Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four Read online

  “What’s your rush, Col?” Patrick asked, looking at the woman.

  “She’s one of Missoula’s busybody mothers who hopes I’ll marry her daughter,” Colin said as he breathed a sigh of relief when they were halfway over the bridge. He slowed his pace, noting Patrick glancing toward the mountains, the river, the soft light of the evening sky before dusk.

  “It’s beautiful here,” Patrick breathed. “I think I’d put up with a busybody mother-in-law if it meant I could stay.”

  Colin laughed. “You say that now, but you’ve never met her.”

  They continued their walk across the bridge, turning right onto Third Street. They approached Colin’s house, a small Craftsman with a large front porch. Two rocking chairs sat to the right of the front door.

  After unlocking the door, Colin ushered Patrick in, flipped on a light and beamed as he looked around his small living room. “Welcome.”

  Patrick paused near the threshold, his gaze wandering from the dormant brick fireplace to the cream-colored walls, worn leather furniture and finely carved side tables. An archway led into what appeared to be a dining room. Colin moved past Patrick, grabbed his coat and hung it on a peg behind the door with his, and motioned for Patrick to set his suitcase by the front door.

  Colin propelled his brother into the living room, pushing him until he settled on the edge of a sofa. Colin moved to a small sidebar and fixed them a drink. “Seeing as it’s just the two of us,” he said with a playful smile. He handed Patrick a drink and sat down. “You sure you’re too tired to see Rissa tonight?” At Patrick’s nod, Colin sighed. “She’ll be angry to have missed out on any of her time with you.”

  “I know, but I can’t tonight. She’s too …” He shared a knowing glance with his brother about their inquisitive sister, and their fragile bond of brotherhood strengthened with their mutual understanding of their sister. “You have a wonderful home, Col.” Patrick looked around at the tidy living room that led into a small dining room.

  White curtains covered the windows, and the walls were painted a soothing cream color. Painted built-in bookcases lined either side of the stone fireplace, and a painting of Union Park in the South End hung over the fireplace.

  Patrick leaned forward, his hungry gaze taking in every romantic nuance of the painting of his former home in Boston.

  “Thanks. I do. I worked hard for it.” Colin glanced around his home with pride. He nodded to the painting. “Zee painted that—Aidan’s daughter, Gabriel’s and Jeremy’s cousin. She’s a tremendous artist, and she gave that to me and a similar one to Rissa a few years ago.” He paused a moment, his gaze roving over the painting, reliving memories from his life in Boston.

  “Why didn’t you remain in Boston?”

  “After Da died?” At Patrick’s nod, Colin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Smythe had plans to sell the smithy. It was her right as Da’s widow. Thankfully Gabriel’s uncle Aidan learned of her plan and bought it. Richard runs it now, along with two other shops.”

  Patrick squinted as he studied his younger brother. “I can’t believe you’re so unemotional about the loss of your birthright, the place you sweated over for years.”

  “Well, it seems we all lost the right to our birthright when we left. I forfeited any claim to it when I traveled with Clarissa so she could reunite with Gabe.”

  “I don’t believe you truly felt that way.” Patrick studied his brother, who had become a stranger to him after all these years.

  “Believe what you will, Pat. I refuse to mourn what will not be. I have a good life here, with family and friends around me. I run a smithy of my own now. And my long-lost brother is sitting in front of me. I refuse to look backward and bemoan what could have been.”

  Patrick nodded, his gaze distant. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here with you.”

  “How long can you stay?”

  “I have to leave the day after tomorrow.”

  “That’s not nearly long enough.” Colin glowered at him, causing Patrick to laugh.

  “It’s very generous. I shouldn’t have even been given that long, but they’re hoping I’ll … learn my place.” Patrick shook his head. “I’m exhausted. Can you show me to my room?”

  Colin bit back the multitude of questions he had and rose, motioning for Patrick to follow him. “Your room is through here,” he said, crossing into the dining room and into a small hallway. He opened a door to a bedroom with a comfortable double bed covered by a duvet and wished his brother good-night.

  A tapping on the window to her kitchen door jarred Clarissa from her thoughts. She turned and smiled as Colin stood outside. He had on his work clothes and dusty shoes, and she knew he wouldn’t want to come inside. He motioned for her to join him outside, and she opened the door and walked into the small fenced-in backyard with two apple trees. Pink and yellow columbine dozed in one of the side beds beside the fence.

  Colin paced under the trees, his movements erratic.

  “What is it, Col?” Clarissa asked.

  He spun and grabbed her in his arms and twirled her around. She shrieked and then laughed before he set her down. He watched her with an arrested expression for a moment. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh, really laugh, in months.” He grinned. “I’ll have to do that more often.”

  She batted away his hand as he made to pick her up again. “What’s your surprise?”

  “Patrick’s here.”

  She glanced around but didn’t see him. “That’s not funny, Col.”

  “Not here here. He’s at my house. He was passed out when I left, and I have to be at work soon. You remember how soundly he slept. We used to always joke his room could be on fire and he’d never notice.” They shared a smile at the memory. “Will you drop by and see him?”

  She grabbed both of his arms. “You’re serious. He’s here? He’s finally come for a visit?”

  “Yes!” Colin’s exuberance faded. “Although I think he’s troubled, Rissa. Something’s not right with him.” He pinned her with a deep stare. “Give him time. I don’t want you scaring him away with all your questions before we’ve even had a chance to know him again.”

  “I promise I’ll try,” she said, biting her lip but unable to hide her elation at Patrick’s presence in Missoula.

  “Do you think …”

  “What?”

  “Do you think we’ll finally have him back again?”

  She reached forward and gripped his arm. “I hope so. He better have had a darned good reason for abandoning us all those years ago.”

  “Don’t let your hurt keep you from welcoming him now.” He watched Clarissa intently. “I mean it, Rissa. Please.”

  She nodded her agreement before spinning to face Gabriel, calling out to her.

  “Are you all right, Rissa? I thought I heard a shriek,” Gabriel asked as he poked his head out the back door.

  She frowned as she looked at him. He appeared more gaunt as the days passed, with such deep shadows under his eyes they seemed tattooed in place. “Patrick’s in town.” She smiled then, her hope that he’d join them and share in their joy dimming as he nodded and backed away inside without a further word.

  “Rissa, he did come to see if you were all right.”

  “I doubt he would have done anything if I weren’t,” she snapped and then grimaced at her words. She clamped her jaws together tightly, to prevent crying or venting further caustic comments.

  “You don’t mean that.” Colin gripped her hands, now clasped so tightly into fists that they were white.

  “I don’t know what I believe. Sometimes I wonder if his solicitude is all a show for those present.” She blinked away tears. “Because it’s never gifted to me when we’re alone.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “I refuse to allow this to ruin your wonderful news.”

  “I’m off to work. Let’s plan on dinner at my house tonight. Patrick has to leave tomorrow, and I want us all to be together again before he does.”


  “Col, you know your place is too small for all of us,” she protested as he moved toward the gate.

  “It may be small, but we’ll have a wonderful time together!” he said, blowing her a kiss and departing.

  After ensuring that Araminta could watch the children, Clarissa walked the few short blocks to Colin’s house. Small trees were planted in front of every home, and a sidewalk ensured the pedestrians a safe path. Soon the trees would grow, providing shade and a sense of permanence to this new neighborhood.

  She climbed the few steps to Colin’s porch and knocked on his front door. When there was no answer, she let herself in. “Patrick!”

  She heard a rustling in the kitchen and moved through the living and dining rooms to get there. She paused as she saw Patrick crawling into a cabinet and heard him muttering to himself. “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  He jumped and looked over his shoulder. “The lid to that pan.” He pointed to the one on the stove.

  “It doesn’t have one.” She laughed as he rose and turned to face her. She approached him, her steps cautious, although she couldn’t prevent him from seeing her wide smile or the joy in her eyes at seeing him again. She reached up and brushed the hair off his forehead before running her hand down his arm. “I’m so glad you’ve come to us.”

  He watched her intently a moment before pulling her close into a hard hug. They swayed side to side, and she felt him shudder.

  “Dammit,” Patrick muttered when he smelled the burning oatmeal, turning to the pot on the stove and pulling it off the heat. He sighed with frustration as he stared at his scorched, mushy oatmeal.

  Clarissa laughed again and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go for a walk. We’ll pass a baker’s, and you can buy a treat.”

  They locked up Colin’s house and headed toward a favorite neighborhood bakery and café, The Last Drop. Patrick pulled open the door and followed her inside. After introducing him to the serving girl, Patrick opted for a hot breakfast, and Clarissa had coffee while he ate, choosing a seat next to the windows.

  “What would you like to do today?” she asked, watching her neighbors and friends bustle by while she became reacquainted with her brother.

  “I want to go someplace where I can forget that man is industrious. Where I can sit and listen to nature and smell something fresh.”

  She tried not to visibly grimace at his simple request. “I know just the place, and the streetcar will be passing soon.” They hurried to Higgins, hopped on the electric streetcar that eventually took them down Broadway and rode it until the end of the line.

  She looped her arm around his as they walked through a residential area toward a small creek. They bypassed the bear cage and entered the verdant area of Greenough Park. Soon the sounds of the modern world faded away as they walked beside the creek. Birds chirped and soared overhead, swooping to catch insects and to ride the breeze. Dappled light through the tree branches gave the creek an otherworldly feeling.

  Clarissa approached a few boulders shaped like seats and settled on one. Patrick sat next to her, and she sensed him relax, moment by moment.

  His breathing deepened, and he sighed with contentment. “Butte has the Columbia Gardens. I go there as often as I can. But it doesn’t compare to this.” He opened his eyes and met hers.

  Rather than the peace she had hoped to see imbuing them, she saw torment and anguish. “What happened to you, Patrick? Why did you leave us?” She bit her lip to forestall any more questions.

  Patrick laughed halfheartedly. “You just broke your promise to Col, didn’t you?” At her guilty nod, he laughed more fully before looking as though he were choking back a sob. “You don’t know what it means to find you again. To be welcomed by you.”

  She grasped his hand. “Why would you ever think we wouldn’t welcome you?”

  “Let’s just say that I know what I’ve done, and … I shouldn’t expect anything but your animosity.”

  “Now you’re talking in riddles.” She studied him a moment and knew he would say nothing further to her. “I understand if you won’t talk with me. But talk to Col. Please. You shouldn’t live with this guilt. There’s no reason for it.”

  “Is there ever a moment when you didn’t hate Mrs. Smythe?”

  She sat back, considering for a few moments the sudden change in conversation and his desire to talk about their despised stepmother. “No. I always resented her. I hated how she treated me. How she changed our family. Worse, how she gave Melly away.”

  “Melly?”

  “Her daughter, Melinda.” Clarissa picked up a handful of multicolored pebbles and tossed them one by one into the creek. “She gave her to an orphanage rather than raise her. Thought the inconvenience and expense was more than she should have to bear.”

  Patrick nodded. “She and Da had no other children?”

  “No, I doubted she …” Clarissa blushed and shook her head. “No.” She took a deep breath, allowing the gurgle of the creek to soothe her. “I try not to think much about her and all she did. I haven’t seen her in over ten years.”

  Patrick watched inquisitively. “What did she do to you?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and then closed her eyes to ban the barrage of memories. “She left me alone with Cameron, who took advantage of the situation in an attempt to force me to marry him.” She gasped as Patrick’s large, strong hand gripped her knee.

  “I’ll kill him if …”

  “He did, Patrick.” She cleared her throat. “It’s why I had to flee Boston. Why Colin came with me. I had to escape.”

  They shared a tortured glance for a few moments—anger, regret, anguish, all flashing across his face as he saw her stoic resignation to what had befallen her. “I’m sorry I failed you. That I wasn’t there to protect you from her.”

  Clarissa’s eyes filled, but she refused to allow the tears to fall.

  “Does Gabriel know?”

  She paled at the mention of Gabriel. “Yes, from the beginning he knew what happened to me. And still wanted me. Well, until now.” She blinked away more tears. “We’re having a few problems in our marriage.”

  Patrick scooted over on his boulder so that she could lean against him. “I’m sorry, Rissa. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you all this time.”

  She swatted him on his shoulder and then hit him again. “You should be,” she whispered. She wanted to rail at him; instead she felt an overwhelming sense of loss. “I hated you.” She felt him stiffen, although he continued to hold her. “I hated you for leaving. For not sending word as to your whereabouts. For abandoning me.” She shuddered. “It seemed everyone always left, and I had to remain and continue on, as though everything was fine.”

  She buried her face in his shoulder and cried, the tears finally pouring from her. “I missed you so much.” She leaned away and swiped at her tears. “From the day you left until the day I saw you in Butte, I never said your name. At first because Da was so angry that he forbade it, and I was so devastated and hurt that I agreed.”

  “And then?” He cleared his throat, perhaps thickened with the strong emotions he was dealing with now.

  “And then it was habit. I had an irrational fear, if I said your name, if I spoke of you, it would mean you were truly gone, like all the others I spoke of and mourned.” She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “But I never forgot you. I never stopped praying I’d see you again.”

  “Will you be able to forgive me for leaving?”

  She leaned into his side, snuggling into his embrace. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you, Col and me to be reunited. Now we are, with Melly too. So, yes, I’ll be able to forgive you.” She hit him on the arm once more. “Just don’t disappear again.”

  “I promise,” he said.

  They sat there, enjoying the peaceful location until her backside had grown numb. She sensed that the near solitude, listening to the creek’s susurrus melody, breathing in the clear scent of the forest, soothed Patrick as he calmed minute by minute.
Reluctantly she stirred, rousing him from a reverie as they returned to prepare for the evening’s meal and Patrick’s reentry into his extended family.

  10

  Patrick sat on Colin’s porch later that afternoon, watching as a woman with a limp approached carrying two baskets filled to the brim. He leapt up and grasped the handle of one of them before opening the door for her. “You’re Minta, I assume?”

  Her eyes flashed a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. “Araminta, yes. I work for both Savannah and Clarissa.” She smiled. “And Colin and Aidan at times.”

  “I imagine they keep you busy.” He entered the kitchen, setting the basket filled with fresh vegetables on the countertop.

  “I’d rather be busy than feel a burden.” She nodded her thanks and then turned to the doorway, indicating she preferred to work alone.

  He smiled and returned to the front porch. He continued the calming movement of rocking in one of the chairs by the door.

  A short while later Clarissa arrived with her children. After a few stilted moments where Geraldine and Myrtle watched Patrick with wide eyes, he charmed Billy with a magic trick. The boy jumped up and down with enthusiasm, begging Patrick to teach him how to pull coins from his ears. While Patrick sat with his nephew on his lap, he glanced up to see Savannah walking up the porch stairs. He stood, set Billy on the rocker and moved toward Savannah.

  “Hi, Sav.” He crammed his hands in his pants pocket to still their nervous tapping on his legs.

  “Patrick!” Savannah exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms for a hug. She pulled back and gave him a small tap on his shoulder. “It’s about time you came for a visit. Rissa’d about given up hope of ever seeing you again.”

  “Give him space to breathe, Sav,” said a tall man with ebony hair and piercing green eyes behind her. He held a girl’s hand.

  “You must be a McLeod,” Patrick said, holding out a hand.

  “Yes, I’m Jeremy. And this is our daughter, Melinda.” He gripped Patrick’s hand while his free hand ran over Melinda’s head.