The Kissing Tree (25 page)

“When I got to the ranch, the horses were milling about, acting strange. I didn’t see Michael anywhere. Then I thought I heard his voice calling me again.” Tears were flowing down her face. “His voice was weak and laced with pain. I couldn’t see him, but I knew where he was. I ran to the corral, screaming for him that I was coming, and threw open the gate.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Then I saw him. He was lying on the ground, in the middle of the horses, not moving. When I got to him, he was bleeding everywhere. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. I . . . I tried . . .” She began to sob. It took a moment before she could continue. “He was unconscious at first, and I was afraid he was already lost to me, but then he opened his eyes and looked straight into mine.

“ ‘Char . . .
,’ he said, and I could see his pain.

“ ‘Shhh, Michael . . . save your strength,’ I said, carefully lifting his head onto my lap.

“ ‘Char . . . I’m sorry.’ His chest began to heave hard like he couldn’t draw breath. ‘I . . . I don’t . . . want to . . . leave ya.’

“ ‘Shhh, don’t say that . . . you’re not going anywhere. Someone will come to help . . . get the doctor.’
I prayed it was true.

“ ‘They’re calling me, Char . . . the pain is too much fer me, darlin’.’

“ ‘No, Michael . . . don’t listen to them . . . stay with me. I need you. The children need you,’
I pleaded with him.

“He closed his eyes,” Charlotte continued. “I could see his chest rise and fall slowly and hoped he was trying to save his strength. He seemed to be breathing easier . . . I had hope.” A deep sigh of anguish escape her lips. “When he opened his eyes again, I knew. I knew he was leaving me.” She was sobbing harder now, and her body shook with emotion. Angus dropped to his knees and put his arms around her, his tears mingling with hers. After a few minutes, she was able to continue. “He lifted his hand and placed it on my face. His hand was trembling hard, so I helped him to hold it there.

“ ‘I love ye, Charlotte Anne McLaughlin . . . ever have I loved ye. From the moment I first looked into yar eyes, I have loved ye with me whole heart and with me soul.’

“I couldn’t speak. My voice was seized with the fear of knowing he was leaving me.

“ ‘One last kiss, I would ask of ye. One last heavenly kiss . . . so that the last thing I feel on this earth will be the touch of yar sweet lips to mine. Will ye give it to me?’

“The reality of what he was asking released my tongue. He was asking me to say good-bye.

“ ‘Please, Michael, I love you so much. I cannot bear it if you go,’ I said.

“ ‘A kiss . . . me love . . . a kiss.’

“And so I kissed him, and he closed his eyes . . . and was gone.”

Charlotte collapsed into Angus’s arms, her emotions fully spent. For a long time he just held her, his hands too busy trying to soothe her and to wipe away his own tears. Then she sat up slowly and looked him in his eyes.

“If . . . if I had gone to him when I first heard him call, if I had left right then . . . maybe—”

“No, me lass, it was Michael’s time to go. I prayed hard after losin’ me lad. God granted me the knowin’ of it. It has been a little comfort, as it was to Shannon too.”

She looked away, doubt clearly visible on her face. He reached over, taking her chin and turning her head back to him.

“It was no fault of yers. It was his time.” Angus took his other hand and wiped at the tears trailing her cheeks. “I’m glad to be knowin’ ye were with him at the last though. It does me old heart good. He loved ye true, he did—a powerful love. I’ll never ferget the smile on his face and the look of pride as he came totin’ ye home with him from the city.” Angus grinned. “And the love-struck look in yar eyes too.” Finally she gave him a small smile. “He would want ye to be happy, lass. You need to start livin’ again.”

“I still miss him . . . every day.”

“I know . . . I know. I miss me lad and me Shannon too. But they are ever with us, in our hearts and in our minds. The memories will never be leavin’, even if ye find another to settle with, Michael will always be yers.”

Charlotte reached out and hugged him then. When at last she let go, she lifted her apron and dried her tears.

“We should be getting back. Tiny brought me in a bucket of berries, so I baked a pie. It will be done about now. The men will be waiting with plates and forks ready, I’m sure.”

“Aye, then we best be hurryin’ on back now.” Standing quickly, Angus feigned a grin while patting his stomach and helped her to her feet.

“Come, Father McLaughlin,” Charlotte said, lacing her arm through his as they headed back to the house.

Ridge bent down and picked up his hat, dusting it off before placing it back on his head. The wind had picked up again, but thankfully the skies were still clear. There was no threat of a storm, at least not tonight.

Walking over to the campfire, Ridge sat down and began to warm his hands in front of the fire. The nights were getting cooler, but he was glad he hadn’t opted to stay the night in town.

As Ridge absentmindedly watched the wind fight with the flames, he conjured up a vision of Georgiana.

He hoped she was awake by now and doing better. He still cringed at the memory of her lying so lifeless in his arms, red blood dominating the blue satin she wore. He had never been so frightened of losing something in his life, had never prayed so hard.

He hadn’t left her side for the first three days she’d been unconscious. Angus had tried to convince him to take a break, get some sleep, but he had this immense fear that if he let go, she would slip away. Dawson and Samantha had come and gone, but he had stayed.

Then the sheriff had come to speak with him. They wanted him to help transport the outlaws over to Castle Rock for trial and also to make a sworn statement. He didn’t want to leave her, especially not before she’d woken up, even though Doc Hansen swore to him Georgiana would be fine. Ridge knew that his testimony to the judge was needed. So, relying on faith that she’d still be there when he got back, he left with the sheriff the next morning.

Ridge pondered a moment about the questions the judge had asked him. It had been difficult, especially where Cordelia was concerned. He kept picturing Georgiana throwing herself in front of the woman in order to protect her unborn child. He’d recalled the frightened and ashamed look on Cordelia’s face as he had held Georgiana’s limp body in his arms. He knew somehow, Georgiana’s act of pure selflessness had impacted Cordelia deeply. He was actually relieved when the judge decided to give her a second chance. It was her first attempt at robbery, and she had shot the man Slash in self-defense. Cordelia had been sent to live with an aunt in California to bear and raise her child. Ridge truly hoped she would turn her life around with the second chance she had been given.

Thinking of second chances, his thoughts abruptly turned to Samantha and the discovery he had made. After the trial was over, he’d wandered over to the town’s restaurant. He didn’t have much an appetite since Georgiana was shot. On the way over to Castle Rock, he ate only a few strips of dried jerky. Since they were headed home, he knew should eat something to build his strength to endure whatever he’d find when he returned.

He could only call it fate that he’d caught a glimpse of something familiar when an old weathered man sitting at the table across from him pushed up his sleeves before beginning his meal. Getting up from his table, Ridge walked over to the old man.

“Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing toward a chair. The man shook his head and Ridge sat down. “That wristband you’re wearin’, I’ve seen it before.”

The man stopped eating, slipped it off his wrist, and set it down on the table between them as a look of profound relief etched across his face.

“Saints be praised!” the old man uttered. “I’d ’bout given up hope.”

The old man proceeded to tell him a story. He’d come across a young man on the brink of death almost two years back. He had been robbed, shot twice, and left for dead. He could do nothing for the boy except make him as comfortable as possible. They had taken everything, even his coat and shoes. It was a wonder he had survived the cold night. He’d asked for his name, but the boy couldn’t speak. “However, he did manage to slip this here band from his wrist. I knew it must mean somethin’ to the boy,” the old man said solemnly. “He pressed it into my hand a moment before he passed. Luckily, it wasn’t worth much or the thieves wouldn’t have left it behind. I asked around a bit when I got back to town to see if any folks recognized it. Since no one did, I hoped if I wore it ’bout my own arm, someone might get a look someday and know who it was belongin’ to. I figured I could at least do that much for the boy.”

Ridge stared quietly at the wristband after the old man finished his story. It was the one Samantha had given Mitch, he was sure. He had one that was similar in his own trunk back home. After Georgiana had gone, Samantha had made homemade jewelry to relieve some of her boredom. She had actually become good at it. She had given him one on his fifteenth birthday. Though he wasn’t much for wearing jewelry, it was plain enough, made of only woven leather. He only wore it a few times. After she and Mitch had become engaged, she had given him one as well. Mitch wore his proudly wherever he went.

Ridge told the man he knew whose it was, thanked him, took the wristband, and left, albeit forgetting his own meal. At last Samantha could have some peace in knowing the truth and maybe, just maybe, she could begin looking again to her own future.

Ridge sighed long and deep. He wished he was already back at Georgiana’s side. If she woke up today, he wouldn’t be there. Maybe it would be Dawson she would see when she first opened her eyes.

Arrgh! He was driving himself crazy.

Thinking to distract himself, he decided he’d eat the snack that Georgiana’s mother instructed Angus to put in his pack. Ridge walked over to his saddlebags and withdrew the bundle wrapped in a cloth napkin. When he did, another bundle fell onto the ground. Ridge picked it up curiously and walked over to the fire with them both. After tossing a few dried apple slices into his mouth and grabbing a hunk of jerky, Ridge unwrapped the second bundle, and a note fell open. He picked it up and began to read.

Dear Mr. Carson,

First, I want to apologize for five years ago abruptly taking my daughter from her two best friends and moving away, so far away. I was wrong in my decision, and now I realize, even to a greater extent, just how wrong a choice I made. I wish I could offer an excuse, but my selfishness could never justify my actions.

Second, I’d like to return some things that belong to you. These letters were written and mailed to you by my daughter. Unbeknownst to her or myself, my sister, Georgiana’s aunt, contrived a way to keep these letters from ever reaching you. What mean and wicked design she bore in her heart for such an act, I do not know. However, I do know something of the pain it caused Georgiana being deprived of the communication between her two dearest friends over the past five years.

I have given Georgiana the rest of the letters I found in her aunt’s possession, some from various friends, but most from Samantha Wallace. All the letters she wrote to Georgiana were there as well.

These letters I felt, I’m not sure why, should be given to you. Even though I noticed the bundle I gave to my daughter did not contain any letters written from you personally, I felt this was the action I should take. I hope and pray I have made the right decision. I know my daughter cares for you deeply. I suspect in truth that you have feelings for her too. Why else would you so diligently be not removed from her side for the three days following her accident?

For good or for bad, fate has had a hand in our lives for a reason. I pray now that happiness and love will abound and the souls kept apart for so long will find a place to bind and to keep forever.

With Sincerity,

Mrs. Charlotte McLaughlin

Ridge anxiously untied the string that held the bundle of letters together, opened the first one, and began reading. It was well into the night, and he had found it necessary to add logs to the fire many times, before he finished reading all Georgiana’s letters. Even still, he picked a few out and reread them.

It was evident that her tender heart had been broken, not by any fault of his, but broken just the same. He ran his fingers over a few smudged words and wondered if the smudges had been caused by her youthful tears. It was lucky for her aunt that he wasn’t anywhere near New York. How could a person ever be as cruel and conniving as that woman had been? What made a person’s heart turn so stone cold that they would purposely and spitefully interfere with people’s lives, causing so much heartache?

Ridge retied the string that bound the letters together and put them back in his saddlebag. As he walked to his bedroll, he pulled the blue satin ribbon from his pocket. He continued to hold it, caressing it with his fingers, as he lay down to sleep. The moment he closed his eyes, she was there at the forefront of his mind: her long golden hair softly framing her face, those gray-violet eyes staring up at his, those soft tender lips longing to be kissed. He knew what he had to do. The only question was how was he going to wait until tomorrow?