9

Lightheaded and feeling queasy, Hannah lowered herself into a porch chair. I pray I’m not coming down with something.

Thomas tromped up the steps. “Why is she here?”

“She brought lunch for your father.” Hannah’s voice wavered as nausea swept over her.

“Ye all right? Did she do something?”

“I’m fine. And of course she didn’t do anything.” Hannah used her handkerchief to pat away perspiration on her face. “I’m just a bit under the weather.”

“Ye look sickly. Should I get Dad?”

“No.” Hannah straightened. “It’s nothing.”

Thomas lingered. “Would ye like some of that lemonade ye made? I can get it.”

“I’ve already got some. But thank you.”

Thomas watched her and after a few moments said, “Yer not drinking it.”

“My stomach’s a bit unsettled just now.”

“Shall I get ye some water, then?”

“That would be fine. Thank you.” Hannah didn’t want water. She wanted to know how to tell Thomas they had to move.

He dipped a ladle into the barrel. “I heard that the Connors have a stomach ailment. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.” He offered Hannah a drink.

“Perhaps.” Hannah took a sip, then handed the dipper back to Thomas.

“Ye should come and see the new lambs. There’s lots of them. When they’re first born, they’re all wet and dirty, but in no time at all they’re fine looking.”

He took her hand as if to pull her out of the chair. “One came just a few minutes ago.” He tugged gently. “Come on, Mum. We’ll have a look together, eh? Maybe walking ’bout will make ye feel better.”

“Not just yet, Thomas.”

He glanced at the lambing shed. John was helping Margaret out of the buggy. “Is it because of her?”

“No,” Hannah said, but if the truth be told, the idea of visiting the lambing shed with John and Margaret was too much right now. “I need to talk with you about something.”

“’Bout what?”

Hannah’s nausea intensified and she wondered if she were going to be sick. She felt faint, her skin clammy. She closed her eyes.

“Mum?” When Hannah didn’t answer, Thomas said, “Maybe ye ought to go to yer bed for a while. I’ll see to things.”

Thomas’s compassion touched Hannah. She smiled at him. “You’re a kind lad, but I just need a moment.”

He sat on the top step and picked at a callous on his palm. Hannah turned her mind to the cool breeze and the freshness of the air and waited. Gradually the churning in her stomach eased. “I’m better now. Can you come up here and sit by me? I’ve something I need to talk to you about.”

Thomas pushed to his feet and moved to Hannah, standing in front of her. She took his hands and turned them palm up. They bore signs of hard work. “I was thinking I might go to work for the Athertons. Gwen said they need a housemaid.”

Thomas stared at her for a long moment, then his eyes flashed with anger and he yanked his hands free. “She told ye to move, didn’t she?” He glared in the direction of the lambing shed. “Dad said we could stay.”

“Your father’s been very generous. He’s a good man. But it’s time for us to leave. Margaret is his wife and she should live here.”

Thomas turned and faced the river, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is our place, not hers.”

“It is yours, but not mine. Margaret is your father’s wife, and for that reason she belongs here, not me. It pains me to think of leaving, but we can make a new start. It will be like an adventure.” Hannah pushed out of the chair and the world spun. She grabbed hold of the porch railing. Oh, what is wrong with me?

This wasn’t the first time Hannah had been sick. For several days, now, she’d had bouts of nausea and dizziness. Her menses were late, and she’d wondered if she might possibly be in a family way. Common sense told her it wasn’t possible—there had only been that one time. The idea of a baby created a mix of joy and sorrow.

Was it possible that after all this time she and John were to have a child? She laid a hand on her abdomen. It’s what they’d wanted, prayed for, but now . . . it seemed cruel.

The dizziness passed and Hannah loosened her hold on the railing. She focused on Thomas. “You can stay here with your father, if you like.”

Thomas frowned. “I can’t stay without ye.” He glanced at the buggy parked at the shed. “I won’t live with her.”

“I must leave, Thomas.” Hannah’s heart felt heavy. “I’ll talk to the Athertons. When I used to work for them, I was grateful for my little house and good honest labor. It’s quite nice there.”

Thomas returned to his perch on the top step. Bracing his elbows on his thighs, he rested his face in his hands. “It’s not fair, none of it.”

“I know it feels that way now, but the Lord has a plan for us. You’ll see.”

Thomas looked up at her, his eyes hard. “I like the way things were . . . before her.”

Hannah sat beside him and slipped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. “I liked it too. But sometimes life doesn’t behave the way we expect. Even when things don’t seem right, sometimes they are. We’ll just have to see what God has in mind for us, eh?”

Thomas managed a grudging nod.

With the last of their things packed into the wagon, Hannah stood in the doorway of the house. She remembered how excited she’d been when John had built their first cabin. They’d spent their early days and nights without a roof, sleeping beneath a dark sky with stars winking at them. Tears were so close they burned, yet she managed to hold them back.

John stepped up behind her. “You don’t have to go.”

Hannah turned and looked at him. She loved his strong angular face, the flecks of gold in his eyes, and the way his dark hair sometimes fell onto his forehead, as it was now. She fought the impulse to sweep it back.

“Where do you expect me to stay? Here with Margaret?” She moved to the steps. “We’ve both known that my living here was only temporary, that one day Margaret would take her rightful place.” A cavernous aching spread through Hannah. It was so deep and wide she wondered if it might completely overtake her.

“I’ve always admired your noble character, your strength. But not even you can take care of two wives. And if you try, it will be unfair to both of us.” She gripped the railing. “It’s better this way.”

Taking the steps, she fought familiar wooziness. “It’s time we were on our way.” She glanced back at him. “You can see Thomas as often as you like. And he can stay here with you anytime.” She looked at Thomas, who stood stoically beside the wagon. “He’ll need some time, though.”

John took a step toward her. “I hate this. I don’t want this.”

“Nor I.” Hannah took a strengthening breath. “It can’t be changed.”

“I understand that in my head, but it gives me no ease for my heartache, Hannah.”

He said her name with such tenderness Hannah felt her will waver. She moved quickly down the steps and away from him. As she walked toward the wagon, it felt as if her life were ebbing away.

Quincy waited on the seat, reins in hand. Thomas climbed into the back and sat with his legs dangling. Hannah climbed up onto the seat and settled beside Quincy, modestly tucking in her skirts. John moved to Thomas. “Son—”

“I’m not yer son.” Thomas put his palms down on either side of him and pressed against the wooden bed of the wagon. He stared at the ground.

“You know I don’t want you to go.”

“Ye’ve done a poor job of keeping us here, then.” His tone was heavy with disdain.

“Thomas, you’ll not speak to your father in such a manner,” Hannah said.

Thomas pursed his lips and glowered.

“No matter what you might think, I love you . . . and your mother.” Thomas didn’t look at him. John remained a few moments longer, then moved to the front of the wagon on Hannah’s side. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.” She glanced at Thomas. “And he knows it too.” Hannah held back tears. She needed to be on her way and put this moment behind her. “Wait a few days and then come and see him,” she whispered, then turned to Quincy. “We should go now.”

Quincy tipped his head to John and then slapped the reins and guided the horses toward the road.

Hannah kept her eyes on the river. She wanted one last glimpse of the house and of John, but she knew what she would see and couldn’t bear even a glance.

Perry and Gwen met the wagon as it rolled up the Atherton drive. “Hello there,” Perry called to her. “Fine to see ye.”

“Wish it was under different circumstances,” Gwen added. Hannah accepted a hand down from Perry.

Thomas leapt off the back, then stood with his hands in his pockets. “Are we going to live in the main house?”

“No. We’ll be staying in one of the cabins.”

“I’ll show you which one is yours,” Perry said, slinging an arm over the lad’s shoulders. “Hey, Quincy, follow us.” He set off with Thomas beside him and Quincy driving the wagon behind.

Gwen hooked an arm through Hannah’s “The cabin’s a nice one. Ye’ll like it just fine. It’s only two away from ours.”

“Good.” Hannah pressed a hand over Gwen’s. “I’ll like being neighbors again.”

“Me too.” Gwen pulled her closer. “So sorry things turned out badly. I can’t imagine how ye must be feeling.”

Hannah reached for strength. “It’s not what I’d expected when I married John, but Thomas and I can begin again. We’ll be fine.”

Even as she said the words, hurt gnawed at Hannah’s insides. She needed to think more optimistically, needed to remind herself of God’s goodness. While on the prison ship and in the months following, she prayed only for good health and enough food. God had given her so much more—a son and now possibly a baby . . . John’s child.

“Hannah.” Catharine Atherton moved slowly down the steps and crossed the yard. When she reached Hannah, she pulled her into a long and sturdy embrace, as if she hoped to hug away the young woman’s sorrow. “It will be all right, dear. I promise you it will be.” She continued to hold her. “The Lord sees this. He’s standing with you.”

“I know.” Hannah took a step back and smiled at Catharine. She could feel the older woman’s love, and it warmed the cold place inside her. “It’s grand to see you. I feel as if I’ve been greeted by my mother.”

Catharine’s eyes glinted with tears as she took Hannah’s hand. “Come along, then. While the men unload your things, you and I shall have some tea.”

The days settled into a pattern of work and rest. Thomas reluctantly spent the morning doing schoolwork and chores, but the afternoons were his. Most often he could be found at the river fishing or at Perry’s side, learning all he could about making tools. Hannah found it ironic that now he’d taken an interest in John’s trade when he no longer lived with his father. She worked wherever she was needed, helping with household tasks and even assisting Mrs. Goudy in the kitchen from time to time. And she’d once again taken up sewing gowns for female prisoners. But no matter how busy she was, the ache of loss held her fast. Still, she managed to find contentment and even moments of happiness. And as the certainty of her baby’s life grew, she experienced flashes of joy.

The entire household welcomed Hannah and Thomas. Even Dalton Keen, the houseman, made sure Hannah felt comfortable, making time for conversation and seeing that her needs were attended to. Gwen teased Hannah, saying Dalton must fancy her. Hannah knew it was nonsense. She couldn’t imagine Dalton being interested in anyone in that way. He was far too reserved and much too practical for something as unreasonable as love. And besides, Hannah always thought he and Mrs. Goudy would make a fine pair.

Two weeks passed, and Hannah found herself looking for John, expecting him to come for a visit, to spend an afternoon with Thomas. It was time. She was almost certain Thomas would take kindly to seeing him.

When he didn’t come the first week, she told herself John must be busy, but she’d heard Margaret had moved into the house and wondered if that was why he’d stayed away. After the second week, she’d started to wonder if he’d put both her and Thomas out of his life, although she couldn’t imagine him setting Thomas aside in such a fashion. However, she’d seen the kind of influence a woman could have over a man. Perhaps Margaret had convinced him they needed to begin again without any prior encumbrances.

When Lydia told her that John had continued to sleep in the barn, Hannah knew she ought to hope for good things between him and Margaret, and yet she couldn’t keep from feeling a measure of satisfaction and hope. Perhaps he would come to see Thomas soon.

Needing to know more about John, she sought out Perry one afternoon. She stepped into the shop. Thomas stood at the workbench and watched closely while Perry created a tack claw.

“Thomas, it’s time for lunch.” Hannah approached the two of them.

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

“Can I come back after?”

“No. You didn’t do your studies this morning. And I’ll not have you growing up uneducated and illiterate.”

“I won’t. I already know how to read quite well.”

“True.” Hannah smiled. “But you’ll still do your schoolwork.” She rested a hand on his back. “I made you a sandwich and there’s cake too, sent over by Mrs. Goudy.”

“Ye don’t want to miss out on her cake. She makes the best.” Perry grinned.

“All right, then,” Thomas said. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“Is he being a bother to you?” Hannah asked Perry.

“Not at all. He’s a fine lad. And a good helper.”

Hannah gazed at Thomas, trying to look stern, but she couldn’t suppress a smile. “You can come tomorrow, but not until you’ve finished your work.”

“I’ll be here by noon,” he said and ran out of the shop.

Hannah watched him go, thankful for time alone with Perry. She stood and watched quietly, hoping he might say something about John. When he didn’t, she asked as casually as possible, “Have you heard anything of John? Is he well?”

“Haven’t seen him in some days.” Perry’s voice sounded sharp. He gave Hannah a questioning look. “Don’t know how ye do it. Ye seem at peace with all this.”

“I daresay, I’m not happy about it at all. But God has blessed me with good friends. And he sustains me and offers me peace.”

Perry nodded. “I could do with a bit of yer peace. I’d like to box John’s ears, letting ye go like that.”

“He didn’t let me go. I chose to leave. It was the only way. Please don’t be hard on him. None of this is his fault. He had no recourse. An honorable man does the right thing even when it’s painful.”

“Well, he ought to at least take heed to his son.”

“I’m sure he has good cause for his delay. He’ll come soon.” Hannah turned her attention to Perry’s work. “I pray he finds happiness with Margaret.” The words were out without thought, and Hannah was shocked to realize she meant them.

“Ye’ve more mercy than me. I thought he’d figure a way to divorce her.”

“Do you think that would be honorable? Could you let go of Gwen so easily?”

“It’s not the same thing. I love her. There’s no finer wife.”

“It is the same—marriage is marriage. Most people don’t have the kind of love you have with Gwen or that John and I had. And remember, John once loved Margaret. Perhaps they’ll rediscover it. But whether they do or not, John is a good man and will do the honorable thing.”

“I know you’re right. He’s a fine chap. I ought to go and see him. Figure he could use a friend ’bout now.”

“I’m sure he could.” Hannah moved toward the door. “It would be good of you to speak to him. But I do hope he finds his way here, soon. Thomas hasn’t said anything to me, but I know he’s waiting for him.”

She stepped out of the door and headed for the cabin. There was something she needed to take care of. It was time to speak with the reverend to make certain her marriage had been dissolved.

Hannah seated herself on the reverend’s settee and clasped her hands in her lap. She’d sat in this same spot when she and John had come, hoping for a way to save their marriage. Now she was here to make certain it was ended.

“Can I get you some refreshment?” the reverend asked, brushing a thin strand of gray hair off his forehead.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

The reverend was a small man, and when he settled into his chair, the cushion barely gave way. He sat back and threw one leg over the other. “What can I do for you, Hannah?”

The ticking of a clock sounded loud in the quiet room. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure just what to say. Doing her best to focus on what was at hand, she said, “As you know, John and I are no longer living together. I’m working at the Athertons’. John is at the farm and Margaret’s moved into the house.”

The reverend nodded sympathetically. “I heard. I’ve missed seeing him on Sundays but can appreciate his discomfort and yours. I hope he hasn’t forsaken his faith.”

“Oh no. He never would.”

The reverend smiled. “I thought not.”

Hannah had noticed John’s absences. Each Sunday she looked for him, longing to see him, if only from a distance.

She turned her mind back to the present. “I was thinking it might be necessary to file for a dissolution to our marriage. John and Margaret belong together, and I don’t wish to be a hindrance to their reconciliation.” Hannah tried to keep her tone practical, hoping it would soften the harsh realities.

“I understand your concern. But I doubt you need to do anything. Your marriage vows were invalid.” He pressed the palms of his hands together and leaned forward. “But just to make certain, I’ll check with the governor and file any necessary papers.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you and for Thomas? This must be a trying time for you both.”

“It is. But we’re well. The Athertons are kind and we’ve good friends there. Thomas and Perry Littrell have become quite good chums. And given time, I’m sure John and Thomas will again share the bond of father and son.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The reverend sat back. “And you, Hannah, what can I do for you?”

The tenderness in the minister’s voice touched a place in Hannah’s heart that she’d managed to hold in check . . . until that moment. Tears washed into her eyes. Barely able to speak, she said, “Pray for me . . . and for John. I’m sure he feels as displaced as I.” She wondered if she dare tell him about the baby. She’d missed two menses and was certain now that she carried John’s child.

“Might I ask that you . . . also pray . . . for the child I carry, Reverend?”