Wishes on the Wind (49 page)

    His handsome face tightening with anger, Sean darted a quick look around the hallway as he grasped Meg's arm to pull her up the staircase with a warning glance. Halting only after the bed room door had closed behind the three of them, Sean released her with a grunt of disgust.

    "Has this whole affair addled your brains, Meg? Do you hope to give Terry and me away, after all? Empty bellies make the pay of an informer seem appealin' even to those you'd not suspect. Or did you forget that in your concern for David Lang?"

    "Is it true, Sean?" Meg's eyes pleaded for a denial. "I want you to tell me if it's true."

    "What difference does it make who was on that train?" Sean felt Terry tense behind him as he pressed on sharply. "A man's life is a man's life. Or do you value David Lang's life more highly than the lives of others? Is that it?" Sean's gaze narrowed. "Would you value his life over mine, Meg?"

    Sean waited only until his sober query registered in his sister's eyes, before continuing in a lower tone. "You asked me for the truth, and here it is. It may yet come to a choice between him and me, Meg, and I pray you have the strength to make the right one."

    When no response was forthcoming from his sister's still lips, Sean turned back to the door. The sound of it closing behind him reverberated in the silent room as Terry met Meg's empty stare.

    Abed but unsleeping, Meg heard the sound of the doorknob turning the moment before the bedroom door swung slowly open. The clock on the dresser was not visible in the darkness of the room, but Meg sensed the lateness of the hour. Moving with a surprisingly light step for a man his size, Terry closed the door behind him, and within minutes slipped into the bed beside her.

    Stiff and unmoving, Meg felt Terry's strong arm slip around her. His breath against her cheek was scented with spirits, but she knew it was not drink that had kept him from returning home. No, it was she, herself, who had driven him away with her silence. And her lack of remorse astounded her.

    "Meg…" Terry spoke into her ear as he drew her back against him. His gentle brawn enveloped her, but the former peace of that haven deserted her as she remained rigid in his arms. "Meg, I'm sorry, darlin'."

    Turning abruptly to face him, Meg strained to read the blunt features of the man she had come to know so well. But did she really know him? Terry had lied to her, denied the plan he and Sean had been formulating laboriously the day long. Had she known that in her heart? Was that the reason she had instinctively questioned Sean instead of him?

    ''Oh, Terry" The words escaped her lips in a surge of despair that caused Terry's arms to tighten compulsively around her. A shaft of moonlight illuminated his face as he moved, and she saw that his despair matched her own.

    "Aye, Meg, it hurts to feel this strangeness between us. I've suffered for it the evening long and I've just gathered the courage to come home to face ye. I'll not lie to ye, Meg, for yer senses are keen and ye realize that there's much to me that ye did not suspect before. And I tell ye now, despite all the pain it gives us both, that there's much ye'll never know."

    The coldness inside Meg grew. She attempted to withdraw from Terry's embrace, but he would not allow it, forcing her to speak the words she had avoided. "If you're not the man I married, Terry, who are you? What have you changed into?" And then in a flash of insight, "Or was all that went before a farce, with your true self now emerging?"

    "Ask me no questions, Meg, and I'll tell ye no more lies. I can only tell ye this, me darlin' Meg. The man who loved ye, loves ye still. The man who swore to cherish ye and care for ye all of his life, still swears the same. None of that has changed, and it never will."

    "But"

    "There are no buts, Meg, and to show ye that I mean all I say, I'll not ask from ye what I'm not prepared to give in return. I'll not ask what David Lang meant to ye once, or means to ye now. And while I pledge me love to ye, I pledge something else as well." A new fervor entered Terry's rasping tone. "Sean made no excuses for what he did and neither will I, either for me lies or for me part in the train wreck, except to say that this
is
war. I'm a soldier, Meg. When me and mine are threatened, I depend on me instinct to get me through. So, I tell ye now, whatever David Lang was to ye, if he stands in the way, he'll go down."

    Meg made no response to Terry's cold, flat statement, experiencing a sense of unreality as Terry's mouth descended to cover hers with a deep, loving kiss. She heard the threat in his voice, as well as the love, as he declared in a whisper, "Yer mine, Meg. I'll never let ye go."

    Meg finished speaking and Sheila averted her face, avoiding the scrutiny of her friend's clear blue eyes. The sound of their footsteps echoed hollowly against the boardwalk, emphasizing the unusual quiet and lack of activity on Main Street as they walked side by side. Sheila knew the town's silence was deceiving. It hid the turmoil seething beneath the surface calm since the train wreck two days earlier. Wary, the residents of Shenandoah had heard one shoe drop. With long experience in matters of violence and retribution, they waited for the other shoe to fall.

    But Meg and she were not amusing themselves today, glancing in shop windows and passing the time in casual conversation as they had many times before. The silence between them grew uneasy, and Sheila looked up at the blue sky overhead, allowing herself momentary respite in the graceful wisps of clouds artfully stretched against the endless blue and in the heat of the sun's rays against her strong shoulders. She was barely twenty-one, but her Ma had accusingly pointed out a gray hair amongst the blond strands that morning, and accustomed as she was to all forms of her Ma's nagging at her spinsterhood, she had been unable to dismiss it.

    The silence between her and Meg lengthened as Sheila automatically shortened her stride to match her friend's. Glancing toward her, Sheila recalled the many times she had envied Meg's petite stature, her gleaming dark curls and flawless skin. And those shining O'Connor eyes. She loved her friend all the more for them, while suffering from jealousy as well.

    But Sheila had long ago come to terms with her heavy straw-colored hair that refused to curl, with skin that freckled with the first touch of the sun, and common features that laid little claim to beauty. She consoled herself that she had grown into a full-bodied woman, ample without being obese in the areas that gave pleasure to a man.

    She was healthy and strong, built to bear many children, and she knew it was only her visits to Ita McFee, started early on in her loving affair with Sean, that had saved her. Most said the woman was a witch and would have nothing to do with her, but Sheila knew better. Liberal use of the woman's herb brews and salves had saved her from bearing physical proof of her alliance with Sean, but that knowledge was a bitter victory, indeed. That last thought caused her a familiar pang of despair, and Sheila glanced at Meg once more. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that they loved the same man dearly, if in different ways, and while both were dedicated to his welfare, they could agree on little concerning him.

    Growing uncomfortable with the silence between them, Sheila offered Meg a reluctant smile and an admission.

    "You're right, Meg. I know you are. And so's my Ma."

    Sheila followed behind as Meg turned off Main Street toward the path that would eventually separate them, bringing Meg to her residence and Sheila to the small patch house where she still lived with her parents. Sheila was taken aback by the unexpected intensity in Meg's gaze as she turned toward her abruptly when out of view of the street.

    "Aye, I'm right, Sheila. You've known I'm right all along, but for all these long years you've done little more than remain at Sean's beck and call." Unexpected tears turning her eyes to liquid silver, Meg grasped Sheila's arm with a fierce grip. "It's not a lack in you that's at fault, Sheila. If Sean could truly love anyone, I know it would be you. I've always known something happened to Sean when Da and the boys died, that something died inside him as well, but it's more than that now. It's a sickness that affects the way he thinks and the things he does. It won't allow him to love."

    "But he loves you, Meg."

    "Aye, he loves me." Meg spoke the words, knowing the heavy burden in that truth. "But that love was fixed deep inside him before his heart turned cold. You don't know the things I know, Sheila, the things I can't reveal. If you did"

    "I know more than you think." Her words emerging past the thick lump in her throat, Sheila pushed a strand of hair back from her face, realizing that she was beginning to perspire although the day was only pleasantly warm. Her voice dropped a notch softer. "I know about the meetings Sean attends over at Muff Lawler's saloon. I know he feels a satisfaction far greater than any he can receive in my arms when he does the bidding of the group gathering there. I know he's dedicated his life to the hatred he carries inside him, and should he die tomorrow while getting his revenge, his only regret would be leaving you."

    Sheila paused, forcing back the sob rising in her throat as she spoke her next words. "And I also know Sean will never marry me."

    "Oh, Sheila"

    "But you mustn't pity me, Meg." Her sudden lack of color belying her stiff smile, Sheila continued. "I knew the direction my love for Sean was taking me from the beginning. Sean was honest with me, you see. He warned me from the first of all that you've said now, and I accepted his terms."

    "Why, Sheila?" Meg's tortured expression cut Sheila deeply, and a great swell of compassion rose within her as Meg continued raggedly. "You were made for a full life to be a wife and a mother. You mustn't spend your youth on Sean with no promise for the future. There're men who would look favorably on you if you'd but give the nod. Charlie McGee, Willie Clancy good, honest men."

    "But none of them are Sean." Sheila shook her head, her anxiety rising. "Ah, Meg, can't you see? I saw that first seed of darkness take root inside Sean. And when it started to grow, my love for him didn't change. Oh, there were times when I thought I'd had enough for sure, and I sought to turn my back on him. But you know as well as I that it didn't work. I only ended up hurting the fellas I encouraged, and then had to swallow my pride even more than in the past when I begged Sean to take me back."

    Sheila's eyes filled with the deep sincerity of her words. "He's the only man for me, Meg. One glance from Sean and my heart flutters. One smile and the fluttering takes wing. One kiss, and I know I could never truly turn away from him, no matter what the future holds." Sheila's chin dropped as she hesitated briefly, but she raised it again with determination. "I know the darkness inside him is growing, but when Sean holds me in his arms, he's loving, not hating. I'm thinking it's his only chance against the sickness of his soul."

    Pausing again, Sheila glanced away, only to return her gaze to Meg more fervently than before, her voice a whisper. "And I made the decision long ago, Meg, that if Sean's path closes the gates of heaven to him forever, I'd at least have given him joy here, on earth. So it's all up to me, you see."

    "What's up to you?"

    "To make it good enough for Sean now to last for eternity."

    "Sheila…"

    Meg started to cry, and Sheila rubbed her friend's shoulder comfortingly as she had done when they were children.

    "And if you're thinking that I'm making myself a martyr for Sean's sake, believe me when I say it's not so. For, you see, I've taken what I want from life. And what I want is Sean."

    "But will you regret this, Sheila? Will there come a day when you'll hate Sean and yourself for"

    "Never."

    With her short, unequivocal response, Sheila dropped her hand back to her side. "Don't worry for me, Meg. I've my eyes open and I'm as content as I will ever be. And maybe between the two of us, we'll yet turn that handsome brother of yours around."

    "Aye, maybe we will."

    The lack of conviction in Meg's brave response more than she could bear, Sheila turned toward the patch, further speech beyond her.

    Meg watched Sheila walk away with her head held high, her fair hair swinging against her erect shoulders, but the image blurred as the injustice of it all returned the heat of tears to Meg's eyes. Willing away her weakness, Meg found herself following the road home, when the thought struck her that she was in no condition to face inquiring eyes.

    Continuing past the house where Aunt Fiona's silent scrutiny awaited her, where Uncle Timothy's hawk like stare would fasten on her temporary weakness to use it to his advantage, where she ran the risk of encountering Terry and Sean if they had returned from their secretive early-morning trip, Meg unconsciously sought a haven that had once given her comfort in similar times of despair.

    The towering breaker and its mountainous dumps of cinder and slag behind her, Meg started up the overgrown path she had used as a child. Sean's part in the train wreck two days earlier had forced her tense conversation with Sheila, but Meg now realized the uselessness of her endeavor. She knew now that Sheila was as wed to Sean in her mind as she was wed to Terry by the church, and that Sheila would stick with Sean to the end, wherever that led him.

    A spot of shame stirred inside Meg. She knew the distance that had come between Terry and herself since the train wreck was her     fault, but she could not seem to come to terms with his deceit. The thought haunted her that if her husband was not the man she thought him to be, she did not truly know him at all.