The Visions of Ransom Lake (22 page)

Myra shrugged, as did Yvonne.

But Dan’s eyes seemed to twinkle, and he said, “Turn it over, sweet pea. Look inside.” Vaden smiled at him, for it occurred to her this secret admirer could very well be her sweet, dear Uncle Dan. She took the rock from its nest of straw, and an odd thrill ran through her body as she touched it. Then, turning it over, she drew in a quick breath as her eyes beheld the inside of the rock, which was hollow somewhat yet with inner walls covered in beautiful amethyst crystal.

“
Would ya look at that,” Myra exclaimed in a whisper.

“
I’ve never seen such a thing before,” Yvonne added.

“
It’s a geode,” Dan stated, holding out his hand. Vaden smiled and placed the lovely piece of nature in his palm. “Them crystals form inside some kinds of rocks. It’s deceivin’, ain’t it?”

Vaden knowingly smiled at her Uncle Dan and whispered, “Thank you, Uncle Dan.”

Dan shook his head as he handed the stone back to Vaden. “I didn’t have nothin’ whatsoever to do with this, darlin’. No matter what you’re thinkin’.”

Vaden smiled all the same, and the love she felt for her uncle helped in healing her heart somewhat. It was good and wonderful to be loved by family and friends. Especially certain friends, she thought.



Within three or four days, Vaden was something akin to what she once had been. She could laugh again, though not as heartily. She could see beauty in life, though not as much of it.Little by little, a much more grown-up Vaden was finding fragments of herself again.

Jerome, who had been excessively concerned about her well-being, came to see her often. The fact was that Vaden’s emotions were not as passionate as they once were, thus allowing her to be more tolerant of his still undesired attentions. She finally found the patience to pity him in seeing his side of the situation.

“
Will ya come for a walk with me this evenin’, Miss Vaden?” Jerome inquired on that particular afternoon. “It would do ya good to get some fresh air.”

“
Oh, I think I’ve had enough fresh air for a while. But I thank you for asking, Mr. Clayton. And I appreciate your concern.” Vaden reached out, squeezing Jerome’s hand reassuringly when his expression showed disappointment. “I’m sure I’ll feel like a walk very soon.”

Jerome smiled, encouraged. “Well, soon then. Soon. I’ve been miserable without ya, Miss Vaden. After what happened and you were so…so…not yourself. I found myself dreamin’ of that beautiful smile of yours.”

Vaden quickly looked to him, but she could not discern whether there was hidden meaning in his remark about her smile.

Then he lowered his voice and spoke, “Forgive me, Miss Vaden. But I’ve been so angry, so enraged, about what my friends…those men did to ya.”

Vaden shook her head and turned from him, not wanting to be further reminded of the experience. “It’s in the past. The near past perhaps, but the past all the same, Mr. Clayton. Let’s not speak of it.”

“
Please. Let me finish. Let me say my piece, Miss Vaden.” He was so stern and blunt that she did indeed nod and wait for him to speak. “I was so angry with them that it took me until yesterday to think on what happened afterward. What happened when Ransom Lake found ya. I’ve heard he wasn’t even hardly dressed. And that he was forcing ya to—”

“
Nathaniel Wimber abducted me from the street, Mr. Clayton!” Vaden exclaimed, suddenly very vexed. “Nathaniel, Toby, Frank, and Randy! People I thought were my friends…tore my shirtwaist handling me so brutally, tied me up, and forced me into a pine box and nailed it shut! And you stand before me questioning Ransom Lake’s behavior? Ransom Lake stopped it! He stopped their cruelty to me and brought me safely home. Do you think it matters a whit to me, my aunt and uncle, or anyone else who could imagine what I had gone through…do you think it matters to anyone else that he didn’t pause to dress for the occasion?” Vaden calmed herself as another thought struck her. “What else did Nathaniel tell you, Mr. Clayton? What other slanderous things did that troublemaker tell you? My clothing was torn away at the shoulder, Mr. Clayton. I was without a proper coat for protection from the cold that night. Ransom Lake did nothing more than keep me warm—nothing more than protect me from the people that had hurt me!”

“
You’re very protective of him, Vaden,” Jerome stated. Vaden was irritated at his use of her given name. “Nathaniel said that you and he were—”

“
Were what?” Vaden exclaimed. “What? I may be very protective of Ransom Lake—protective of the man who delivered me from those idiots you call friends—but you’re unusually protective of Nathaniel. Do you agree with what he involved himself in? Do you think what they did to me was amusing? Do you wish they would’ve invited you along so you too could’ve enjoyed my terror?”

Jerome sighed, and his face softened somewhat. Shaking his head, he said, “No. No, of course not. They were wrong. And you’re right. There’s no reason to accuse Ransom Lake of any wrong doin’.”

Vaden untied her apron and slammed it down on the countertop. “You’re right, Mr. Clayton. I do need some fresh air. A walk would be very nice. A walk by myself!” After going to the back room, snatching up a wrap, and telling Yvonne she was going out, Vaden left by way of the mercantile front door, leaving Jerome looking guilty and discouraged.



It was thus that Vaden found herself perched high in the branches of her favorite maple. The dear tree was nearly barren of leaves now, and it made for a broader view of the landscape. The late afternoon air hinted of the frigid evening to come, perhaps even snow. Vaden sighed heavily as she gazed out across the land at Ransom Lake’s rooftop. It was some time before she realized no smoke rose from the chimney. Odd, she thought, for it was very chilly out, and, no doubt, he would’ve built his evening fire by now. Something cold traced Vaden’s spine as the realization penetrated her mind and an oppressive feeling of uneasiness washed over her. Climbing down from the tree, she started toward the road and was relieved to see Vaughn Wimber driving his wagon in the direction of Ransom Lake’s home.

“
Mr. Wimber!” she called out, walking to him when the wagon stopped. He nodded in greeting. “Good evening, Mr. Wimber. Would you perchance be going to visit Mr. Lake?”

“
Miss Vaden, I want ya to know that we’re so sorry about Nathaniel’s behavior the other night,” the man apologized very sincerely. “We just can’t believe that our boy would do such a thing and—”

“
It’s forgotten,” Vaden lied. She had no time to accept apologies. She felt in her soul something was not right where Ransom Lake was concerned. “Are you indeed going to visit Mr. Lake?” she asked again.

“
Well, yes.” Vaughn Wimber looked puzzled. “I’m going out there this minute with my own apologies for his trouble as well. Would ya like to come along? I’ll only be a minute, and then I’ll drop ya back home.”

“
That would be fine. Just fine. Thank you, Mr. Wimber,” she sighed, climbing onto the wagon seat beside him. Glancing back to the bed of the wagon, she let her mind linger only an instant on those wonderful moments she’d spent at that very spot in Ransom Lake’s arms. Then she looked ahead. No more looking back. She tried to sit still as they rode slowly toward his house.

Vaden’s heart began to pound wildly as it always did whenever she was anticipating a meeting with Ransom Lake. As the house came into view and the wagon approached it, she feared Vaughn Wimber might actually hear the mad beating of her heart.

Vaughn pulled the team to a halt just before the house and helped Vaden down from the wagon. Then he followed her as she rushed to the front door and knocked firmly.

As they stood together before the door, Vaughn muttered, “It sure is dark in there. And where’s his dog?”

Vaden began to panic and kicked the door three times with her foot. They waited, and Vaughn sighed and said, “There. Here he comes,” as they heard a scuffling from the other side. The door opened slowly, and Vaughn greeted, “Afternoon, Ransom. I’ve come to offer our family’s apologies.” Ransom Lake stood before them wrapped in a blanket and coughing violently, his cheeks blazing red and his eyes only open narrow slits. Vaughn Wimber stepped in front of Vaden, pushing his way past Ransom Lake and into the house. “How long ya been sick like this, Ransom?” he asked.

Vaden was horrified to find Ransom Lake in such a weakened condition. She followed Vaughn into the house and looked around, noting the cold, dark, and cluttered state of the room.

“
Just got me a bit of the ‘under the weather,’” Ransom Lake forced out, his voice raspy and fevered.

“
Ya got more than a bit of it.” Vaughn put a rough hand to the man’s face. “Yer plum burnin’ up! How long’s this been goin’ on?”

“
It’ll pass,” Ransom Lake stated. Again he coughed. Vaden could hear it came from deep within his chest.

“
It was the bitter cold on Halloween that finds you this way,” Vaden remarked as a familiar pang of guilt dug at her heart.

“
Just a bitty cough, girl. Nothin’ to take too serious,” Ransom argued.

Vaden knew better. Immediately, she practically pounced on the man, holding one palm to his forehead while the other hand fumbled with his grasp on the blanket at his chest. “Let this go!” she demanded, and more out of surprise than anything else, Ransom relaxed his grip on the blanket. Vaden put an ear to the man’s sculpted and overly warm chest and listened intently. “Go for my Aunt Myra, Mr. Wimber. Doctor Sullivan is gone to visit his daughter for the holiday, and Mr. Lake’s lungs are rattling something terrible. Have her bring some broth and…well, she’ll know what else. Tell her he’s got fever, rattling lungs, chills. She’ll know what to do.”

“
Well, I…I can’t just leave ya here alone with the man, Miss Vaden.” Vaughn Wimber was obviously unconvinced he should leave.

“
I’ve been in far worse predicaments, Mr. Wimber,” Vaden reminded him, though not cruelly. “It’s plain he’s worsening and not getting any better. It could be pneumonia! My Aunt Myra will know what to do. Hurry!”

With a nod of determination and something of guilt, he left quickly. Vaden stripped off her wrap and let it fall to a heap on the floor. Quickly she built a fire in the hearth. The room needed warming.

“
Let’s get some water boiling.” She went to the stove in the next room and began stoking a fire there. “The steam will help you breathe better. I can’t believe you haven’t been into town for help. Actually, I can. Men. They think they’re impervious to disease and illness and…” She stopped talking when she heard his weakened body fall to the floor in a heap not far from where she had dropped her wrap.

“
I think I’m sick, Natalie,” Ransom Lake moaned.

“
Natalie?” Vaden whispered curiously as she tried to pull him to his feet. His heavy body was terribly weak and awkward. With great difficulty, she helped him toward a chair near the fireplace. She placed the blanket around his shoulders once more. Instead of sitting, however, he laid down on the floor.

“
I’m hot,” he breathed, throwing the blanket aside. “It’s so hot in here.”

“
You’re feverish,” Vaden explained, going to the pump and wetting a cloth beneath its cold running water. She returned to the ailing man and, folding the cloth, placed it on his forehead. “This will help cool your body,” she explained soothingly. She sat down near his head and was surprised when he raised himself long enough to scoot his body up, depositing his head in her lap.

“
I guess I should’ve taken the time to grab a coat the other night,” he said, his speech more mumbly than usual. “At least you’re not taken ill.”

Realizing he was coherent enough to know who she was and that his calling her by another name must have been purely an accident, she asked, “Who’s Natalie?” She felt at that moment, serious as his illness was, that she must know about the woman in his past—the woman who perhaps sent him into seclusion—the woman who may once have worn the ring Ransom Lake now wore on his smallest finger.

“
Natalie?” he repeated, startled.

“
Natalie. You called me Natalie before.” Vaden watched him closely. He seemed unsettled by her question.

Suddenly, his body was wracked with the violence of his coughing. He inhaled deeply and continued to let his head rest on Vaden’s lap.

“
So,” Vaden prodded, undaunted, yet feeling fairly guilty for pushing him to answer when he was clearly so ill.

“
So, what?” Ransom Lake mumbled. “I don’t feel like talking right now, girl. Can’t ya see that?”

“
Just tell me who Natalie is, and I’ll let you be.” Ransom Lake glared up at her, and she glared back. What was he hiding? What had he been hiding for so long? She had to know. She had to know about this Natalie.

After glaring at her for several more moments, he finally said, “Natalie was…was Natalie. And that’s all of it.”

“
But that’s no—”Vaden began.

“
That’s all of it, girl,” he growled at her. “Now close that curious mouth of yours and help me heal…or leave me in peace.”

“
Is Natalie the reason you…” she began. But when his glare intensified, she knew she was wrong to push him. Ransom Lake held his secrets cached deeply in his soul. He would not share them, and she was a fool, an idiot, to suppose that if he did, he would choose an imbecilic young girl like her. So she was silent. She picked up the cloth from his forehead and turned it over, placing the other side to his skin. Then, as he closed his eyes and seemed to rest for a moment, she stared into the blaze in the hearth.