Beloved (27 page)

“Took you long enough,” Ned said.

“Aye, it did at that. But not for lack of tryin’, lad.”

The boy grunted.

“Your ma, prettiest girl in the county, she was. Eyes that sparkled with laughter. She was smart, too, and determined. Fearless, our da said, and ‘twas true. Aileen never let anything stop her from what
she wanted to do. I’m thinking, from what Mr. Applegate’s told me about you, that you must be like your ma in that.”

Diana closed her eyes, hating the story because it was taking Ned away from her, loving the story because these were things Ned should know. The same way she sometimes wished she could know more about her own father, Sweeney Brennan, and how and why he’d come to America from Ireland. The same way she wished she could know more about her older brother and sister. She remembered too little of them. Like Ned, much of the past had been taken from her by the death of her mother. How wonderful it would be if someone showed up in her life, to tell her all the things she didn’t know about her family.

Dillon’s voice intruded on her thoughts. “Mr. Applegate has offered me a job, lad. Will that be all right with you now? To have me workin’ here so we might get to know each other.”

“Really?” Ned turned toward Diana. “He’s not taking me away?”

The best she could do was shake her head and give him the slightest of smiles.
Not today, Ned. Not yet
.

Jeremiah and Gloria sat in the shade on the east side of the barn, both of them looking at the horses grazing in the paddock.

“Will that man take Ned?” Gloria asked softly.

“Perhaps. But I could stop it from happening.”

“You?” She glanced his way.

“Yes. Me.” Jeremiah had never hesitated to use his wealth to get exactly what he wanted. He would do the same for Tyson and Diana.

“But
should
you stop him from being with his uncle?”

He drew a deep breath and released it. “I don’t know.” The words felt odd on his tongue. Uncertainty was a stranger to him.

Gloria twisted on the bench to face him. Her expression was tender, yet serious. “Jeremiah, I’m asking you not to interfere.”

“Interfere? But—”

“Our children love each other. I’m sure of it. But there are still hurts and mistakes that must be overcome, and they need to overcome them on their own, as a couple. Without
help
from either of us.”

She made “help” sound like a foul word.

“Only God knows for sure if Ned is to be part of the family they make together. We must allow your son and my daughter to listen for God’s direction.”

Jeremiah leaned his back against the wall of the barn. “I’ve never been good at watching from the sidelines. I like to be in control of events.”

“‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”

“Pride? What has pride to do with it?”

“When we think we have control, it means we aren’t trusting God to take care of us. That’s pride.”

Jeremiah stroked his beard. He’d never considered it that way before. But then he’d never given much thought to his Maker either. Not until he’d come to Boise and heard his son speak openly about his faith. Not until he’d found himself changing, little by little, because of this woman by his side.

“‘Thou hast beset me behind and before,’” she said, “‘and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.’”

“I guess that must be from the Psalms.”

Gloria smiled gently. “Yes. Psalm 139. You should read it, Jeremiah.”

“I will.” And he would, although it surprised him to realize he was willing to do so.

To Tyson, the day felt laden with traps for him to fall into, and by the time the household settled in for the night, he was mentally and physically exhausted.

Dillon Macartan had been introduced to the head gardener and advised of his new duties. He’d been given a room above the stables, which seemed to suit him well. And although it had felt awkward, Ned’s uncle—both stranger and employee—had been invited to join the family for supper that night. The meal had passed without misstep, but the strain had shown on everyone’s faces.

In his room, the house quiet, Tyson dismissed his valet for the night and sank onto the edge of the bed.

“Thy will be done, Father,” he whispered. “Thy will be done.”

It was a prayer he’d repeated in his mind throughout this day. It was the best thing he could pray for Ned and the future. Tyson knew what the boy said he wanted—to stay with the Applegates. He knew what Diana hoped for—to become Ned’s adoptive mother. He knew what he envisioned—to raise the boy in a home where everyone served the Lord. But he couldn’t be sure what God’s plans were, even though he knew whatever they were would be for Ned’s best.

God’s will be done.

A soft rap drew Tyson’s gaze to the door. “Yes.”

“It’s me,” Diana answered. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” He stood as the door opened.

She wore a yellow-gold dressing gown that would look at home in a ballroom. Her hair fell artfully over her shoulders and down her back. She was incredibly beautiful. So beautiful, inside and out, he wondered how he’d left her so long ago, even to spite his father. A memory of the two of them, husband and wife, holding onto one
another amid rumpled sheets flashed in his mind. Desire surged, strong and white hot.

“Tyson, we … I … I never was able to … I didn’t get to tell you why I came to your office this morning.”

He swallowed hard. “No, you never did.”

Her eyes seemed darker than usual in the dim light of the bedchamber, her complexion even more pale, her lips ever more kissable.

“Why don’t you tell me now?” He wondered if she could understand the effort it took for him to stand in one place, keeping all that distance between them.

She folded her hands before her waist and drew a breath. “You aren’t forcing me to stay with you. I’m not … I’m not staying because we made a bargain.”

He caught the glitter of tears in her eyes now.

“Tyson … could you give me another chance?”

“Chance for what?”

“To make our marriage work. To learn to be your wife.”

“Are you certain, Diana?” Tyson couldn’t stop himself from moving closer now. “Absolutely certain?”

She nodded.

Though what he wanted was to crush her against him, instead he folded her into a tender embrace. He wanted to declare his love but was afraid it might frighten her off. Yet he would not be denied the taste of her lips.

Not again.

Not now.

I love you, Tyson
.

As the kiss deepened, wild sensations shot through Diana, leaving her limp and unresisting in his arms. She wished he would
sweep her off her feet and carry her to his bed—and the desire to be joined with him again surprised her more than anything. She’d thought such passion had been the headstrong recklessness of youth. Apparently it was not.

I’ve been a fool … A fool … A fool …

At last Tyson broke the kiss. “I’d better walk you back to your room.”

In the past she would have taken his words as a rejection, as a sign he didn’t want her, but she sensed his protection. He was giving her time to be sure. He did it because he cherished her, something he’d promised to do on their wedding day.

A little more of her hurt from the past fell away.

February 1900

God was a relentless God. He pursued those who belonged to Him in unfathomable ways. His lordship demanded obedience, not out of fear but out of love.

These things and many more Tyson had learned during his months of convalescence, during the time he had hidden his identity from everyone, even those whom he now called friends.

But God knew who he was and God would not allow the lies to continue. The Lord had work for Tyson to do, and that work would require honesty, integrity, and humility. It would require hard choices, perhaps painful choices. It would require he do whatever was necessary to heal those he’d harmed. And cleaning up the mess he’d made of his life had to start within his own family.

Beginning with his wife.

God help him. He would need a miracle to make things right with Diana.

TWENTY-SIX

The sweltering sun of July beat down upon the Applegate home two Sundays later. The heat was relentless. Not a whisper of a breeze stirred the tree limbs.

After a light luncheon following the family’s return from church, both Diana and her mother went to their rooms to lie down. But Ned—being a ten-year-old boy who was crazy about a horse he’d named Wild Bill—seemed unfazed by the triple-digit temperature; once out of his Sunday best, he hightailed it down to the stables. Tyson followed at a slower pace half an hour later.

Life was good—very good, indeed—and he couldn’t help counting his blessings.

His write-in campaign for the Senate was going strong, and he had gained backing from several newspapers and quite a few men of influence around the state.

His father had been surprisingly accommodating. Never in Tyson’s memory could he recall Jeremiah Applegate being so genial.

The arrival of Dillon Macartan hadn’t turned everything upside down as he and Diana had feared. In truth, the Irishman had begun to feel like one more member of their extended family. Dillon was a hard worker, as promised, and his affection for his nephew was real.

As for Ned, he was a different child from the urchin who’d fallen through a crate outside their kitchen window. The boy trusted Tyson and Diana and was beginning to trust his uncle too. Ned knew he was safe, and it showed in what he said and did.

And then there was Diana. Tyson grinned to himself. All he could say about her was she drove him to distraction … in the very best of ways. It wouldn’t be long now until she was ready to hear how much he loved her. He could feel it. The time was almost here.

Laughter drifted to him through the open doorway of the barn. He moved inside and stopped, thankful for the cooler air of the shady interior. After his eyes adjusted, he saw Dillon and Ned outside a stall off to his left. Dillon was settling a saddle onto Wild Bill’s back while Ned held the lead rope with both hands.

“‘Tis a lucky boy, you are, Ned. I’m hopin’ you know it.”

“I do. Wild Bill’s a perfect horse.”

Dillon stopped adjusting the cinch and looked at the boy. “‘Twasn’t the horse I was meaning. Sure and you’ll be listening to me, lad. The Macartans never had much money or land, but we were a good family, good people. You’ve got no reason to be ashamed your family was poor or Irish. Still, there’s no way your ma or any of your kin could’ve given you a life like this.”

“Yeah.” Ned sounded properly chastised.

Dillon stepped closer to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. “More than anything else I’d be meaning to say, I want you to hear this. Mrs. Applegate, she loves you like your own ma loved you. I saw it in her eyes the first day I met her. She don’t pay no mind to how you came into this world. She loves you and is proud of you, she is.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll be loving her too. And Mr. Applegate himself.”

Ned stared at his uncle for a few moments before nodding. “Yeah.”

There was a lump the size of a baseball in Tyson’s throat, and he was thankful the pair hadn’t noticed him yet. Dillon leaned down, bringing himself to eye level with Ned, their noses mere inches apart. Though his voice was low, it still carried to Tyson.

“The day we met, Ned, you said you didn’t want me to take you away, but I thought you’d be changing your mind in time, once you got to know me. Only ‘twas me who was havin’ his mind changed. You belong with the Applegates. ‘Twould be wrong of me to take you away. But I’m askin’ something of you. Let me go on bein’ your uncle. Will you do that? Whether I keep working for Mr. Applegate or not, I don’t plan on going anywhere too far from you. Sure and I made a promise to your ma that I mean to keep.”

Tyson took several steps backward, back into the sunshine and out of view of the man and boy inside. Hastily, he wiped unaccustomed tears from his eyes and fought to clear his throat. The emotions roiling inside of him were foreign, the discovery unexpected—he loved Ned every bit as much as Diana did.

He’d become a father in his heart and didn’t even know when it happened.

Too hot to feel rested, even after a nap, Diana opened the door to her bedroom just as Tiger came flying up the stairs, a blur of gray fur, Trouble hard on her heels. The cat yowled and the dog barked as they disappeared into Ned’s bedroom. Something crashed to the floor. Another yowl and more barking.

Diana hurried into the boy’s room. Marbles were strewn everywhere, the box that had held them overturned on the floor. “Trouble, sit,” she commanded in her sternest voice.

The dog obeyed and fell silent, although he kept his eyes pinned to the spot where the bedspread met the floor.

“Poor Tiger,” Diana whispered. “I thought you two were learning to get along.”

Trouble whimpered as he pressed his muzzle against the floor, still staring toward the bed.

Diana got on her knees. Lifting the bedspread, she peered into the dark space beneath. Two green-gold eyes peered back at her from the farthest corner.

“Come on, kitty. It’s all right. I won’t let the bad dog get you. Come on.”

She recalled the last time Tiger sought refuge under this bed. Tyson had pulled the cat out, suffering scratches and bites in the process.

“But you wouldn’t scratch me, would you, pet? You sweet girl.” She shimmied forward on her stomach and reached out with her hand. “Come here, kitty. It’s okay.”

Tiger hissed.

The tight space made Diana feel claustrophobic. If Tiger didn’t want her help, so be it. “You’re on your own, kitty. Ungrateful beast.”

As she drew back her hand, she discovered what felt like a large piece of cloth wrapped around something. Several somethings, actually. She supposed she should be glad it wasn’t alive and slimy, since this was a boy’s room. Smiling at the thought, she worked her way out from under the bed, bringing the hobolike bindle with her.

She got to her feet and dropped the cloth sack onto the bedspread before brushing imaginary dust from the front of her dress with both hands. Then curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know what a boy of ten tied up in a handkerchief.