Where The Heart Is (Choices of the Heart, book 1) (14 page)

“Aunt was called out to Mrs. Dawes early this morning. I went with her, but it looked like it would be an easy birth, so she sent me home.” In the grip of her relief, Chelle didn’t stop to think. She’d been desperate to reassure herself about Martin. “I’ll go out to the farm. I haven’t much to do today anyway. I’ll just tell Jean and be on my way.”

“Thank you, Chelle.” Jessie blew out a breath and gathered her shawl around her again. “I won’t dawdle. Charlotte’s youngest is likely to burn the house down.”

She bustled away, leaving Chelle prey to sudden doubt. She ran upstairs, where Jean was putting Peter down for his nap.

“If Aunt isn’t back by suppertime—”

“Maybe I should go. I could take Peter with me. You’ve had enough grief from gossip as it is.” Jean turned from Peter’s crib and gave Chelle a sharp look that softened to understanding. “You really want to go, don’t you?”

Chelle couldn’t hold Jean’s gaze. “Peter’s just settled. It doesn’t make sense to move him, and it’ll upset him if you’re not here when he wakes. If Aunt Caroline doesn’t get home this afternoon, send Dad along. If that doesn’t satisfy appearances, I don’t care. I’d better be going.”

When she reached the farm, Gyp rose from the sun-warmed doorstep and barked a greeting. Martin came to the door to meet her, frowning, the sleeves of his dark green linen shirt rolled up above his bandaged forearms. “Now then. I was expectin’ Caroline.”

He looked tired, and pain lines showed around his mouth and eyes. Chelle couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell if he was angry, disappointed or just disconcerted to see her. He might not even remember her last visit, but he couldn’t have forgotten what happened at the dance.

“She’s out at a birth, so I came in the meantime.”

“Aye. Come in. Leah’s asleep. Jessie put her down just before she left.”

Chelle followed him into the sitting room. As the silence wore on, she decided he didn’t know what to say to her. Perhaps he remembered everything.

“Jessie said your bandages would need changing this afternoon. Whenever you’d like me to do it, let me know.”

He nodded. “We may as well do it now, while Leah’s sleeping. Jessie left everything ready.”

Martin went upstairs and brought down two bowls, one holding a roll of gauze soaked in an oily mixture and the other a roll of heavier linen. “The linseed oil helps keep the gauze from sticking to the burns. The dry bandage goes over it all.”

They moved to the sitting room. Martin sat in the armchair, and Chelle knelt on the rug in front of him. She cut and unwound the outer bandage on Martin’s right arm, then started peeling away the oiled gauze underneath. Her hand went to her mouth as his raw, angry burns began to show through the fabric.

“Get on wi’ it, lass.” The irritation in his tone made her set her lips. She wouldn’t show squeamishness in front of him. She continued removing layers until she started to meet resistance. In spite of the oil, the gauze had stuck to his skin in places. His arm tensed, and Chelle heard his breath catch, but the bandage had to come off.

“This is going to have to be soaked.” She couldn’t imagine how much that would hurt. On unsteady legs, Chelle rose and fetched a basin of warm water. Not only did Martin have to deal with his pain, she had to bear it, too.

Not daring to look at his face, she wet the gauze in the worst places. She didn’t want to pull quickly and tear the healing flesh on his arm, but doing it slowly had to be agonizing for him.

Working as gently as she could, she managed to free the bandage, revealing the full extent of his injuries. Chelle’s stomach turned over. She’d never seen a bad burn before. Martin held himself rigidly, his fist clenched, until she’d finished applying the new oiled strip. Chelle had to stop and take a few deep breaths before her hands would obey her well enough to add the outer bandage. She tied it off and looked up, her voice almost failing her. “I didn’t know…”

Ashen beneath his freckles, Martin shrugged. Pain and annoyance mingled in his stormy-sea eyes. “It’s nothing that won’t heal.”

Yes, he’d heal if he avoided blood poisoning, but he would be badly scarred. He likely wouldn’t care, but Chelle hated to think of it, hated to think that he’d be left with a permanent reminder of his pain. At least his hands weren’t badly damaged.

Martin seemed to have become like his old self again, edgy and remote. He clearly wasn’t comfortable being alone with her, and Chelle didn’t blame him after what had happened between them at the dance. She felt the same way. She started on his other arm and went through the whole wrenching process again. His left arm was worse than the right. By the time she finished bandaging it, Martin’s face was beaded with sweat and Chelle thought she might faint for the first time in her life.

She closed her eyes and stayed still until the dizziness passed. She felt Martin get up, heard him climb the stairs. Chelle moved to the hearth, dumped the soiled gauze in the grate, set a match to it and watched it burn. How many times would Martin have to go through that?

She put the used linen bandages in the laundry and returned just as Martin came down again with his face washed. He looked a little bit ashamed. “Turned you up a bit, didn’t it? You got through it, though. Thank you, lass.”

Still a bit shaky, Chelle shook her head. “Martin, that must have been awful for you. If I was clumsy, I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t clumsy. You did as well as Jessie could have. Now let’s talk of somethin’ else. What’s goin’ on in the village? I haven’t had any news since Doctor Halstead was here four days ago.” He let out an impatient sigh. “I haven’t even had a bloody newspaper for a week. Jessie wouldn’t leave me to get one.”

Martin stepped past Chelle and took his chair by the hearth. His crankiness made her smile. “I think Jessie’s a born mother, even though she’s never had a family. She dotes on Leah, too. As for news, Maria Westlake told me it’ll be Christmas by the time the insurance money comes through and her father can start to make arrangements to rebuild the mill.” She tucked her feet under her, thankful that the tension between them had dissolved for the moment. “I’ve never been as surprised as I was when she asked me to help with the relief committee. I spoke to her one day a while ago about doing something for Maggie Tate’s family, and she seemed interested, but I hadn’t heard from her since. I’d decided she’d just told me what I wanted to hear to get rid of me. Now I’m starting to think she’s human after all.”

“You’ve shamed her into it.”

Gyp’s reedy bark sounded from outside. Martin let him in and settled in his chair again, with the collie curled up at his feet. Chelle had never seen Gyp in the house before. He must be missing the hours he usually spent with his master up on the hillside.

“Perhaps. You know, I feel sorry for Miss Westlake. She’s lonely. She can’t put herself on a level with her father’s employees, and the titled families nearby would never accept her either, with her father in trade. She told me she’s engaged to a young man in London, so I really don’t know why she stays here.”

“There’s a story behind that, or so I’ve heard. Her mother hasn’t spent much time here in years. Phillip Westlake and his wife live separate lives, and John Watson told me Miss Westlake’s mother comes and goes with whoever she chooses in town, including other women’s husbands. Too bad for Miss Westlake and her fiancé, if it’s true.”

“Maybe that’s why she seems so unhappy and preoccupied. Last Saturday at the food distribution meeting, she looked like she hadn’t slept a wink.” With her parents estranged, Maria must be even lonelier than Chelle had imagined. “Which reminds me, I haven’t thanked you for the produce you sent in.”

“I can spare it better than some of the others with big families to feed. Your friend, Kendra, are she and her mother all right?”

“Yes, for now. Kendra’s young man has been sending her some money when he can, and it’s keeping the wolf from the door. You know, I can’t help thinking she hasn’t seen the last of her David.”

“I’ve said before, you’re one who looks for the best in people, Chelle.”

Chelle cast a nervous glance out the window. The room was growing dim with the early November twilight. Her father or her aunt had better appear soon, or her reputation would be in tatters. The hired man would be showing up before long to do the evening chores. Would he hold his tongue if he found Chelle here? Not likely.

“I suppose I am. Why not? I was right about you, wasn’t I? Now, I’d better get supper started before Leah wakes up.”

Chapter Fourteen

Martin watched while Chelle added dumplings to the pot of beef stew on the range. Then she brought Leah downstairs, wide-awake after her nap. The little one settled on the floor by his chair and petted Gyp, while Chelle returned to the sofa with some sewing. When Leah grabbed a handful of the dog’s fur, Martin reached down to stop her.

“Easy now, don’t hurt the old lad.” He gritted his teeth and lifted his daughter to his lap. Gyp gave him a grateful look out of dark eyes. Leah tried the old dog’s patience at times, but Gyp never lost his temper with her.

Martin grew more and more uncomfortable as the minutes passed. The aroma of good cooking in the air, Leah and Gyp close by, Chelle’s bright head bent in concentration as she stitched—it felt good. Too good. He’d never wanted more from life than his farm, his music and the warmth of a family to come home to at day’s end, but this was all an illusion.

The day after the fire was a blur in Martin’s mind. He’d had a couple of strong doses of poppy to help him over the worst of his pain, but not so much that he didn’t remember waking to find Chelle beside him. He wasn’t sure what they’d said to each other, but he recalled the feel of her soft lips against his as she kissed him, or was that wishful thinking combined with the effects of the drug? He only knew that she’d haunted his dreams since then.

He heard Gerry Newton’s whistle from outside as he arrived to do the milking. Later Martin let Gyp out to get his dish of cream and froze in the doorway at the sight of the Paxtons’ buggy coming up the lane.
Bloody hell.
He waited while they pulled up in the yard and Hugh helped his wife from the buggy.

“Now then, Hugh, Margaret. What brings you this way today?”

“We drove over to Bingham’s to get some of the fancy molasses they carry,” Margaret said, “and we ran into Jessie Mason. We heard her tell Mrs. Bingham she’d had to come in to her sister’s place to help with the children, so we thought we’d stop by on our way home to make sure you were all right.”

You mean you wanted to find out who was here with me.
Martin stepped back and let them in, bracing himself for their reaction when they saw Chelle.

She had put down her sewing. Composed and quiet, she didn’t flinch from Margaret’s glare. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Paxton.”

“Miss McShannon. I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Jessie stopped by to ask Aunt Caroline to come out to stay with Martin, but Aunt wasn’t home, so I came instead.”

Margaret ignored her reply. “Martin, we need to speak with you. Alone.”

Martin looked Margaret in the eye. He saw none of Eleanor’s warmth and compassion there, only self-righteous anger. How could a mother and child be so different? He’d never know, but he’d be damned if he’d let the woman spew her venom behind Chelle’s back. “Anything you need to say can be said in front of Miss McShannon if you have the courage.”

Hugh crossed the room and stood toe to toe with Martin, his voice dripping ice. “Very well, then. This girl has already shown that she has no respect for propriety, staying here with only you and Jessie Mason in the house. Folk talked for a week about you dancing with her, and no one but her, at the harvest dance. Martin, you’re a young man, and it’s only natural that you want another wife, even if Eleanor has only been gone a year, but we will not have this thoughtless, brazen creature raising our daughter’s child.”

Martin’s hands balled into fists.
Don’t let him bait you. It’ll only make things worse
. “Hugh, the lass cared for Leah like a mother until I brought her home. She’s here today because Jessie couldn’t be, Caroline was out, and I needed someone. I can’t look after the house and Leah, and I can’t change these bandages on my own. I won’t listen to you or anyone else talkin’ ill of Miss McShannon. I fought Drew Markham for doin’ the same.”

Chelle’s cheeks bloomed scarlet. Martin mentally cursed himself for putting his foot in his mouth. The Paxtons had likely heard about the fight anyway, but mentioning it now would only strengthen their suspicions that he and Chelle were involved in some kind of improper affair. The look on Margaret’s face proved him right.

“Very well. You can expect to be summoned to the magistrate’s court, then. We’ll be suing for custody of Leah.”

Martin took a step toward Hugh and felt a rush of satisfaction when the man backed away. “You can sue, but you won’t win. Take me to court and I’ll tell the magistrate what kind of parents you were to Eleanor. I don’t know that she ever got a word of affection from either of you. And I’ll also guarantee you’ll have nothing to do with Leah until she’s grown. Now be off. I won’t have her upset by any more of this. You can see yourselves out.”

With another venomous look at Chelle, Margaret stiffened her back and marched out. Hugh followed. Martin locked the door behind them. Leah had toddled over to Chelle and been gathered in her arms. Martin sat next to them on the sofa and laid a hand on Leah’s back. “Christ, what a mess.”

Chelle met his gaze over Leah’s head. “It isn’t your fault, Martin. It’s mine.”

“That’s daft, lass. You aren’t to blame for their beastly minds.”

“No, but that doesn’t matter, does it? I’m a newcomer here, and I haven’t done much to give people a high opinion of me. My staying with you when you brought Leah home could be made to look bad to the magistrate, even though Jessie was here. And I know the Paxtons saw my bag in the hall just now. If I stay here tonight, they’ll have plenty of ammunition to use in court, and most judges would agree that a child is better off with two parents.”

“Two parents! Between them, they didn’t make one parent to Eleanor. They don’t really want Leah any more than they wanted their own daughter.” Gyp barked from the yard, sending Martin to the window. “Who the devil…? Oh, it’s Colin.”

He beckoned through the window. Colin came in, ruddy-faced from his walk. “By the look of things, I’ve arrived just in time.”

Chelle set Leah on her feet and rose to hug her father. “You have, Dad. Take off your coat. Supper’s ready.”

Martin nodded. “Aye, Colin, sit in. Your daughter knows what she’s about in the kitchen, I’d say.”

The men took seats on opposite sides of the table. Chelle put Leah in her high chair and ladled stew onto plates for herself and the men. Colin smiled in appreciation as he inhaled deeply. “She does. She had to learn young, with her mother ill. How are you then, Martin? You look like you’ve had a hard row to hoe.”

“It’s damned uncomfortable, but that’s to be expected. More than anything, I’m tired.”

Impatient for her supper, Leah squealed, then pounded the tray on her high chair. Colin shook his head. “You’ve got a little minx there. Tired? I’ll never forget what it was like when Chelle and her brother were that age. If one of them wasn’t squalling, the other was.”

Chelle rolled her eyes and set her father’s plate in front of him. “Dad, I’m sure Martin doesn’t want to hear baby stories. Martin, here’s yours. Eat before it gets cold.”

Silence fell as they ate. Martin watched Chelle feed Leah until he caught Colin watching him with a thoughtful look in his blue eyes. After that, Martin kept his gaze on his plate.

When he’d found Chelle in the byre milking on her first stay here, it had set him on edge. Eleanor had also enjoyed milking. Seeing Chelle in his wife’s place had grated on him then, but now, watching her with Leah soothed him with a sense of rightness.

After the meal, Colin settled in one of the chairs by the hearth. “I saw Ethan Bowes in the village yesterday, Martin. He’s still coughing a bit, but he’s doing well.”

Chelle lifted Leah from her high chair, and Martin took his daughter to sit with him on the rug in front of the fire. “Aye, he was out to see me a couple of days ago. He’s feeling pretty cut up and foolish about the whole thing. He never dreamed the fire would spread as quickly as it did. As for that, I probably wouldn’t have, either.”

Colin shook his head. “There aren’t many men in Mallonby who could have done what you did, I know that. You’re lucky your hands weren’t worse burned.”

“I made sure of that. I’ve been playing fiddle so long, it’s second nature for me to guard my hands. They’re healed now.”

His fingers absently ruffled Leah’s hair.

Colin smiled. “The little lass has taken to you. I was right that night when she was ill, wasn’t I?”

“Aye, you were. This house is a different place with her here.”

Chelle joined them and perched on the arm of her father’s chair. “She’s changed in the last two weeks. She really isn’t a baby anymore.”

Colin’s smile faded. “Martin, Chelle told me you’re having some trouble with Eleanor’s parents.”

“Aye.” Martin decided not to mention tonight’s episode. If the Paxtons carried out their threats, the whole district would find out soon enough. “The more I think on it, the more I wonder if it isn’t because Chelle is like Eleanor in a lot of ways. She has a grand smile, a light step, and a big heart, and she has music in her.”

Chelle blushed. “I’m flattered, but I’m not musical.”

Seeing her reaction, Martin felt his blood start to run fast and light, the way it used to on a night when the dance floor was full and his bow seemed weightless as it flew over the strings. The way he’d felt when he danced with Chelle. “Yes, you are, lass. It shows when you dance. I think Leah’s goin’ to be musical, too. She likes to hear me play.”

Colin leaned back in his chair, making himself at home. “I’d like to hear you play too, Martin, if you’d care to and if it doesn’t bother your arms.”

“Nay, the doctor said it would be good for them, to keep them from gettin’ stiff.”

He fetched his fiddle, stood beside Leah and began a slow air, one he’d played the last time Chelle had stayed here, the night they’d ended up sitting outside together. He followed it with one of the tunes he’d played at the harvest dance, a lively reel.

Colin jumped up and held out his hand. “Come, lass.”

Chelle stepped into his arms. Her father whirled her around the room while Martin played one tune after another. She’d come by her grace on the dance floor honestly, it seemed. Colin was nimble enough on his feet. They danced until Chelle dropped onto the sofa, laughing. “Dad, I need to catch my breath.”

“I’m winded, too. It’s been awhile.” Colin sat beside her. They exchanged a look full of memories before he turned to Martin. “You haven’t forgotten how to play, lad. Sidonie would have enjoyed that.”

Chelle smoothed her hair, rose and lifted a sleepy-eyed Leah from the rug by Martin’s feet. “Somebody’s ready for bed.”

Martin kissed his daughter’s forehead and watched Chelle carry her upstairs.

When they heard the bedroom door close, Colin cleared his throat. “This row with Eleanor’s parents… Do you think they’ll actually take you to court?”

Whether or not they managed to get the case before the magistrate, the Paxtons would make as much trouble as they could, that was for sure and certain. Martin fetched whiskey and glasses, poured two healthy shots, and downed half of his own. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but now I think they might. They haven’t dealt with losing their daughter, and they think Chelle wants to take her place.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, lad, but I think Chelle could do worse.”

Martin just managed not to gape at Chelle’s father like an idiot. Did Colin have the same touch of foresight his mother was said to have had? Had it allowed him to see into Martin’s heart? Or were his feelings for Chelle obvious? “She might not like you saying that.”

Colin swirled his glass, took a thoughtful sip. “The night Leah was ill, I told you I wasn’t sure I’d done the right thing by bringing Chelle here, but I was talking nonsense. I know my girl, and she’s one to be reckoned with when she really wants something. If she’d really wanted to marry her young man in Georgia, I think she would have made it happen.”

The whiskey seemed to have gone straight to Martin’s head. “Colin, I’m all at sea these days. Eleanor’s only been gone a year. When I lost her, I thought I’d died too, in every way that matters.”

Colin leaned forward, his eyes so like Chelle’s when she was troubled. “I remember the day the doctor told me Sidonie wasn’t going to get well. I’d never felt fear like that before, knowing I was going to lose her, and that there was nothing I could do to prevent it. And when she passed away, the pain was even worse than I’d feared, but if we’re going to live at all, we can’t cling to the pain. That’s not what Eleanor would have wanted for you and Leah.”

Martin’s pulse started racing. “No, it isn’t. I learned that the night Leah was ill.”

Colin glanced at the stairwell again and lowered his voice. “Aye. As for Chelle, I can’t read her mind or her heart, and maybe I’m talking out of turn, but I’ve seen how she reacts when your name is mentioned. The lad she fancied at home was a rich man’s son, with generations of blue-blooded Virginians behind him. Chelle is a plain farmer’s daughter. I think she might be happiest as a plain farmer’s wife.”

Martin’s voice failed him. Since the dance, he couldn’t doubt that Chelle found him attractive, but to have her father see it and give his blessing knocked the breath out of him. “I don’t know what to say.”

Colin laughed. “Don’t let me rattle you, lad. I’m only saying that life’s too short not to take a chance on happiness when it comes around.”