Lover's Knot (36 page)

She shivered, and not because she was still cold. “That’s awful, Isaac. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

He didn’t answer directly. “I’d been an only child. I wasn’t sure I wanted a little brother. I didn’t know what to think when I came home and found Davey was gone. I remember feeling relieved, then guilty. Horribly guilty. As if my ambivalence and the tension he’d brought with him had somehow caused his exile.”

“Every kid is ambivalent about siblings. And I suspect you knew even at eight that there wasn’t enough love in that house to go around. Much less enough for two children.”

“For a long time after Davey disappeared, I expected to be next.”

“I’m so sorry. I suspect he was the luckier. He probably went somewhere better.”

He faced her. “Today I told Caleb I find it easy to shut people out of my life. It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to understand why. I’ve overcome some of it. But there’s one thing I can’t get past, K. C.”

She waited. Somehow she knew the real point of this story was about to unfold.

“I will never be able to adopt a child,” he said.

She heard the pain behind his words, but they struck such pain in her own heart that for a moment she couldn’t draw a breath. “Never?” she whispered.

He shook his head. His eyes were suspiciously moist. “The scars are too deep. They go all the way to forever. If you’ve been hoping…”

“But we know happy adoptive families. There are so many. Most adoptions are successful.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

She understood then that he had given this thought, that perhaps he had been thinking about it since the moment he realized he would never father a child with her.

“You sell yourself short.”

He held on to her when she tried to rise. “No. Don’t you see? This would always be there. If I was angry at a child, I’d hear the colonel ranting about how I wasn’t his real son, that I could never be his real child. If I was strict, I’d worry I was trying to make up for the child’s unfortunate genetics. If I wasn’t strict enough, I’d wonder if I was just reacting to my own upbringing. Nothing about being an adoptive parent would feel natural to me. Being a parent might have been hard with the role models I had, but I think I could have done it, maybe even well. But being an adoptive parent? There’d be a whole different layer of self-doubt, of memories and feelings I could never work through.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?” She was crying. She hadn’t realized it until she heard the tears in her voice.

“Because I had to. I’ve known it for a long time, but I just didn’t know how to tell you. I think you still want to have children, and that’s the only way we can do it. Then, today, I was talking to Caleb about how he was treated, about how nobody adopted him because he wasn’t perfect, and I realized I can never overcome the fury I feel at the whole damn system. And you had to know.”

“And is this where I’m supposed to tell you it’s okay? That you’re wrong, and I don’t really want children? That my heart isn’t in shreds because I’ll never have a baby?”

“Is it?”

“What do you think?”

He framed her face and, as devastated as she was, she registered that his hands were trembling.

“I think that if there was anything I could do, I would do it. If I could give you what you want, I would.”

“What
I
want? Don’t you care, even a little? Doesn’t it eat you up that you’ll never be a father?”

“It’s a decision people make all the time.”

She pushed him away and stood. “Well, I didn’t make it, Isaac! It was made for me. And now you’re telling me I can adopt kids or I can have you, take my choice. But either way, my infertility is no big deal to you, the way having kids is no big deal. How many times have you pointed out that they’d get in the way? Maybe in the long run you’re relieved I can’t have them and you can’t adopt them!”

He grabbed her before she fled. “You want the truth?”

“I thought I got the truth.”

“Yes, I want children! I want my own child, in my arms, with my eyes and your nose and our genes. Together. I want to turn back the clock so all the things that went wrong for you didn’t happen. I want to turn it back so I had adoptive parents who adored me. I want to stand by you in labor and watch our children being born. And what good does it do to tell you any of that? Does it change anything? Because none of it’s ever going to happen!”

She stared at him. It changed everything, and Isaac didn’t, couldn’t, see it. Knowing this altered every breath she would take for the rest of her life.

“
You
can have children,” she said. “You can find someone else to have them with.”

He pulled her close. “Didn’t you hear me? I want
our
children. Together. I have from the first. We put it off. I thought we had time. But I’ve always,
always
wanted them. I was just waiting until it was right.”

“It’s never going to be right.”

“I know. I know.” He held her tighter. “I want to make it right. And I can’t.”

She began to sob in earnest. And she knew, as his arms tightened around her, that Isaac was crying, too.

O
n the first morning after Isaac returned to D. C., Kendra awakened with a sense of loss. She missed him in a way she never had before. Until now, she hadn’t been lonely in Toms Brook; the void left by Isaac’s absence was new. They had lived together for years, unable to share their deepest feelings, but now that the dam had broken, she knew their marriage had changed forever.

For the next week she kept herself busy to avoid the echoing emptiness of the cabin. And searching for Daniel Flaherty kept her busiest of all.

According to the
Washington Post
, Daniel Flaherty had died in Florida in 1978, definitely not in Lock Hollow. The obituary stated Mr. Flaherty had retired from government service in 1960 and moved to Bradenton. He had been survived by his wife of sixty years and two sons, who asked that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the American Red Cross. A private Mass had been held in Alexandria, where Mrs. Flaherty and her sons resided.

Clearly Daniel was now unavailable for comment. Which was why, on the Saturday afternoon after the camping trip, Kendra was on her way to Vienna, Virginia, to talk to Daniel’s assistant, Charlie Thompkins.

Since the morning when Sandy, Kendra’s friend and
Post
colleague, had e-mailed her a copy of Daniel’s obituary, Kendra had pondered the implications of those brief sentences. It seemed that the Flahertys’ marriage—which would have been well under way when Daniel and Leah were having their evening trysts—had not ended happily. Daniel died in Florida, while his wife was living in Virginia.

There was little hope that the wife was still alive, nor did Kendra have any desire to contact her. She briefly considered, then abandoned, the possibility of finding his sons. Even if Daniel had told them stories about his months in the mountains, it seemed unlikely that he had also recounted the story of his relationship with one Leah Blackburn.

Instead, she did a Google search for the younger Charles Thompkins, throwing in terms like “Shenandoah” and “surveyor” when the first results were, as expected, overwhelming. Gradually she narrowed the search until she came to a recap of an article from the magazine
America’s Civil War
, about a Charles Thompkins of Vienna, an amateur historian whose area of interest and expertise was the Civil War as played out in Virginia’s Blue Ridge mountains. The recap went on to say that “Charlie” had gotten interested in the subject as a teenager when he helped survey property for the Shenandoah National Park and discovered numerous artifacts.

Kendra had headed straight to the telephone.

Today she had an appointment to meet Thompkins, who lived with his oldest son. Vienna was in northern Virginia, not far from the District, and she had a second reason to make the trip. Last night, on the telephone, she had promised Isaac that she would have dinner with him in a restaurant they had always enjoyed in Arlington. Afterward, if she was still feeling brave enough, she planned to make her first trip into the city to attend an ACRE party and spend the night in their condo. For the occasion, she was wearing the clothes she had worn home from the hospital.

So far, she wasn’t enjoying the trip into the city, but neither was she paralyzed with fear. Summer weekends were busy on I-81 and I-66, as vacationers enjoyed the area’s historic sites. The traffic required all her attention. By the time she took the second Vienna exit, her hands were numb from gripping the wheel—but not trembling from fear.

Vienna had wide streets, bordered by well-maintained, flourishing lawns. Pink petunias and white impatiens lined flower-beds, and hostas languished under tall shade trees. Clearly northern Virginia hadn’t seen the drought that had plagued the Valley. She found the right house with no difficulty. The redbrick colonial was at the end of a cul-de-sac. The mailbox sported a vinyl decal of a Canada goose in flight.

The man who answered the door had not been sixteen for a very long time. He was nearly bald, and thin enough to worry her. But his face lit up when she introduced herself.

Charlie ushered her inside. “I’m alone for the afternoon. Would you like to see my collection of artifacts?”

Kendra had a feeling that if she declined, the interview would go downhill quickly. She spent the next fifteen minutes sipping cola and genuinely enjoying the collection. He had firearms and ammunition—some of which he had picked up on his travels across the mountains—belts and belt buckles, framed photographs, medals and fading ribbons. The small study where they were displayed was a mini-museum.

“All from Virginia,” he said. “And what’s now the park? That was my favorite place. Not everybody up there favored the South, you know. Some of those mountain people were for the Union, and some of the Valley’s Germans, too.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the park,” she said, sensing her opportunity. “Do you have time?”

“You say you’re with the
Post?
” He led her to a red velvet wing chair in an oppressively formal living room.

“I am, but this is personal.”

He seated himself across from her. “So what can I tell you?”

As briefly as she could, she explained Isaac’s story. Charlie had dark, intense eyes, and it was clear he was following every word with interest.

“I remember her,” he said when Kendra finished. “Oh, yes, Leah Spurlock. She wasn’t much older than me, and I was just a kid. I was supposed to be working with the Civilian Conservation Corps, but I’d done some surveying with my daddy down near Fredericksburg, and when they found that out, they put me to work helping Daniel.”

“I guess both you and Leah grew up fast.”

“I could hardly say a word around her. She had one of those pure oval faces, like a Renaissance Madonna, and she had a way of carrying herself, like a queen. At least that’s how it seemed to me.”

“How did it seem to Daniel Flaherty, do you suppose?”

“You sound like you have suspicions.”

Kendra kept it simple. “There are rumors.”

“Rumors about her and Daniel.” It wasn’t a question. “You have to understand Daniel, first.”

She sat back, content they were on track. “Tell me.”

Charlie appeared to choose his words carefully. “First, he was a married man. But he didn’t wear a ring, and he sure never let on he was married when he was out in the field. He figured that what he did when he was off at work wouldn’t hurt anybody. And I’m not just…what’s the word…extrapolating? He used to lecture me when we were camping out. Like it was a lesson I ought to learn, right along with shaving acres off parcels and calling valuable pastureland a rocky hillside to make himself look good. He taught me that, too.”

Kendra had known a number of men like Daniel. She doubted young Leah had known any until she met him. “I found his obituary. I did the math and calculated he was married when he met Leah.”

“Daniel was a Catholic. In those days, divorce wasn’t in the cards. But I don’t think he lived with his wife for much more time than it took to get her pregnant twice. He liked acting free, even if he wasn’t.”

“You’re painting the picture of a sociopath.”

He considered. “No, I think he had his own moral code. Like a lot of folks, he thought the people up in those mountains would be better off somewhere else, so he didn’t mind cheating them a little. He figured the government was going to do enough as it was. I guess he also figured as long as he treated women well enough when he was with them, he hadn’t hurt anybody. It wasn’t like he had dozens, but he had a way of making them think they were special. He made them think he cared. And the darn thing was, I think he did, a little.”

He paused. “Particularly about Leah Spurlock. He even found land and a house for her—got it for the back taxes, of course, but it was still prime land.”

Kendra tilted her head to encourage him. She hated to interrupt the flow.

“Maybe it turned out okay, though. Because in the end, Leah hurt Daniel more than he hurt her. She wasn’t very sophisticated, but she was nobody’s fool. When she realized what Daniel really was and what he expected from her, she rejected him. Simple as that. Leah Spurlock was the one who got away, if you don’t mind a fishing metaphor. And I just bet Daniel never recovered.”

“This is getting interesting,” Kendra said. “Do you have time to give me the details?”

He smiled, clearly thrilled to be asked.

After the night at the woodpile, Leah and Jesse stopped speaking to each other. Birdie was their intermediary, carrying messages as if nothing had happened. She seemed oblivious to the tension in the house and went about her chores with smiles for both of them. To escape the silence, most nights Leah found excuses to go outside when she thought Daniel might be waiting for her. Her absences drew no comment from her husband, but even if Jesse had suspicions, they were unfounded. Daniel was never there.

Then, after two weeks, when she was feeling sadder than she had since the deaths of her parents, she found him waiting under the hickory trees with a gift.

Daniel moved out of the shadows into the starlight to greet her. She was so surprised, she clapped her hand over her lips to stifle a cry.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” he said in a near whisper. “I’ve been away, and I thought you probably gave up on me.” He held out a parcel wrapped in brown paper. “I brought you something to sweeten your days.”

She took the parcel, searching his face. “What is it?”

“Nothing much. Just something I thought you might like.”

She untied the string and spread the paper. Inside was a collection of nickel candy. A peanut butter and molasses Mary Jane bar, a Snickers bar, Milk Duds, Bit-O-Honey. She hadn’t seen so much candy in one place except at Grayling’s Store.

“For me?”

“Your life has had too many sour moments.”

She laughed softly. Having someone think of
her
for a change was new and seductive. “Where did it all come from?”

“I had meetings down in Harrisonburg. That’s where I’ve been.”

She thought how much Jesse and Birdie would enjoy this treat, but that pleasure was fleeting. How could she share the candy, considering where it had come from? She could hardly tell her husband that she had been meeting a man in secret and he had given her this gift.

Until this moment, she hadn’t dwelled on the problems she was creating by meeting Daniel. When guilt nibbled, she told herself she deserved moments with someone who understood what she was going through. There was no harm unless she meant harm. Now, with the moonlight glinting off the colorful wrappers, she realized that harm could be caused unintentionally, as well.

She thrust the package back at him. “You know I can’t take anything from you.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “It’s yours now. Don’t you deserve a little pleasure? You take care of everybody. Who takes care of you?”

Reluctantly, she rewrapped the candy and took her time tying the knot. She had never thought of her life quite that way, but of course, that was what troubled her so. Although Birdie tried valiantly, she still required looking after, and would until the end of her days. And Jesse? Jesse had given up on life and on her. He had resumed most of his chores, but she didn’t know how long that would last. She was losing her beloved home, and her husband seemed lost to her already.

She hadn’t realized that Daniel had moved closer, but suddenly his fingers rested under her chin, and he tilted her head so she was looking at him.

“You’re a lovely young woman. You may not feel it’s true right now, but you have a good life ahead of you. And you have choices. Maybe your husband plans to stay here and fight ’til the last, but there’s no reason you should be caught up in that. You’re very easy to love. A man who doesn’t love you is crazy.” He brushed a finger gently along her jaw.

One tear trickled down her cheek. “Where would I go?”

“I have a place in mind.”

His touch felt so good. Having someone understand her feelings and worry about them felt even better. At the same time, her heart beat a frantic warning. She felt a pull toward Daniel Flaherty that could become as hard to resist as the pull of the earth at her feet. It was possible to feel too good, to lose the power of discernment. And she felt that moment quickly approaching.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly. Then he moved closer and kissed away her tear.

She wasn’t surprised. For a moment she stood there as his lips traveled toward hers. Then, before his mouth reached hers, she stepped back just far enough that he dropped his hand and his head lifted.

“Where?” she asked, forcing the conversation back to what he’d said a moment ago.

He smiled, but not like a man who has been thwarted or even warned. “While I was away, I found some land in the Valley, above the North Fork of the Shenandoah River but high enough it won’t flood. With the payment the government will give you for this farm, you can have the land, and some money to start over besides.”

“But where would we live?”

“There’s a cabin. Not much to look at, but it could be added to. Someday you could build a better house.”

“You found it for me?”

“I heard about it and went to see it. I thought of you when I did. My own home’s not so far that I couldn’t look in on you…to be sure you adjust.”

“Jesse will have no part of it. I can tell you that without asking.”

“Then perhaps you need to consider a future without him.”