Authors: Bonnie Leon
“We will. Ye can count on it,” Gwen said. She wiped tears from her eyes. “God won’t let them take him, not now. He’ll see to it that Thomas stays with ye. I’m sure of it.”
With a nod to her friends, Hannah slapped the reins, and the horses trotted forward. She wanted to believe, but she wasn’t at all certain God would do any such thing. She’d come to understand that his plans did not always agree with her own. But the idea of Thomas traveling across oceans and living so far from Parramatta was too much for her. She pleaded with God.
Please don’t send him away. I need him. I can’t believe this
is your will.
Even as Hannah prayed, trying to believe, she feared England might truly be God’s plan for Thomas. He’d adjust, and she and John would become a memory. He would have a fine family and a successful farm to claim as his own when he came of age.
Perhaps it’s where he belongs.
Lord, if it is your desire, then I pray you will mend the wound
his going will leave in my heart. And if you mean for him to stay,
I ask for your strength and your wisdom. Show me what to do.
As she headed for John’s, the encounter with Lucinda wound through her mind again and again. Lucinda had tried to be civil, but she’d come prepared to fight, and in the end she’d had her way.
For now, just for now.
In her mind, Hannah scanned the papers again. They’d seemed legitimate. How could she make certain they were? And what if Lucinda and Thomas sailed away before she and John could find out?
She whipped the reins, hurrying the team along. Gazing through a blur of tears, she trusted the horses to keep to the road. The air was warm and carried the heady scent of wattle mixed with the sweet fragrance of boronia. Normally she would have enjoyed the fragrance, but today it felt suffocating.
Thomas. Oh, Thomas.
Her heart constricted and she returned to prayer, beseeching the Lord for clear thinking. She couldn’t envision life without the boy. He’d come to her and John hurting and angry. Deeply wounded by the world’s injustice and the loss of his family, he’d been determined not to love them. And Hannah’s own defiance was as strong as his. The two had seemed impossibly incompatible, but God had been gracious and patient. Over time they became a family. He couldn’t have brought them together to separate them again, could he?
Why would you take him from me now? Is this a part of
the penalty for my sin? If I could bring back the child I prayed
away, I would.
Hannah remembered the awful night she’d lost the baby. It had been created in an act of violence and then shamefully disposed of. She’d never forget the sound of the slop bucket lid that had hidden it while being carried to its grave.
I
know you’ve forgiven me, so why? Why, Lord? Please put a stop
to this. It’s too much.
Hopelessness pressed itself down on Hannah. Would the consequences of a desperate prayer whispered long ago never end? Fear erupted in her, rising until it felt as if it would choke off her life.
She lifted the reins and slapped them across the horses’ backsides. “Faster, now,” she called. She needed John. He’d know what to do.
Barely slowing as she turned the team onto his drive, she headed toward the house. Margaret stood on the porch, a cup in her hand. In spite of the warm weather, she was dressed in a heavy taffeta gown. Hannah thought her foolish, but knew in time she’d relinquish her elegant dresses for something more sensible.
Margaret set her cup on a side table and walked down the steps, where she waited for Hannah. She smiled and, using a handkerchief, patted at the sheen on her face. “Good day. What can I do for you?” She studied Hannah. “Has something happened? You look troubled.”
One of the geldings tossed its head and blew a blast of air from his nose. “I must speak to John straightaway.” She didn’t want to tell Margaret what had happened. It was a private ordeal. “Can you tell me where I might find him?”
“That all depends on why you need to speak to him.” She leaned against the railing. “Hannah, you must come to accept things as they are. Theatrics will not get you back into John’s good graces.”
Closing her eyes, Hannah pushed down an angry retort and then refocused on the woman. “I’m aware of that, but it is urgent that I speak to him.”
Margaret moved toward the carriage. “He’s quite busy. The end of lambing, you know. He can’t take any chances of losing lambs, with the market as it is.”
“He’ll want to speak to me about this matter.” Hannah could barely contain her growing frustration. “Is he in the lambing shed?”
Margaret stared at her, eyes cool. “No. He’s not. And he’s not available for visitors. He’s working in the far pastures, making certain there are no ewes who have yet to lamb. I can tell him you stopped by when he returns for dinner.”
“I see.” Hannah didn’t know what else to say. She must speak to him. She looked about, trying to come up with an answer.
I’ll
have to go after Thomas myself. Perhaps I can convince Lucinda
to stay until I can have her papers verified.
“All right, then. Tell him to contact me. It’s of utmost importance. I’ll be in Sydney Town at the boardinghouse.”
“It might be better if you explained the matter to me and then I’d be better able to inform him.”
Hannah knew it was a reasonable request, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak of it, not to Margaret. “No. It’s best if I tell him myself.”
“Of course. I’ll let him know when he returns.” Margaret moved back up the steps.
Disheartened, Hannah grabbed the reins tightly and started to turn the buggy toward the road. John stepped out of the shadows of a nearby shed.
John!
Throttled by anger, Hannah glared at Margaret. “It seems you’re mistaken. He is here.”
“I do apologize. I had no idea. He must have come back while I was working inside.”
Hannah lifted the reins, clicked her tongue, and turned the horses toward John. She glanced back at the house, where Margaret stood on the bottom step.
Perhaps she’s not to be
trusted.
That was something to consider at another time. Right now Thomas was all that mattered. She urged the horses forward. Grabbing the harness, John looked up at Hannah, concern lining his face. “What is it? I can see something’s wrong. Is it Thomas? What’s happened to him?”
Overcome with emotion, she longed to throw herself into John’s strong protective arms and sob out the story. Of course, such an idea was unseemly, and she maintained a false sense of calm as she stepped down from the buggy. She was not unaware of his steady grip on her hand. “Thank you.” She suddenly felt uncertain of how to tell him. “I am here about Thomas.”
“Is he sick?”
“No.”
“Injured?”
“No.” Hannah took a steadying breath. “It seems Thomas has a family in England, his aunt Lucinda Davies and his grandfather Davies.”
“He never mentioned anyone.”
“He told me he remembers his father talking about an aunt, but it seems he knows very little about her or his grandfather. It would seem his father and mother rarely had contact with the family.”
“What does that have to do with Thomas now?”
“Lucinda came to the Athertons’ today . . .” Hannah paused, wishing there were an easy way to tell John the awful news. “She wants to take him back to England with her.”
“Take him back?”
“She seems well intentioned. Her father, Thomas’s grandfather, has a farm there and wants to see that Thomas inherits it when he dies.”
“Are there no other living relatives, no uncles or . . . ?” He held out his hands palms up, looking vulnerable.
“Lucinda said Thomas’s father was her only sibling. And now she and her father and Thomas are all that’s left.”
“Where is she?”
“She and Thomas set out for Sydney Town more than an hour ago.” Again, Hannah feared the unimaginable. She’d been so distraught she’d failed to ask when the ship sailed. If the ship left before Lucinda could be stopped, she’d never see Thomas again. Fear pulsed through her and she barely managed to keep her tears in check.
“She showed me legal papers signed by the court, but how can we be certain they’re legitimate?”
“I can have the governor confirm or disavow them.”
“I’m afraid their ship will leave before we can do anything.” Hannah felt the tattered seams holding her together begin to come apart.
John grasped her arms and squeezed gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll see that he’s brought home. I’m sure the governor can do something. Thomas belongs with us.”
“What can be done if his family has legal claim?” Hannah could no longer hold back the tears. “I can’t bear to lose him.” The scene when Lucinda took him flashed through her mind. “He was so distraught, begging me to allow him to stay. I had to force him to go.”
“I’ll bring him back. Trust me.”
Before Hannah knew what was happening, John pulled her to him. She couldn’t resist the consolation and pressed her face against his shirt. The smell of him and the strength of his arms comforted her. She longed to cling to him and never let go.
Getting a hold of her emotions, she disengaged herself and took a step away from John, wiping at her tears. “I’ll go with you.”
“I’d like that, but I can ride faster alone. If I can overtake their carriage, perhaps we can stop this thing.”
“What will you do? Lucinda seemed quite set on carrying out her duty. What can you say to convince her otherwise?”
“I don’t know. But I do know that Thomas can’t leave New South Wales. I’ll do whatever I must. There has to be a way.”
Inside Hannah screamed at the loss but managed to extend an outward composure. She looked at the house. Margaret was watching.
“You go home. When I’ve got him, I’ll bring him straight to the Athertons’. ”
Hannah nodded, daring to believe John. A flicker of hope burned inside her as she watched him stride to the barn and disappear inside. She climbed into the buggy and waited. She wouldn’t leave until he did.
John appeared a few minutes later, his horse saddled and ready. He offered a smile. “Remember, God sees us and he knows Thomas belongs here in New South Wales.”
“I pray you’re right.”
“I am.” He climbed onto the horse, rode up to the buggy, and then reached out and placed a hand on Hannah’s cheek. “Take heart. I’ll bring him home. I promise.”
He rode to the porch, talked with Margaret for a moment, and then headed off at a full gallop. Hannah could still feel the warmth of his hand against her skin. She covered the place with her own and watched until all she could see was the dust raised by his horse.
Lord, carry him safely. And I beg you to
bring back my son.
Guilt held a tight grip on John as he headed toward Sydney Town. Leaning forward in his saddle, he urged his horse onward, faster and faster. He had to find Thomas. The road flashed beneath rider and animal.
I should have gone to see him. I should have made the time.
Self-recrimination served no good purpose now. He needed to focus on finding his son, needed to focus on the road, focus on a way to get him back.
He’ll be fine. He’s a strong lad,
he told himself, pushing the horse harder.
I’ve got to catch them.
But he wondered what would happen when he did overtake them. How would he persuade Lucinda to relinquish the boy?
His horse in a lather, its sides heaving, John knew he’d have to slow his pace soon or he’d kill the animal. Still, he kept moving. He must convince Lucinda to let Thomas stay.
He’s not meant
to live in England. When I explain to her, she’ll see reason.
Even as the thoughts rolled through his mind, John had little hope. If the woman who had taken Thomas was truly his aunt, she had rights to him. And according to Hannah, Lucinda was not predisposed to accommodate Thomas’s New South Wales family.
To the west, dark clouds billowed and piled into great dark mounds. A wall of rain moved toward him. John slowed and took a coat out of his saddle pack and pushed his arms into the sleeves. He moved his hat forward, tipped his head down, and continued on.
The rain started in big droplets, splattering the brim of his hat and the shoulders of his coat. Dry ground quickly turned wet. When the wall of moisture reached John, he peered through a wet haze. The horse trudged forward, splashing through fresh mud and water that flowed into ruts, creating small rivers. Rain dripped from his hat.
Wretched miles passed, but John never came upon a carriage.
They had too great a lead,
he conceded. When his horse slipped and nearly went down, he stopped beneath the broad mantle of an acacia. Dusk had already reached the nearby valleys and crept toward the road and the river.
Miserable and wet, John sheltered beneath the tree until the rain stopped. Darkness was fast approaching, and John decided it would be too dangerous to continue. He’d stay put for the night and set out early in the morning.
He led his horse to the river to drink, then tethered him. “Sorry I rode you so hard,” he said, giving the animal a pat. The evening haze crept over the hillsides and up the river as John removed the saddle and blanket. He set them in the driest spot he could find, beneath the sprawling branches of the acacia, then gathered a handful of dry grass from the base of the tree and with great effort managed to bring a fledgling fire to life. He added dry bits of bark and tinder and finally pushed back the darkness and warmed his sodden body.
Miserable and cold, he sat on the ground and rested his back against his saddle and drank from a flask, wishing he’d thought to bring food. His empty stomach grumbled. He stared at the fire for a long while, then lay down and tried to sleep. A breeze stirred the trees, and birds fluttered within the branches, their calls quiet and throaty as they settled for the night.
John’s mind returned to Hannah and Thomas. They’d all been through so much.
Lord, why this? Haven’t we had trials
enough?
He stared at blue and orange flames licking at the wood.
What purpose can there be in this? Certainly Thomas
belongs here. Hannah needs him.