The Vanishing Point (26 page)

Pigskin, pig fat, pig brains. The smell was overpowering. Outside in the fresh air and sunlight, the Irishmen split logs. But they dropped their hatchets and stood to attention when May came with the basket of midday victuals. Gabriel watched the manservants gather around her, getting as close to her as they dared, while she passed out the cornbread. Even when he reminded himself that he didn't care for her, Gabriel tightened his grip on the fleshing knife at the sight of James gawking at her with undisguised lust shining on his face. Gabriel waited for May to encourage him, proving how rotten she was beneath her pretty mask. Instead she averted her eyes and veered away from James as though she had some superstitious dread of him. Clutching her basket, she made for the tanning shed, then stopped short when the stench hit her face.

"Aye, it stinks," Gabriel told her shortly. "You can leave the basket out there."

He expected her to pull a proud face, but she simply nodded and set the basket down.

"Cornbread and pig's trotters this day." She looked troubled and oppressed.

"Are you feeling poorly?" He put aside the fleshing knife.

She shook her head. Something seemed to be poised on her tongue, yet she said nothing. The wind blew her hair across her
lips until she tucked the loose strand back into her housewife's cap. Although she had arrived on this shore with a lady's smooth white hands, her fingers were now as red and cracked as any servant's.

"There's a jar of bear grease in the pantry," he said. "It will soften your hands."

"Bear grease?" She looked at him inquisitively. "You know this from tanning hides?"

He couldn't decide whether she was mocking him or not. Before he could take up the knife and start scraping again, she stepped forward, eyes lowered.

"Gabriel, if ever I offended you, I beg your pardon." Her face was scarlet.

He didn't know what to say. He could hardly go to her, stinking as he was.

From the house, Adele called for her. When May hurried off, her flying skirts revealed her worn-down shoes.

***

In the cold dawn, Gabriel awoke to whimpering. Fingers caught in his hair. She breathed in ragged gulps as though something were chasing her. She moaned a name. Hannah.

He laid his hand on her arm and squeezed. "It is only a dream."

Her eyes opened. She looked like a wild thing, mouth gaping, fingers still wound in his hair. Before he could stop himself, he stroked her tousled head. May's hair was even more beautiful than the rest of her, the russet of strong India tea. He waited for her to laugh at him, but she caught his hand and kissed it.

Had the moment come? Had she started caring for him? He kissed her mouth and she kissed him back. She clung to him. Her fingers feathered over his belly, slowly working downward. It happened then, that November morning. She opened her body, took him inside her. He buried his head in her hair as his body exploded. His tears filled her hair and she didn't laugh.

***

At breakfast, Gabriel couldn't take his eyes off her, couldn't hide his happiness. Her skin glowed, pink and fresh. Her eyes shone brighter than he had ever seen them. Let everyone stare at them both. Let them see how their lovemaking had made her radiant.

Father took him aside, gave him a swig of rum and a rough hug. "A man now, aren't you, my son?"

E
CSTATIC BARKING DREW
Hannah out of the house. Feet flying, she dashed down the path. When she reached the dock, she was winded. Gabriel climbed out of the canoe, only to be engulfed by the dogs. Lost among the furry bodies, he did not look up to see her. She tried to observe him with clear, dispassionate eyes. Did he look like a guilty man?

Breaking loose from the dogs, Gabriel lifted a bundle from the canoe. Then he caught sight of her. "Hannah!" His voice was full of happiness.

He rushed forward, the dogs rushing with him. Soon she was wrapped up in the tumult, the dogs tumbling around her, Bessie tugging at her skirt. Gabriel set down the bundle and embraced her as though he had been gone a year.

"I came back with as much speed as I could. Hannah, what is it? You look so sad." He broke off to scold the dogs for trying to paw open the bundle. "Did something happen while I was away?"

"I did not like being here alone."

He kissed her. "Well, now I'm back. And I've a surprise for you." His arm around her waist, he led her into the house, then laid the bundle on the table. She had never seen him so excited.

"Go on and open it, dear. Pretend it's Christmas."

She untied the string, then pulled away the sacking to reveal two hard cones of sugar wrapped in stiff paper. If she had anyone
to write letters to, the paper itself would have been a prize. There was a tin box of salt, a wooden box of nails, and a bolt of sprigged Indian cotton of pale green with a darker green pattern.

She fingered the exotic cloth. "This is an extravagance. It must have cost you many furs."

He shrugged. "Someone ordered it off the ship but couldn't pay for it. Too behind on his debts, I'll wager. I bargained hard and got a good price." He touched her hair. "The colors do suit you. Those spoiled girls down the river would be jealous if they saw you in that."

At the mention of the Banham girls, her heart thudded sickly.

"There's something else." He clasped her hands and sat with her on the bench. "Close your eyes."

"What is this? Do you play games with me?" When she closed her eyes, he placed something in her palm.

"Open your eyes."

Cupped in her hand was a gold ring set with a ruby and a seed pearl.

"Gabriel." Tears filled her eyes. "
How
did you find this?"

He silenced her with a kiss, then placed it on the ring finger of her left hand. "Now we are betrothed, my love, right and proper." He knelt on the floor and kissed both her hands. "I treasure you more than anything."

Had anyone ever looked at her the way he did? She was speechless, face hot and flushed.

He touched her wet cheek. "You still cry. Did you miss me so much?"

She clung to him. He rocked her in his arms.

"I am sorry I left you alone. But you like the ring, don't you?"

"It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The most beautiful thing." She kissed him feverishly. But something in her manner must have betrayed her, something too frantic in her movements.

"What happened while I was away?"

"Nothing," she breathed. "Nothing happened."

He cocked his head. "Do you speak the truth?"

She embraced him again. The only way she could hide her face from him was by kissing him with such passion that all he could do was kiss her back. "I
missed
you." She licked his clavicle, tasting his flesh. The old hunger filled her. Taking his hand, she led him to bed. If she let him inflame her, it would drive the doubts away. He was careful not to hurt her. He held her alongside him and entered her from behind so that there was no weight on her belly. He cupped her breasts, which had grown so abundant they spilled out of his hands. She cried out her love for him, her legs knifing the bedclothes. His breath was hot on her nape, his face buried in her hair.

"There are no two people more fortunate than we are," he said.

She began to cry uncontrollably. He pulled her around to face him.

"
Tell
me what is wrong." There was an edge of exasperation in his voice. "Why must you torment the both of us by keeping silent?"

"It is only my condition."

"Hannah, you make a poor liar. It grieves me to think you could ever lie to me."

"To tell the truth, I must break our pact."

Drawing his hands away from her, he took a breath, then sat up cross-legged on the bed, his nakedness completely uncovered, as though he were Adam in the Garden and knew no shame. "Break our pact? What do you mean?"

"I must speak my sister's name."

He raised his hands to his eyes. "Why?"

Pushing her body upright, she groped for her shift and threw it over her neck. She drew her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The things she had to tell him could not be said while she was naked. She moved away from the bed.

"While you were gone, Mr. Banham paid a visit. The young Mr. Richard Banham."

"Banham. I should have guessed." He turned his back to her and dressed. "I reckon they saw me when I went past their landing. Such cowards they are, coming to call on you while I was away. Do they intend to petition the Lord Baltimore to take over my leasehold?"

Hannah sank down on the bench, faint with relief. There was no guilt in his voice, only anger at the Banhams' scheming.

Fully clothed, he turned to her. "Hannah, he did not frighten you, did he? If he laid a finger on you, I swear I'll slit his throat."

Without wanting to, she imagined him with the knife in his hand. "
No
. No one laid a hand on me."

"Something troubles you sorely, I can tell. I have never seen you like this."

"It was diabolical. He said such terrible things. There are base rumors going up and down the Bay. Rumors of you." She shook her head to show him her disbelief. "Yet he would have me believe this hearsay is truth." Her voice trailed off when she saw him go gray in the face.

He backed away from her until he leaned against the door. His eyes had gone red. He kept blinking at her. "Well, out with it, then." He spoke bitterly. "You've led me this far. Tell me those rumors."

Since she couldn't bear to spit out the accusation without preamble, she went through Richard Banham's story, piece by piece.

"Did you once have an indentured servant by the name of Patrick Flynn?"

"Aye. The thieving bastard stole the silver and my father's ring."

"They did arrest him in Port Tobacco and were going to return him and the goods to you."

He lifted his eyebrows. "That's a tale. The magistrates from Port Tobacco would bring that lying cutpurse back here?"

"This is what Banham told me." Her voice mirrored Gabriel's skepticism. "But that is not all. This Flynn told the magistrates that he fled you because he feared for his life."

Gabriel shook with laughter. "That is the cause of the vile gossip that drove Banham to speak to you behind my back? That I frightened a thief?"

"Flynn told the magistrates that you ... that you did murder May." Clasping her hands in her lap, she waited for him to say something.

The house had grown cold. One of them needed to put another log on the fire, but his eyes pinned her to the bench. He stared at her, his face like a skull.

"Murder? I would never do such a thing." His voice was chilly.

"I did not believe him, how could I? Do you know what he wanted to do? He came with two men bearing shovels. They wanted to dig poor May out of her grave and inspect her body for evidence."

"Enough!" he snapped. He was trembling.

"Gabriel, I did not let them. Do you know what I did? I sat on her grave and wouldn't move. They saw I went with child and they didn't dare touch me. I sent them away, I did. Told Richard Banham that if he was a true gentleman, he would have to come back when you were here and say these things to your face."

He looked at her without recognition, as though he had gone into a trance.

She began to weep in hoarse noisy gulps. "I told him it was a pack of lies, Gabriel."

At last he seemed to return to his senses. Sitting beside her on the bench, he grasped her arms. "I am an innocent man. Do you believe even a word of those rumors?" Though he still looked shaken, the anger had drained out of him.

"How could I?" She let him brush the tears from her eyes. "How could I take a stranger's word over yours?"

"If you have judged me innocent, let us put this behind us and speak no more of it."

"It will be as you say," she replied. Inside her, the child shifted, pressing against the wall of her womb.

He grasped her hand fondly and tried to smile when a look of exhaustion crossed his face. His eyes were hooded, brooding. It was the old haunted look she remembered from when she first arrived—the expression of a man nearly done in by grief.

"Hannah, I have not eaten since dawn."

Without another word, she heaped wood on the fire and cut onions and salt pork to fry in the skillet.

***

After supper, Gabriel retired. The house was warm again, filled with the comforting scent of the meal she had cooked.

"Are you coming to bed?" he called to her.

"After I bank the fire."

When she clambered in beside him, he drew her in his arms and kissed her. In the bed with the curtains drawn shut, she couldn't see his face, could only feel his hands, warm and tender; it was as if they had never discussed murder. Nestling against him, she returned his kisses, but could not settle down. The baby would not stop stirring. She guided Gabriel's hand to her belly. "Feel it kick."

"A lusty child," he said. "He shows us his character already."

"You think it will be a boy, not a girl?" Inside her was a coldness she couldn't get rid of, even as Gabriel drew her into his warmth. If she had a daughter, she might want to name her May. But Gabriel would never allow it.
What use is there naming the child after a dead woman?

"A strong fine boy," he said. "I sense it from the way he moves."

Not a weak girl,
she thought,
who would live only seven days and then drag her mother with her into the grave.

***

Wide awake, she listened to his deep, even breathing. How could he sleep when she thought she could never sleep again? That look in his eyes when she told him that Banham had wanted to open the coffin.

She and May used to wait until Father's snores echoed through the walls before they began their secret talks under the bedclothes. Sometimes they crept to the window to peer out at the moon. May put her white apron over her head and pretended to be a ghost.

Disengaging herself from Gabriel's arms, she rose from bed. May would have been proud of how noiselessly she moved over the creaky wooden floor. Feeling her way to the peg where her shawl hung, she wrapped it around her shoulders, then stoked the fire. By its dim light, she unrolled the bolt of cotton on the trestle table and stroked the soft fabric, tracing squares, rectangles, and circles. It looked as though there would be enough fabric to make both a new dress for herself and a gown and cap for the baby. Even if she had a boy, he would wear gowns and have long locks until he was old enough to be breeched. In his first five years, he would look like a little maiden.