He had retraced every foot of the
route between the farm and Cora’s, and he’d found no sign of her.
He didn’t know what to do except go home, change clothes, and get a
search party going. He needed help. There was too much area for one
person to cover, and alone, he might miss something. When Belinda
had fled that night, he’d waited too long to go looking. He vowed
not to repeat his mistake with his daughter.
As he trudged back to the farm through
the mud, it occurred to him that he might even get Red Bailey to
bring his bloodhound along. But it would all take time, and he felt
like that was the one thing he didn’t have. Every hour that Rose
was out here—somewhere—was another hour that she might be hurt
without help, or lost and scared with no one to turn to.
Unless, of course, she had come home.
With that possibility looming before him in the rain, he picked up
his pace and hurried to the house. When he got there, he saw that
the back door was standing wide open.
He took a couple of running steps
forward. “Rose? Emily?” But there was only silence. He trotted into
the kitchen and found no one there. He called out again.
“Emily?”
Upstairs in Emily’s bedroom, he found
her trunk pulled to the middle of the room, and open, empty dresser
drawers. Draped over the trunk lid was a cloud of some kind of
white fabric with a headpiece attached. Luke realized that this
must be the veil she’d told him about.
He put a finger on the delicate
fabric, and remembered the shy hesitation in Emily’s voice as she’d
revealed her belief the veil would make her beautiful. In a sudden
cascade of memories, he thought of all the things Emily had done to
help Rose. Covered in chicken shit, her first concern had been to
ask him about Rose’s lessons. Then, she’d braved Cora’s wrath by
using Belinda’s tablecloth as a tent to save Rose’s lamb. And last
night, Emily had sat with Rose, listening to her girlish fancies
about satin and lace gowns.
An icy hand of reason closed around
his heart. Why the hell should he believe what Cora had told him?
Why had he been so willing to accept as truth what she’d said, when
he had years of experience with her manipulation and lying? God,
he’d said horrible things to Emily, all based on what Cora had told
him. What if it wasn’t true?
What if—well, the answer to
the
what if
was
right here before his eyes. Emily was packing to leave. The only
two people he cared about might be lost to him this very minute,
thanks to that damnable bitch, Cora Hayward, the fact that he’d
waited too long to stand up to her, and that he’d held Emily back
at arm’s length because of his guilt over Belinda. He’d never felt
more helpless in his life.
“
Christ, get hold of
yourself,” he said, shaking off the inertia.
He went back downstairs, to try to
decide what steps to take next, when he saw Emily’s ring and note
on the kitchen table. His heart stumbled in his chest at the sight
of the wedding band he’d given her and she’d just returned. He’d
never even bothered to replace it with one that fit her elegant
hand. He was a fool. He snatched up the paper, afraid of what he
would find there. Instead, he smiled.
“
Gone to cemetery to bring
Rose home.”
How she knew where to look, Luke had
no idea. But in some ways, Emily knew Rose better than he
did.
He ran out to the wagon again and
jumped up to the seat. He’d left the team out in the rain,
something he never would have done under any other circumstances,
and he felt rotten about it. He had a lot of things to make up for,
if his hunches were right.
“
If it’s any comfort to you,
I’m just as wet and cold as you are,” he told the
horses.
He urged the team down the road which
was getting soupier with every passing hour. Darkness would be upon
him soon. As he passed the Manning place, he saw Chester in his
oilskins, moving his sheep to a higher pasture. Chester flagged him
down.
“
Gotta move the flock, Luke.
If you’ve got stock near the creek, you’d better get them away from
it.”
“
Chester, can your boys move
the sheep?”
“
Well, I s’pose—”
“
I need your help. Emily and
Rose are at the cemetery. I’m worried that they might get in
trouble with that bridge.”
“
God almighty, what a time
to go payin’ respects to the dead!” He turned and called one of the
boys out in the field. “Morris! You, Morris! Get Willie to help you
move them sheep. Tell your mother I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Then to Luke, he asked, “Have you got a rope back
there?”
“
Yes, and this lumber if we
need it.”
“
All right, then.” Chester
clambered up to the wagon seat, his stiffly-healed broken leg
obviously hindering him. But he was willing, and Luke was grateful
for it. He’d been a good neighbor and a good friend.
He slapped the lines on the horses’s
backs and they lurched forward toward the cemetery. Gripping the
lines, Luke said a silent prayer for only the second time in his
life, but it was the same one he’d said the night that Rose was
born.
Please let my wife and
child live.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emily’s wet skirts wrapped themselves
heavily around her legs, impeding her progress as she hurried along
the muddy road. She had an ache in her side and her feet squished
inside her soaked shoes. But at least the cemetery was up ahead,
and she was almost positive she’d find Rose soon.
She crossed the narrow log bridge that
spanned the creek and noticed that the water was running high and
fast. They’d had so much rain, and there had been that conversation
she’d overhead at the social about mountain runoffs being high this
year. The sky was low and gray and darkening, completely obscuring
the view of the Columbia River that was usually visible from here
on a clearer day.
She turned into the cemetery gate and
looked for the elm tree that sheltered Belinda Becker’s grave. Just
as she suspected, she saw Rose’s small figure huddled at her
mother’s headstone. Relief made Emily’s knees like soft
rubber.
“
Oh, dear God,” Emily
intoned. “Rose!” She ran to the grave and found Rose wailing with
her cheek resting against the chiseled letters of Belinda’s name.
“Rose, sweetheart, you have to come home!”
Rose looked up at her and
Emily saw such heartbreak in her small face, such disillusionment,
that she thought her own heart would break as well. “Go away! I
thought you were my friend—I
believed
you all those times you said
my daddy—Mr. Becker—really loved me!”
If Emily lived another hundred years,
she would never forget the horror of this moment. Luke could be
blamed for taking Cora’s word over hers—after all, he should know
better. But Rose was only a child and thought that her grandmother
loved her. She believed the lie she’d been told. How could she
conceive that Cora really loved no one, not even Rose? Emily could
barely fathom it herself.
She crouched next to Rose, trying to
shield her from the weather but it was nearly impossible. Although
the elm helped a little, the wind drove the rain at them as they
huddled there. Rose’s dark braids hung heavy and wet from her head,
and her new dress and apron were sodden.
“
We’ve got to get out of
here now, sweetheart. Let me take you home. We’ll talk there and
get this all straightened out.”
“
I don’t have a home! Daddy
isn’t my father, you aren’t my mother—I don’t have anyone except
Grammy.” Rose wrapped one arm around the headstone. “And
Mama.”
Emily sat down next her,
heedless of the wet grass. “Luke Becker may not be the man who gave
you life—you aren’t related by blood—but he loves you with all his
heart. He loves you much, much more than my own stepfather loved
me.” The child seemed unimpressed with this. “Rose, listen to me—I
don’t know what your grandmother told you, but she shouldn’t have
said anything. Luke didn’t want you to know because as far as he’s
concerned you
are
his daughter. In all the ways that truly matter.”
“
She said that
you
told her about me.
You told her that Daddy isn’t my father.” A gust of wind came up
and blew her words across the headstones.
Cora’s lie was as complicated as the
proverbial tangled web. Emily shook her head and raindrops fell
from her hair. “I never told anyone anything. It wasn’t my place.
At first I disagreed with your father’s decision to keep the secret
from you, but in the end, I believed he was right. Do you love him
less because you aren’t related to him?”
“
N-no.” Rose swiped a hand
across her eyes, smudging her face with mud and tears.
Thank God, Emily thought. The child
was more reasonable than some adults she knew. “Your grandmother
was wrong to tell you what she did. She’s known all along that Luke
is your stepfather, too, you know.”
Rose sniffled. “She has?”
“
Yes, but I think you owe it
to your father to let him explain it to you. He’s the one who knows
it best, and this all happened years before I came to Fairdale.”
She took Rose’s icy hand in her own. “But remember one thing—both
of us, Luke and I, love you very much. We want you to be safe and
happy, and to have a good life. Do you believe me?”
A poor, drenched little urchin, Rose
considered her with solemn reddened eyes. At last she
nodded.
Emily smiled at her and reached out to
touch her cold cheek where the carving had left a sharp mark.
“Good, I’m glad. Now, please, let me take you home. It’s miserable
out here and it’s going to get dark soon. Plus your father is
beside himself with worry—he’s out looking for you now on foot. We
didn’t know what happened to you when you didn’t show up at the
farm.”
There was no point in telling the girl
that her grand hope for family and home had fizzled away, and that
she’d be leaving on the first steamboat she could arrange passage
on. Rose had been traumatized enough for one day. Still gripping
the girl’s hand, she stood, and Rose gained her feet as
well.
Emily put her arm around her thin
shoulders and pulled her close, and steered them toward the road.
The rain began falling harder, and as they approached the log
bridge, Rose looked down and then held back.
“
What’s the matter?” Emily
asked over the wind and rain.
“
The creek is awful
high—”
“
I know, that’s why we must
cross quickly so we can be on the home side. We don’t want to be
wandering around out here in the dark.”
“
Well, okay—”
With Emily still holding onto Rose,
they both stepped on the bridge at the same time. “It’s not very
wide. We’ll hurry.”
With just two more paces to go,
suddenly the bridge heaved a tremendous groan and one of the
support beams came away. Screams echoed off the hillsides, muffled
only by the low clouds. Emily tumbled first and Rose followed.
Emily twisted Rose so she would break the girl’s fall and in the
process, scraped both hands on a log. They bounced down the short
slope, roots, pebbles and vines grabbing at them, slowing their
fall. After what seemed an eternity, they landed on a dirt shelf,
stranded between the road above and the rushing water
below.
Dazed, Emily sat up and immediately
reached for Rose. Mud streaked the girl’s face, and leaves dotted
her hair. Emily cupped her shoulders and studied Rose for injuries.
“Rose! Are you all right?”
“
Yes, I think so.” She
looked around, at the log that had dropped into the creek, and at
the sheer wall behind them covered with ferns and grass. “Maybe I
can climb up to the road and get help.”
Emily was doubtful, but a girl Rose’s
size might make it up. “All right, I’ll give you a boost.” She
interlaced her fingers. “Step here in my hands and see if you can
grab that root sticking out of the dirt up there.
Rose put her foot on Emily’s hands and
Emily pushed with all her might to lift the girl high enough to
grab the one handhold within their reach. Puffing and straining,
she grunted, “Can you get it?”
“
Y-yes,” Rose grunted in
reply, “but it’s all wet and muddy and it keeps slipping out of my
hand.”
“
All right, come down.”
Emily lowered her with a great exhale. “We don’t dare risk losing
our balance and falling into the water.”
Rose was muddy and had grass stains on
her wet dress. “How are we going to get out?”
“
Your father is looking for
us right now. He’ll be here, don’t worry.”
Rose leaned her head against Emily.
“This is how my mama died.” Fear laced her voice as she wrapped her
arms around Emily’s waist. “In the rain. Grammy said
so.”
Grammy was full of hot gas, Emily had
long ago decided. She returned Rose’s embrace, trying to soothe the
girl with long strokes on her back. “No, honey, your mother died of
pneumonia. That’s a sickness of the lungs. Rain can’t kill anyone
unless they drown somehow. When we lose someone we love, through
death or for some other reason, all we can do is keep them in our
hearts and go on living.” They were brave words, but Emily wondered
if she’d really be able to follow her own advice. She glanced down
at the raging, swirling water and thought, oh so briefly, that life
without Luke wouldn’t be worth much. But almost as soon as the
thought crossed her mind, it was gone again. She would have to be
strong, but she was already strong. Hadn’t she discovered that
about herself over the last few weeks? And she would be unhappy,
but she would go on. She would try to find meaning in life
again.