He was trying to—at what a cost! Trying to make things right so that they could share the forever she so wanted. But he knew now that Ashleen would never understand that. That she could only see that he was leaving them, with murder in his heart.
Yet now she was regarding him with a quiet, soft sadness. Despite his eagerness to get to the cabin Garret commanded the oxen to halt, his hungry gaze caressing the pale curves of Ashleen's face.
Her voice was low, tentative when she spoke. "Sister Agatha always said beginnings should never be wasted."
Garret reached out his fingers, his heart seeming to burst as she put hers into his grasp. He helped her up into the wagon box, tying Cooley off to a wooden bow. When he slid back into the seat beside her, her face was angled away from him, but he could see telltale drops of moisture clinging to her lashes.
He set the wagon into motion; then, wordlessly, he curved his hand about Ashleen's slender fingers.
The tangle of branches obscuring their view thinned then broke into an unsullied sweep of cerulean sky as the team drew the wagon into the clearing where Tom MacQuade had built his home so long ago.
Garret's eyes devoured the patch of land—the cabin, built to last for generations, stood as if merely waiting for its mistress to return. A few wood shingles were missing from the slope of roof, while sprays of eager saplings had begun their relentless encroachment upon the land he and Pa had battled to clear.
The tree that had been struck by lightning had died at last, its massive trunk toppled in some storm that had finally emerged the victor. Yet the fence rails around his mother's garden still stood, as if the ground itself was impatient to be reclaimed. The sod stable rose like a miniature hill a little to the west. The well, its wooden cover only a little rotted by the elements, still beckoned those who thirsted.
Even the root cellar where Ma had stored all her precious preserves stood undisturbed—so much so that Garret was tempted to go down into its cool, musty depths to see if Lily MacQuade's shiny glass jars packed with berries and vegetables and sour green pickles were still stacked with loving precision upon her shelves.
Tranquil... it all seemed so tranquil. Like some sentimental artist's portrayal of perfect serenity. Only the small graveyard tucked away in a grove of poplars stood witness to what had happened in this clearing so long ago. Only that and the shattered fence rail along the cliffs rocky ledge.
Steeling himself, Garret forced his eyes toward the site where Eli Garvey had hurled him in rage. Meggie, her pink dress making her look tiny, delicate, was wandering near the splintered rail, still eternally searching.
"Meggie! Get away from there! Damn it, girl, do you want to fall off?" Garret felt Ashleen start beside him at his harsh words, saw the other children freeze in their delighted explorations and wheel to gape at him.
Meggie peered at him across the expanse of grass, her eyes stricken, as if he'd just split the sky with thunder.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Garret climbed gingerly down from the wagon seat and crossed to the little girl. Taking care with his ribs, he hunkered down and looked into those wide, hurt eyes.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, tucking a wisp of hair straggling across her cheek back behind one ear. "It's just that... that when I was a little boy I fell there, and—" Garret faltered, looking down at Meggie's small, grubby hands.
And when they dragged me back up, I wished that I had died.
Clearing his throat, Garret pushed himself to his feet. He stalked to the rear of the wagon, digging through the wooden chest where the tools were stored. He rummaged around until he found an axe then strode over to a thick sapling, slamming the blade into its trunk. Pain shuddered through him at the impact, yet he drew back the axe again and again until the tree trembled, teetered, fell.
Garret could feel them all watching him—the children, Ashleen—could feel their confusion. But how could he explain to them the clawing terror the gap in that fence symbolized to him, and how he had felt when the child he so loved had wandered near its gaping jaws?
It seemed an eternity before he lodged the fresh-cut rail into place, as if it were a wood bolt barring a gateway to hell. When he turned away from the fence, his face damp with sweat, his side aching from the exertion, he was surprised to see the children still watching him. Yet he was not at all surprised to find Ashleen regarding him with quiet understanding.
He felt his cheeks heat. "There. Now you won't—won't have to worry about any of the children straying too close."
"No. It's safe now." Simple words. Yet they were threaded through with compassion, tenderness, pain. And Garret suspected she knew every fear he had suffered since he had laid his eyes upon the broken rail, suspected that she knew the shameful child terror he had not been able to quell.
Would he ever grow used to it? The way she could peer into his soul, see things he had always battled to hide? Would he ever grow comfortable feeling as if she knew him, maybe far, far better than he had ever known himself?
It didn't matter. She was in his blood, as much a part of him now as his hand or his heart.
He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from her, shifting it to the quiet children. "Well, what the devil are you waiting for? I know damn well you nosy little gudgeons can't wait to see the loft."
"The loft?" Liam echoed, eyes wide. "You mean... there's a loft?"
"Yeah. And you're going to sleep in it," Garret said with forced lightness. "You don't think I'm going to let you sleep down near me any longer, do you? Kept me up all night with your snoring these past few weeks."
"I don't either snore!" Liam said, but he grinned as he turned to Renny. "You hear that, Ren? A loft! It'll be like sleeping in the sky!"
Echoes... it was as if Garret was lost in echoings of the past. Beth had said almost those same words the day Pa had pegged up the last rung of the loft's ladder. Grudgingly Garret had let her climb up first, but he hadn't regretted it when she had spun in a whirl of calico skirts and hair ribbons, her arms flung wide as if to embrace them all. "Garret! Garret! It'll be like sleeping with angels!"
Garret watched as Shevonne and Liam, Renny, and even Meggie spilled into the cabin door. He heard sounds of delight, squeals of discovery. Every muscle in his body tensed as he realized that there could be no more putting off the moment he dreaded. He felt Ashleen's arm slip into his, and he looked down at her, grateful for the warmth of her, the strength in her, thanking God for the miracle of finding her.
She waited, giving him as much time as he needed to ready himself. And when he started toward the doorway she kept pace beside him, her very presence more comforting than any words could be.
