The Shepherd's Betrothal (9 page)

Hope laughed. “You can fill Mum in. I have some chores I need to get done before I return to the Seaside.” Hope left the kitchen and headed up to her room. As curious as she was about Gabe and Ian's conversations, she had a limited amount of time to get her work done.

She straightened, cleaned and dusted the room within an hour then sat down at her desk and wrote in her journal. The pages before her had provided a place of confidentiality where she freely expressed the guilt and shame of dishonoring her parents by going behind their backs and writing that letter to Ian. Her pen hovered over the page as she wondered if her parents had known better right from the start, especially given what she'd come to feel for Ian after all. “Why did I resist my parents and their plans, Lord?”

She glanced at the clock, closed her journal and headed back to the inn. She continued this pattern over and over again for the next week—work, chores, journal and back to work.

* * *

Tonight Ian McGrae was coming to dinner again. She'd managed to leave him notes and pick up his purchases without seeing him for more than a moment. It was better that way.

A gentle knock at her door caused her to stop writing in her journal. She blew on the wet ink. “Who is it?”

“Ye Mum.”

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly. “Are ye all right, darlin'?”

“Fine, Mum. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing.” Sally Lang sat down on the bed facing her daughter. “Are ye hiding? You spend all yer time at the inn or the house. Ye have not ventured out in a very long time.”

Hope faced her mother. “I'm not trying to avoid anyone.”

“I am concerned with yer fears.” Her mother smiled. “Ye have not had much contact with Mr. McGrae. Are ye afraid of him?”

“Not of him, of me. I can't trust my emotions. One minute I'm angry and upset with him, the next I'm tempted to show more love and compassion than a sister in Christ would show to another.”

Sally reached out and took Hope's hands. “I shall pray ye find peace around Mr. McGrae, and I shall not invite him for dinner again until ye are at peace.”

“No, Mum. I don't mind Mr. McGrae coming to dinner. He's a fascinating man.”

Her mother squeezed her hands. “I know, darlin'. Come, help me make some Key lime pie for dessert.”

Hope smiled. Key lime was her favorite. And perhaps helping to prepare the meal for Ian might be the action she needed to take to calm herself down. After all, it was just dinner with the family. There was no he and she. She was probably thinking far too much about it. She didn't like these feelings of insecurity. She'd never had them before she'd been fired by Hamilton Scott for doing her job.

Focus on Key lime pie, she reminded herself, not Ian McGrae and her insecurities.

* * *

Ian walked past the white picket fence and up the stairs to the Langs' front door. He was nervous.

He raised his hand to knock. Of course, Hope could be working at the inn tonight. He tapped as the door opened. Gabe stood there with his reddish-brown hair neatly combed back, appearing every inch the businessman in his fancy suit. “Ian, it is good to see you, my friend.”

Ian smiled. “And it be good to see ye again, too. How are ye?”

“Good, good. I've made a profit for some of my clients today, so it is a very good day.”

“Congratulations.” Ian gave a slight nod in Gabe's direction. “Ye work hard for it.”

“Not hard enough. I haven't convinced you.”

Ian chuckled as Drake Lang stepped into the foyer. “Let the poor man in, Gabriel.”

Gabe stepped back and Ian stepped into the now familiar front room and hallway of the Langs' home. Drake greeted him with a hearty handshake. “How ye doin', son?”

“Fine, thank ye.” Ian shifted. The differences between this home and his own… “Me sheep are doing better and Conall is quite happy that he's able to run and work the sheep. I've repaired the fence, although I believe the bobcat can probably jump it.”

“You're probably right. But the fence will discourage them some.” Drake motioned toward the sitting parlor. “Come and sit. Can I get ye something to drink?”

“Some of Mrs. Lang's limeade would be nice.”

“I'll see if she has some.” Drake left and Gabe sat down.

Ian tried not to scan the house and look for Hope.

Gabe grinned. “She's in the kitchen helping Mum.”

Just as Ian was about to insist that he wasn't concerned with Hope's whereabouts, a scream from the kitchen pierced the air. Ian and Gabe jumped up and ran to help, Ian's heart pounding with worry that something had happened to Hope.

“G
abe, get the wagon ready!” her father ordered.

Hope tried not to think of the pain. Her body was shaking. Her father had her wrapped in his arms, holding her up. Mother dampened yet another hand towel. “I'm sorry,” she kept saying, over and over.

“It was an accident, Mum,” Hope groaned.

“What happened?” Gabe asked as he and Ian ran into the kitchen. Gabe took one look at his sister's bleeding arm and his eyes opened wide. “I'll have the carriage ready in a minute.”

“What can I do?” Ian asked.

Hope looked down at her arm. Her mother wrapped another towel over the wound with shaky hands. “Hold this.” Her mother demonstrated. “Hold it tight.”

Ian came up beside her and held the cloth down over the wound. Tears fell down her face. She didn't want to cry, but the pain… Was the injury worse than a simple cut? It had to be. She'd never experienced pain like this before. Her mother had been chopping a coconut while Hope held it in place for her. The knife slipped. Her mind was a blur. The throbbing pain clouded everything.

Gabe hollered from outside, “Carriage is ready.”

“Can ye walk, child?” her father asked.

“I'll carry her,” Ian offered. Worry and concern etched his handsome face.

Her father gave Ian a sharp retort simply with his eye-piercing gaze. Hope had seen that gaze on many occasions growing up. It was pretty obvious Ian understood it, as well.

“Forgive me,” Ian mumbled.

“Ian, ye hold the bandage. I'll help Hope down to the carriage. And I'll be driving the carriage to Dr. Peck's office.” Father used his firm don't-bother-to-challenge-me voice.

Ian nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Hope wanted to giggle but pain and good manners kept her from such an outburst. Her father escorted her to the door. Ian, on her other side, held the towel tightly around the wound. She could feel his breath near her ear.

“I'll be prayin',” he whispered.

Those simple words meant so much. The pain seemed to subside a bit. She glanced down. She could see her blood on Ian's fingers as he held down the towel.

Mother followed. With each step her mother sniffled. “I'll be fine, Mum.”

“I'm so sorry, darling, so, so very sorry.”

Her father stopped and turned to his wife. “Sally, it was an accident. Nothing a few stitches won't take care of.”

“I'll meet you at the doctor's office,” Sally said, her voice strained. Hope wished they had a larger carriage instead of the Jenny Lind that only sat two comfortably.

“I'll clean up the kitchen for ye,” Ian offered.

Hope wished he would be coming.

Gabe helped her up into the carriage. Her father took his place and grabbed the reins. “Dr. Peck's, Sally.”

Gabe released her. Hope clamped down on the blood-soaked towel—too hard, and she cried out.

“Yah!” her father yelled, and snapped the reins. The horse bolted forward.

Tears fell. There was no holding them back. She turned and saw her mother removing her apron, then receiving a tender embrace from Ian. His compassion warmed her heart.

* * *

Gabe and Mrs. Lang left shortly after, following the carriage to Dr. Peck's office. Ian stayed behind and cleaned the counter, placed the food back in the pot and covered it with the lid. He washed the dirty dishes and scanned the kitchen again for anything out of place. Hope's wound was deep. She might have severed an artery, the way the blood spurted out.

“Ian,” Gabe called out. His heavy footfalls echoed through the hall. “Are you still here?”

“In the kitchen. How is she?”

“Doc said he had to do surgery to stitch some of the inner tissue together. Which means he'll immobilize the arm for a while to help it heal.”

“I understand. I cleaned up and the supper is back in the pot. If ye think you'll be gone longer we should heat up the food to keep it fresh.”

“Father and mother are consoling one another. I felt kind of awkward and out of place. Mum is beside herself, sayin' it was her fault.”

“It be an accident. It isn't anyone's fault,” Ian added.

“Exactly. I'll go back in an hour, but I thought I'd come by and let you know what was happening. Are you hungry?”

Ian looked at the full pot of roast beef and vegetables. “Aye, that I am. I suppose I shouldn't be but…” Ian tapped his stomach.

“I am, too. Come on, let's eat. Then I'll return to Dr. Peck's. We can't let Mum's good cooking go to waste.”

“Aye, that we cannot.”

They ate and spoke about nothing in particular, about everything…except Hope. Ian could tell that Gabe was concerned for his sister. “Does the doctor feel she'll heal well?”

Gabe nodded. “She's just had so many tough situations put on her in the past few months with work and the betrayal she felt from Hamilton Scott. Then you arrive and, well, I know my sister. She cares for you, and based on the way you've been looking after her today, you seem to care for her, as well. But this whole betrothal situation is getting in the way. Hope's always had a confidence that was unshakable. Now…” Gabe paused. “Now, it appears that she doesn't trust herself, her judgments or anything. I understand her desire to help Grace out at the inn. But she has far more to offer than simply changing bed linens and cooking breakfast.”

“Ye sister is a rare jewel. She'll regain her footing again.”

“Is that what you want, Ian? Do you want her to regain her footing again? And possibly find another man?”

“I am not bound to yer sister any longer. I have no rights.”

“Don't you?” Gabe leaned in toward him and narrowed his gaze. “I may not have found the woman for me yet, but I can see you have regrets concerning Hope. Life is too precious. Look what happened this evening. Don't waste any time.”

Ian stood up. He needed distance from Gabe. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should be going.” Ian started toward the door.

“Ian, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about Hope.”

Ian relaxed his shoulders. Gabe was, as he said, worried for his sister, and it was more than the injury she had suffered tonight. It was the injury to her heart and the changes she'd been making in her life, about many of which he was still clueless. But it wasn't his place to ask. “And I understand that, Gabe. Tell yer family they are in me prayers. Good night, Gabe.”

Ian wanted to check on Hope but, as he'd just pointed out to Gabe, he had no rights regarding Hope Lang or her family.

He headed home in the dark, alone, thinking on all the “if onlys” he'd missed by breaking off his betrothal to Hope.

* * *

The next morning Ian went straight to the Langs' place to seek out Hope and check on her. He stepped up to the two-story Victorian and knocked on the door. Mrs. Lang answered it, wiping her hands on a towel. “Mr. McGrae, it is good to see ye. How are ye? We are grateful for your help yesterday.”

“I'm fine. I came to see how yer daughter is doing.”

“She's going to be just fine.” Mrs. Lang's puffy eyes told the story of a sleepless night of worry.

“I am glad to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

“That is a generous offer, Mr. McGrae, but there is nothing. She's upstairs in her room resting.”

Ian wanted to see her, but knew it was not the right thing to do. He nodded. “Thank ye again for letting me know. Have a grand day, Mrs. Lang.”

A slight smile creased her lips. “I shall try, Mr. McGrae.”

Ian reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “It was not yer fault, Mrs. Lang. It was an accident.”

Sally Lang shook her head. “It was a horror to behold. My hands tremble just picking up the knife.”

“You'll feel better once ye know she's healed and doing well,” he encouraged. He stepped back. “Would ye be so kind as to tell Miss Lang that I came to check on her?”

“I will. Thank ye again, Mr. McGrae, for everything ye have done. God's blessings, sir.”

Ian nodded and stepped back. He had begun to think of the Langs as family, but now he felt a distance from them, a separation. It was probably for the best. He stepped out on the street and turned to see Hope standing at the window. He waved. The flash of a white bandage caught his eye.
Heal her, Lord.

As he worked his way back to his ranch he realized he
should
keep his distance. Hope didn't need a man of meager wealth and possessions. She needed a man who could give her all the desires of her heart. He thought back on the furnishings in the Langs' home. Each piece was finely crafted. Yes, Hope Lang grew up in comfort, more comfort than a shepherd's wife would have.

The weight of his realization settled over him as he walked. It was the last visit he would pay to the Langs' home. Hope didn't need to be reminded of the past. She needed to heal. Not only from the wound on her arm but from the wound in her heart, whatever that might be.

Resolved in his decision, he devoted himself to his ranch, his flock and his dogs for the next week. But he missed her. Just about every waking moment, his thoughts drifted toward Hope.

* * *

Ian sat down on his front step and scanned the field. Tara lay on a mat Ian had fashioned for her. The six puppies were all drinking to their hearts' content. Clare, the runt of the litter, finished first. Her wide tummy full, she waddled over toward the edge of the mat. Ian chuckled and scooped her up. “Ye are a cute one, Clare.” Hope had named her and it seemed to fit. She had blue eyes, each with a patch over them. “How ye doing, girl?” he asked, holding her up for inspection.