Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02] (23 page)

Letting go of Emmalyne, Tavin turned toward Gunnar. “Come here, you.” Tavin raced after the giggling boy, caught him, and hoisted him high into the air. “It’s the water for you.”

“Don’t throw me out there, Uncle Tavin! I can’t swim,” Gunnar shouted, his tone caught between gleeful and fearful.

“Well, don’t you think it’s time you learned?” Tavin asked. “Since there are lakes and ponds all around here, seems like a reasonable thing to learn. Let me get you started.” He rocked the boy back and forth in his arms as if gaining momentum for the throw.

“No!” The boy laughed and squirmed against Tavin’s hold.

Emmalyne noted that Lethan was taking it all in from where he sat in the water. Apparently he had given up on wading since everyone else was taking a swim. She moved over to where he was watching Tavin and Gunnar’s clowning in silent awe.

What was Tavin doing here? Where had he come from? She’d planned to be long gone before the men returned from work. Feeling rather self-conscious, Emmalyne surveyed the damage to her clothes. She was drenched, and the bodice of her gown clung to her most conspicuously. She pulled at the material and pressed as much water from it as possible. Next she tried to do the same for her skirt. Goodness, but she was a mess!

She walked to the grassy bank and sat down to deal with her hair. Somewhere along the way she’d lost several hairpins,
and now her braid dangled awkwardly to one side. Releasing the rest of the pins, she let the braid trail down her back. She didn’t dare look to see what Tavin was doing. His unexpected presence had so confused Emmalyne that she wasn’t sure whether to gather up Lethan and hurry back to the house or force herself to wait and see what Tavin might have to say. The choice was quickly made for her.

“Are you hurt?”

Tavin left Gunnar at the water’s edge and made his way to where Emmalyne sat. He seemed so different than their earlier encounters. The bitter, hateful look was gone, and there was a mischievousness in his expression that reminded Emmalyne of the good old days. “No—no, I’m fine,” she finally answered.

He extended his hand to her once again. “Well, we’re far enough from the water that I don’t think there’s a chance of repeating that earlier mishap.”

Emmalyne nodded without looking up. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, more than a little aware of the touch of his hand. When he said nothing but continued to hold her hand, she forced herself to look into his eyes. In that moment, the terrible years of loss and loneliness fell away, and she couldn’t help but wish he would kiss her as he once had. Her wish was quickly granted.

Tavin pulled her into his arms and kissed her with the lost passion of eleven years. Emmalyne could scarcely breathe, but she didn’t care. If she should die in that moment, she would go happy to her reward.

“See, Uncle Tavin, I told you Emmy was nice.”

They looked down to find Gunnar and Lethan, hand in hand, watching them most intently. Emmalyne put her hand
to her mouth and backed away as Tavin gathered up his nephews.

In his clear baritone, Tavin began to sing, “Gin a body meet a body, Comin thro’ the rye, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body cry?” He threw Emmalyne a wink and headed for the house.

Tavin walked along briskly, each boy’s hand tucked into his. He had not intended to kiss Emmalyne Knox—at least not then—but at that moment he’d found it impossible to restrain himself any longer. His actions confused and intrigued him, however. His last words to her were that he hated her, and now he was behaving as though they’d never been apart. What in the world had come over him?

After his noontime encounter with Dr. Williams, Tavin’s long ride home had given him much to think about. He couldn’t fault the man for his obvious attention and concern for Emmalyne’s happiness. He couldn’t even fault the good doctor for interfering as he did. The more Tavin had pondered the man’s comments, the more he had come to realize that Dr. Williams was not a threat to him. It appeared that the man was actually attempting to encourage Tavin to reclaim his lady. This on its own was truly amazing, and he didn’t know, had their roles been reversed, that he could offer the same gracious and unselfish attitude.

The longer Tavin thought about Emmalyne, the more determined he became to resolve the past. He wasn’t sure
how he would manage to go toe-to-toe with Luthias Knox, but Tavin realized it was now impossible to do otherwise. He loved Emmalyne. He’d loved her faithfully through all these years of separation. Why had he ever agreed to Knox’s preposterous rule? Why hadn’t he found a way to reason with the man—to assure him that he wasn’t of a mind to take Emmalyne away from them, but rather would share her with them?

He threw a glance over his shoulder, seeing that Emmalyne was just a few steps behind him. The expression on her face revealed that she was just as perplexed about the kiss they’d shared as he was. She hadn’t said a word since . . . but he figured she’d said more in her actions.

“You boys are going to fish in that pond someday soon,” he said, trying to steer his mind away from what he would say to Emmalyne.

“Are you gonna fish with us, Uncle Tavin?” Gunnar asked.

“You bet I will, but it will have to wait for another day. You two need to get into some dry clothes. I won’t have your grandma telling me that I caused you to catch your death of cold.”

“But it’s not cold,” Gunnar argued.

“Good thing, too,” Tavin replied.

Lethan babbled something incoherent and then started asking for cookies.

As they approached the house, Tavin’s mother appeared at the door. “And what, may I ask, happened at the pond? I thought you were just goin’ to wade.”

“We decided to have a little swim,” Tavin said with a grin. “Now we’re done.” He let go of the boys’ hands and sent them running to their grandma.

“You two get inside this minute and get your clothes changed. Emmy, you can wear some of Fenella’s things.”

“Thank you,” she said, her reply hardly more than a murmur.

“Somehow I can’t help but think that you had more to do with this than anyone,” his mother said, hands on her hips, eyeing Tavin in a most curious manner.

He put his hand to his chest. “Who, me? I was merely an innocent bystander trying to save everyone from further disaster.”

Emmalyne thanked Mrs. MacLachlan again for the borrowed clothes. She marveled at the fit; it was almost as if they were made for her. The crisp white shirtwaist and full brown skirt were very much like something Emmalyne would have purchased or made for herself—though in truth she was a much better cook than seamstress.

She adjusted the pleating on the bodice and looked at herself in Morna MacLachlan’s mirror. The glimmer in her eyes gave her away—Emmalyne could see the glint of hope and happiness in their depths. But she knew she could not allow herself to let it show. No matter why Tavin had chosen to kiss her . . . no matter how much she had appreciated that kiss—yes, wanted it—and had given it back . . . Emmalyne had to gain control of her feelings and whatever might be seen in her face.

She remembered her mother’s declaration that she didn’t want the tradition to continue. But Emmalyne also thought of her father’s anger and the look he’d given the entire family. He clearly thought they were conspiring against him.

“But there was nothing planned, no secret plotting behind his back,” she whispered to the face in the mirror. But she knew he’d never believe it. Especially after what had just happened with Tavin.

By the time she went downstairs carrying the bundle of wet clothes, Morna had already gotten her grandsons changed, and Emmalyne knew it was time to head for home. Mrs. MacLachlan secured Lethan in the high chair and turned to survey Emmalyne.

“I’m glad to see they fit so well,” she said, approval in her voice. “You and Fenella were always close in size. But not anymore. Fenella has lost so much weight she’s hardly more than skin stretched over bones,” she finished sadly. Lethan fussed and slapped his hands against the wooden tray.

“Hopefully this new facility will help her to regain her health,” Emmalyne offered as Mrs. MacLachlan retrieved a cookie for the little boy. “It would break her heart to know she’s caused you and her boys harm. So we press forward in hope for healing.”

“Aye, hope is all we have.”

Emmalyne noted the clock on the mantel. “I need to get home. Mother will be expecting me, and if I arrive after Father and Angus get there . . . well, I’m sure to hear about it.”

Mrs. MacLachlan seemed to understand. “You run along. I knew you’d need to go, so I told Tavin to go saddle your horse.”

Emmalyne trembled. She both feared and longed for what she might say to him . . . what he might say to her. “Thank you. I’ll bring the clothes back tomorrow.”

“No hurry. Fenella will not be needin’ them for a time. Come on, I’ll walk you out. Lethan is content with his treat.” Already the little boy was munching away on the cookie.

Emmalyne and Mrs. MacLachlan stepped outside to find Tavin and Gunnar bringing her bay around. Gunnar was quite excited and came running to Emmalyne.

“We saddled up your horse, and I got to help with the cinch.”

“Thank you,” Emmalyne said, hugging him close. “I’m sure Tav . . . uh, Mr. MacLachlan appreciated that very much.”

“You can call him Tavin since he kissed you,” Gunnar announced. “That means he likes you. I knew he would.”

Emmalyne felt her face grow hot. She didn’t dare look at Morna MacLachlan, but Emmalyne could sense the woman was looking at her, no doubt shocked. A quick glance at Tavin confirmed he wasn’t going to say anything one way or the other. Emmalyne was mortified and knew she must be flushed from her head to her toes.

“I . . . I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emmalyne hurried over to take up the horse’s reins without even a glance at Tavin. “Thank you.”

With the wet clothes in her arms, Emmalyne took the reins and pulled the horse forward, not even bothering to mount him. She needed to get away quickly, and she didn’t want to take the time to tie the bundle onto the back of the horse first. Emmalyne never even looked to see if they were all still watching her. She led the horse at a quick pace down the road for home. She reached the road to the quarry just as her father and brother were approaching in the wagon. Her father reined back to slow his animals and looked at her with a frown.

“Why are ye nae ridin’?”

She straightened. “It seemed like a good day for a walk.”

“What’s that in yer arms?” Father asked.

“Clothes. They’re wet. I went wading with the lads.”

Angus chuckled. “Looks more like you went swimming.”

“It was a hot day,” Emmalyne offered with a little shrug.

“Aye, it was at that.” Her brother seemed to understand that she didn’t wish to continue the discussion. “I do wish the heat would break, although I suppose come December we’ll all be longing for it.”

“Ye ought to ride so that we can get to the hoose more quickly,” her father said. “Angus, help yer sister mount.”

Angus jumped down from the wagon and went to assist her. Emmalyne shifted the clothes in order to raise her skirt and fit her foot into the stirrup. She felt herself blush again, remembering how Tavin had kissed her. If Angus noticed her discomfort, he said nothing and lifted her to the sidesaddle.

Emmalyne arranged herself and settled the wet clothes in front of her. She noted their dampness but had no desire to delay them further by asking her brother to secure them behind her. Angus handed her the reins.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping he’d realize it was as much for his understanding as for his help.

The three moved forward without comment, but as they drew closer to their property, Emmalyne couldn’t help but notice the distinct smell of smoke. “What do you suppose is burning?” she asked, looking back at her father and brother. “Do you smell that?”

“I do.” Angus lifted his chin and sniffed at the air. “Smells like wood rather than grass.”

Emmalyne rounded a curve in the road and noted that the air seemed hazy. She felt a sudden fear. “I think it’s coming from our place!” she exclaimed.

She kicked the horse into a gallop, very nearly losing her
seat as she fought to hold the clothes and keep her balance. She heard the wagon rattling behind her and knew her father had followed suit.

They came up the wooded lane and crossed into the yard to see thick smoke billowing up from behind the house. Emmalyne dropped to the ground and barely took time to tie up the horse before following her brother around back. Angus’s long legs made him much faster, and when Emmalyne and her father arrived moments later, they found Mother weeping in Angus’s arms. The barn was blazing out of control.

“What happened?” Father demanded.

“There were three men,” Mother said, fighting to speak between her sobs. “They let me get the cow out. I tied her over there.” Mother motioned to where the milk cow stood in nervous agitation.

“Who were they?” Father asked angrily. “Did they hurt ye?”

Mother shook her head. “They never touched me. They . . . they said next time it would be the house unless . . .” Another sob escaped her.

“Unless what?” Father strode over to where Rowena stood. Emmalyne watched as her mother pulled away from Angus and took hold of Father’s arm.

“Unless you convince Rabbie to join the union. The men were quite clear. They said this was to be a warning.”

A portion of the old barn caved in, drawing their attention. It hadn’t been much of a structure, but at least it had offered the animals shelter from the weather. Emmalyne could see her father’s jaw clench. She knew he would never stand for such intimidation.

“How long ago were they here?” he demanded. “What did they look like?”

“They left just a few minutes ago.” Mother looked at Emmalyne and shook her head. “I couldn’t see what they looked like. They had kerchiefs pulled up to hide their faces. Two of them were short with big chests and arms. They wore hats, so I couldn’t see too much of their hair. But the one who seemed to be in charge, he was tall with blond hair—curls a girl would envy.”

“We cannae save the bern. All we can do is let it burn out and keep it from settin’ the hoose afire. Emmy, ye get some water. Wife, ye help her. Angus, fetch the ladder from the front porch, where ye were workin’ last.”

Emmalyne ran immediately to the pump while Angus raced to the front of the house and the ladder. Two buckets sat near the pump. They generally used these for watering the livestock, but now Emmalyne could only pray they would keep the house from burning down. She handed one bucket to her mother and took the other for herself.

Angus brought the ladder around and secured it against the back wall of the house. He climbed the rungs and reached down to take up the first bucket of water from Emmalyne. “Keep ’em coming.”

Emmalyne hurried back to get the other bucket her mother was filling. Angus threw down the empty bucket just as she brought the second one. She hurried back to the pump, wishing they had more to work with.

By the time the house was doused to her father’s approval the barn flames had lessened considerably. The old dry wood had been quickly consumed, and now the fire had much less to feed on as the charred black frame disintegrated before their eyes. Emmalyne stood back watching the fire, uncertain what else to do.

“Angus, come with me,” her father commanded.