“I’m here for you, lass,” he repeated, as if in answer to her silent question.
“I don’t know how I’d get through this without you,” she whispered. The door slammed shut, and she lifted her head from Patrick’s chest to
meet Gavin’s remote gaze. His black hair was dotted with white flakes of snow, wet tendrils curling at his nape. His face was red from the cold. Without a word, he moved on toward his bedroom, his door closing firmly behind him. Rachel pulled away from Patrick, taking a step toward Gavin’s room, but she stopped herself. Her shoulders slumped. There was nothing she could do for him. Not now. Not ever. Instead, she turned toward the children’s bedroom. At least there she could openly pour out her love and caring. She found them curled up together on Sabrina’s bed. Sabrina was stroking her little sister’s hair and whispering, “Don’t cry, Pet,” while large teardrops streaked her own cheeks. Looking at them, she was reminded of her childhood back in Philadelphia, of the many times Maggie had talked to her in just that tone of voice. After so many years, the memories were fuzzy, but she knew they’d been very lonely in those early years and so terribly unhappy. Just the two of them against the world. Maggie had often played the “Good Things” game with her whenever Rachel was too unhappy or too frightened. They would hide up in the attic, where Uncle Seth never thought to look for them, thinking of all that was good and happy and bright. No matter how grim things seemed, they’d always managed to think of something. She remembered how very badly she’d wanted a family, a family to love her. And she’d been lucky. She’d been given a wonderful one. Not just Maggie, who had always been a comforting presence, but Tucker and Fiona and Neal and Mr. and Mrs. Foster. She’d been granted so many things good and happy and bright. She wondered how long it would be before Sabrina and Petula could think of something good about their lives. She wondered what she could do to help them find the happiness their mother wanted for them. Rachel slowly crossed the room. Wordlessly, she pulled back the covers and guided the children beneath them. Then she sat beside them and waited until they fell asleep. She was surprised to find Patrick still there when she came out of the children’s room more than an hour later. He rose from his chair the moment she appeared in the doorway.
“I thought you’d gone, Patrick.” She walked toward him.
“I couldn’t leave until I made sure you were all right.” She sighed deeply.
“I’m all right. Just tired.”
“You shouldn’t have to carry this burden alone, lass. Sure but there must be something more I can do.”
“Yes, Patrick. There is.” She sank onto the chair nearest the fire.
“Just sit with me.”
“If you wish.” She looked into the orange and gold flames.
“I was remembering how Maggie used to make me feel better when something bad had happened. We used to try to think about good things, pretty things. Like a fine black horse pulling a shiny black carriage. Or a lady’s hat with a purple ostrich feather. Or maybe a winter snowfall. Sometimes we’d play the game for hours.”
“Did bad things happen often to you, Rachel?” He leaned forward in his chair.
“Yes…” she whispered.
“I guess they did. But you know, it’s strange. I can’t really remember what they were. After we came to Idaho, I have only good memories.”
“I’m glad, lass. I’d not ever have you sad if I had my way about it, and that’s the truth.” She turned her head to look at him.
“How do I keep them from being sad, Patrick? I don’t know what to do for them.”
“There’s not much you can do but have patience. Be there to listen when they want to talk. Be there t’hold them when they want to cry. Mournin’ takes time, lass, and each goes about it in their own way. What of you? How will you go about it, Rachel? Will you allow someone to listen and hold you when you’re needin’ it?” He truly was a good friend. A gentleman. Dependable. The sort she could count on in good times and bad. Would it be so harmful to encourage his interest, knowing her heart yearned for another? Surely, with time, she could grow to feel more for him than simple friendship, and the guilt for what she’d done, what she’d wanted, could be forgotten.
“Yes, Patrick,” she replied.
“I
Chapter Nineteen
The days and weeks drifted by little noticed by Gavin. He was weighed down by shame and remorse. Illogically, he blamed himself for Dru’s death. If he hadn’t gone to Rachel’s cabin the night before, if he hadn’t kissed her and burned with desire for her, if he hadn’t left Dru alone the next day—if he hadn’t done these things, Dru might still be alive. He mentally flailed himself for his neglect, for his disloyal thoughts and behavior. He could have been a better husband to her. True, their marriage had been one of convenience, never consummated and never meant to be. True, their mutual affection had been based upon friendship and no more. But wasn’t there something he could have done to change the course of things? It seemed so, now that it was too late to try. While Gavin wrestled with the demon of guilt winter arrived in earnest in the high country. It blanketed the Salmon River Range with thick layers of snow, sometimes with lazy crystals drifting to earth, sometimes with vengeful blizzards, winds howling across the mountains and valleys. Temperatures fell well below zero at night and lingered there until noon. The skies seemed eternally gray, days scarcely discernible from nights. Gavin went about the business of running the ranch by rote. Although Stubs and Jess could have managed well enough without him he needed something, anything, to distract him from his troubled thoughts. Rachel took care of the house and the girls, preparing meals, washing and mending their clothes, caring for every detail of their day-to-day existence. Patrick O’Donnell came often, but Gavin rarely spoke to him. He rarely spoke to anyone. Christmas would have been a dismal affair in the Blake house, if not for Rachel and Patrick. If it weren’t for them, there would have been no tree strung with popcorn and paper garlands. There would have been no
stockings filled with fruit and nuts, no special gifts awaiting the children on Christmas morning. Without Rachel and Patrick, there would have been no sleigh ride, no singing of Christmas carols. Although it was impossible for the day to be a joyous one, there was at least an effort to make it a normal one.
But Gavin didn’t notice. For him, Christmas was merely another day to get through as best he could. Gavin awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. Silence enveloped the house. No wind whistled beneath the eaves, no snow blew against the window panes. There was only silence. And as he lay there, he began to hear Dru’s words to him once again. But this time, more than five weeks after she’d whispered them to him, he wasn’t just hearing them in his head. He was hearing them with his heart. Don’t be afraid to love, she’d said. Don’t be afraid to risk it all. Don’t be afraid to trust and give. Don’t be afraid to take in return. Don’t be so embittered by what some did in the past that you can’t look for the good in others in the future. Don’t believe that every woman is like Christina Blake, selfish and spoiled. Believe, instead, in the best in people. Don’t be afraid to love. Really love. Love with everything, heart and body and mind and soul. Don’t be afraid to love. I wish you love. He stared up at the ceiling as a strange peace descended. She’d known. That’s what she’d been telling him. She’d known what he felt for Rachel and she’d wanted it for him. Not just the physical passion, although he didn’t doubt she’d wanted that for him too. She’d wanted him to experience that tender yearning, that desire to be a part of the whole that was made from two people. He wondered, now that he understood, if it was too late for him to learn how to love. Patrick proposed to Rachel on Christmas day, just before he left the Lucky Strike for home, and she accepted. But she insisted the wedding couldn’t take place until mid-June. She’d given her promise that she would stay on at the Lucky Strike until then. She would keep her word. She wasn’t surprised by the proposal, nor even by her acceptance, although she didn’t lie to herself about her reasons. As fond as she was of Patrick, she knew she didn’t love him. She’d turned down numerous proposals from men every bit as wealthy and many of them more handsome for that exact same reason. She might have liked them tremendously, but she hadn’t loved them. And she hadn’t wanted to marry for any reason except love. She’d wanted to be just like Maggie in that respect. But this time, she couldn’t turn the man away. She accepted this as her destiny. Perhaps even her punishment. To be so close to happiness but never quite able to grasp it. Rachel awakened in the wee hours of morning the day after Christmas. It was still as black as ink outside, and she knew the girls wouldn’t be awake for some time. She jumped out of bed and scurried across the room, quickly plucking some wood from the wood box and stuffing it into the black iron belly of the stove. Then she raced back to the warmth of her bed and waited for the fire to do its work in the small room. She hadn’t slept a great deal through the night, and when she had, it had been fitful. She knew she should write to Maggie and tell her of Patrick’s proposal. Maggie would want to meet the man intended to be her brother-in-law. Of course, no one could find fault with the big Irishman. He would be a kind, adoring husband, and she knew he would always be good to her. But there was an ache inside Rachel for more than kindness, more than goodness. She could see him in her mind. Hair as black as raven’s wings. Eyes like gun metal. The features of his face boldly handsome. Tall and broad of shoulder, his arms whipcord-strong, his legs long and powerful. A man capable of joyous laughter and explosive anger. A man who could drive her to tears and carry her to passion. Gavin. With a moan deep in her throat, Rachel tossed aside the heavy blankets and rose once again from her bed. She drew on a warm robe as she walked across the room to the window, pushing aside the curtains to stare across the snow-covered yard. Everything was so still. For the first time in weeks, the sky was clear. Stars twinkled against the black backdrop of night, their light reflected in the crusty blanket of snow that covered the earth. As beautiful and peaceful as nature appeared at the moment, Rachel felt a terrible longing for the relative mildness of the Boise Valley. It never snowed there for days on end, let alone weeks on end. And there were all sorts of winter activities to take part in. Not like here. Here she was alone, separated by distance and weather from everyone else in the world. If it weren’t for Patrick’s stubborn interest in her, which brought him several times each week across the miles that separated the two ranches—even in near-blizzard conditions—she doubted she would have seen another soul until the spring thaw. But if she was honest, it wasn’t being snow-bound that caused this feeling of loneliness. It wasn’t mere isolation from the town or even her family that troubled her. She glanced toward the house, understanding now that the distance between her cabin and Gavin’s home was much farther than the mere yards it was measured in. More than heavy snows stood between them. She was more isolated from Gavin than from anyone in Challis or her family in Boise. Rachel leaned her head against the window casing as her throat tightened and her eyes misted. What would Gavin think of her engagement? Would he even care? Of course not. He’d never expected her to stay longer than spring. Once he left to take the cattle back into the Stanley Basin, he wouldn’t give her another thought.