The Alaska Brides Collection Part 49

He kissed her.

Tucker waited for Fiona's outrage but hoped for a smile. What he got was stone-cold silence and a face that held no emotion.

Except for her eyes. He thought he glimpsed a spark of hope, perhaps a longing for things to be different.

Then it pa.s.sed, and she looked away. "Go, Tucker." Her voice was flat as if all the life had gone out of her. "Please, just go."

Tucker threw all caution to the wind and reached for her once more. She sidestepped him, arms crossed around her midsection.

"But, Fiona, it's no use to pretend," he pleaded. "I love you. I always will."

A tear dropped from the fringes of her lashes and traced a path down her cheek to mingle with the strand of hair his embrace had loosened. Tucker knew he would gladly give up all he had to spend his life with Fiona Rafferty.

"Say the word, and I will send Elizabeth packing."

Then came the jab to his conscience. Was this G.o.d's plan? Would He suddenly point Tucker away from keeping his word? From doing the right thing and keeping his word to Elizabeth?

Sadly, Tucker knew the answer. Those three words again. The right thing.

If only doing the right thing meant having Fiona, as well.

"Tucker?" His name sounded soft as a whisper. Fiona met his stare. "What is G.o.d telling you? He wants you to do the right thing, doesn't He?"

He blinked hard. "How did you know?"

"I didn't." Fiona shook her head. "I just know what He's telling me."

Tucker sighed. "And that is?"

She moved toward him, and for a moment, he thought she might fall into his embrace. Instead, she stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

"Forget me, Tucker," she said as she brushed back the errant strand again. "And I shall attempt to forget you."

"But we're family," he called as she swept past. "How can I forget you? You will always be there at every Rafferty family gathering."

Fiona stopped short and whirled around. "No, Tucker, I won't. But you and Elizabeth will. In time my brothers and their families will come and visit Da. When they do, I'll be there. I ask, however, that you remain absent."

Torment raged inside, and flashes of anger over his predicament made his fists clench. "I won't let you give up your family, Fiona. It's not fair to ask of you."

She shook her head. "You didn't."

"Tucker?" Meredith stood at the end of the hall. "I'm sorry, but Elizabeth is asking for you." She gave Fiona a look that broke Tucker's heart. "I've kept her occupied, but she's threatening to come upstairs. She said you're late for an appointment with her father. Something about him adding you and Elizabeth's children to his will."

Tucker's heart sank at the thought that, as a husband, he would be expected to give Elizabeth children. The reminder, spoken in front of Fiona, seemed too much to consider.

"Thank you, Merry. Tucker and I were just saying good-bye."

Fiona waited until Meredith disappeared back down the stairs before walking purposefully toward Tucker. She stopped close, dangerously close, and Tucker could smell the soft scent of flowers.

Stupid as it was, he inhaled. He was no judge of flowers, but whatever these were, he would always a.s.sociate them with Fiona. With good-bye.

His heart sank. To his surprise, she reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his.

"I'm letting you go, Tucker, not because I want to, but because I have to."

He was about to protest, about to tell her all the reasons why together they could convince G.o.d that their love was good and right. Then she brushed his hand across her cheek, and he felt the dampness of her tears.

She opened her mouth to speak then seemed to think better of it. Instead, she released her grasp and paused. Once again their gazes met.

Without caring about the consequences, Tucker enveloped Fiona in an embrace. Slowly, he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders. Then, as his eyes closed, her fists gripped handfuls of his shirt.

Tucker could have gladly stopped time and stood forever with Fiona's curls tickling his chin and her arms holding him tight. Then he felt her sway.

With a sob, she slid from his grasp and disappeared. The slamming of her door felt like a door closing on his heart.

He knew he would never open that part of his heart again, at least not as long as Elizabeth remained his wife. Lifting his damp fingers to his mouth, he tasted the salt of Fiona's tears. It was all he could do not to add his own to them.

Tucker stood in the window of his room and watched the harbor until Captain Sven's trawler disappeared from sight. He took a step back and let the lace curtain fall.

He'd chosen this place to stay over the more dignified Deever House Hotel for two reasons. First, he knew his bride-to-be and future father-in-law were staying at the hotel in a corner suite-one he would be expected to share with Elizabeth tonight. More important, Fiona was staying in the room down the hall.

It bordered on pathetic, this need to be close to her despite their conversation to the contrary. Yet Tucker hadn't found the gall to go knock on her door.

She wouldn't answer, he'd reasoned, so ignoring the urge to see her saved him from certain rejection. Besides, Elizabeth adored him; he'd be a fool to chase a dream down the hall when he had reality waiting down the block.

And it was the right thing to do.

Tucker waited until he figured his sister and her family and Braden and Amy had returned to their rooms at the Deever House, then changed into his new, store-bought church clothes and reached for his hat. He grabbed his Bible instead. Out of habit, he turned to Lamentations and ran his finger down the page until he reached the verse he sought: "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compa.s.sions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him."

He closed the Bible and said the words again from memory. Now he was ready.

The hotel was two blocks away, and the church stood across the street. The pastor on duty, a fellow by the name of Minter, did the honors while his wife played the wedding march on an old upright piano. Their vows were spoken quickly and sealed with a kiss that fell just shy of the mark.

An hour after the ceremony, Tucker and his new bride saw Elizabeth's father off at the dock. With nothing further to delay the inevitable, Tucker led Elizabeth up the wide staircase to the second-floor corner suite his father-in-law had reserved for them.

The room was as elegant as it was expensive, and the same could be said for his bride. Sensitive to his bride's wedding-night jitters, he excused himself to take a long walk while she made her evening preparations.

Standing at the dock, he stared across the waves to the horizon where the northern lights danced in shades of brilliant green. His first thought: I wish Fiona could see this.

His second thought: guilt.

Tucker carried that guilt deep in his heart, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't cast it off, even when his bride answered the door of their suite with a smile. He knew the source of the smile, and because it was expected of him, he played husband to his wife.

Chapter 13.

The next morning, Tucker awoke to the sound of his new wife depositing last night's dinner into the basin. He held her head until she had nothing left then brought a wet cloth to wipe her brow.

He repeated the same process three mornings in a row. On the last day of their honeymoon, when Tucker threatened to haul her off to Dr. Killbone, Elizabeth admitted the hotel cooking was not the source of her troubles. Rather, she was three months along with the child of a cowboy who had been run out of town on a rail by her father. Tucker had been good and truly suckered.

He walked out and stayed gone for two days. When he returned, he half hoped the fellow behind the desk at the hotel would tell him Mrs. Smith had hightailed it out of town in his absence.

Unfortunately, the man handed him the spare key, and when Tucker opened the door, Elizabeth struck up a conversation about the weather as if he'd only gone out for a brief stroll.

Walking past his wife, Tucker stood at the corner window and looked out over the bustling town of Goose Chase. The view of the harbor wasn't as good as the one at the boardinghouse, but he could watch the trains roll in and out of the brand-new station down the road.

While Elizabeth reclined on the settee, a wet towel covering the top half of her face, Tucker watched the noon train pull out. He waited until the whistle stopped before turning around and facing his bride.

"I could end this marriage, and no one would blame me." He clenched his fists. "I've certainly got the law on my side."

Elizabeth peeled off the cloth and gave him a tired look. "You won't do that, Tucker. You're too honorable."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why do you think that, Elizabeth?"

His bride struggled to sit upright, allowing the cloth to fall forgotten to the floor. "Because, Tucker Smith, you've enjoyed the marriage bed with me. You'll not leave now. The same moral code that caused you to marry me will keep you from leaving. You're just that kind. You always do the right thing."

She was right, of course.

Tucker brought her home to the little cabin, then quickly agreed the place would never accommodate the two of them. His heart heavier with each pa.s.sing day, Tucker woke up every morning and put on a smile, even after he acquiesced to his wife's demand that they move into Goose Chase and take up residence in "a proper house."

The house cost as much in gold as the marriage cost in pride, but he endured both with the unfailing hope that the Lord could redeem the situation through the grace He renewed each morning.

Sometime around the fourth week in town, Tucker landed a job with the railroad.

Life became almost good again. Not sweet as it had been in the days with Fiona or before then, when he and Meredith had been making their way as new residents of the frozen state.

Days were no longer filled with empty hours and a wife who paid him no more mind than the barn cats back home or the fellow who delivered the milk. Now Tucker left before daybreak and returned long after Elizabeth had retired for the night. The hours in between were spent chasing the one dream he had left: working on the railroad.

As Elizabeth's belly grew, Tucker played the part of concerned husband. When the day came for her pains to begin, he walked over to Doc's office to inform him, then found Wily and sent word of the impending birth to Meredith.

Meredith needn't have hurried, as Elizabeth labored the rest of that day and through the night. By noon the following day, she'd given up trying and started begging Doc to put her out of her misery.

"There's nothing I can do," Doc explained to Tucker. "I can't hurry something that the Lord's in control of. Besides, the babe's not supposed to come for another month, maybe two, considering you two only married up seven months ago, right?"

Meredith blushed and turned away, but Tucker stood his ground. "That's right, Doc. What are you suggesting?"

Doc Killbone slapped Tucker on the shoulder and shook his head. "You're a good man, Tucker Smith, and I'm not suggesting anything different. What I'm saying is if there's a way to stop this baby from coming, I would have liked to do it."

"There's really nothing you can do?" Meredith asked.

The doctor studied the floor. "There's times when medicine doesn't work. That's when I have to remember that I can still pray." He swung his gaze to meet Meredith's wide-eyed stare. "I suggest you two do the same. That girl in there's not strong like you, Merry Rafferty. I don't know how much longer she can go on. She's lost a lot of blood, and...well, frankly, I don't know that she's got much more fight left in her."

A scream sent the doctor running, and a few minutes later, Elizabeth Grace Meredith Smith made her entrance into the world. Meredith fussed over the baby while Doc Killbone saw to Elizabeth.

"Would you like to see the baby?" Meredith hurried over to offer Elizabeth a look at the squalling dark-haired girl.

Elizabeth turned to face the wall. "I can't look at her."

"She's exhausted," Meredith said quickly. "She'll come around when she's stronger."

But she didn't. Three weeks later, when Tucker came home from work, he found a note telling him his daughter was at Doc Killbone's place.

In a panic, Tucker fairly flew down Broadway to the office. The doctor was holding the baby in the crook of his arm and stirring a pot of stew with the other.

"I only stepped out of the examining room for a moment," Doc said as he handed the baby over to Tucker. "When I returned, your wife had disappeared."

"She'll be back." Tucker took the baby home and waited. His daughter's cries brought him back to the doctor's office some hours later. Doc Killbone diagnosed her as being hungry. A subst.i.tute was found, and the baby went to live three houses away with the family of a woman who'd only recently lost a child.

Tucker told himself he could get by this way. That he could allow his daughter to grow fat and healthy with a woman who fed her but could not be her mother.

Two days later, he could stand the arrangement no more. Tucker rented out the house on Broadway and went back to his little cabin beside the river. There Meredith helped to feed, diaper, and generally raise the tiny, dark-haired girl she nicknamed Lizzie Grace.

Lizzie Grace's size and sickly condition made mention of the early birth unnecessary, and her dark curls and blue eyes made questions of her parentage unwarranted, for she was the spitting image of her mother. Tucker suspected Meredith hadn't been fooled, but he also knew the question would never be asked. He learned that Elizabeth had left Alaska by ship, and letters asking after her sent to his father-in-law went unanswered. Lizzie Grace a.s.sumed that her mother had died in childbirth, and no one told her otherwise.

Tucker existed happily for years in the secluded spot, and Lizzie Grace grew into a young girl with coltish long legs and a mane of dark hair that her father had learned to braid with surprising skill. She could run faster than any of her cousins, male or female, and to Tucker's delight took to fishing as if she'd been born to it.

She and Douglas, the closest to her in age and temperament, practically grew up at the river's bank with poles in their hands. When Lizzie Grace wasn't fishing with Douglas, she was following the poor boy around, imitating his every move.

With his sister and her family nearby and his daughter strong and healthy, Tucker would have been content to live out his days watching his daughter grow in the little cabin. One day, however, Meredith came to him with a plea for Lizzie Grace.

"She's a smart girl, Tucker," Meredith said. "She needs to be in a proper school that will prepare her for whatever G.o.d's got for her life, and she needs to be going to a real church. Ian and I have been talking about moving to town, and we want you to go with us."

Just like that, Tucker returned to Goose Chase and the house on Broadway that he'd rented out for years. He also went back to the railroad and found that the man who had originally hired him now ran the show. He landed a job and went to work the same day.

Ian and Meredith and their three little ones moved in with Tucker and Lizzie Grace, and the house burst at the seams until Ian's house next door was complete. Even though walls and a small stretch of yard separated the families, it was just as common to see a Rafferty child- usually Douglas-in the Smith household as to see Lizzie Grace spending time next door with the Rafferty clan.

Amy and Braden visited often. The pair were happily adding on to the cabin Amy's father had given them and making a life with their children. Their occasional visits to town were met with celebration, and each time, Meredith begged Amy to consider staying for good.

Amy and Braden wouldn't, and Tucker knew it. But he also understood Meredith's need to have female members of the family around her. Occasionally he thought of Elizabeth and wondered where she was; more often his musings landed on the subject of Fiona.

She'd completed her schooling at the medical college with honors and gone to work at a hospital in Seattle. Last time the Rafferty clan got together, Meredith had taken a photograph that Tucker still hadn't found the courage to look at.

Not as long as he was still married to Elizabeth. He couldn't. Instead, he concentrated on doing the right thing and pushing away any hope of a life with Fiona Rafferty.

Seemingly while he watched, his daughter grew and thrived. Meredith proved correct in her estimation that Lizzie Grace needed a proper education and a real church to attend. Under the tutelage of the teachers at Goose Chase School, she proved to possess an intelligence far superior to that of her old dad. And in Sunday school cla.s.ses, she grew in her love for the Lord, often asking questions Tucker had to go deep into the Bible to answer.

Life was good. Then, three days after Lizzie's thirteenth birthday, a letter arrived. The official doc.u.ment told him that his daughter, Elizabeth Smith, was the sole heir of the Bentley estate, which consisted of three hundred acres that ironically had once been Smith land. The rest, the attorney's letter went on to state, had been spent for back taxes and funeral expenses. Attached to the doc.u.ment were the papers Tucker had signed the week before his wedding.

"Surely he meant this to go to your wife," Ian said after reading the doc.u.ments.

Tucker sent a letter to the attorney, letting him know that there was another Elizabeth Smith out there somewhere, and some months later, another letter arrived. It included a death certificate and a yellowed clipping from a newspaper in San Antonio that told the sordid tale of the murder of a Texas belle named Elizabeth Bentley Smith at the hands of a cowboy.