Rebecca's Heart (16 page)

“I’d still like to go and visit my family, but now I’d have a reason to return to Boston.” She looked up at him. “And if you’re up and walking by Christmastime …”

He couldn’t help but hope her subtle invitation was one offered in all seriousness. Throughout the time they’d known each other, he’d enjoyed numerous stories of her six brothers and sisters, from how Samuel presented their stepmother, Michaela, with a frog the first time they met her, to how they had adopted little Anna from the Mills Street Orphanage. While he had never met any of them, he could picture them clearly in his mind. Sarah, who loved to talk almost as much as she loved her animals; Adam, who dreamed of running his own maple syrup farm …

All his life he’d longed for a big family, and while the thought of meeting Rebecca’s relations might be a bit overwhelming, he wanted to be a part of them.

Luke watched the hem of her purple dress sweep against the stone flooring as her slender fingers scooped up the remaining pieces. He’d never noticed how her lips pressed together when she concentrated on something or how when she tilted her head she gnawed on her lip.

Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his knee, he thought about the night the
Liberty
sank. He’d thought she was there with him. He remembered now. He’d heard her voice as he clung to the board. She told him not to give up. Not to let go of hope. Frigid waters had swirled beneath him, threatening to ravage his weakened body. He remembered the warmth of her kiss and the taste of her lips, and as he prayed for deliverance, he somehow found the strength to hold on.

Slowly he rolled the chair around the table and across the terrace. Even from where he was, he could smell the flowery scent of her perfume captured by the afternoon breezes. He moved until he was mere inches from her.

“You know you need to grease your wheel.” She turned to him, her hands filled with the last of the chess pieces.

“Really? I didn’t notice.” How could he when she was all he noticed?

She moved to stand then stopped at the sound of ripping fabric. She let out a sharp breath. “Luke, my dress—it’s caught beneath your wheel.”

Unable to stop himself, he laughed aloud but made no attempt to move the chair. “I seem to remember another time you were entangled by my charms.”

“It was a rosebush,” she said with a giggle, examining the front of her dress.

Resting her hands on one side of the chair, she pushed it back slowly until the garment was free. He leaned toward her until he could feel the whisper of her breath against his cheek.

“You’re going to have to be more careful with this contraption.” She let go of the chair but didn’t move away. “You’re liable to catch some poor girl in it.”

“There’s only one girl I have any desire to capture.”

“And who would that be?”

“You.”

Laughing, she tried to pull away but not before he caught her in his arms. Lightly he brushed his lips across hers before letting her go.

The sun spun a halo of gold above her. “What happens next?”

“I believe I have some hard work ahead of me.” He squeezed her hands between his fingers. “If I’m ever going to court you, I have to be able to walk again.”

Rebecca ambled up the brick walk toward Aunt Clara’s home, a lazy smile across her face. The two-story home loomed ahead of her with its corbeled brick exterior and arched windows, obstructed only by the giant oak trees whose yellow leaves fluttered to the ground around her. Back in Cranton, Michaela had recounted dozens of stories pertaining to her growing-up years in Boston with Aunt Clara. Fond memories of Christmases spent in front of the stone fireplace, evenings singing carols and drinking hot chocolate, and especially the fact that the house had been filled with love. In the short time Rebecca had lived here, she’d come to feel as if she’d known Aunt Clara her entire life. She was the grandmother she’d never known.

Taking the porch steps two at a time, she wondered if maybe God’s will for her life had always been right in front of her. She hadn’t known how much she cared for Luke until she lost him. Now that he was back, she knew she never wanted to let him go.

Aunt Clara opened the door, and Rebecca wrapped her arms around the older woman, content with the way her life had turned. After a moment she stepped back, but before she could say anything, she caught the quiver in the older woman’s chin and the white pallor of her face.

“Aunt Clara? What’s happened?”

Aunt Clara squeezed Rebecca’s shoulders and didn’t let go. “We received a telegram from your parents a short while ago.”

Rebecca’s hands covered her mouth. Her parents had never sent anything but letters. If something was wrong with a member of her family …

“Come inside, Rebecca, and sit down.”

Obeying, she followed her aunt into the parlor. The normally cheery room turned gloomy. Even the pale rays of sunlight spilling across rose-colored walls couldn’t brighten the impending despair she felt.

Sitting next to the older woman on the flowered slipcovers, Rebecca leaned forward. “What is it, Aunt Clara? Please tell me.”

Aunt Clara gathered Rebecca’s hands between her wrinkled fingers. “The telegram was brief, so we don’t have all the details, but your brother Samuel was involved in a serious accident.”

Rebecca worked to slow her breathing. He’d sent her a letter a few weeks ago telling her about a girl he’d met. At seventeen he might not be ready for the responsibilities of starting a family, but from his penned words he was quite smitten with the girl.

Please, God, whatever it is, let him be all right
.

“What happened? How is he?”

Aunt Clara shook her head slowly. “Apparently his injuries were quite severe. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Rebecca, but Samuel died this morning.”

fourteen

Rebecca stepped onto the stone terrace behind the Hutton home, unsure how she was going to tell Luke she had tickets for the afternoon train to Cranton. Had it been less than twenty-four hours since he’d kissed her in this very place and told her he still loved her?

I don’t understand, God. Just when I thought things might work out between Luke and me …

He sat in a patch of sun at the edge of the terrace, reading his Bible. She watched him unobserved for a moment, unable to stop wondering how long it would be until she would see him again. In the midst of her sorrow over Samuel’s death, the darkness of last night had brought with it the old seeds of doubts over God’s will for her life. Surely her brother’s death hadn’t been a part of God’s perfect will. A cloud of confusion weighed her down as she struggled to hold on to the fibers of her faith.

But despite the gnawing uncertainties that plagued her over her family’s loss, she knew that whatever the future might bring, she loved Luke. She wanted him to hold her. To tell her everything would be all right. To tell her this was nothing more than a horrid nightmare and when he kissed her she’d wake up and discover it had all been a terrible mistake—

“Rebecca?” He looked up, his smile revealing how happy he was to see her. He closed the Bible in his lap and pushed the chair toward her. “I hadn’t expected to see you until this afternoon.”

“I needed to speak to you about something.”

“Why don’t you come and sit by me?” He paused for a moment and furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

She knew she looked dreadful. Before she left Aunt Clara’s home, she’d glanced into the beveled mirror in her room. Her eyes were red from crying, and her normally rosy complexion had turned into a chalky shade of white. In her losing Samuel, one of the bright lights in her life had been snuffed out forever.

Ignoring the pain in her heart, she tried instead to focus on memorizing every detail of Luke’s face before she left. His cleft chin, eyes the color of maple sugar, his broad shoulders and solid form. Her heart thudded, reacting to his nearness. He’d even shaved, ridding himself of those horrid muttonchops. She noticed another change in his countenance as well. It was as if the anger and frustrations he’d been experiencing had all but disappeared. Would what she was about to say change that?

“Rebecca, what is it?”

She clutched her hands together and sat down on the padded chair beside him, wondering where to start. How could she tell him she was going away and had no idea when she planned to come back to Boston? How could she tell him about her brother?

“Samuel’s dead.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so blunt—so cold. Saying it aloud made it final.

“What?” She saw a flash of pain in his eyes, a look of shock that mirrored her own feelings. He reached out and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

She shook her head, trying to steady her breathing. “I’m still not sure about many of the details. Samuel’s always been a bit of a daredevil, but this time someone else was involved.

Samuel threw the first punch and must have pushed him too far, because the other boy … he … he had a gun.”

“And he shot your brother?”

Rebecca nodded, fighting back the sting of tears. “Adam was there and tried to stop it but couldn’t. They don’t even know the other boy’s name.”

She thought she’d cried until her heart was dry the night before, but she was wrong. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, bringing another measure of soul-wrenching grief. She was angry at Samuel for taking an unnecessary risk and losing his life over a stupid argument. Angry because now she’d never see him again.

Luke rubbed the backs of her hands with his fingers. She felt comfort in his touch but realized that even in his presence he could do nothing to take away the pain she was experiencing.

“He was seventeen years old,” she began between sobs. “He dreamed of becoming a doctor someday. I can still remember so vividly when he and Adam spent countless lazy summers fishing along the Connecticut River. Samuel was always the first to pull pranks on the rest of us.”

She smiled at the memory, wishing she could bring back those carefree days before one tragic moment had changed everything so drastically. “He used to sit in the parlor with Adam and my father, devouring copies of Orange Judd’s
American Agriculturist
for information on scientific farming while planning out their own ideas on how to better develop the land. Samuel’s the one who encouraged Adam to expand his maple syrup farm.”

Now her brother had been killed for no reason. One malice-driven bullet had waylaid every one of Samuel’s dreams.

Luke lifted her chin and turned her head toward him.

“You’re going home, aren’t you?”

“Uncle Ben’s waiting for me outside, but I couldn’t go without saying good-bye to you.”

Her lip quivered. She was only inches from his face. So close she could read the sadness in his eyes and see the tremor of pain in his expression. She could hardly stand being so close to him and knowing that in a few minutes she was going to walk out the door. She didn’t want to make things any more difficult than they already were.

And she felt torn. Torn not only by the conflicting emotions surrounding Samuel’s death, but also by the fact that she was leaving. Luke’s physical recovery wasn’t going to be easy, and she wanted to be here to encourage him; yet she knew she needed to be with her family, as well. If only Luke could come with her—

“Do you have any idea how long you’ll be gone?” Luke asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. With Christmas barely three months away, I thought it might be best to stay at least until after the New Year, but then Michaela’s baby is due in January. And Adam is not taking this well. I’m hoping I can be there for him. We’ve always been close.”

She stopped, not knowing how to say the remaining thoughts that lingered in her heart. Samuel’s death had spun her world into a mass of confusion. She would miss her grandmother’s return and Luke’s recovery—

“Go home to your family.” He leaned forward and wiped away her tears with his thumbs then brushed his lips across hers. “Before long I’ll be walking again and waiting for you as long as it takes.”

She leaned into the warmth of his arms and prayed he was right.

Rebecca shoved the heel of her hand into the smooth bread dough then flipped it onto the floured board. Returning to Cranton had been dreamlike for her. While a few new stores lined the town’s wooden sidewalk, it appeared little had changed. As they’d pulled in front of the gray-shingled farmhouse where she grew up, she’d been greeted by not only the familiar acres of farmland, bordered with stone fences and tall elm trees, but also the subdued welcome of her family.