Wishes on the Wind (16 page)

    "You said you'd stay."

    "My Ma will be waiting for me."

    David's voice weakened. "You said you'd stay."

    The need in his voice tightened her throat, prohibiting response, but Meg would not allow the loss of control. Leaning over the bed, she whispered, "I'll be back in the morning, and in the meantime you'll not be alone. The mistress will be here with you."

    A sound behind her turned Meg to Mrs. Lang as she approached the bed, forcing a smile. "David, dear, you have been neglecting me badly, you know."

    "Aunt Letty…"

    At the sound of her name on her beloved nephew's lips, Letty Lang burst into tears. Within moments, Meg was gruffly brushed aside as Martin Lang took his wife into his arms. David Lang's halting words of reassurance to his sobbing aunt brought a bittersweet smile to Meghan's lips. It was strange, that in their weakness, some forced others to be strong.

    The faltering conversation at bedside continued as Meg picked up the tray and turned toward the door. But the relief she experienced as she pulled the door closed behind her and started down the hall was temporary. For she belatedly realized that the scene at bedside was deceiving. All had not really ended well. It had only begun.

    ''Grace, stop that foolish crying right now!"

    Grace's red-rimmed eyes rose to meet her mother's with surprise at the unexpected reprimand. The small defensive rise of her chin touched Letty's soft heart, and, taking a moment to close the door of the morning room so they would not be overheard, Letty drew her daughter into the comforting circle of her arms. Grace's fair, carefully coiffed head dropped to her mother's shoulder, and Letty despaired at the soft, hiccupping sob that escaped her.

    "Grace, dear, this is all so unnecessary. David is recuperating from a terrible experience, and we must allow him to find his way."

    "But it's been almost a month, Mama!" Drawing back, Grace wiped the tears from her cheeks with a delicate hand. "He never let me help him or feed him, and every time I went into his room to spend time with him, he told me he was tired. He's on his feet now, and nothing has changed. He doesn't talk to me at all anymore, except for 'good morning' or some silly such thing."

    "He
is
tired, dear. Dr. Biel said physical injuries aside, David's suffered a terrible mental trauma."

    "He spends time with Meghan O'Connor, and she's an Irish from the valley a Catholic!"

    "Grace, the kinship David may be feeling with this girl is something entirely different from the relationship you and he share. They've both suffered, dear, Meghan in the terrible loss of her father and brothers, and David in the pain of his burns and in the terror of being trapped in the fire. I think that suffering has become a common bond. But whatever it is, I'm sure it will fade. Meghan O'Connor's a nice girl, but she's simple and uneducated. David and she truly have nothing in common. When he recovers he'll see that."

    "And will he have time for me again, Mama?"

    "I'm sure he will. Be patient, dear, and try to be generous with the girl. She's done us a great service, and I shudder to think what might have happened if she hadn't been able to get through to David. I shall always be grateful to her for that."

    Stepping back, Letty surveyed her daughter's pale countenance. Grace's words were more revealing than she realized, and Letty felt a familiar despair. Dear David stirred such strong emotions in everyone who came into contact with him. She had always thought that to be a blessing, but now she wasn't so sure.

    "Damn!"

    Gritting his teeth, David again attempted to button his shirt. It was the simplest chore, but so far beyond him at times.

    He gave his room a sweeping glance in an attempt to divert his mind from his present, irritating disability. His gaze skipped past the dark, massive furniture, the same which had greeted him when he had moved in with his aunt and uncle as a child after the death of his parents, past the masculine bed covering and drapes and fixed on the window. He frowned at his view of the burned remains of the stables, and a chill moved down his spine. A sweat broke out on his forehead, and he fought the trembling that began to shake him.

    Oh, no, he'd not succumb to that nightmare again!

    With a deep breath, David diverted his gaze to the new structure, not yet completed, that stood a short distance beyond the charred debris. He had listened to the sounds of that construction day after day as he lay abed fighting his nightmares, and it gave him hope. It had seemed an eternity before he was allowed to walk downstairs and inspect it more closely, and he remembered the triumph of that day. Somehow, it had taken all of his strength to accomplish that feat, and he knew it was not simply a weakness of the body that had held him back.

    He had gotten the strength he needed from an unexpected source. Even now David could not quite comprehend how a few soft words with the lilting influence of a brogue, and a glance from bright blue eyes that looked farther and deeper inside him than any had before, had succeeded in restoring his courage. He supposed he never would.

    The thought giving him a moment's pause, David stared at the stables under construction a few moments longer. Beginning to become impatient, he flexed his stiff hands and prepared himself again for the ordeal of buttoning his shirt. He was well now, and impatience was his most difficult test. He almost regretted having come upstairs to change his shirt. He indulged a moment's sulky regret in the thought that he would have been better off wearing it stained with tea from his clumsiness at lunch, rather than having put himself in the position of enduring this frustration for the second time today.

    David flexed his finger again and inspected the healing scars. Strange, he didn't even remember how these burns had come about, but he supposed it wasn't important. Dr. Biel said exercise would eventually eliminate the stiffness, and that the scarring would fade. He shrugged. He wasn't concerned about the way his hands looked only how they felt and functioned.

    Glancing up, David frowned at the reflection that stared back at him from the dresser mirror. He supposed he would have felt differently had he suffered more severe burns on his face, but he'd never been overly vain, even if Meg had accused him of that particular vice during one of their many conversations while he was healing.

    David gave a short laugh. Leave it to Meg to say exactly what she thought. She was such a feisty little chit.

    But as things stood, the superficial burns on his face had healed so well that hardly a trace of his ordeal remained. A light trimming of his hair had removed the singed edges, and he looked well, if he could discount the visible weight loss that sharpened the planes of his face.

    He stared at his reflection a little longer. What did Meg see that had caused her to study him so intently during the weeks when she had spent most of her time nursing him back to total reality? He had awakened many times to see those incredible eyes fixed on his face, but he'd been unable to read the look in them. He'd asked her what she was thinking on those occasions, only to have her respond with cryptic responses about healing that were typical of the convoluted manner of Irish speech and thought.

    Well, he knew what he saw when he saw Meg. He saw a thin, quick-minded, outspoken girl who was prettier than he had thought that first day on the hillside. It was hard to believe she was fourteen, so undersized was she for her age, but she had only to speak, and a maturity far beyond her size and years poured out. He knew there was a wisdom in her words that was instinctive, and which she, herself, didn't realize she possessed. He also knew that somewhere along the line the animosity between them had   disappeared and they had become friends. He valued that friendship dearly.

    Damn!

    While lost in his thoughts, David's fingers had strayed to the buttons on his shirt, but he was achieving as little success as before in performing the routine task. Clamping his teeth tightly together, he muttered under his breath.

    "Damn it all, I'm as helpless as a baby!"

    "And as impatient as a babe, too."

    David didn't bother to turn toward the voice that sounded from the open doorway behind him. It could be no one else. Instead, he waited for the approach of the familiar step without response. Meg's perceptiveness sometimes annoyed him. It stripped him of his pride and left his emotions naked. He was not always comfortable at being so exposed.

    "Stubbornness and pride have a way of shortening a man's patience. Another pair of hands that’s the ticket."

    Jerking up his head, David met Meghan's gaze as she offered him her small, chapped hands. "These two have a few seconds to spare if they're needed."

    "I can button my own shirt."

    There was a moment's silence.

    "Aye, you can, and you will."

    Turning, Meghan disappeared back through the doorway just as quickly as she had appeared. David heard her light step move down the hallway, and he frowned at his own short-tempered display. But he'd button his own shirt. It was time he stood on his own feet and acted like a man again.

    That determination fueling his efforts, David concentrated on the elusive pearl buttons that evaded his fumbling grasp. An interminable few minutes later, he released a tense breath, knowing the satisfaction of success as he slid the last one through the tiny hand stitched buttonhole. Taking only a few moments longer to push his dangling shirt tails into his trousers, he gave himself a last fleeting glance in the mirror before turning toward the hallway.

    Standing in the bedroom doorway a few steps down the hall, he waited for Meghan to become aware of his presence as he used the time to assess her misleadingly frail stature. The reason Aunt Letty had been deceived into thinking Meg was too young for the position crossed his mind. Her slenderness and size made her appear no more than a child, and that wildly curly dark hair that even now was slipping the bonds of the ribbon tied so securely around it, seemed only to emphasize her petite proportions. But he remembered the strength in those thin limbs as she had supported his shoulders while feeding him during the past month, and he remembered her unspoken determination. He supposed he'd never forget them.

    Appearing to suddenly sense his presence, Meg turned to look at him, her gaze taking in his frown. She shrugged. "Sometimes my hands are so willing that they forget others might want to use their own. It does my heart good to see you managed well without me."

    "Does it?" Walking into his cousin's chamber, David surveyed it critically. As usual, Grace's room was cluttered with foolish, nonsensical treasures that no one dared touch. Dear Grace. So grown up on the outside, and on the inside such a child. The opposite side of the coin from the girl who now attempted to bring a semblance of order to the confusion.

    "Aye. Ma was always after me to quit doing things for James when he was small. She said he'd never learn if I didn't let him struggle a bit with his skills. She said he'd never grow up to be a man if he"

    Her expression going suddenly blank, Meg was silent for a few short moments before she averted her face and resumed her work. David took the few steps to her side, his deliberate taunt calculated to distract her from the unhappy memory he had unintentionally provoked.

    "Are you likening me to a baby, Meghan O'Connor?"

    The eyes Meg raised to his were devoid of their former shadows.

    "No, you're too big for a babe."

    Her response pleased him, but David wasn't about to let her escape easily.

    "You're not."

    "Is that so?" A smile touched Meg's lips. "Well, I'm thinking I was big enough to handle you."

    "I was injured and unable to protest."

    Meghan was suddenly very serious. "Aye, you were that."

    David was startled by the hot rush of feelings that accompanied the realization that Meg was equating him with her lost brothers again. Well, he wasn't her brother, and he didn't want her likening him to them in her mind.

    "But I'm not injured anymore. And you're not my nursemaid."

    David held Meghan's bright eyes with deliberation as he continued in a softer tone, "But you are my friend."

    Meghan's surprise was marked by a stunned moment's silence. Then she frowned. "Ah, Mr. David, we're not friends."

    David instinctively avoided a reply, responding instead with, "Come on, I have something to show you."

    "But I've not finished my work here."

    "Here?" David turned to give the room another disapproving glance. "There isn't much you can do here. Grace won't let you touch anything."

    "Aye, but I can dust around things and straighten up if she's not around to protest. That's why Margaret sent me up here when the mistress closed the morning room door behind the two of them."

    David could not suppress his amused laugh. "If Grace only knew how you all work around her to get your way. I can only hope the deviousness of the staff is never turned against me. I wouldn't stand a chance."

    "It never would be. They all love you, down to the very last one. Every one of them in the kitchen was fair to expiring with sadness when you were ill."

    David sensed a tinge of mockery in her tone, and suddenly impatient with the direction their conversation was taking, he grasped Meghan's arm. "Come on. I've waited long enough. I have something to show you."

    "But I'm not finished!"

    "Look around you. Do you really think Grace or anyone else will see a difference in here when you're done?"

    "No, but"

    "No buts." David tried to propel her toward the doorway, but Meghan's expression turned mutinous as she stood her ground. "Shall I tell Aunt Letty that I'm in need of help and you say you don't have time for me?"

    Meg's lips separated with surprise. "You wouldn't!"

    "You think not?"

    Meghan's lips dropped open a notch farther, and David could not resist a smile. "Let's not put me to the test, Meg. You know I'm a spoiled sort and liable to do anything to get my way."

    "Aye, I've seen that."

    David's smile fell and his eyes narrowed. "If you think you're going to make me angry enough to forget the whole thing, you're wrong. Come on."

    Determinedly, David pulled her along beside him. He was all  but dragging her down the staircase when Meghan's soft protest slowed his step.

    "Let go of my arm, please." David looked at her suspiciously, and she continued with a slight rise of her chin. "You're having your way as usual, but I'm not your prisoner, you know."

    Tempted to smile, David released Meghan's arm. There were some who'd protest the pride in those bright eyes, but not he not anymore.

    They reached the foot of the staircase and David started toward the door, assured that Meg would keep pace beside him.

    The pungent odors of horse manure and freshly cut board mingled with the lingering smell of smoke and charred wood still seeping from the burned remains of the old stables as Meghan followed David's lead toward the new building underway. Birds twittered musically in the shrubbery nearby, and the heat of the summer sun was warm on her shoulders, relaxing her. She breathed deeply, grateful to have escaped the confines of the house even briefly.

    She cast David a concerned glance. He was frowning, the freedom of the warm outdoors making no impression on the sudden severity of his expression, but Meghan understood. She knew the courage it had taken for David to approach this spot for the first time to come close enough to see and touch the burned ruin where he had almost met his end. She knew that shadows still lingered in his mind, waiting to spring into life each time he passed the remains of Fabian's funeral pyre, and that he kept them at bay with pure courage and determination. She knew because she had suffered the assault of similar shadows where Da and the boys' faces lingered, and she had exorcised them in much the same way. She had exorcised them before she had come to know David Lang well, but it had only been since the stable fire that she had finally put them to rest.

    David had done that for her. He had turned to her in his pain, and his need had healed her. In her gratitude, Meghan wanted the same for him.

    Struggling to match David's rapid step, Meg found herself annoyed, nevertheless, at his high-handed treatment. Characteristically, he had chosen to ignore the repercussions that would undoubtedly follow this impulsive behavior, and she knew that Mrs. Lang would not be pleased with her excursion into this portion of the yard. The mistress was a generous woman, but she had many pressures put upon her that Meghan had not understood before coming to the Lang household. The greatest of them came from Mr. Lang, who had disapproved of Meghan's employment from the beginning. He resented the part she had taken in the care of Mr. David even more, and she knew that were it up to that hard man, her employment at the Lang mansion would meet an abrupt end.

    Mr. David's expression was lightening with the remains of the old stable behind them. He turned to Townsend as the fellow appeared at the entrance of the new stables. She had seen the man only once since the fire, and his surprise at seeing her now with Mr. David was obvious.

    "I wasn't expecting you back so soon, Mr. David. Your mount's not ready yet, but it'll take only a few minutes to get her saddled."

    "That'll be fine. I wanted to show Meg something in the meantime. Come on, Meg."

    Not waiting for her response, David walked into the stable, and Meg followed, inwardly groaning at the curious glances of the men present. They'd not let go of this one easily, and she was certain she'd hear of this jaunt again. But she had little time to consider the gossip Mr. David was provoking when he stopped in front of a well-kept stall, his smile proud.

    "Well, what do you think?"

    An obviously pregnant mare raised her muzzle to David with a soft snort of welcome, and David's smile widened as he rubbed it affectionately.

    "This is Loma Linda. She was born on a beautiful little hill in Spain that’s where she got her name. She's carrying Fabian's foal." David's smile dimmed only slightly as he continued. "She was one of the first to be rescued from the fire, so there should be no problem when her time comes in a few more months."

    "She's a beautiful animal to my eye, but I'm sorry to say I'm not much of a judge, knowing as little as I do about horses."

    "She's an Arabian a thoroughbred. She belongs to me, as did Fabian. Uncle Martin advanced money from my trust so I could start my own stable. If everything goes well, Fabian's bloodline will survive and flourish. I hope so, because there aren't many horses like him."

    "Aye." Meghan grimaced, unseen. "I remember."

    David turned sharply. The critical note in her response did not escape him and his eyes narrowed as they searched her face.

    "You're thinking about the first time we met, when Fabian threw me. Well, that was my fault. I wasn't at my best and I got what I had coming that day."

    "Oh, did you, now?"

    David did not respond, and Meg regretted her obvious reference to the harshness of their first exchange in the uncomfortable silence that followed.

    "Your horse is ready, Mr. Lang. It's waiting for you outside."

    David nodded to the groom before turning to follow the fellow outside. Meghan walked behind them, cursing her sharp tongue. Outside the door, David stepped away to speak a few words to Townsend, and Johnny Law stepped unexpectedly into sight. Her friendly, "Hello, John," was met with a hostile turn of his lips.

    "Oh, so you're still speaking to us common folk now that you have a friend in high places."

    "A friend in high places? Is it Mr. David you're speaking of?"

    John's expression tightened. "Who else?"

    Meg's short laugh momentarily startled the surliness from Johnny's face. "John Law, you are a fool if you mistake a servant for a friend."

    "Oh, am I? Is it a servant or a friend the master's nephew takes to the stables to show off his prize mare? You always drove me away with the excuse you had your work to do and feared for your position. But I suppose you needn't fear when you're away from your work with Mr. David because he'll speak up for you."

    Meghan stiffened at his tone. "And what business is it of yours what I do, may I ask?"

    "It's my concern because… because…" Stammering to a halt, John pulled his cap off his head and ran an anxious hand through his straw-colored hair, unconsciously standing it up in damp spikes on his perspired head. Meg watched his agitated display with surprise, startled as Johnny continued hotly, "Because you led me on into thinking you was my friend until you found better game."