Wishes on the Wind (58 page)

    Sean held her gaze, and Meg looked deeply into the silvery blue eyes so alike her own. She saw many things. She saw Da and the boys. She saw the good times and the bad the dreams they shared. She saw six lonely graves and remembered the pain. She saw Ma's face, her eyes silently beseeching. She saw anguish and uncertainty, hatred and fear. She saw love and despair, and in seeing all that in Sean's eyes, Meg knew she saw her own soul mirrored there.

    And she knew. To give up on Sean would be to give up on herself. To abandon him would be to lose herself as well. There would be nothing left to give another.

    That painful truth the only certainty she knew, Meg whispered, "All right, Sean. I'll come home."

    Sean did not respond other than to grasp her hand. He made an attempt to draw her behind him as he stepped into the shadows, but she held back and he turned with a frown.

    To his unspoken question she responded, "I have to tell David first."

    "Nay, he'll try to stop you! Come with me now."

    "I'll be home within the hour. I give you my word."

    Taking a long moment to consider, Sean nodded, and within moments he disappeared into the darkness. And Meg knew the hardest was yet to come.

    Meg stood stiffly just inside the bedroom doorway as David stared at her incredulously.

    "Meg, think what you're saying!"

    "I know what I'm saying, David. Aye, I know." A brief flicker of pain passed over her beautiful face, but David's sense of unreality remained as she continued. "All you said is true, for you know I love you more than I've ever loved another man, but I can't stay with you."

    "This is all nonsense, Meg!"

    David took a step toward her and Meg cautioned tightly, "Stay where you are, David. I've taken all I can bear tonight."

    Realizing Meg was poised for flight, David halted abruptly. Despising the physical pain in his chest that grew with his agitated breaths, he continued tightly. "Meg, you've denied what we feel for each other before, and look where it's taken us. We need each other, Meg. We need to be together. You feel that truth inside you, but you still deny it. Why? What happened since you left this room to affect you so desperately? Who"

    "Nothing happened, except that I've had some help with my thinking, and I realize that I have no choice to make. I made it long ago, David, long before tonight, and the only thing left for me to do is to follow it through to the end." A single tear slipped from Meg's brimming eyes, and she brushed it away. "Forget me, David. Do as you said. Give your notice here, walk away, and don't look back. There's naught but heartache in these hills. There's no escaping it for me, but you've your way clear."

    "Meg"

    "Do it for me, David. Keep yourself safe and be happy, for I'll take consolation in that. As for myself, the die is cast, you see, and there's no turning back. Goodbye, my love."

    David stood stock still, disbelieving as Meg quickly turned and slipped out of the room she had entered only moments before. The click of the door closing behind her echoed with exaggerated finality in the emptiness that followed.

    Still staring at the closed door, uncertain how long he had remained in that frozen posture, David slowly walked to the window. Silent, his anguish almost more than he could bear, he stared into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the night.

Chapter 26

    The bold music of a brass band broke the silence of morning and the day of celebration began! Marching proudly in their gaudy red shirts and burnished helmets, the Shenandoah Rescue Hook Ladder Company followed the high-stepping band down Main Street to the cheers of an appreciative crowd.

    Meg walked amid the throng following the parade to the pleasure grounds for the annual picnic, grateful for the diversion. The smiling faces and laughter all around her were a welcome change from the tension in the household since she had come back from the house on the hill earlier that week.

    Glancing to her left, Meg saw Aunt Fiona's lined face creased in an uncommon smile, and she knew the excitement of the moment was not totally responsible for the dear woman's pleasure. Uncle Timothy had announced unexpectedly that morning that he would accompany his wife to the picnic, and he then surprised them all by picking up and carrying the heavy hamper she and her aunt had prepared without complaint. Although she doubted Uncle Timothy would finish the day as sober as he began, Meg's throat tightened at the joy these few moments brought her dear aunt. It was such a small thing, but it was an uncommon show of consideration from Uncle Timothy that she noticed was becoming a bit more common each day.

    Glancing to her right, Meg met Sean's gaze and his smile tugged at her heart. In the week since she had returned, he had carefully subdued the bitterness that had become so much a part of his personality. There had been little brooding of late, or displays of anger and frustration. She glimpsed the Sean of old more often now watchful, protective, and loving. He was making a conscious effort especially for her, and she was touched beyond measure.

    Terry walked beside Sean, and as he caught her eye, the frivolity of the day momentarily dimmed. Her husband and she now treated each other as polite acquaintances, and she knew there was bitter truth in the term.

    Forcing warmth back into her smile, Meg side-stepped an anxious group of youngsters coming up from behind and grasped Sean's arm to steady herself, laughing. ''The Scanlon children will run us down if we're not careful, they're that excited."

    "I'm thinkin' you'll not be run down by anyone." Sean winked. "Not my Meg."

    Her gaze slipping to Terry where he walked at Sean's side, Meg saw his unrevealing expression flicker, and discomfort surged anew. True to his word, her brother had played the buffer between Terry and herself, allowing them little time alone after their meeting the first night of her return. The hard lines that had set in Terry's face when she told him she would no longer share his bed were burned into her memory.

    Diverting her attention to the bright banners flying briskly in the breeze, Meg attempted to concentrate on the joy that abounded around them. She didn't want to think about the small, lonely room she had taken behind Aunt Fiona's kitchen where visions of David, never far from her mind, were especially strong during the long hours of night. The sound of his husky voice returned then to haunt her, and the glitter of gold in his eyes and its unspoken promise would not leave her mind. Her guilt was strongest then, and the complication of strained relations between Terry and Sean, a result of Sean's careful guarding of her privacy, added to her sleeplessness.

    Uncertain where this all would lead, Meg only knew that even if David had not returned, she would have been unable to remain a true wife to a man whose hands were stained with another man's blood.

    Suddenly realizing that Sean was watching her, Meg forced a laugh as she looked down at a second food hamper he carried. "Are you hungry, Sean? I'm thinking Aunt Fiona insisted upon taking enough food to feed an army, and you must do it justice or she'll never forgive you."

    "You needn't worry, Meg. Sheila will be
joinin
' us at the grounds, and I've no doubt one or two of her hungry brothers will be
willin
' to eat up anything left over."

    "Nay… nay…" His small eyes pinning Sean with their birdlike stare, Uncle Timothy huffed, "I'll be carryin' any leftovers home. No need to waste what we can eat on the morrow."

    Aunt Fiona's low grunt of disapproval turned her husband toward her with an uncomfortable glance, and Sean's unexpected amusement lifted Meg's heart. The strain between Uncle Timothy and Sean had lessened with Aunt Fiona's newly established assertiveness, and Meg now occasionally glimpsed a spark of affection in Sean's gaze when he spoke to his aunt. It gave her hope. Perhaps the hatred was on the wane. Perhaps they could all one day look forward to a normal life where

    "Come on, Meg! Hurry up!" Suddenly grabbing her hand, Sean pulled her ahead of the throng as the picnic grounds came into view. "There's a table over there in the shade that's close enough to the bar to make us all happy, and far enough from where the band will set up to save our ears some wear."

    Hampers firmly ensconced on the wooden table of Sean's choice a few minutes later, Meg turned to survey the quickly filling grove, the laughing children, and the exhausted musicians as they made their final approach to the grounds. Aunt Fiona was already unpacking the food, and Uncle Timothy was concerned with tasting the jam tarts. Sean was scouting the area, no doubt looking for Sheila's fair head among the crowd, and Terry…

    Meg paused at the frown that creased Terry's brow. She followed his gaze as he looked from the long wooden bar set up nearby, to the table, and then back again. His eyes narrowed with antipathy as he looked at the tall Welsh bartender who stood, arms crossed, awaiting the first thirsty rush. Appearing suddenly to realize that she watched him, Terry looked directly into her eyes, finally breaking contact with her gaze as Chester Flanagan grasped his arm with a welcoming shout. Drawn into a nearby group of men, Terry then left Meg to puzzle at the strange sense of discomfiture that remained.

    The band struck up another tune from its location in the shade of a large oak, and determined to dismiss all nagging concern, Meg affixed a smile on her face that said, "Let the festivities begin!"

    The bright, sunlit day progressed into afternoon, the heavy August heat having no effect on appetites as Aunt Fiona's delicious feast was consumed with gusto. Content, the woman was seated with a group of matrons nearby as Uncle Timothy led a heated discussion at the crowded bar. The aroma of coffee freshly brewed over an open fire filled the air, and the shouts of children happily swimming in the dammed creek at the other end of the grove punctuated the occasional silence between tunes from the tireless band. The squeal of a pig recently greased for the chase added to the din of sack and three-legged races being run nearby, and amidst the joyful confusion, the throbbing in Meg's aching head assumed the thunder of cannon.

    Glancing up at the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky, Meg heaved a silent sigh. It was no good. Pretending to be happy just did not work.

    Movement within the grove of trees a small distance behind the table caught Meg's eye, and she saw Sheila's fair head, and then a flash of Sean's darker one. Their figures blended, and the heat of tears warmed her eyelids. She looked away and took a deep breath. Sheila and Sean seemed closer than they had ever been. She wanted to see them happy, to see their lives take shape together. She wanted to believe that the longing inside her that began the moment she closed the door of David's room behind her would cease. She wanted to think that the future was not as black as it looked to her right now as she stood in the glaring sunshine, listening to the sounds of other people's happiness all around her. She wanted to believe she would be able to go on, when at this moment it seemed hopeless even to try.

    Each successive shout of laughter becoming a blade that cut her more deeply than the one previous, Meg made her way with rapidly quickening steps into the thick grove to her right, inwardly bleeding from the pain of despair. She did not stop running until she was out of sight and sound of the crowd. Alone at last, her own laboring breath the only sound that broke the stillness, she walked to the edge of the narrow creek that wound its way between the trees.

    Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy over her head, sparkling on the rippling water, and Meg was grateful that someone had seen fit to dam the stream for the children a distance away, so she might enjoy the solitude without threat of interruption.

    Succumbing to impulse, Meg sat on the shallow bank, stripped off her shoes and stockings, and dipped her feet into the sparkling water. She gasped. It was colder than she had expected and her breath caught in her throat. She started to laugh, but a sob emerged, and Meg raised her hand to her lips to block the sound.

    "Meg."

    Jumping with a start, Meg turned to see Terry behind her. She attempted to stand, only to have his hand on her shoulder press her  back down as he sat beside her. Her heart thumping against her ribs, she saw lines of pain and stress tighten his sober face, and she drew back from him instinctively.

    "Don't be afraid of me, Meg. I'll do ye no harm."

    "I… I'm not afraid of you, Terry."

    "Aye, ye are. Ye don't know what to expect from me anymore, and I can't blame ye."

    In the brief silence that followed, Meg examined Terry's appearance closely. He hadn't changed physically. The great size of him was the same; his straight, short-cropped, sandy-brown hair and comfortingly plain features were the same; the gentleness in his eyes and in his voice was the same. But he was
not
the same, and a chill slipped down Meg's spine at the thought of what lay behind the harmless facade she had believed so real.

    Without conscious intent, the question on Meg's mind slipped out in a whisper. "Why did you do it, Terry? Why did you hide your true self from me?"

    "Aw, Meg." Terry shook his head, sadness visibly overwhelming him. "I had no choice, for I loved ye, ye see. I didn't tell ye about the violence that ruled me life before I met ye, for I knew ye'd have nothing to do with me if I did. And the truth was that the man who did all those things was a stranger to me when I held ye in me arms. Ye brought out the good in me like no one else ever did, and with ye I saw a light at the end of the dark tunnel that was me life."