Long moments later, she heard him mumble against her naked breasts.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a chair in the same light again.”
Hallie burst into laughter. She had been thinking the same thing.
23
“We came through that snowy pass, Dagny, and I knew I was on my way home. I could taste it in the air. It took another week to get down to Sacramento City, and then I had to wait for a steamer, but eventually I got here.”
Hallie had eavesdropped on Duncan and her sister long enough. It would be embarrassing if she were caught, like some old biddy, listening to Duncan as he lovingly related to her sister the perils of his journey west.
She quietly closed the back door and went off to start cleaning the attic as she had planned. It would keep her busy. Since four whalers had docked earlier in the week, Kit was busy consigning the loads. He had been penned up in his study since early this morning.
Hallie climbed the stairs and opened the narrow door that led to the attic. The small staircase was dark, so she grabbed a lamp from the hallway, lit it, and took it up with her. She stood near the top stair, eyeing the dusty strings of cobwebs that hung from the open rafters.
Her lamp was the only light in the room, and Hallie set it on the attic floor. She was getting light-headed, peering below, so she knew she had better get up on the solid floor before her vertigo overtook her completely. She moved to the top step and crawled up onto the floor.
The room was only half full, which was a great relief. She didn’t want to be up here a week, cleaning out other people’s old junk—people she didn’t know. Kit had told Maddie when she first moved in that most of the stuff up here belonged to the previous owners of the house.
“Well, the sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be done,” she muttered, and stood up, only to crack her head on a low beam. She winced and rubbed her head as she surveyed the boxes. There were five or six over in one corner, so she picked up the lamp and settled herself on the floor.
She opened box after box, weeding through musty old clothes and a variety of china pieces, none of which matched. This could all be thrown out, she thought, wondering if maybe she should just tell Duncan to trash everything up here.
The picture of Duncan with Dagny replayed in her mind. That sweet, giant man spent all his spare time with Dagny, talking to her, walking with her, just as if she had recovered. But she hadn’t. She still walked in a daze, her eyes never showing any comprehension or recognition and her lips never speaking. She just stared. But that didn’t stop Duncan. Wearing his love on his sleeve for all to see, he opened his heart to her sister. He told her everything about his past and all his dreams for the future. He loved Dagny, and it showed in his eyes, in his actions, and in his words.
If only Kit could love her that way, she thought.
The marriage was more than she ever imagined it could be, but still Kit said nothing of love. He was attentive, and heaven knew he was passionate, but he never said a word to her about his family, or his dreams, or of Jo.
Her love for him was so immense that she felt it in every inch, every pore of her being. She wondered what her life would have been without him, and the emptiness that thought created was frightening. She dreamed of their future and lamented their past, but did not see these feelings in Kit. How could he be free to love her if he wasn’t free of his painful past? Until he opened up to her and purged his yesterday, they would have no tomorrow.
Hallie sighed and pushed aside the last box. A small chest sat in the dark corner, and she moved her lamp closer. It was a sea chest, and when she dusted off the film on top, the brass nameplate became readable. It was marked with the initials C.H. She pulled on the lock hinge but it wouldn’t move. She pulled a pin from her hair and bent it so she could squeeze it into the keyhole. She wiggled it and twisted it and the lock popped open.
Lifting the lid, she looked inside. A pile of letters, tied with an old blue ribbon, sat on top. She scanned them, seeing they were love letters from Jo to Kit. Hallie read through the first few, amazed that she didn’t feel upset or even jealous. The love words were odd and almost unreal to her. The love expressed in the letters was old and dead, cold as ashes from last winter’s fire. The love between Kit and his first wife didn’t have anything to do with now, only the hurt did. She felt strangely removed.
She set the letters aside while she removed the things Kit had kept from his first marriage. The wedding certificate was there. It showed they had married in late summer, whereas Kit and Hallie had married in the late spring—not that it mattered, except she now knew the date. An envelope held the torn remains of two passages to France. To this Hallie did react, crushing the envelope in her hand, for she remembered the agony in Kit’s voice when he spoke of taking Jo to Paris. It had been his final attempt at salvaging his dying marriage. She threw the envelope aside. It contained the torn pieces of the hope of a hurt and confused man—the man she loved.
There were other things, items that meant nothing to her but must have held some significance to Kit: an old theater program, some jewelry, and a beaded bag. Hallie put them back inside, but as she held the bag, she realized there was something inside. She snapped it open and it was empty, but she could still feel something in the lining. She slipped two fingers into a small hole and pulled out a small, leather-covered book. She leaned closer to the lamp and opened the book. Each page was dated and was filled with writing—Jo’s writing. Reading on, Hallie realized it was a diary, detailing a whaling voyage.
November 12, 1846
We left the Western Islands today, and I’m in trouble again. Kit is up on deck, brooding. He’s very angry with me for traipsing off alone again. Personally, I think he’s being too protective. After all, now what harm can come to me in a church, for heaven’s sake?
Kit says this island is filled with sailors who have been thrown off their ships for anything from murder to greenhorn seasickness. He says it’s dangerous. Well, I didn’t see any danger, just the most wonderful old Portuguese church, with color-stained windows that were brought from Lisbon. Oh, they were so beautiful.
Hallie read each page, learning from Jo’s words the story of Kit’s first marriage. It was strange, because Hallie could read the devotion Jo had for Kit, despite their disagreements. And there were many of those, most of them over Jo’s ability to get into some hair-raising predicaments. Reading some of them even gave Hallie the willies, and she could imagine how Jo’s sense of adventure had frightened Kit. Even Hallie thought some of Jo’s antics were foolhardy.
One entry in particular made Hallie pale.
December 15, 1846
We’re two days out of the Cape Verde Islands, and yesterday we hit a furious storm. It was terribly exciting! The wind howled with such force that I was blown overboard. Kit said the only thing that saved me was the safety line he made me wear. He was probably right.
I’ve never seen him so pale or scared as he was when he pulled me from the water. He held me so tight, and when we went below he said I would never know what went through his mind when he thought I was dead. He loves me. He really loves me, and that is the one thing I’m frightened of—the responsibility of his love and, now it seems, of his life. He said he didn’t think he could live without me, that he wasn’t strong enough to go on if anything ever happened to me.
What he said made me think about what I’ve done. I have to choose between his love for me and the excitement I crave so passionately. I love him. The choice is easy. I’ll have to change for him. No more of the reckless spirit. I’ll find my excitement in his arms.
