Woman of Grace (11 page)

Baby Harold, sleeping in his cradle near her feet, chose that moment to waken and begin to squall. Without even a glance in her son’s direction, Martha Ashley placed a stockinged foot on one of the rocker arms and began to pump it up and down. Eventually, lulled by the rhythmic swaying, Harold fell back to sleep.

For several minutes, Hannah watched the woman. Then she sighed. “Of course you’re right. Abby keeps urging me to do my Christian duty and help others. I guess I’ve finally had an attack of conscience.” She pretended a happy eagerness she didn’t particularly feel, and smiled brightly. “So, if you’d like some help with the children …”

“Yes. Yes, I would.” Once again, Martha Ashley nodded briskly. “Whenever you’re free tomorrow, come over to the house. Just wait, if you please, until Mr. MacKay has left for the day.” She smiled and Hannah thought she saw a hint of malicious satisfaction in the widow’s eyes. “We both know how intolerable he finds your presence, so there’s no point in causing any unnecessary scenes, is there?”

“No, there isn’t,” Hannah agreed, clamping down on her rising irritation. All that mattered, in the end, were the children, she reminded herself yet again. Not her pride, not the fact she sensed the widow wanted to take all the credit for herself, and certainly not any favor she herself might curry with Devlin by looking out for his children’s welfare or happiness.

But it
was
little enough she could do for Ella and her children.

“Devlin Jr., don’t you
dare
knock my last marble out of the circle!” Hannah warned with a laugh. “You’ve already won all my others. Give a girl a chance, will you?”

The carrot-red-haired boy glanced up from his position on the ground, his agate marble balanced in the crook of his index finger and thumb. He shot her a gap-toothed grin, then, with barely a moment’s hesitation, shot his marble straight at Hannah’s. It rapped hers smartly, sending it careening from the inner and outer circles drawn in the dirt.

Hannah threw up her hands in defeat. Devlin Jr. whooped in victory and retrieved both marbles, which he promptly dropped into his now bulging, leather marble pouch.

“Game’s over,” he then said, now all wide-eyed innocence. “Or, leastwise,” he added with a shyly victorious little smile, “’til you can find some more marbles.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath,” she muttered, pretending disgust. “I won’t be getting to Grand View anytime soon.”

The lad cocked his head. “I could loan you a few marbles. You’re the most fun of all to play with, you know?”

“I’d imagine so.” Affectionately, Hannah brushed a smudge of dirt off Devlin Jr.’s forehead. “Who else around here provides you with such a steady supply of new marbles?”

As if considering her question, he cocked his head, his small brow creasing in thought. “No one, I reckon,” the boy finally replied. “You’re the worst marble shooter in these parts.”

Hannah laughed then, throwing back her head and releasing all her energy in that joyous sound. She pulled Devlin Jr. to her, engulfing him in a huge bear hug. “Oh, honey,” she whispered, overcome with the realization she meant her next words with all her heart, “do you know how much I’ve missed playing with you children?”

“I-I’ve missed you, too,” the little boy sniffled. “Pa’s so sad most times now. He’s no fun to play with. And Mrs. Ashley … well, she doesn’t like to play.”

“Then”—Hannah leaned back and smiled at him—“we’ll just have to—”

“What in the Sam Hill’s going on here?”

At the sound of Devlin’s deep voice, taut with anger, Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. She released Devlin Jr. and scooted back, staring up at him from her spot still kneeling on the ground.

In the past week since she had finagled permission from the Widow Ashley to spend time with the children, not once had she crossed paths with their father while she was with them. She had taken the utmost care to avoid him. Until this moment, she had managed to do so with great success.

Now, though, the jig was up. There was nothing to be done but tell the truth.

“We were playing a game of marbles,” Hannah replied matter-of-factly, refusing to quail before him even if his dark blue eyes did smolder now with suspicion. “You arrived too late, though, to keep your son from cleaning me out of every marble I owned.”

“And who gave you permission to play with my children?” Devlin demanded, as little Mary, who had been playing nearby with Jackson and a bag of wooden blocks, rose and toddled over. “Mrs. Ashley is their caretaker now, not you.”

His son stood and stuffed his marble pouch in a back pocket of his trousers. “Mrs. Ashley doesn’t mind, Pa. She said so. Besides, she’s always too busy to play with us.”

Devlin’s angry gaze never left Hannah’s. “Take your sister, son, and go into the house. Hannah and I still have a bit of grown-up talking to do.”

“Aw, Pa …”

“Do as I say, son!”

There was no ignoring the steely edge of warning in Devlin’s voice. The boy shot Hannah one last, regretful look, then ambled over to his sister. Taking her by the hand, he led her into the house.

When the children were out of earshot, Devlin immediately rounded on Hannah. “Whether Mrs. Ashley,” he hissed, his shoulders rigid, his hands fisted and stiff at his sides, “gave you permission or not is beside the point, and you know it! How many more ways do I have to say it?
Stay away from my children!
”

This was one battle she couldn’t win, but Hannah suddenly didn’t care.
Somebody
needed to set Devlin MacKay straight. She jumped to her feet.

“You’ve got it all mixed up, mister!” She met his glaring gaze with a defiant, unyielding one of her own. “Your son and daughters already have enough people staying away from them, including you and Mrs. Ashley. Instead of berating me, you should be
thanking
me for spending time with them. They’re going through a pretty difficult time right now. You’re not the only one who misses Ella.”

“Blast it! Keep Ella out of this!”

“And why should I?” Hannah cried, her own anger and frustration growing. “She wouldn’t want her children to be neglected, or shoved aside constantly so some silly, self-imposed schedule could be met. She would never have turned them outside all day, every day, to fend for themselves. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?” she taunted. “Just as long as your house is spotless, your meals are perfect, and the children are quiet, you’re content, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you dare lecture me—”

“Well, someone’s got to. Open your eyes, Devlin. See how things really are before it’s too late.”

“I see plenty.” Devlin grabbed her arm and jerked her to him. “For some reason, you seem intent on continuing to create havoc in my life. You’re just not happy, are you, unless I’m miserable?”

“Your misery is of your own making!” Hannah twisted in his grasp, trying to break free, but his grip was like a vise. “I’ve never done anything on purpose to hurt you. Never!”

An expression of tortured anguish flashed across his face. Then, as if suddenly remembering himself, Devlin released her with a look of utter distaste. “You don’t know anything about me or my misery.”

“Don’t I?”

Hannah’s fury burned white-hot within her. She didn’t care anymore about tempering the sting of her words. She didn’t care what he thought, or might do. At this moment, all she knew was she was sick to death of Devlin. Did he think he was the only person in the world who had suffered and had to overcome heart-breaking obstacles?

She closed the distance between them. Standing on tiptoe, Hannah reared up right into his face. “I’ve learned a lot about men … people … in the past four years since I was forced into prostitution,” she spat out. “I’ve learned about brutality and the depths of depravity the call of the flesh can lead one to. And I’ve kept on learning, even after coming to Culdee Creek. Learned about God, love, and forgiveness from Ella and Abby. And about cruelty, narrow-minded intolerance, and vindictiveness from you.

“Yet what have I ever done that was mean to you? Tell me that, Devlin MacKay. Did I fail to give you your money’s worth when you came to me and paid me for my favors? Was I the one who, even before you called on me, threatened your marriage? And did I ever once flaunt my knowledge of your shameful secret to Ella, or anyone else on this ranch?”

“Ella wouldn’t have ever known if you hadn’t come here in the first place.”

“So, naturally, I must have chosen sanctuary at Culdee Creek just to punish you and ruin your life, is that it?”

Devlin finally had the good grace to blush. “I don’t know, or even care, why you came here. What matters is you did.”

Hannah gave a shrill laugh. “Well, I’m sorry my presence here messed up your perfect, if hypocritical life! But a girl has to look out for herself, especially when she’s ready to deliver a baby that Sadie and her henchmen are bound and determined to take away from her as soon as it is born. Selfish me, to think only of my child’s life.”

A muscle twitched in Devlin’s jaw. A vein began to pulse in his neck, swelling dangerously. He loomed over her. For a fleeting instant, Hannah was afraid he might hit her.

Then, with a long, shuddering exhalation, Devlin stepped back. Wheeling about, he stalked away.

As she watched his retreat, a hysterical impulse rose in her. If he thought to run from the truth, he was sadly mistaken. Now that she had released the floodgates of her righteous fury, Hannah wasn’t about to let him go until she had said it all, made him face every sad, sordid bit of truth.

“Run away then,” she cried. “Sooner or later, though, even a coward has to face himself. When you do, remember that, above everything else, you failed Ella. But not in what you did with me. No, that was forgiven long ago.”

The tears streamed down her cheeks; her voice went hoarse with anguish, and still Hannah forged on. “But what about her request that you forgive me? What about
that,
Devlin? What about that?”

At her words, he slid to a halt, then turned to face her. His expression, though, wasn’t one of animosity or furious wrath as she had expected. His stance wasn’t that of a man intent on attacking her in a murderous rage.

Instead, Devlin just stood there. He looked suddenly as if someone had beaten him, and he had nothing left to give. Yet it was his tear-bright gaze boring into hers, a gaze full of the most heart-rending anguish, that struck Hannah more forcefully than any physical blow.

The realization of what she had done seared through her, leaving a breath-grabbing ache in its passing. She gazed at him for a long moment. Then, lowering her head in shame, Hannah rushed over to where Jackson still sat with the toy blocks, gathered him up, and stumbled away.

7

All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; but the L
ORD
weigheth the spirits.

Proverbs 16:2

Devlin stabbed the pitchfork deep into a pile of dung and soiled hay, lifted it high, then flung the odiferous load into a wheelbarrow. His actions were quick, angry, violent, mirroring his state of mind. But at least, he reasoned, the hard, physical labor was an acceptable outlet, unlike what he had really wanted to do.

Hannah Cutler didn’t know how lucky she was that she had left him when she did.

The past hour holed up in the barn mucking stalls, however, hadn’t done much to ease Devlin’s tormented state of mind. His emotions had battled within him like some bucking bronco, leaping and falling, twisting and turning, until he feared he’d go mad and tear the place apart. Still, even that would’ve been a sight better than what he yearned to do to that blond, little she-cat. He grimaced. A blond, little she cat trying to pass herself off as a lady.

At the renewed thought of Hannah, Devlin’s hands gripped the pitchfork handle so tightly he drove splinters into his palms. With a low curse, Devlin flung the pitchfork aside. His legs buckled. Covering his face with his hands, he sank to his knees in the straw.