed her.

It was Miriam, and the fifteen years since she had last seen her had not been kind. Her hair, which had once been a deep brown,
was now shot with gray, and her once perfect complexion was now
full of bags and wrinkles. Her skin hung on her once well-proportioned frame, and her clothing was secondhand at best.

“I see you didn’t waste any time getting brats from that bastard,”
Miriam said as she looked the twins over. “This one is that stable hand all over again.” Jamie stepped back as the woman made a
motion to grab him.

“I have nothing to say to you, Miriam,” Faith said. She tried to
step off the walk, but Miriam blocked her path.

“I have plenty to say to you, you selfish bitch.” The hatred was plain on her face, and Jenny took off like a shot to find her father.
Jamie drew himself up to his full height and stepped between them. Faith put her hand on his arm and pulled him back. “You and your lover ruined my life,” Miriam began. “Do you even care that your
father killed himself the night you ran off?”

“He wasn’t my father,” Faith said, her voice steady.

“He left me with all those bills, all that debt. I had to sneak out
of town. I lost everything.” Miriam’s eyes had a faraway look to
them. “Randolph Mason wouldn’t help me; he said he would if I
got you for him.”

“You sold me to him,” Faith cried, looking at the half-crazed face
of the woman. Jamie’s eyes were huge in his face as he watched
the two of them.

“Randolph went crazy after you left.” Miriam was whispering now, as if sharing a secret with Faith. “You messed him up real
good when you shot him. It took him forever to heal. He swore he’d hunt you down and make you pay. I’m surprised he hasn’t
found you yet.”

“It’s been fifteen years.” Faith felt her legs trembling beneath her.

“The funny thing is, after you left, he started putting his name on everything, he owned—his clothes, his shoes, his belt buckle, even a big old R M branded on the side of that devil horse of his. He said nobody would ever take anything of his again, he’d made
sure of it.”

The streets of St. Jo started spinning around Faith. She saw Ian
running towards her, Jenny behind him, heard Jamie calling her, but it was all so far away. The last thing she remembered was Miriam’s haggard face leering down at her, the tic, and then a bi
zarre smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Ian saw Faith slide to the ground as if in slow motion. Jamie
dropped the packages he was holding and tried to stop her descent. There was a woman standing over her, but by the time Ian crossed
the street, she was gone. Jenny was trying not to cry, and Jamie
was looking up at Ian, his wide blue eyes full of fear. Ian gathered his wife into his arms and felt the wetness that had soaked through
her gown. Jenny let out a sob when she saw the bloody water
staining the walkway. She helped Jamie retrieve the packages, and
they made their way after their father, who was trying to get Faith
through the crowd that had gathered.

“Jenny, run on to Elizabeth’s and tell her what happened. Jamie, run get the doctor,” Ian barked as he carried his wife through the streets. The twins took off like shots out of a cannon, Jenny hiking
her skirts up as she ran.

Ian arrived at the boardinghouse on Jenny’s heels and carried
his wife up to their room. Elizabeth followed behind, wringing her
hands. He carefully laid Faith on the bed and sat down on the
edge, taking her hand in his. Faith was still unconscious, but rest
less, her face pale.

“Jenny, tell me what happened.”

“That woman grabbed Momma and started talking to her,” she managed to get out, her voice shaky as she wiped tears away with
the back of her hand.

“Think carefully, Jenny. What woman?” Ian asked, his voice
steady and calm.

Jenny took a deep breath. “Miriam. Momma called her Miriam.
Who was she?”

Ian felt a shiver go down his spine. “Go and wait for your brother. Send the doctor up here when he comes.”

“Is the baby dead?” Jenny asked as she took a step closer. Ian
held out his arms and she flew into them. He smoothed her hair
back and kissed her forehead.

“Please just go and wait for your brother,” Ian said gently. She
turned and left the room just as they heard the pounding of feet up the stairs. Elizabeth stopped Jamie at the door, and the doctor
came up behind him and entered.

“Go downstairs and wait with your sister,” Elizabeth said to the boy. Jamie looked over Elizabeth’s head as Ian stood up. Jamie saw the doctor raise his mother’s skirts, and he turned and ran down the stairs, past Jenny and out the back. Jenny followed as usual, right behind him.

Ian found them later up in the old tree that had been their sanctuary since they had discovered they could climb it. He had to shake his head as he watched Jenny scramble down, her skirts tucked up into her waist. In his head he heard Faith saying that she came by it honestly, remembering the oak tree that grew outside her own bedroom window.

“Your mother is going to be all right,” he began when they were standing in front of him, both sets of deep blue eyes moist from the tears they had been trying to hide. “But she lost the baby, and she’s very upset.”

“Who was that woman?” Jamie began. “The things she said . . .” Jamie and Jenny had discussed the event in depth and could make no sense of it at all. Ian looked at his children as they stood there before him, both on the verge of adulthood, both having been sheltered in a loving home. He took them into the kitchen and sat them down at the table.

“Your mother’s family did not approve of me,” he began.

“Was that woman family?” Jenny interrupted. Ian took her hand in his from across the table.

“That woman was your mother’s stepmother. She married the man we thought was your real grandfather, after your real grandmother died. Do you understand?” Both twins nodded, their eyes wide, their faces pale. “They wanted your mother to marry a man named Randolph Mason. I met your mother when I worked for his family.” Ian looked at his children to make sure they were following the story. “On the night before they were to marry, your mother ran away, and I found her. Mason chased us, and we fought before your mother and I got away. Your mother shot him in the shoulder to keep him from strangling me.”

“Momma shot a man?” Jamie asked. He could not picture his mother with a gun in her hands.

“She did, to save me,” Ian answered. “Apparently, the man Faith thought was her father owed a lot of money and was hoping that Mason would get him out of debt, in exchange for her hand in marriage.”

“But Momma loved you instead,” Jenny said.

“Yes, she did.” Ian ran his hands through his hair to shove back the locks that had fallen over his eyes. Jenny got up from her chair
and put her arms around his neck.

“Dad, I hope I marry someone like you,” she said. Ian pulled
her into his lap and held her tight.

“You can’t,” Jamie said. “I’m just like him, and you can’t marry me because I’m your brother.” Jenny gave her brother an exasper
ated look from the shelter of her father’s arms.