Longings of the Heart (22 page)

Roberts was silent for a few moments. “I figure ye and yer wife would make good parents. I’ve heard yer name spoken well of. If his mother and father knew he ended up in a respectable home, they’d rest easy.” His voice diminished to a whisper. He blinked several times, then continued, “Charles and I were mates. We come over on the same ship. His missus and mine were close too.”

He watched as the dray continued to move up the path. “I’ll tell ye, though, Thomas hasn’t been himself since . . . well, since it happened. He’s usually bright and cheery, but he’s been low and doesn’t talk much. He’ll come ’round given time, though, I’m sure.”

“Of course.”

Roberts shoved his hands into his pockets. “I suppose ye ought to meet him.”

John’s arms and legs felt tight, the palms of his hands were wet, and his mouth was dry. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to relax his muscles. Walking alongside Mr. Roberts, he thought about what he ought to say.

“Hold up there, lads,” Patrick called. The one driving the dray yanked on the reins, and the mule stopped.

“I’ve got someone I’d like ye to meet.” The boys climbed off the cart. Patrick turned to John. “This is John Bradshaw. He’s got a place near here.”

The youngsters gazed at John and said quiet hellos. John smiled and nodded. “Good to meet you.” His eyes stopped on Thomas. He was a handsome child with blond hair and blue eyes.

Patrick moved to the boy. “Thomas, Mr. Bradshaw wants ye to live with him and his wife. They’ve a fine farm. And they’re good people.”

Thomas’s eyes widened and then narrowed, his mouth became a tight line. He glared at John and then turned a bleak expression to Patrick. “I thought I was goin’ to stay ’ere with ye.”

“We want ye to, lad, but . . . well, we just don’t have the means.” Patrick knelt in front of the boy. “Mr. Bradshaw’s a God-fearing man, and him and his wife are wanting a son. It’s the right thing for ye.” He gently squeezed the boy’s arms, then abruptly he stood. “Go on with ye now. And make sure to stop by the house and pick up yer things.”

Patrick squared back his shoulders. Thomas stared up at him. Patrick didn’t look down, but set his gaze on the distant field. “No time for gawking. Go on now.”

Not knowing just what to do, John rested a hand on the youngster’s shoulder.

Thomas flinched and pulled away. “I’ll go with ye, but yer not me dad.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he walked down the trail toward the house.

With Thomas riding behind him, John tried to think of something else to say. He’d asked the boy questions about what he liked to do, and had told him a little about the property, but Thomas made it clear he wasn’t interested in chatting. And somehow, he’d maintained a space between himself and John while keeping his seat.

“Our farm is right on the Parramatta. It’s nothing fancy, but one day it’ll be grand.” No response. John tried again. “There’s good fishing on the river. Do you like to fish?”

Thomas didn’t answer.

“We’ve some new lambs that’ll need special looking after. You ever work with sheep?”

Thomas remained silent. Finally, John gave up.
Perhaps Hannah
will do better. Women have a way with children.

When they turned onto their drive, John said, “That’s our place. The house is new. Your room is upstairs.” When Thomas didn’t say anything, John continued, “We’ve a garden. It’s coming along nicely. There are carrots and turnips, potatoes too.” Jackson loped toward John and the boy. “Oh, and we’ve a dog. His name’s Jackson.”

Thomas made no reply.

Jackson beat the air with his tail, ready to greet John and the boy.

John stopped in front of the house. “Hope Hannah’s got dinner ready. You hungry? She’s a fine cook.”

The front door opened and Hannah stepped out. She wiped her hands on her apron. “John. I was beginning to wonder where you’d gotten to.” She looked at Thomas. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Thomas Davies.” He turned and offered Thomas a hand down, but the boy ignored the assistance and threw one leg over the horse’s backside and dropped to the ground. Still wagging his tail, Jackson sniffed the newcomer. Thomas pulled his arms in close and pulled away, ignoring the dog’s greeting.

John dismounted. Placing a hand on the lad’s back, he guided him closer to the front porch. “Hannah, you remember that Charles Davies . . . died a few weeks ago.”

“Yes . . . I do.”

“Well, this is his boy, Thomas.”

Hannah’s eyes widened slightly. She stared at Thomas and then looked hard at John, as if trying to read his thoughts. She pressed a hand to her mouth, then asked in a controlled voice, “John, what have you done?”

“He needed a home.” John hesitated. Hannah didn’t look at all pleased. “He’ll be staying with us.”

Hannah dropped her arms to her sides, looked at Thomas and then John. “How long will he be staying?”

“Indefinitely.”

Hannah couldn’t hide her shock. “You said not a word to me.”

Oh
,
Lord
, John thought, realizing he’d made a terrible mistake. Hannah was angry, not pleased.

“I know this is unexpected, but if you give it some thought, I’m sure you’ll see what a grand idea it is. And I’m certain you and Thomas will get on splendidly.” He looked at Thomas. “Would you mind putting the horse in the stock pen? Give him a drink of water and a handful of grain too, eh. There’s some just inside the barn door. And an armful of hay would be good as well.”

Thomas didn’t do as asked immediately. Instead he set cool blue eyes on Hannah. His frown deepened, and finally he turned, grabbed hold of the horse’s reins, and plodded toward the pen. Hannah watched him, then moved close to John and whispered, “How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“Bring home a child without speaking to me about it.”

“I thought you’d be happy. We’ve been wanting a child. And the poor boy needs—”

“You said we weren’t to worry, that you were certain we’d have our own, that God wasn’t punishing me.” She glared at him. “You didn’t believe that at all. It was a lie.” She whirled about and stomped into the house.

“Hannah.” John followed her. “I just thought Thomas needed us and that we needed him.”

“That’s not true. You thought my sin so grave that God would withhold his blessings of children. I know I’m not deserving of a child, but as long as you believed, I could too.” Hannah’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’d hoped. I thought you did too.”

Hannah’s response startled John. “I haven’t lost hope. But sometimes we don’t get what we want. I just thought he’d be a child for us to love. He needs us.”

Hannah picked up the broom and swept up embers from around the hearth. “I want children of our own, not someone else’s child.” She stopped, and gripping the broom handle, she stated, “He can stay until you find someone else to take him. I can’t be a mother to him.”

“Lower your voice. He’ll hear you.” John pulled off his hat. “If you could mother Lottie, why not this lad?”

“It was different. We were on the ship and survival was our utmost thought. She needed me to survive.”

“And he doesn’t?”

Hannah’s eyes went to the window. “I just can’t, John. Not now.”

“There is no one else. And think what it will do to him if we send him off. He’s suffered enough.” Hannah’s reaction shocked John. He’d never expected this. He moved to the window and watched Thomas. His arms full of hay, he moved toward the crib. His expression was grim.

“There’s something wrong with him, John.” Hannah’s tone was firm. “He didn’t speak a word and his eyes were filled with hate.”

“Not hate, sorrow . . . and rejection. He’s lost everything. How would you expect him to react, especially when you looked at him as if he had two heads? Where were your open arms? I thought you’d be a mum to him. That’s what he needs.”

Regret and sorrow replaced John’s anticipation and his dreams. He’d made a grave error.

Hannah dropped onto a chair. Silence pervaded the room. Finally she said, “I’m sorry, John. I don’t want to hurt him. I’m just shocked. I’m not prepared. You should have told me before bringing him here.”

The anger in Hannah’s eyes was gone.

“I’m sorry, luv. I heard that the Robertses needed a home for him, and so I went. I was sure you’d be thrilled. We’ve longed for a child.”

“Yes. Our child. John, you should have asked me first.” Tears shimmered in Hannah’s brown eyes. “I believed what you said— that God wasn’t going to punish me. I see now that you were just being kind. God will never give us children.”

“But he has—this boy.”

“Thomas is not ours.”

“He will be if we make him so.”

“I’m sorry, but no. Can’t you take him back to the family he was with?”

“No. I can’t.” John squared his jaw. “I won’t do that to him. His mum and sister died on a prison ship two years ago. Now his father’s gone too, and the people who were looking after him gave him away. They had no means.”

“And neither have we.”

“If you were carrying a child of our own making, we’d find a way. There’d be no question about if we could care for it.”

Hannah stared at John through tears. “You’ve brought this boy into our house without a word from me and now you’re saying I must live with your decision, that I have no choice but to become his mother?” Hannah shook her head. “I don’t want to be his mother.”

A board popped, resonating from the front of the house. Hannah and John turned to see Thomas standing in the doorway.

His blue eyes were hard, his mouth set, and his hands were balled into fists. “I didn’t ask to be ’ere. I don’t need ye. I’ll not trouble ye further.” He turned and trudged down the steps.

16

John stopped the wagon in the churchyard, then looked at Thomas who sat in the back. “Well, this is it. You’ll like church. We’ve good friends here and the reverend’s a fine man.”

Thomas glowered and didn’t respond. He sat with his knees held tight against his chest and stared at nothing in particular.

Hannah glanced at the boy. She felt no love for him and puzzled over why. She’d always thought of herself as a caring person. But Thomas was different from the children she’d known. Since the first day, he’d been trouble. When he’d run off, John had gone after him, and the boy came only when forced; John had to drag him part of the way. It had been a terrible scene and she and John had quarreled. They didn’t speak to each other for a full day.

Thomas had threatened to run off again at the first opportunity, but he hadn’t. Hannah was certain the only reason he didn’t flee was that he had nowhere to go. He felt no affection for either her or John and wanted nothing to do with the farm.

Sadly, she had to admit that it would be best for all if he lived elsewhere. She closed her eyes and sent up a quick prayer.
Lord,
I pray for patience. And if it’s possible, help us to love each other,
all of us. Please put an end to what’s going on in my home.
The peace that had once been part of her and John’s life was gone; instead, each day was a series of emotional challenges.

“Come on, lad,” John said, climbing down from the wagon. “Make the best of it, eh? You can try it. You just might discover there are people here you like. There are several lads your age. I’m sure you’ll find a friend among them.”

Still looking surly, Thomas climbed out of the back.

Hannah noticed his hair wasn’t properly combed and his clothes looked like he’d slept in them. He’d refused any help or instruction, and she’d not pressed her standards of dress and cleanliness for fear of another clash.

Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged toward the church. He walked around to the side, leaned against the building, and stared at the ground. John watched him for a moment and then gave Hannah a hand down from the wagon.

“John, what are we to do with him? He hates us. He doesn’t want to live with us. Perhaps it would be better if you took him back to—”

“They can’t keep him, Hannah. You know that.”

“Perhaps someone else would take him in.”

“Hannah.” John’s voice was tight. “We can’t do that. We’ve got to stick to this and find a way.” He turned toward Thomas. “Look at him. He’s already so downtrodden that I don’t know if he’ll recover. What will happen to him if we pass him off to someone else?”