Come the Spring (29 page)

“You're giving up,” he repeated.

He was hitting too close to the mark, and she didn't like that one bit. He was making her acknowledge what she had been trying to ignore. As soon as the road became bumpy, she was ready to quit.

“I'm not a quitter.”

“It seems to me that you are.”

“Oh, what do you know? Things are different for you.”

“Because I live in the United States.”

“Because you're a man,” she said. “You don't ever have to get married unless you want to, and I sincerely doubt that will ever happen. You aren't the type to settle down and raise a family.”

He shifted his position on the bench so his legs could have more room to stretch out.

“I was married.”

She was astonished. “You were?”

He nodded. “For almost seven years. We had a daughter named Bridget.”

She didn't ask him any more questions, but the silence didn't make him uncomfortable. He didn't know why he felt compelled to tell her about his past, but the words wouldn't stay locked inside of him any longer.

“They're both dead … two years now.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah. So am I.”

He sounded as though he had been talking about strangers, for all the emotion in his voice, but the pain was there in his eyes, and it was devastating. She
wanted to go to him and take him into her arms and give him what small comfort she could, and the only reason she didn't was because she knew he wouldn't accept it.

She didn't want him to see how shaken she was, and so she turned to look out the window again.

She didn't speak again for several minutes, and then she asked, “What was your wife's name?”

“Kathleen.”

“It's a beautiful name. You loved her very much, didn't you, Daniel?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I loved her. I still do.”

“Do you think you'll ever marry again?”

“No,” he answered.

“In time…”

He shook his head. “Don't tell me that time heals.”

She didn't understand why he had suddenly become so antagonistic. “I wasn't going to say that.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“That in time you'll be able to smile when you think of Kathleen and Bridget because you'll remember the joyous times you had with them. The pain won't ever go away, but it will lessen.”

“How the hell would you know?”

She tried to ignore his hostility. “I don't know firsthand. It's only a hope I have for you.”

“It's hot in here, isn't it?”

She agreed with a nod as she reached over to unlatch the lock on the window. She pushed and prodded but couldn't get the window up. “I think it's been sealed shut.”

Daniel reached over, gave the frame one good push, and the window opened. A hot breeze rushed into the compartment.

“Tell me, what was Kathleen like?” Grace asked.

“Why?”

“I'm curious, that's all.”

Daniel propped his feet up on the bench next to Grace, leaned back, and closed his eyes. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked as though he was going to sleep.

“She was the complete opposite of you,” he answered. “In appearance and in disposition.”

“What did she look like?”

“She was tall and had brown hair and brown eyes, and lots of freckles,” he added. “She worried about her weight all the time, but she didn't need to because she was perfect just the way she was. Kathleen was a beautiful woman, inside and out. So was our daughter. She looked just like her mother.”

Several minutes went by in silence before Grace asked another question. “How did you meet her?”

“I stopped by her father's farm on my way into Dillon, and she was working in the garden. She was down on her knees pulling weeds with the sun beating down on her, and all she had to do was look up at me and smile. I think I fell in love with her then and there.”

“I love to garden,” Grace said, believing that she and Kathleen shared a common interest after all. “I had the most beautiful cutting flowers, all the colors of the rainbow.”

Daniel shook his head. “Kathleen's garden was filled with vegetables. She was raised on a farm, and she didn't have time to grow flowers. They raised crops so they could put food on the table. You were raised in the city, weren't you?”

“We had a house in the country too,” she said. “We would go there when the heat in the city became unbearable.”

He scoffed at the notion. “Kathleen wasn't privileged, and she sure didn't have time to worry about the heat or society. She worked from dawn to dusk, no
matter what the weather. She didn't have a closet full of fancy ball gowns, but what she did have was honor and courage and loyalty.”

“And I don't? Is that what you're telling me, Daniel? You said that Kathleen and I are complete opposites. She had honor, and I don't?”

“I'm just saying you're different.”

She stared into his eyes and asked, “Did you mean to hurt me on purpose?”

He didn't answer her. She looked out the window so he wouldn't see how he had wounded her with his backhanded insults. What had she done to make him think so little of her, she wondered, and why did his opinion of her matter so much?

She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. If he saw a single tear, she was sure he'd think she was a weakling, and she wasn't weak, she was strong. Granted, she had never plowed a field before or planted a vegetable garden, but that didn't mean she couldn't.

Getting angry lessened the hurt. How dare he make such sweeping judgments about her.

“I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't mean to insult you.” She didn't look at him when she replied. “Yes, you did.”

“Damn it, you aren't going to cry, are you?”

She glared at him. “No, I'm not,” she snapped. “Just don't lie to me. You meant to hurt me, and the very least you could do is admit it.”

“Fine. I meant to hurt you. Close the window, will you? It's getting cold in here.”

“It's as hot as the inside of an oven,” she argued.

“Just close it.”

She stood up to do as he asked, then turned to him once again. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, I'm not,” he muttered. “I'm just tired.”

“You were hot a few minutes ago, and now you're cold.”

She sat down on the bench beside him, squeezing herself in between the wall and his side. Before he could stop her, she reached up and touched his brow with the back of her hand. “You have a fever. Daniel, I think you're getting influenza.”

“Grace, go sit on your own bench and leave me alone. Please.”

She moved back to her seat and sat there fretting about him. “Now I understand why you're so surly. You aren't feeling well.”

The train flew around another curve in the tracks, the compartment swayed back and forth, and Daniel's stomach felt as though it had just lurched out the window.

“I'm not surly,” he growled. “I said those things so you'd stay away from me. It was stupid and cruel, and I shouldn't have done it, but you need to keep your distance, Grace. That's just the way it is. Why in God's name does this train have to go so fast?”

“It isn't going fast. It's slowing down, and how in heaven's name can I keep away from you? We're locked in this compartment together, and you won't let me out of your sight. What did I do to offend you so?”

“Ah, hell, Grace, you haven't done anything wrong. You're just so damned pretty and sweet.”

She didn't know what to think. The words were flattering, but the way he'd said them made them seem like accusations of some sort. Why did the fact that he thought she was pretty and sweet anger him?

“Daniel, you aren't making any sense at all.”

He could feel the bile rising in his throat. He took a deep breath to try to keep his stomach from overturning. “Look, it's real simple.”

“It is?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he growled. “I haven't wanted any woman since my wife, but lately … since I met you anyway, I've…”

She waited for him to continue, then gave in and prodded him. “You what?”

He figured he had about fifteen seconds, at the most, to make it to the washroom at the end of the car. He bolted for the door.

“I want you, Grace. Now do you get it? Lock the door behind me, and don't let anyone in.”

She was so stunned she couldn't move. He roared her name to get her to do what he wanted, then stood outside the door until he heard the bolt clicking into place.

He made it to the washroom the first time he threw up. He didn't make it all of the other times. He threw up on the floor and in the bucket the porter brought in to him. He thought he might have thrown up on Grace too, but he hoped to God he had imagined that. He did know he'd never felt this awful in his whole life. The illness drained every ounce of strength from his body. He could barely lift his head, and no matter how many blankets Grace covered him with, he couldn't seem to get warm.

Grace fixed a bed for him. She sat with him all through the night, cradling his head in her lap, stroking his brow with cool, wet compresses, and he was sure he would have rolled over and died if she hadn't been there.

By midnight, he stopped throwing up and actually slept. She shook him awake around dawn to tell him they had reached the station and needed to change trains. He honestly didn't know how he managed to get from one compartment to the other, and he was surprised when he saw that the valises had also been transferred. Had she carried them? No, she couldn't have. She had her hands full trying to hold him up. He had been completely useless, and when he realized what an easy target she had been while they were moving from one train to the other, he got chills again.

As soon as the door was bolted behind him, he went back to sleep. He woke up with his head in Grace's lap again. She was leaning against the window, her eyes were closed, and she looked very peaceful and serene.

He tried to be quiet so he wouldn't disturb her. After he washed and changed his shirt, he sat down on the bench across from her.

He noticed then that she had changed her clothes. She was wearing a white blouse with a pretty brooch at her neck and a dark blue skirt. She'd changed her shoes too. The ones she had on now matched her skirt.

When had she had the time? he wondered, and why had she bothered?

“Good morning, Daniel. Are you feeling better today?”

“Yes, I'm feeling better. Did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn't asleep. I was just resting. You don't look like you feel better. Lean forward and let me touch your brow.”

“Don't fuss over me, Grace. I'm fine.”

She was totally unaffected by his gruff manner. “Where have I heard that before?”

“Heard what?”

“You kept telling me you were fine all through the night, but you weren't fine, of course. Now lean forward.”

There was a thread of iron in her command, and Daniel ended up obeying just to placate her. “You're a stubborn woman,” he muttered.

She put the back of her hand against his forehead and frowned. “I just can't tell,” she admitted. “If you have a fever, it isn't much. You mustn't eat or drink anything yet, or you'll get sick again. You're very fortunate.”

He leaned back against the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest. “How's that?”

“You have a mild case of influenza. It could have
been much worse. Jessica was throwing up, off and on, for three days. I thought she was going to die.”

“I wanted to die last night,” he admitted. “By the way, thanks for … you know.”

“You're welcome.”

Curious, he asked, “Why did you change your clothes? Did I get them all wrinkled? I must have,” he added before she could answer him. “Seems like a waste, though. No one's going to see you but me.”

“It was necessary.”

“Why?”

She let out a little sigh. “You threw up all over me.”

“Ah, Grace, I'm sorry.”

She laughed. “Daniel, you didn't do it on purpose.”

“Did the porter help you…”

He didn't finish the question because she was shaking her head.

“I didn't let the porter come inside the compartment because you made me promise not to let anyone in, remember?”

“No,” he admitted. “I don't remember. If he didn't come in, who cleaned up the floor?”

“I did.”

He looked miserable, and she was suddenly sorry she'd told him the truth. “Why don't we talk about something else?”

“Like what?”

“The weather,” she suggested.

“You're joking.”

“It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment. Would you mind if I opened the window and let some fresh air inside?”

He got up and opened the window for her. The breeze felt soothing against his skin. He sat down again and looked at her. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

“Would you be able to stomach it if I ate in front of you?”

“Maybe you should wait a little while.”

Grace hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning, and even though she was starving, she nodded her agreement. “I'll be happy to wait.”

“Do you want a glass of water? I do.”

“You're not going to have it,” she said in that commanding voice he was beginning to dislike intensely.

“Why not?”

“You know why not. You'll get sick again. I'm not in the mood to clean up another mess.”

“Now who's being surly?”

He sounded like a bear. He resembled one too with the day's growth of whiskers on his jaw. His hair was in disarray, his shirttail was hanging out, and there was a definite menacing quality about him now. Yet, she still thought he was handsome.