Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight Read online

  He shook his head. “I’ve spent enough of my life alone. Now all I want is to be with you.”

  Parthena curled into his chest and relaxed against him as he tugged her closer, rolling to his back so she could lean against his shoulder. She traced patterns across his chest, rousing shivers from him. “I need to speak with Lucas. One more time,” she whispered.

  He nodded and kissed her head. “I knew you would.” His ease at having her in his arms dissipated, and he tensed. “It’s another part of the reason why I wanted to travel with you. I intend to be a constant reminder to you of your recent contentment.”

  She pushed away from him to look into his eyes. “Contentment? Is that what you’d call it?” She frowned to find his eyes guarded as they watched her. Unexpected tears flooded her eyes. “It’s so much more than contentment to me, Morgan.”

  At her whispered admission, he groaned and rolled her so he leaned over her, her face framed by his large hands. “What are you saying, Hennie?” His intense, hopeful gaze seared into hers.

  She shook her head. “Make love with me,” she pleaded, arching up to kiss him. She kissed away the flash of disappointment in his gaze, dispelling any doubts with her passion.

  * * *

  “Why do you have such a large staff working at the house?” Parthena asked her sister. “Even by Boston standards, it’s excessive.”

  Genevieve sat with her feet up and smiled at one of the maids who brought in tea. “There was a horrible miners’ strike here last year. When Lucas realized it would last for months and that many of the people of Butte were struggling, he decided that we needed more than an occasional cook or cleaning woman.” She waved her hand around. “Now we have two maids, a cook, a butler and a gardener.”

  “Even though you don’t really have a garden,” Parthena said with a raised eyebrow. “And Lucas still answers his own door.”

  “I’m hoping we’ll have roses at some point, although I’m uncertain they’ll grow in such a harsh climate.” Genevieve rubbed at her belly. “I wish we could have done far more for the miners, but Lucas didn’t want to anger the rich bosses in town by openly staging a protest.”

  Parthena curled into her settee and watched her sister with avid curiosity. “What else did he do?”

  “He paid the grocer’s bills for local families he knew were struggling. He sent money to the churches so they could aid families in need. He held a concert, a rarity for him these days, and helped the miners by giving the proceeds to charity. All anonymously of course.” She shrugged. “We have the money, and we couldn’t stand watching our neighbors and friends suffer. It wasn’t enough of course. Nothing we did could help the thousands of men and their families. But we had to do something.”

  Parthena snorted. “They chose not to work. And the nation needs copper for the war movement. It does seem rather unpatriotic that they’d choose that moment to stop working.”

  Genevieve glared at her sister. “Do you have any idea what provoked the strike?” At her sister’s blank stare, she said, “Men, brave men—who worked in those mines every day in order to feed their families or who hoped for a better life—went down for their routine shift one night. A horrific fire ensued, and 168 men died. Others were unable to ever work again. And the mining companies didn’t care. They don’t care about the miners’ working conditions. About the suffering of their workers. All they concern themselves with is profit.”

  Parthena watched her sister with an amused smile. “I thought you’d rid yourself of your radical tendencies when you left university.”

  Genevieve shook her head with annoyance. “Why should you feel free to march and proclaim all you want about the rights of women and then mock me for my beliefs?” She glared at her sister.

  Parthena smiled. “I’m merely thankful that you finally feel free enough, secure enough, to speak your own truths. You were stifled in Boston, Viv.”

  Genevieve swiped at her eyes as tears leaked out. “I was. Believe it or not, I’ve never felt more at liberty to speak what I truly believe than since my marriage. Lucas encourages me and delights in my beliefs.” She stared at her small wedding band and missed the flash of regret that Parthena quickly concealed. “How are Eudora and Isabel?” Genevieve asked. “I hear so infrequently from our two youngest sisters, and Mother never writes.”

  Parthena grimaced. “You will never be forgiven for having escaped Father’s snare. He still complains of the expense of having chased after you to Minneapolis.”

  Genevieve shuddered. “Thank God, Lucas and I were already married. Lucas had the foresight to have it all arranged from nearly the moment we arrived in Minneapolis.” She focused on her sister. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Eudora is to be married in April to a Boston businessman. He’s not as horrible as that old lecher Father wanted to marry us to, but I know him to be a rather nasty person.” Parthena shivered. “He’s regained his fortune by speculating on the war.”

  “That’s horrible! There shouldn’t be profit when men are dying in the trenches.”

  “A fine sentiment, Viv, but far too many are always willing to profit from another’s suffering. And this man is always looking to turn a profit. He’s Owen Hubbard. He tried to ally himself to Zylphia, but she threw him over for Mr. Goff.”

  Genevieve smiled. “I’d think she’d be much better off with her Mr. Goff. He always seemed a rather romantic figure to me.”

  Parthena snorted. “You would think that. I’m not sure Zee would agree, spending day after day with him. No man is romantic all the time, not when you live with him.”

  Genevieve shrugged. “Of course I know that. But I’d think she’d be thankful for her lucky escape from a man who only saw a ledger when he looked at her.”

  Parthena sighed. “Yes, well, this is just the man who Eudora will marry. Unfortunately she thinks herself in love with him and won’t be talked out of it, no matter what I say. Mother has had a greater hand in this match than Father, although I know they worked together for it to come to pass.”

  “Is Father as destitute as when I left a few years ago?” Genevieve rubbed at her belly, grimacing and taking a deep breath before she focused on Parthena again.

  Her sister shared a chagrined look with her. “He’s one of the vultures profiting off the war.” She flushed with embarrassment. “At times I wish I could disavow any connection to our family. And I fear the feeling is mutual, as they are mortified of my involvement with the suffragist movement in Washington.”

  Genevieve looked at her sister and studied her with an intensity that made Parthena squirm. “Are you happy, Parthena?” When her sister remained silent, she asked, “Are you happy with Morgan?”

  Parthena’s smile was instinctive as she nodded. “I am. After everything that happened in Washington in November, Morgan and I made our peace.”

  “I’m glad,” Genevieve said as she groaned and rubbed her stomach again. “I always thought he’d be a good match for you.” She grinned at her sister’s astonished expression. “He’s strong enough to support your wild ideas and antics, and firm enough to rein you in when necessary.”

  Parthena blushed. “How well you know me.”

  “Was Washington awful?”

  Parthena nodded as her smile faded and her gaze became introspective. “Yes, at the end. In the beginning it was almost fun. Defying the police and judges, marching out of Cameron House with our banners to protest. The shared camaraderie and sense of purpose was intoxicating in a way.”

  “And the workhouse?” Genevieve asked after a long quiet moment.

  Parthena took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Was the worst experience of my life. They relished in their mistreatment of us.” She shook her head and smiled reassuringly to her sister. “It’s not something I ever discuss. That any of us care to discuss.”

  Genevieve watched her sister with concern. “Perhaps you should. Those kinds of memories can only fester and leave scars. If you speak of what occurred with s
omeone you trust, there’s a chance you’ll no longer be haunted by them.”

  “I’ll be haunted by my time there forever, Viv. Speaking about it will never change that.”

  “Was Zylphia equally affected?”

  Parthena nodded. “I believe it was worse for her. She nearly lost her marriage over it.” She raised luminous eyes to her sister. “Whereas, in a bizarre way, it helped to save mine.” She paused as though remembering the days after she was released. “I finally allowed myself to acknowledge what I felt for Morgan and my good fortune in him as my husband.”

  “He was steadfast in his care of you?” Genevieve smiled with approval.

  “Yes, in a way that was wholly unexpected. No one had ever cared for me like that before. Not unless they’d been paid to,” Parthena whispered. “Do you remember when I was a little girl and had scarlet fever?”

  Genevieve nodded and paled at the memory.

  “I was quarantined, and the only people who’d come near me were servants. They’d toss trays at me or clothes and scurry from the room.” She closed her eyes as though to erase the memory. “Never was I made to feel important or treasured when I was ill as a child.”

  “As though our illnesses were a burden, and we needed to overcome them so Father could show off his perfect family to his friends,” Genevieve murmured.

  “Exactly,” Parthena whispered. “Imagine my surprise to find Morgan caring for me personally in Washington. He never left my side.” She blinked away tears. “It was the greatest declaration of love anyone could have made to me.”

  Genevieve clasped her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “Oh, Parthena. I’m so glad for you. And you’ve told him how you feel?”

  Parthena shook her head. “Not yet.” At her sister’s frown of disappointment, she slumped her shoulders. “I haven’t figured out how to tell him.”

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “It’s not that hard. When you’re alone with him, say ‘I love you.’”

  Parthena glared at her. “You say it’s not hard, but it’s terrifying to me.”

  “Is it because you truly mean it this time?” At Parthena’s flush, Genevieve smiled. “It’s unfair not to tell him, but you’ll know when it’s the right time.” She gasped, “Oh!” and rubbed at her belly.

  “Are you all right?” Parthena held Genevieve’s elbow.

  “I just had a very sharp pain. Will you find Lucas for me?” She shared a terrified glance with her sister.

  “Sit here and breathe. It will be all right.” Parthena rose, moving toward the back of the house as she called out for Lucas.

  * * *

  Savannah McLeod emerged from her guest bedroom two days later at Lucas and Genevieve’s house and abruptly stopped. As Lucas’s only sibling, she wanted to be in Butte to support him and Genevieve at the birth of their child. She lived in Missoula, about one hundred miles away, with her husband, Jeremy, and their daughter, Melinda.

  Her eyes narrowed as she beheld Parthena in front of her, a basket of laundry held at her hip. Although Savannah had never met Parthena, Savannah had an instinctual dislike for her as Parthena had broken her brother’s heart six months before he had met and wed Genevieve. “I thought they had plenty of maids to do that sort of work.”

  “I want to help my sister, and she needed more cloths for the baby.” She met Savannah’s disapproving stare and shrugged.

  Savannah moved to block Parthena’s passage down the hallway. “Why did you come? There is no reason for you to be here. Lucas and Genevieve have plenty of family here to care for them.”

  Parthena flushed red and glared at Savannah. “Viv has no one here from her family. She deserves to have someone who isn’t biased toward Lucas.”

  Savannah stared at Parthena. “You don’t know us well enough to cast such aspersions on us. However, I can tell you where we are biased. Against you.” When Parthena paled, Savannah smiled. “Although in many ways I suspect I should thank you for your fickleness. I’ve never seen Lucas as happy as he’s been since he arrived in Montana two years ago.”

  Parthena blinked, clamping her jaw shut. “I married to protect my family from financial ruin. As any of your family would have done.” She frowned as she stared at Savannah. “Although that’s not true, is it? Your family didn’t believe you were worth protecting.”

  Savannah gasped and backed up a step. “That’s horribly unfair.”

  “Yes, it is. Just as it is unfair of you to treat me as a pariah simply because I acted to help someone other than myself.” She watched as Savannah nodded her understanding. “Don’t judge me for what I did, Mrs. McLeod. I’d do it again, if asked, to protect someone I loved.” Parthena turned at the sound of her sister calling her name. “If you’d excuse me?” She pushed past a shaken Savannah and moved into her sister’s room.

  * * *

  Savannah slipped into Genevieve’s room later that afternoon to find her cooing to her daughter, Elizabeth. “How are you, Genevieve? Can I bring you anything?” she whispered.

  Genevieve looked at her sister-in-law with a radiant smile, her skin glowing and her clean hair pulled back loosely in a braid. “No, we’re fine. Please join us.”

  Savannah sat on a chair near the bed and watched Genevieve with her daughter. “I’m so relieved you are well.”

  Genevieve groaned. “I’m still quite sore, and the doctors are concerned I have anemia due to the amount of bleeding I suffered, but otherwise I feel fine.” She shared a conspiratorial smile with Savannah. “Tomorrow I’m getting out of this bed. I don’t care what Lucas says.”

  “I think he’ll fight you. He wants you to recover well first.” Savannah’s hand reached out as though of its own accord and traced Elizabeth’s downy head. “So precious,” she whispered.

  Genevieve smiled before focusing on the longing in Savannah’s gaze. “I’m so sorry. Since the birth, I never stopped to consider how hard this must be on you.” She caressed her daughter’s feet. “You never had this, did you?”

  Savannah raised haunted eyes to meet her sister-in-law’s worried, yet curious gaze. “No, I never did. I thought my daughter had died, and I wasn’t reunited with her until she was over a year old. I had a few short months with her before … before the typhoid took her.” Her tremulous smile did little to hide her grief. “I will always be thankful I held her.”

  “What did you call her?” Genevieve whispered.

  “I named her Adelaide, but her new parents called her Hope,” Savannah said around a sniffle. “I think Hope was a fitting name for her.”

  Genevieve nodded as she bent forward and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I agree. I wanted to name my little one Grace, but Lucas insisted she be named after your charitable aunt Betsy.”

  Savannah blinked away tears. “You would have loved Aunt Betsy. She died in 1911 after suffering terrible rheumatism.” Savannah smiled at Genevieve. “She would have been delighted at Lucas finding such joy with you.”

  They sat in companionable silence a few moments, the sounds of the house quietly infiltrating their haven. A maid sang in the hallway, while the sound of the piano playing downstairs seeped through the floorboards.

  “Parthena’s playing,” Genevieve murmured. “That doesn’t sound like Lucas.” She flushed as she met Savannah’s gaze. “After living with him for a few years, I’ve become rather an expert at how he sounds.”

  Savannah’s smile dimmed. “I’m afraid I was rude to your sister earlier. I need to apologize to her.”

  Genevieve grimaced as she shifted on the bed. She nodded her agreement as Savannah lifted baby Elizabeth and settled her in the bassinette by the bed before focusing on Savannah’s comment. “I can’t fault you for loyalty, although, from what I heard, Parthena was equally rude.”

  Savannah nodded. “Yes, although I had provoked her. I hate the thought of anyone hurting Lucas, although I’m delighted he’s found joy with you, Genevieve.” She shared a chagrined smile with her sister-in-law. “There’s no reason for me to attempt to
punish your sister for her decision to marry her husband when, due to that, Lucas was fortunate to have met and married you.”

  Genevieve smiled as she clasped Savannah’s hand. “Ironically we have Parthena’s husband to thank for that. Morgan arranged for my escape from Boston, with my sister’s approval.”

  Savannah smiled as she squeezed Genevieve’s hand before releasing it. “Now, if I could convince Lucas and you to move to Missoula, everything would be perfect.”

  Genevieve’s eyes fluttered as she fought sleep.

  Savannah rose. “You should rest while the baby sleeps,” she whispered. She eased out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  * * *

  “Are you happy, Thena?” The whispered voice emerged from the shadows in a rear sitting room where Parthena had gone to think over her interaction with Savannah.

  “Lucas,” she breathed. She stiffened her shoulders and spine. “What are you doing here?”

  He emerged from the shadows, a three-day growth of beard and well-worn clothes highlighting his exhausted state. “I thought to steal away for a few moments as you tended Vivie.” He chuckled. “And hide from my sister and your husband.”

  Parthena smiled. “I wondered why Morgan had time to pore over a report he received from Boston.” She traced a hand over the back of a rocking chair. “What is this room?”

  Lucas smiled. “This is our private sitting room, although we rarely use it. Gabriel made me that rocking chair, and Jeremy made Vivie hers.” He smiled as he looked at them. “We had them in the front room until it became too difficult for Vivie to sit in such a chair.”

  “She might appreciate it now in her bedroom, to rock the baby to sleep.”

  Lucas nodded, his gaze roving over the room. “I wonder what we’ll have to move so that it will fit in our room,” he murmured. “The bassinette takes up more space than I thought it would.” He yawned and stretched, his muscles shaking with the movement. “Forgive me. I haven’t had much sleep these past few nights.”