Page 49 of Beyond Montana's Sky
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The night before they were to leave for Boston, the family, minus Caleb and Maggie, who’d taken Charlotte with them on their honeymoon trip in the Gypsy caravan, sat in the parlor. Ben was upstairs on a last visit with Matthew Salter. Across the room, her aunt and Hermione were embroidering, and the men sipped at their whiskey.
Edith’s hands rested idle in her lap, something Agatha had made a pointed comment about. But her mind was too restless for handwork, which she’d never liked in the first place, and she really had run out of polite conversation with the relatives several days ago.
Although outwardly composed, Edith couldn’t stop thinking of Cai. Remembering their waltz, and later, their kisses, made heat swirl in her core, and she melted inside all over again. Suddenly, the room became too close, too hot, and too full of people.I need to escape.
Not bothering to excuse herself, for she didn’t want anyone to protest, Edith left the parlor. In the entry hall, she quickly donned her outerwear, slipped out the front door, and hurried down the brick walkway to stop at the low, wrought-iron gate leading to the dirt street.
Edith breathed in the mysterious scents of the night and gazed up at the inky, diamond-studded sky, crowded with celestial beauty. Unlike Boston, in Sweetwater Springs the lights and smoke from the city didn’t obscure the stars, and they sparkled like jewels. Standing still, she absorbed the peace and beauty into her soul.
She remembered the awe of her first sighting, the starlight and the silhouette of the mountains—the night sky even more impressive than the day’s vivid, blue beauty—not that she’d appreciated Montana’s natural wonders at the time.No.
With a wry smile, Edith recalled how horrified she was at the idea of taking up residence in this pokey little town. She glanced down the street to Ant Gordon’s office building and her brother’s towering hotel and saw dim light in some windows.Not so pokey anymore.
Who could have predicted I’d grow fond of this place and many of the inhabitants?She refused to allow herself to think of Cai Driscoll—someone she’d grown fond of far too late.
“Starlight, star bright,” Edith murmured. “Please, may I have made the right decision to leave. Please, please, may we be happy in Boston.” She inhaled a sad, deep breath, grateful for the loose waist of her tea gown, and tried to gaze her fill, knowing she might never see this wondrous sight again.
“Edith!”
The shrill tone of Aunt Agatha’s voice sounded behind Edith, disturbing her peace.
“Is that you out there? How inconsiderate, making me search all over the house for you. Come in at once!”
But Edith was no longer a young girl in her aunt’s power. “I’ll be in soon, Aunt Agatha,” she called over her shoulder but otherwise not moving an inch.
“Whatever are you doing? You know the night air isn’t good for anyone. You’ll catch your death. I insist upon you coming inside now!”
Insist all you want.A wicked spurt of laughter bubbled up, making Edith grin. She hid her smile and twisted to look at her aunt framed in the doorway. “Go back inside, Auntie.”Oh, how Agatha hates being addressed as auntie. So lower-class!“You don’t want to get chilled.” Edith modulated her tone to sound firm and still ladylike. “I’ll be in soon.”
The sharp snap of the door closing was her aunt’s reply. Of course, Agatha Livingston Hurst would never be so lacking in manners as toslama door. But she came close.
A smile curved Edith’s lips.Another little skirmish won.
* * *
The next day, Edith stood at the window of the atrium in the back of the house, watching the open gate leading to the stables where Ben disappeared an hour ago. She didn’t know how long a young man took to say good-bye to his beloved horse, but they still had plenty of time before leaving to catch the train to Boston.
She wasn’t usually the kind of mother who hovered. Her son had sense—some of that sense learned the hard way for both of them. Now that Ben was a young man, she tried hard to show him respect instead of treating him like a child.
But that isn’t easy when my baby is hurting.Half a dozen times in the last week, watching his struggles, she’d been tempted to cancel the whole plan to move. Each time, she’d rationally rethought her decision and stayed her course.This move is for him, after all.
Finally, Ben emerged from the stable, his head hanging and shoulders slumped.
Her heart aching, Edith didn’t know whether to run to him and give him a hug or retreat and give him privacy. She swayed in the direction of the inner door.
Just then he looked up, saw her, and straightened his shoulders, increasing his pace.
As he approached, she could see his eyes were red, although now they appeared dry, and the skin of his face seemed tight on the contours of his bones.
He opened the door and came inside, moving close.
Edith couldn’t resist hugging him, an unusual gesture of affection from her, which she’d become more prone to lately. In spite of last night’s bath, the time in the stable had him smelling like horse.
He stayed stiff but managed a smile. “I’ll be all right, Mama.”
Why didn’t I hug and cuddle him more? I abided by ridiculous conventions about spoiling a child, and I missed so much. Now, it’s too late.
