Far Away Home (26 page)

They sat quietly
until Aislynn said, “I’ll be well enough to go home soon.”

“Aren’t you
enjoying my company?”

“Yes, I’m
surprised to say I am.” She raised her brows and added, “But I have to get back
to work.”

“Can I give you
some suggestions on how to ease your financial burdens?”

Aislynn looked
into her lap as the color rose to her face.

“Listen, sell
the smithy to No Nose. He’ll be paying you, and you won’t have to worry about
paying him. Then sell the cabin. Tim can live in the house with you and the
other women. God knows no one could find anything immoral about that
arrangement. Mother Maher is there to chaperone. Carrie will be marrying Buck
soon. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Kathleen and Jeb aren’t married before
long, either. If Emma does come, you can accommodate them both.”

“What could I
get for such a tiny cabin?”

“Who knows?
Maybe four hundred dollars. Jeb might buy it just to be next door.”

Aislynn’s mind
ran from appreciation that he had given her situation so much consideration, to
amazement over his seemingly workable solutions, to frustration that she had
not thought of the options herself. “Those are wonderful ideas.”

“I have one
more. Keep the restaurant open for the midnight shift. Those men want to eat
before they go to work, and the men coming off their shift are hungry, too.”

“I’d be working
until 2:00 AM.”

“Yes, but Mrs.
Maher could work the morning shift, Kathleen and Carrie could do the evening,
and you could cover the late night round.”

The sun dipped
beneath the hills, and the wind churned. Aislynn was considering his proposals
when Moran reached for her hand and asked, “Are you cold?”

Aislynn was
about to deny the fact, but he growled, “Your hand is freezing; I’m going to
take you in.”

“Please, Liam,
not just yet. Do you realize how long I’ve been cooped up?” She turned her sad
eyes on him.

Moran settled
back in his chair, rubbing her hand between his. “Just don’t think I’m always
going to give in.”

He placed her
hand on his thigh and covered it, his long fingers reaching over the tips of
hers. Aislynn studied his hand for a moment. Hard physical work showed in the
lined skin baked brown by the sun, but his nails were clipped and buffed,
reflecting the privileged side of his life. It was a confident, forceful hand,
and it completely engulfed hers. Aislynn thought this contact far too intimate
and considered removing her hand when a group of riders cantered up to the
porch. Before the four horses came to a halt, Lank was tipping his hat at her,
asking how she was feeling.

Aislynn saw his
eyes fall like a weight on her concealed hand. She tried to pull it away, while
she casually responded, “Thank you for asking. I’m much improved.” Moran’s grip
tightened. Redness rushed to her cheeks, and she attempted to wiggle her
fingers and dislodge her hand without causing further embarrassment.

“We jes heard
you was up, and we thought we’d pay our respects. Sorry ‘bout your troubles,
Ma’am.”

Aislynn’s
dilemma was interrupted. His comment reminded her of her loss. Sorrow and
vulnerability surfaced. She bit her lip and fought the urge to weep. She nodded
at the men, and with a small voice said, “Thank you.” 

“We’d best be
gettin’ on. Ga’ night, Ma’am.” Lank tipped his hat at her and Moran. “Night,
sir.”

Aislynn
trembled, and Moran squeezed her hand. His strength penetrated her weakness,
and Aislynn yielded.

Chapter 29

Tim had just
stepped out the back door when Aislynn heard a knock at the front. She rushed
to answer it and found Moran looking down at her, dripping rain. He stepped
over the threshold and hung his hat and coat on the rack.

“I can’t
socialize; I’m canning,” she announced as she limped toward the kitchen.

Moran followed
her. “Should you be hobbling on that leg?”

“It’s the only
way I can get around right now.”

“Maybe you
shouldn’t be standing and canning?” he accused.

“Liam, I run a
restaurant; food is essential,” she snapped. “Instead of criticizing, you
should help me.”

“I don’t know
how.”

“A monkey could
learn to do this.”

Moran’s mouth
twisted, “A male monkey?”

Scowling,
Aislynn pointed a ladle at him. “Just fill the jars with the jam. I’ll follow
you and seal them with the paraffin.”

Moran held his
hands up, “Do I get a reward?”

“You are such a
child,” Aislynn declared. He gave her a questioning look. “Fine.” She
consented, as she pushed the ladle at him.

“Do I get to
choose my reward?”

Aislynn slammed her
hands on her hips, “No. Get to work before the jam burns.”

The task
completed, Aislynn instructed him to sit at the kitchen table. She cut a piece
of cake, piled it high with huckleberries and poured thick cream over the top.
Patting his head, she said, “You did a good job.” She placed the plate before
him and took a seat.

Moran studied
the cake. He raised his eyes to her. “Cream,” he stated as though it were
important to him.

“I thought you
liked cream?” she wondered.

“I love it.” He
stared at her for a silent moment.

Aislynn endured
his scrutiny without comprehending it. “Eat,” she ordered with impatience.
“I’ll get you some coffee. Are you still wet?”

With her
comment, Moran seemed to recollect his purpose. “Slightly. I came here with
news. Your cabin has been sold.”

“So soon?”

“I told you Jeb
would buy it.”

“He’s going to
propose to Kathleen, isn’t he?” Aislynn tried to contain her excitement.
“She’ll say yes. Of course, she has to wait until her mourning is over before
they marry.”

“Aislynn, no one
out here expects women to stay in mourning for a year. Why, widows remarry in a
matter of days.”

“Well,” she
conceded, “I suppose it’s her choice.” Aislynn stiffened, rigid with rules.

“Don’t you want
to know what you sold it for?” he teased.

“Oh, yes.” She
leaned toward him anticipating.

“Four hundred
dollars, just like I said.”

Aislynn
reddened, “That seems like a lot.”

“It’s fair
compared to other properties.” Moran pulled the bills from his coat pocket and
laid them on the table. “I’m giving him a mortgage, so you can have your full
amount right now.”

Aislynn leaned
away from the cash, wondering if the money changed anything between them.

“It’s yours,” he
assured her. “You can do anything you want with it, even give it away.” He
threw his hands in the air.

Aislynn was
absorbing the significance of four hundred dollars. “There’s so much I could
do. I could pay off the mortgage. Gosh, in New York, families live for a full
year on four hundred dollars. Why it could pay for…” Aislynn’s words stopped
short. She held her thought to herself. Moran raised his brows and searched her
eyes. She continued, “Lots of things.”

Rain blurred
against the window. Aislynn looked toward the cabin, thinking how clarity is
relative. She pulled her shawl against the wet wind and crossed the yard. Her
heart beat as loudly as her knocking on the door. When Tim appeared, she
brushed past him. She threw the money on the table, as if it would hold her
down if she did not let it go.

“Where’d that
come from?”

“I sold the
cabin. You have to leave.”

Tim was visibly
searching for words.

“It’s yours,”
she declared. “I want you to go home. Use it to get married and pay for
college.”

“Aislynn! I
could never…”

“It’s a gift;
you have to take it.”

“No, never…” he
stuttered.

“You have to
stop waiting, or it will never happen,” she insisted.

She watched him
shaking his head. “You have debts that come first,” he reminded her.

A deep breath
moved her forward. “Money doesn’t do me any good, it can’t stop my pain.
Please, Tim, at least one of us can be happy.”

His faced
flushed and he shook his head. “I can’t leave you alone.”

“Tim, please.”
Tears were spilling over her eyes. “We’ll never really be separated, remember?
We’re a part of each other.” She paused, trying to keep her voice from
cracking. “Besides, we’ll only be time and space apart.” She turned toward the
door and pretended to be sure. “Go; I want you out of here by tomorrow.”

Aislynn stepped
out into the night and looked up to the dark, weeping sky. Raindrops hit her
face, slid down her neck and into her dress. She stood wondering where to go.
The lights in the restaurant burned, and the hum of her patrons reached her.
The mine engines whirred, and music rose from down the street, while No Nose
clanged in the smithy. She started toward the warm glow of her house, but she
had sunk into the mud. Mired, her movement sent her off balance. Stumbling
backwards, she strained her wounded leg. Pain shot through her and stole her
breath. Aislynn waited, sure the burning would pass, believing she could get
herself home.

Chapter 30

Aislynn decided
if she were too busy to think, she would be too busy to hurt. She worked until
2:00 AM and returned to the restaurant to serve customers coming off the 8:00
AM shift. Cooking, cleaning, washing, drying, setting, clearing. Days and
nights full of movement that brought her back to where she began.

With Tim gone,
she had no hand to hold. She was emotionally drained and detached. It seemed
everyone in her circle was drifting away, getting deeper into their own lives.
Aislynn stood outside, only entering when necessary.

Letters came
with news of Tim’s marriage and acceptance to college. Aislynn was pleased and
proud, grateful his life was moving forward.

As the undecided
autumn gave way to the determined winter, Aislynn was drawn into the preparations
for Kathleen’s wedding. Trying to embrace the excitement, Aislynn organized the
December wedding celebration. She offered her home, cooked and baked. But, when
the party began, she hung back, skulking like a kitchen maid: serving food,
wiping spills, and clearing plates. Her hands were in a sink full of dishes
when she heard a familiar tread behind her.

Moran leaned
against the table and crossed his arms. She could feel his disapproval. “I
think you enjoy being in mourning,” he began.

Aislynn’s first
reaction was anger, “What do you know?”

“I know you wear
it like a sign saying ‘stay away.’ It keeps you apart from everyone else.”

“I do hold it
dear; I hold them dear.” Her voiced wavered.

“Mrs. Maher
holds them dear, but she’s not burying herself.”

“You don’t
understand; it’s too soon.”

“It doesn’t
matter how long you wait.” He bent his head toward hers and added softly, “they
cannot come back.”

Aislynn pulled
her hands out of the sink and watched the water drain through her fingers, “I
lose everyone.”

Moran touched
her arm and nodded toward the parlor, “No, not everyone.”

The Christmas
spirit settled on the camp, and its energy caught Aislynn. Her finances were
growing more secure, and she was appreciating what remained in her life. On her
daily walks to the cemetery, she was met with respectful nods and light, formal
conversation from the men and the camp’s few women. She found herself looking
forward to the possibilities of the new year.

Aislynn’s family
of friends assembled for Christmas dinner. The group expanded to include
Murphy, Moran and Kathleen’s and Carrie’s new husbands. Aislynn prepared an
elaborate meal of rib roast, potatoes, pies, cakes and candies. She attempted
to keep the tone respectful of their mourning with few decorations and a small,
unlit tree. Spirits were consumed, small tokens were exchanged, and the
excitement rose. Murphy and No Nose raised their glasses and their voices with
competing ditties, causing a great deal of laughter around the crowded table
strewn with discarded wrapping paper and the remnants of the meal.

Aislynn
suggested the group move into the parlor chairs for coffee and brandy. Once
everyone was seated, Buck stood and pulled Carrie to his side. “I got an
announcement to make.” The room quieted. Everyone listened. Aislynn knew what
he was going to say. Her nerves stood at attention.

“Carrie and me
be havin’ a baby.”

The words fell
like boulders into Aislynn’s empty womb. With a great gasp, her hand flew over
her heart. She shocked her guests into stunned silence. Moran jumped out of his
seat and held out his hand to Buck, “Congratulations.” He turned to Aislynn,
“That’s fine news, isn’t it?”

Moran’s narrowed
eyes reprimanded her. She found the air to fill her lungs and crossed the room
to Carrie. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Are you? I
don’t wanna do nothin’ to hurt you.”

“Don’t be silly.
Of course, I’m thrilled. It’s just what we need around here, a new life.”

Carrie hugged
Aislynn and softly said, “I’d have nothin’ if it weren’t for you.”

Before turning
in, Aislynn stuck her head in the closet and sniffed at Johnny’s shirts. They
had all taken on the scent of the raw wood. She climbed into the big, cold bed
and curled around Johnny’s pillow. There was an aching in her belly.
My baby
should have been born this month. Now there’s no one to center my life around.
She squeezed her eyes against her tears, rested her chin on the pillow, and
stroked it for a moment. With a sigh, she placed it on the other side of the
bed and rolled away.

On New Year’s
Eve, Aislynn sent Mrs. Maher and No Nose to Moran’s party at the Claimjumper.
She closed the restaurant to retire early. Aislynn and 1869 were running down
like unwound clocks. She had no strength to stay awake and bid the
disappointing year good bye.

In her dark
room, she lay reviewing the year in her mind. Despite the tragedies, she tried
to recall happy moments. “Remember the smiles,” she told herself, but changed
her phrasing to, “Try to smile.” That was her resolution. She wished she had a
photograph of Johnny’s smile. Aislynn closed her eyes and tried to see his
round face, his gray eyes, and his broken tooth.

Loud rapping on
the front door jolted Aislynn from bed. She pushed her feet into slippers and
struggled into the sleeves of her robe, rushing in the darkness to answer the
call. Throwing the door open, she found Moran, smiling.

“What’s wrong?”
she implored.

“Nothing.” He
walked into the parlor and lit a lamp.

Aislynn’s
anxiety was in full bloom; she insisted, “Is it No Nose?”

“No.” He rubbed
his hands over the stove. “It’s cold in here.”

“The fire’s been
out.”

Moran opened the
stove door and filled the box with wood. He struck a friction match and started
the kindling burning. He turned to Aislynn and asked, “Get me a brandy,
please.”

Aislynn studied
him for a moment in confusion. She decided it was easier to comply than argue.
When she returned, he had removed his coat and was warming himself before the
stove. She stood at arm’s length and handed him the drink, “Why aren’t you at
your party?”

“I was bored,”
he responded.

Disbelief
dripped from her words, “So you came here?”

He nodded, his
eyes holding hers as he sipped his brandy.

Apprehension
spread across Aislynn. “You can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

“It’s 11:45.”

Moran chuckled,
“Are you the town-crier?”

“I’m alone; you
have to leave.”

“I don’t want
to.”

“You’ve had too
much to drink.” 

“Is that
possible?”

“I believe your
evidence,” she retorted.

Moran stated,
“I’m as sober as a judge.” He reached for her hand and suggested, “Let’s sit
down.”

Aislynn pulled
away. She could feel something between them, something big, important and
terrifying. It was growing like a physical being and was blocking her escape.
“Liam Moran, all the other men respect my mourning.”

His eyes flew
open in disbelief. He was incredulous, shaking his head, “No, they don’t.”

His tone told
her she was wrong. The truth hit her. In a world were no single woman was
single for long, not one man had approached her since Johnny’s death. She
suddenly realized women were like land, claimed and owned.
All this time,
they’ve been acknowledging his right not my widowhood.

He pulled her to
him and surrounded her, kissing her hard. Aislynn’s body remembered intimacy.
She was not sure if it wanted Johnny or Moran, but it wanted to be held. The
smell and the taste of him, reminded Aislynn of Salt Lake City. She shoved him,
“I won’t whore for you.”

His grip
tightened. Looking down at her, he smiled. “Fine, wife for me.”

The first thing
Aislynn felt was fear. She wondered if she could survive his intensity. But
fear melted into doubt; she did not think she could resist him. He kissed her
again.
He’s like mountain fever
. At an altitude of 8,000 feet, Aislynn
remembered her heart racing, her vision blurring, and her breath shortening.
Mountain fever made her dizzy, warm and very weak. She kissed him, realizing he
was as inevitable as the sunrise.

Moran’s hands
moved over her. Aislynn squirmed away, “Liam, wait. I have to think. I’m still
in mourning.”

He looked to the
ceiling and moaned, “Aislynn, no one expects you to mourn for a year.”

“It’s important
to me.”

“But it’s five
more months,” he protested. “I feel like I’ve already waited a lifetime.”

“Then five
months should be easy.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the sofa.

He sat and
grabbed her hips, steering her into his lap, “We’ll see. In the meantime, I can
spark you.”

Aislynn sat
upright. “Only respectable sparking.”

“We’ll see about
that, too.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Let me tell you what I have
planned.”

Aislynn leaned
into his chest and listened. “I’m going to take you to Sacramento, San
Francisco, Chicago and Washington.”

“And New York?”
she interrupted.

“No, you’ve been
there.”

“But we could go
back and see Tim,” she added.

Moran stiffened
slightly, “There are too many places we haven’t been, like London, Paris, Rome.
Why, I thought you might like to see the Pope.”

Aislynn was awed
as she listened to him describe his many ideas. “Liam,” she sat up and put her
arms around his neck. “Could we just stay here?”

“Aislynn, you
can’t expect me to live with Mrs. Maher.”

“No, but we
could live at the ranch. We could make it into a home.”

He pulled his
head away and searched her eyes, “You mean a nest.”

Aislynn felt her
face redden. He continued, “You want a baby.” He kissed the tip of her nose and
spread his hands across her back. “We can make a baby anywhere.”

The topic made
her entire body blush and her cheeks burn. Aislynn did not want to discuss what
needed to be done in order to get what she wanted. The idea of making love with
him for the rest of her life was exciting but extremely intimidating. Aislynn
looked away from his hungry eyes. “I just thought we would be more
comfortable.”

“When we know
you’re pregnant, I’ll bring you home. But when you’re close to confinement, I’m
taking you to San Francisco, to a hospital with good doctors.”

For Aislynn,
having babies was a private affair and should be done at home, but she
understood his concern. Aislynn feared losing another baby more than
maintaining her privacy. She nodded and kissed him for his thoughtfulness,
“Whatever you want.”