Woman of Grace (12 page)

What kind of man was he becoming, he wept, to take even fleeting pleasure in such considerations? Indeed, what kind of man
had
he become to betray his wife, then deny her what she had so yearned for—a healing of his tormented soul? He was lost, and now realized he had been lost for a very long while.

Hannah’s parting words just a short time ago had been harsh, cruel even, but they had also bit deeply with the sharp lash of truth. He
had
failed Ella in so many ways. He was a coward and weakling, always depending on others to hold him up. And when even that wasn’t enough, when he could bear the pain of life and living no longer, there was always the bottle as his final solace.

This time, however, even the dubious oblivion of drink wouldn’t erase the indisputable facts before him. Hannah cared enough about his children to stand up and challenge him. Hannah cared enough for Ella to risk his wrath and its possible consequences. Yet what did
he
dare risk for his own family in return?

“You need to make your peace with Hannah,” Ella had told him that day she had confronted him about the girl. “Not just for your sake, but for the sake of me and the children.”

It was hard to face the truth, especially now in his grief when he felt so utterly alone, but face it he must. The bitter truth was that his anger at Hannah had eroded more than just their relationship. It had also threatened to destroy his family.

Despair entwined about Devlin’s heart, squeezing it in remorseless recrimination. No matter how hard you tried, he realized, you couldn’t run away from yourself—or the truth about yourself—forever.

He lowered his hands and angrily wiped away his tears. Ella was gone. He must face the fact he was alone once more. Conor had enough worries of his own with Abby’s delicate condition. He couldn’t impose on his cousin yet again, especially now. Besides, he was ranch foreman. Conor depended on him to be strong and decisive.

Constantly striving to hide from all the doubts and fears that threatened to overwhelm him was hardly the most honorable or courageous way to live. Devlin sighed and shook his head. No, it was hardly honorable or courageous, and even he could—and must—do better. He must—for Ella’s and his children’s sake—if not for his own.

For their sake, he must face his most painful failing, even if that meant reexamining his past treatment of Hannah. Even if that meant offering her, at long last, some overture of peace. He had no other choice. To do less would be always to remember what he had been capable of becoming … and failed to do.

The Reverend Noah Starr arrived a week later to call on Abby. She was able to walk about a bit and sit up in a chair for an hour or so each day by then, so Conor carried her downstairs to the parlor to receive the priest. Hannah helped Conor settle Abby in one of the leather armchairs pulled up by the moss rock fireplace, then immediately excused herself and headed for the kitchen to prepare tea.

Conor paused there for a moment on his way out the back door. “Do you need help serving, once everything’s ready? I’d like to check out a few things with Devlin while Abby’s visiting with Noah, but I’ll stay if you need me …”

Hannah glanced up from the task of setting the tray with teacups and a plate of freshly baked raisin scones. She smiled and shook her head. “No, I won’t need any help until it’s time for you to carry Abby back upstairs to bed.”

“She’s doing well, don’t you think?”

“Yes, she certainly seems to be. When Doc visited the other day, he said another week or so and she should be out of the woods.”

A look of joyous relief shone in Conor’s eyes. “I know.” He gave a low, almost wondering laugh. “I’m going to be a father again. God is so good.”

“And I’m so happy for Abby. There were times when I’d catch her watching me and Jackson, and I knew she ached to hold her own child in her arms.” Her smile faded. “Not that this one will ever take the place of her little Joshua.”

“No, this one won’t,” he agreed with solemn emphasis, “but it’ll make its own special place nonetheless. I’m just happy I can give her a child of her own.”

Hannah contemplated the tall rancher with grave interest. She had never heard a man speak in such terms before. But then, she had never seen a man so in love either. God had indeed blessed Conor and Abby.

“I’m happy for the
both
of you,” she said. “You give me hope that …” The words died in her throat. Hannah blushed and forced a smile. “Well, I’m just happy for you.”

As if he had caught the true meaning behind her words, Conor’s expression softened. “Be patient. Trust in the Lord, Hannah. He’ll show you the man of your heart.”

Hannah’s face grew even hotter. What if Conor guessed she had been questioning her commitment to his son? “I-I didn’t mean anything against Evan,” she stammered. “I’m just so confused right now …”

He took her arm. “I never thought that. Besides, what’s between you and Evan is private. All I meant was you should wait for God’s will to be clear. Sometimes, if we’re not careful, we try to convince ourselves God must want something just because
we
want it so badly.” Conor smiled ruefully. “That was certainly a lesson both Abby and I had to learn.”

She wanted to ask him how one knew for certain when something was God’s will and when it was just selfish, misguided desire twisting things to seem so. But now, with Abby and Reverend Starr in the next room, wasn’t the right time or place. So, instead, Hannah patted the hand that still held her arm and managed a wan smile.

“You’re kind to talk with me like this. I’m grateful for this and everything else you’ve done for me.”

“And I’m grateful you’ve been here for us during these difficult times.” Conor released her arm. “I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

“I was happy to help.”

Conor took a step closer, a sudden look of discomfiture darkening his handsome face. “I’ve never said this before, but I want to ask your forgiveness for my unkind behavior that night you escaped Sadie’s. If it hadn’t been for Abby’s insistence, I’d have sent you right back to the brothel with that bodyguard of hers, Brody Gerard.”

“Well,” Hannah said with a wry chuckle, relieved the conversation had changed tack, “though I didn’t realize it at the time, apparently you were outnumbered from the start, with both Abby and God on my side.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Reckon I never had a chance, did I?”

The kettle on the cookstove began to whistle. Hannah grabbed a dishcloth and hurried to retrieve it.

“I’d best be heading on out.” Conor backed toward the door where he snagged his black Stetson from a hook, and shoved it on his head. “I’ll return in an hour or so to help Abby upstairs.”

She watched him leave, then resumed making tea. When the tea leaves had steeped for the proper length of time, she carried the tray into the parlor, served Abby and the priest, then excused herself again.

An hour later Conor walked in, spent a few minutes visiting with Noah Starr, then politely but firmly informed him Abby needed her rest. Reverend Starr was quick to rise to leave. As his glance caught Hannah’s through the open kitchen doorway, however, she saw him make what appeared to be an excuse to linger. When Conor left with Abby, the priest, a smile on his face, strode over and stuck his head into the kitchen.

“Mind if I visit with you for a few minutes, Miss Cutler?”

Hannah glanced up from the bread dough to which she had quickly lowered her gaze. A twinge of irritation flared, but she quickly tamped it down lest it show in her eyes. “Come in, Father,” she said. “Don’t know what we’d have to talk about, but if you haven’t anything better to do with your time …”

“Can’t see how spending a few minutes with a beautiful lady such as yourself,” he said, pulling out a chair at the table to sit on, “could ever be construed as a waste of time. Even,” he added with a grin, “for a man of the cloth.”

She shot him a wry glance. Noah Starr was young, attractive, and unwed. In other company, his words to a former prostitute might be misinterpreted. Hannah knew, though, meeting his guileless gaze, that the priest had meant them only as a friendly compliment.

Still, there was no point served in responding in kind. If anything, Hannah wanted to discourage his interest, however well meant it might be. So she said nothing and turned her attention back to the bread dough.

Back and forth she worked the pliant mass, her actions expert, effortless. The work was soothing and hypnotic. For a few seconds, she almost forgot she wasn’t alone. Finally, though, when Noah continued to sit there, silently watching her, Hannah paused. Lifting a flour-dusted hand, she pointed toward the big cookstove.

“There’s water simmering in the teakettle, and some coffee left in the coffeepot. Can’t guarantee the taste of the coffee this late in the morning, but you’re welcome to it, if you want.”

“I’m fine, but thank you anyway.” The priest eyed her a moment longer, his long, strong fingers drumming a staccato beat on the tabletop. Then he grinned. “I’m heartened to see how well Abby’s doing. The Lord has been good.”

“Yes. Yes, He has.”

She didn’t look up as she formed the bread into a softly rounded rectangle and carefully lowered it into a greased loaf pan. After covering the pan with a cotton tea towel and placing it on top of the stove to rise, Hannah next directed her attention to the second half of dough still awaiting her in the bowl.

Noah Starr’s eyes remained on her, but she refused to look up or ease the tense silence by making social conversation. Let
him
deal with the situation. He was the one, after all, who had insisted on this awkward and most unnecessary discourse.

“How are things going between you and Devlin?” the priest asked suddenly.

Hannah’s hands stilled. She stared down at the dough as, bit by bit, her fingers arched like talons and she sank them into the soft mass. Sank them deep, clutching desperately for control while myriad emotions reeled within her.

Finally, from within the roiling tumult of emotions, anger rose to the surface. How dare he pry where he had no right to go? Her cheeks flamed with indignation. What business was it of his—?

“I don’t mean to cause you discomfort, or to appear the nosy gossip,” Noah hastened to explain. “But our conversation that day at Ella’s funeral … well, it’s been on my mind ever since.”

“How so, Father?” Hannah turned the full force of her suspicious gaze on him.

Apparently unperturbed by her hostility, he cocked his head and smiled up at her. “You said that you and Devlin weren’t friends. I had hoped, with time, that might change.”

“Well, it hasn’t. No sooner was Ella in the ground than Devlin had another housekeeper from Grand View fetched to replace me. Save for a time or two since then, we’ve hardly talked.”

Noah sighed and shook his head. “That must have hurt you deeply.”

At his softly couched statement, unexpected tears sprang to Hannah’s eyes. Furious with herself—and at him for asking—she hastily blinked them away. Then, to hide her unnerving display, Hannah lowered her head as if concentrating on her task, and resumed kneading the dough.

“My feelings were never a consideration,” she gritted out the admission. “It’s Devlin’s house and family. He can do whatever he wants.”

“How can I help? It pains me to see two fine people so angry at each other, and so miserable because of it.”

With rough, jerky motions, Hannah formed the dough into a loaf and all but flung it into its pan. “If you really want to help,” she finally said, meeting his concerned gaze, “then go ask Devlin. He’s the one who refuses to forgive. He’s the one who won’t give me a chance. But don’t come to me and expect me to solve this problem. Face Devlin, if you dare, and then you’ll understand.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “On second thought, maybe you won’t
want
to understand. Maybe it’s safer if you
don’t
dig too deeply.”

“And why’s that, Hannah?”

She smiled, but this time the action was totally devoid of warmth or feeling. “Don’t you have enough problems to deal with, Father, without seeking out even more?”

“I can’t ignore anyone I see suffering. You and Devlin are as much my brother and sister in Christ as anyone else.”

Hannah gave a mocking laugh. “Perhaps Devlin is, but I was long ago separated from that particular family.”

“If you ever wish to return to church, the door is always open, Hannah. Always.”

She eyed him warily. Would he be surprised to learn that she had never in her entire life set foot inside a church? Indeed, she wasn’t even baptized. Her parents had never put much store in religion. But to admit the truth now, Hannah feared, would only spur the Reverend Starr onto further evangelistic efforts. He was, after all, such a well-meaning, naïve fool.

“You’ll be the first to know, if the day ever comes when I want to go to church,” Hannah replied at last, deciding it safest to discourage him in the most direct way she could.

Noah pushed back his chair and stood. “I not only look forward to that day, but I pray for it.”

Hannah met his steady gaze and saw the sincerity burning in the depths of his warm brown eyes. Remorse flooded her. She had been rude and downright hostile, yet the man didn’t seem to care. He was as open and friendly now as he had been when he had first entered the kitchen.