Reclaimed Love: Banished Saga, Book Two (13 page)

“You may find, young man, that, one day, no one has an obligation to you either.”

“Come now, this conversation has turned too serious,” Cameron said after an awkward silence. “Clarissa, I was afraid you would be out this afternoon.”

“I have nowhere else to be,” I said with a wan smile.

“I agree. Your place is here, learning how to properly run a home. I am just thankful that Mrs. Sullivan is here to help you.” Cameron brushed a piece of lint off of his pant leg.

“I should think that woman would limit Clarissa’s horizons, not expand them,” Sophronia barked.

“How do you know Clarissa?” Cameron asked as he leaned back in his chair with his legs casually crossed, a dainty teacup balanced on his knee.

“We are suffragettes,” Sophronia said with a proud tilt of her chin. “We met at a meeting this spring.”

“I am surprised one such as you from a distinguished family would be involved in scandalous endeavors,” Cameron said.

“It is only by actions, scandalous or otherwise, that women will advance,” Sophronia said.

“If you truly believe that, I can understand why the estimable Mrs. Sullivan is reluctant to have you as a guest in her parlor.”

“Any woman, any
man
, with any sense would agree with me.”

Florence and I exchanged amused glances. “What is it that amuses you, Clarissa?” Cameron asked.

“I find this conversation enlightening,” I murmured. “It is as though I had never really seen you before now.”

“That is because you rarely saw me interacting with those of equal social standing as myself,” he said.

I shared an amused smile with Sophie and nodded my agreement.

CHAPTER 9

November 18, 1900

My dearest Gabriel,

Just writing your name brings me solace. Things are horrible here. I am incapable of writing an upbeat letter right now. I miss you so much I sometimes feel I cannot catch my breath for the pain your absence brings. I wonder that life seems to continue on as usual as everything is far from normal.

Mrs. Smythe (I refuse to write her married name) treats me like a servant. My da now listens to her counsel, and I am no longer allowed to teach. I am expected to sit at home, learning from her how to run a proper home. Although no one seems to understand I have no interest in learning such a skill. Never fear, darling, I am capable enough for a simple home. It’s just that I do not see the importance of knowing the use of four different forks at dinner or how to prattle on meaninglessly to flatter a man’s ego as I sit through an eight-course meal.

I feel abandoned by Colin as he is rarely home anymore. He told me that he didn’t like being around that much tension. Why do men have the freedom to go where they want, when they want, but women must sit at home, doing nothing except waiting for the men to return?

It’s as though I have lost everyone: you, Savannah, Colin, even my da. Why is there a limit to the amount a person can love? Why isn’t there enough love to go around to include me?

I miss you with a never-ending ache, as though a part of me is dormant, waiting to come alive again.

Ever Yours,

Clarissa

***

November 24, 1900

My darling Clarissa,

I just received your letter, and it made me want to board the next available train to Boston. I wish I had the fare saved! Oh, darling, I am sorrier than I can say that you continue to suffer due to your stepmother’s actions. I hope Richard is present a few evenings a week to bring you company.

You deserve kindness, love, warmth and understanding, darling, rather than the contempt of a woman who belittles such qualities. I only hope that when your baby brother or sister is born, you will find joy in him or her.

My dearest Clarissa, you must know how much you are loved. You have not lost any of us, my darling. Love is not finite, but infinite. Remember, the more you love, the more that love is returned to you.

Gabriel

***

November 28, 1900

Dear Gabriel,

How does one write to a beloved nephew who he had thought lost to him? How can I ever express my joy to realize that you boys are alive and thriving? I have told myself that I will not bemoan my lost time with you, but I find that challenging.

The last time I saw you, you had dreams of becoming a lawyer. I hope your work as a cabinetmaker has proven to be as rewarding. From what I have heard, you are very much like your father. Ian never failed to show me loyalty and love. You have shown the same to your brothers. Your father would have been very proud of you.

My business is growing, and I look to expand to Boston and New York. Mr. Montgomery seems the perfect business partner for my new ventures, though I would like your insight as your Miss Sullivan’s cousin is married to him.

If it is agreeable with you, I would like to travel to see you in the spring. I am sorry I will not be with you during the holidays. I wish you a holiday filled with joy, Gabriel.

Your uncle,

Aidan

***

December 13, 1900

My dearest Clarissa,

I am writing this letter in mid-December in the hopes that it will arrive before Christmas. As I sit in my cramped room, writing by candlelight after a power cut, I think back on the past year with wonder. I have trouble believing in all of the changes that have occurred in my life. The most wondrous change was meeting you. You saw me, a simple cabinetmaker, and were able to look below the surface. Such a rare, priceless quality. You listened to my stories, accepted them and then helped me to believe in a future between us. It is a future that I still see and dream of.

My loyal, kind, intelligent, beautiful, vivacious Clarissa. Know that you are cherished for who you are. Who you truly are.

Clarissa, I know I am far away and that the immediacy of others may dim my memory. However, never doubt my love for you or my constancy.

Merry Christmas, my Clarissa, my love.

Gabriel

***

“I HOPE I’M NOT LATE,” Gabriel called out as he pushed open the door. “Oof,” he said as Nicholas threw himself at his knees. Sticky hands clung to his legs, marring his newly cleaned, black suit pants. “Easy, Nicholas,” he said with a laugh as he hauled him up to carry him on his hip.

Gabriel glanced around to see wrapped presents stacked in one corner of the living room near the rocking chair. Pieces of evergreen covered the small side tables, the air redolent of a pine forest. A red cloth covered the dining room table, although rough, everyday white napkins sat at each place.

“We’ve been waiting so long,” Nicholas said as he wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s neck. “Where’ve you been?” Tears glistened on the edges of his eyelashes although he was not crying. His curly, russet-colored hair was snarled in places, and he still wore his nightclothes.

“It’s barely seven in the morning, Nicholas,” Gabriel said. “I’m sure St. Nick brought you plenty.”

“Mama said that St. Nick would fly over us and go to children who need him,” he said as his bottom lip trembled a little at the thought.

“Never fear, little man,” Gabriel said sharing a smile with Liam and Amelia. “I saw the reindeer last night, and I am sure I saw him stop here. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him. He made quite a racket.”

“Gabriel, don’t start,” Amelia warned.

Nicholas squirmed so much that Gabriel had to set him down. When he was on the ground again, Nicholas began to leap about. “I knew I heard something, Mama!” He raced toward her, dragging her toward the corner of the room where the small pile of presents awaited them. “Can we open them? Can we?”

“Not yet. Ronan and Matthew aren’t here,” Amelia said. She brushed at his curls, trying to bring some sense of order to them. She sat in the rocking chair in a thick evergreen wool dress, her small belly bump proclaiming her pregnancy barely visible.

“But, Mama!”

“Mind your mum, young man,” Liam said. Although early, he wore his best suit. He had visited the barber’s yesterday. His walrus mustache had been tamed, and his shaggy auburn hair trimmed.

Nicholas collapsed in front of the presents on the verge of tears.

“Did your mum or da read you
A Visit from St. Nicholas
last night?” Gabriel asked after he had hung his jacket on a peg by the front door. He moved toward a chair near Nicholas.

Nicholas looked up toward him with desolate eyes. “No.”

“Then come here, and I’ll tell it to you. My mum used to tell it to me every Christmas Eve. You’re only a few hours late, and you can hear what St. Nick was doing last night,” Gabriel said as Nicholas clambered onto his lap.

“Twas the night before Christmas,” Gabriel began.

He closed his eyes as he held Nicholas in his arms and recalled the poem his mother had told him. He knew he wouldn’t remember all the words correctly, but Nicholas would not care. The ache at remembering past Christmases eased as he said the familiar words.

Gabriel glared at the door as Matthew and Ronan barged into the room. “Sorry to be late!” they called out in their booming voices. “Hey, Nicholas! Merry Christmas!”

“Amelia, we went to the bakery and bought povitica,” Ronan explained.

“We listened to men in the mine talk about it enough the past few weeks, we decided to buy one so we could see why they’re so popular,” Matthew said.

“We were told it is a traditional bread to eat at Christmas,” Ronan said as he shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it by the door.

“Povi what?” Gabriel asked

“Povitica,” Matthew said. “I guess it’s some sort of nut roll that is special to this time of year. The bakery was crowded this morning before it closed for the rest of the day. We wanted to buy one fresh.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said. “It should make a lovely dessert.”

At this point Nicolas threw himself on the floor and chanted the word
presents
.

Ronan watched him with fond amusement. “Amelia, why don’t we have breakfast and coffee before we do anything else?”

Liam started coughing as he choked on a laugh. “A sound plan, Ronan. A sound plan.”

“Da!” Nicholas wailed as he rolled around on the ground as though in agony.

“What are you going on for?” Liam asked him in mock exasperation.

“Pre…sents,” Nicholas said through tears.

“Ah, ye wee
eejit
, we’re just having a go at you,” Liam soothed as he picked him up and wiped his face. “Of course it’s presents time. I’m dying to know what’s wrapped up in that large blanket.”

“Come on, everyone, grab your coffee. Let’s open presents before Nicholas does himself bodily harm,” Gabriel said with a wink to Nicholas.

Gabriel remained seated in one of the chairs, Liam sat in the half-stuffed chair, and Matthew and Ronan collapsed onto the settee. They held their breaths to see if the books forming one leg were sturdy enough to hold their weight, and, when they did not crash to the floor, they leaned back with a sigh of relief. Amelia relaxed in her rocking chair with Nicholas sprawled at her feet. After everyone had settled, Amelia doled out the small cache of presents. “There’s not much to go around this year, so I thought if we all opened our presents one at a time, it would make it last longer,” she said.

“A grand idea, darling,” Liam said, taking her hand and kissing it.

As the gifts were opened slowly, Gabriel unwrapped a burgundy-colored scarf from Amelia, a packet of writing paper from Matthew and Ronan, and a chisel from Liam.

Gabriel sat fingering his scarf, watching Ronan and Matthew open similar presents, but in forest green and cobalt blue.

Nicholas ripped open paper with abandon, delighting in every gift. “Look, Mama, Da, a horse!” he said as he pulled out the hand-carved horse Gabriel had made him. “Thank you, Gavriel!” He said as he launched himself at Gabriel for a quick hug. In a matter of seconds, he was on the floor, playing with it.

Amelia chortled as she opened her gift from Ronan and Matthew. “Look what the boys gave me.
The Fannie Farmer Cookbook
.” They all laughed.

“At least you’ll have more recipes to try for us, darling,” Liam said.

“And we didn’t want Gabe to miss any of the recipes he’s accustomed to,” Ronan said.

“Ah, yes,
The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book
,” Matthew said. “You Bostonians have a tremendous opinion of yourselves to think we all want to be like you.”

“Well, you must, as you bought the book,” Gabriel replied as they all laughed.

“Oh, Gabriel, you shouldn’t have,” Amelia said as she unwrapped the large present covered in a blanket. “Liam, look what he made us.” She reached out her hand to Liam as she continued to pull off the blanket with her other hand to reveal a well-hewn baby’s crib.

“I made it big so the baby can grow into it. And it’s made of sturdy maple so it will last,” Gabriel murmured.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Liam said. “We could never have bought such a well-made piece.”

Amelia nodded and smiled her thanks through her sniffles as she continued to trace the simple, elegant curves of the crib.

“I’m just looking forward to seeing what kind of mischief the new baby brings,” Gabriel said.

“Gabriel McLeod, careful what you wish for!” Amelia said with a laugh.

“What did your lady love send you, Gabe?” Matthew asked as he tied his new scarf around his neck.