Authors: Always To Remember
Clay watched him walk away. Everything had happened too quickly to be true. He couldn’t believe—
He heard tiny footsteps patter across the porch. He looked down to find a small girl wrapping her tiny hands around his large one. She looked up at him and smiled. “You’re my hero.”
Clay shook his head. “I’m not a hero.”
“You saved Melissa’s life,” Helen said quietly as she came up behind her daughter. “That makes you a hero.”
“I’m shellin’ pecans so Miz Meg can make you a pie,” Melissa said.
“No, she ain’t,” Josh said. “She’s eatin’ ‘em. Me and Joe are shelling ‘em.”
“I don’t mind if she eats the ones I shell,” Joe said. “I think she’s got the prettiest eyes I ever did see.” He took her hand. “Come on, Melissa. You can finish helpin’ me with the pecans.”
“Will you be my hero, too?” she asked as she followed Joe.
“Yes, ma’am, if you want.”
Clay looked toward the barn and studied all the activity. “Is your father here, Meg?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“Not to me. You’re all that matters to me now.”
Holding Taffy’s hand, Lucian walked over to the porch. Clay didn’t know his brother could produce a smile that big.
“Ain’t this something?” Lucian said as he brought Taffy against his side.
“Who raised the shutters on the shed?” Clay asked.
Lucian turned red. “Kirk’s father asked if he could raise the shutters so people could see the monument. Meg said it would be all right.”
Meg slipped her arms around Clay’s waist. “You might as well get used to it. People are going to be looking at your monument for a long time.”
“It was never meant to be mine, Meg. Yours, theirs, but not mine.”
“God damn it!” Lucian growled. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to show up here!”
Clay followed the direction of Lucian’s heated gaze. Daniel drew his horse to a halt beside the barn. Meg tightened her hold on Clay’s waist.
Daniel walked toward the barn. All the working men stopped pounding their hammers and walked to the other side of the barn, leaving him standing alone, facing a partially completed wall.
Meg sighed. “I guess it is true. You reap what you sow.”
“I could tie a rope around him and drag him off,” Lucian said.
“Why would you do that?” Clay asked.
Lucian released his hold on Taffy and jerked his hat off his head. “He nearly killed you yesterday. He tore down your wall of the barn at the Wrights'. Hell, he was probably here the night they attacked you.”
“Is that true?” Josh asked as he sidled up to Clay. ‘"Cuz if it is, me and Joe got a plan.”
“What’s your plan?” Lucian asked.
“We wait until he’s built his side of the barn, then we tear it down.”
Clay eased Meg’s arms away from his waist. “Nope,” Clay said. “That won’t do.”
“How come?” Joe asked.
“Because this matter needs to be dealt with right now.”
“What are you going to do?” Meg asked.
He touched his fingers to her cheek. “See if I can build one wall while tearing down another.”
Walking toward the barn, he could smell the scent of freshly cut lumber. She rushed to his side and slipped her hand into his. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to,” he said.
“Yes, I do. I need you, my brother, and everyone in this town to know that whatever … whatever you decided regarding Daniel … I’m standing beside you.”
Slowly, he nodded. “All right.”
Daniel had just carried a piece of lumber to the side of the barn by the time Clay arrived with Meg beside him. Daniel placed the board against the frame before meeting Clay’s gaze. “Heard they were gonna build you a bam,” he said quietly. “Thought I ought to help.”
“I’d like to help, too, but I can’t hold a nail.” Clay jerked Daniel’s hammer out of his grasp. “But I can hold a hammer. I just need to find someone willing to hold the nail for me.”
Daniel’s gaze darted over to Meg, then came back to Clay. “Reckon I could hold the nail for you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Clay said. “You realize, of course, that years of pounding on rocks has given me a powerful swing. I miss the nail, I’ll break your hand.”
Daniel’s Adam’s apple slowly slid up and down. “Reckon you know I’m the one who put the knife through your hand so I won’t hold it against you if you do end up hitting my hand,” he said in a quivering voice.
Clay smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” He tilted his head toward the unfinished barn. “Shall we?”
Daniel took a nail out of his pocket, knelt beside the board, and positioned the nail.
“Hold the nail tight and don’t move your hand,” Clay said.
“Clay,” Meg said quietly.
He glanced at her. “Don’t distract me, Meg. I need to keep my attention focused on my task because I know exactly how much courage it took for your brother to come here today.”
Clay brought his arm back. Daniel took a deep breath, turned his head toward the board, and closed his eyes. Meg balled her fists and pressed her lips tightly together to keep from crying out. Clay swung the hammer, and the frame rattled as he drove the nail home.
Daniel stared at the nail that was now halfway embedded in the wood. In disbelief, he looked at Clay. “I thought …”
“You thought what?” Clay asked.
“I thought you’d hit my hand.”
“Why would I do that? I love Meg. I’d like to marry her, but I won’t unless you and your father give us your blessing. Think you could talk your father into giving us his blessing?”
Nodding, Daniel wiped the back of his hand across his moist eyes.
Stepping away from the wall, Clay staggered. Meg and Daniel reached for him at the same time, grabbing his arms to steady him.
“You tore down your wall,” Meg said with tears in her eyes. “Now, let Daniel finish building this one. You need to rest.”
“Not yet. I have one more thing to do,” Clay said.
Daniel released his hold on Clay, but Meg kept her fingers wrapped around Clay’s arm. Clay lifted his brown gaze to the blue heavens. Then he lowered his gaze to the cornflower blue eyes of the woman he loved.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
She smiled tenderly. “I’ll marry you in the center of town with everyone watching.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him long and deeply.
In front of her brother.
In front of her friends.
Her mouth was hot and moist, and he drank of her sweetness.
He felt her breath, as gentle as the wind, caress his face.
He heard her quiet sigh as soft as the leaves rustling in the nearby trees.
And the promise of a night filled with the scent of honeysuckle wafted around him.
S
UMMER
, 1870
S
ITTING ON THE BENCH
, C
LAY STUDIED THE MONUMENT
.
The dappled moonlight filtered through the abundant leaves and danced along the stone.
He’d regained full use of his hand by the time he was ready to carve the finishing details. Sometimes, his hand ached, and it still cramped if he worked too long, but the pain was worth the accomplishment.
He’d given Kirk what he’d asked for: Meg as she was the last time he gazed upon her … for eternity.
He heard the scattering of leaves and the snap of twigs as someone neared.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Meg said softly as she sat beside him.
He draped his arm around her and drew her into the nook of his shoulder. “I like it best at night. I can’t see all the mistakes.”
“You’re the only one who sees the mistakes. The people around here think it’s perfect. That’s why they wanted the monument in a special place where they could come and reflect on the past and remember their sons.”
“So you suggested the land surrounding our swimming hole.”
“It seemed appropriate, since their sons came here to discuss ‘men’ things. Besides, we won’t be using it anymore.”
He kissed her cheek. “We might if we come back.”
“Will we come back?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know, Meg. I got into the habit a few years back of not thinking past today, but I’ll need a place to work once I’ve learned all I can at the university in Germany. Besides, I like Texas granite.”
She nuzzled his neck. “I’ve grown rather fond of it myself.”
“And fond of me?” he asked.
“Especially fond of you.” She kissed him slow and leisurely to prove her words. Then she nibbled on his ear. “Why don’t we finish this at home? My shoulders are beginning to ache.”
He laughed. “I have an ache myself.”
“I’ll be happy to rub it.”
Giving him a smile that promised heaven when they got home, she rose from the bench and walked to the monument. “Come along, Kirk. It’s time to go home now.”
The little boy hunkered down before the monument shook his head vigorously and ran his hand over the carved letters. He was only two years old, but already his hands were becoming as rough as his father’s. He loved the feel of stone and carried broken pieces in his pockets.
“Weed,” he said.
“Didn’t your father read it to you when he brought you here?”
He shook his head, and Meg looked at Clay. He shrugged. “We knew you’d be along eventually, and he likes your voice better than mine.”
She held out her hand. “All right, then. Let’s start at the beginning.”
She led their son to the front of the monument, and Clay heard his small voice ring out, “My name.”
“That’s right. Kirk. Kirk Warner is the man on the horse.”
Clay listened as she filled the night with the names of those with whom he’d played as a boy. They’d leapt into manhood with courage. War had denied them the sweet rewards of a long life.
Clay stood and walked to the monument as Meg and Kirk walked around the corner. He knelt beside his son and together they trailed their fingers over the letters. Clay cleared his throat as he did every night before he read these words to his son. “Within the shadows of honor, courage often walks in silence.”
Beneath the words, he’d inscribed the names of Will Herkimer, the man they’d tortured beside him, and Franz Schultz, whom they’d hanged because he wanted to work a stone quarry and didn’t believe in the war. Every name on the monument represented a man who had given his life standing for what he believed in.
Lifting his son into his arms, Clay unfolded his body and wrapped his hand around Meg’s. Slowly, they walked away from the monument. He felt his son’s head grow heavy on his shoulder and knew he’d fallen asleep as he did every night. Clay wasn’t even certain if the boy knew how to fall asleep in bed. He always drifted to sleep on Clay’s shoulder, and Clay would tuck him into bed in the room he shared with the twins.
Tomorrow, Joe and Josh would leave with them. Lucian and Taffy would stay behind to manage the farm and raise their own family.
Stopping, he drew Meg against his side. They turned to look one last time at the monument they’d created together. Like their love, it would survive the storms that swept over it.
“We’ll come back, Meg.”
Reaching up, she caressed his face. “Wherever your dreams take you, Clay, that’s where I’ll go.”
“They’ll bring us back here.”
With his arm around her, he led her into the shadows where their dreams waited.
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF BESTSELLING AUTHOR LORRAINE HEATH:
Parting Gifts
“A brilliant book on love, courage and family strength. The emotional levels Ms. Heath takes us to are breathtaking …”
—Booklovers Review
“… Extraordinary! Love, laughter, and sorrow are liberally scattered throughout this marvelous story. You’ll smile through your tears as you read this one …”
—The Paperback Forum
“A powerful testimony to the innate goodness of man, inspiring courage and love.”
—Romantic Times
“Both tender and moving. Great job, Ms. Heath!”
—Affaire de Coeur
“A wondrous journey … surpasses some works by top authors in the genre. Works such as this could generate a need for a platinum ranking!”
—Heartland Critiques
Sweet Lullaby
“Don’t miss
Sweet Lullaby,
a book you’ll want to read again.”
—Rendezvous
“The story really builds … offering excitement and romance as the slow awareness of a quietly blooming love evolves. Very enjoyable.”
—Affaire de Coeur
SWEET LULLABY
PARTING GIFTS
ALWAYS TO REMEMBER
I wish to express my sincerest appreciation to:
Tavia Fortt, writer/editor at The Museum of Modern Art, New York, for explaining the structural design of stone sculpture. Any flaws in the design of Clay’s statue rest with me.
Laurie Grant, writer and registered nurse, for helping me gather the medical information. Any misinterpretation of that information is mine.
Carmel Thomaston, critique partner and dear friend, for believing in the story as much as I did.
As always, the librarians and staff of the Plano Public Library system for sharing a wealth of information.
And the many readers who have taken the time to write me. Your kind words always brighten my day. I hope my stories will brighten yours.
Lorraine Heath P.O. Box 941673 Plano, TX 75094-1673
ALWAYS TO REMEMBER
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
Jove edition / February 1996
Copyright © 1996 by Jan Nowasky. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
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