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Tilting his hat, to push his hair beneath it, Drew's eyes visibly showed amusement. "Madam Eugenia," he said. "I'd like you any way you choose to be."
"Right now I choose to be at my Papa and Mama's house."
"Well, let's get a movin' then," he said, pushing his knees into the horse's side. Then he turned his head in her direction once again, frowning. "Are you sure you'll make it all right?"
"Sure. Sure. Probably only a short way to go. Don't worry about me."
Flicking her horse's reins, Eugenia didn't welcome the air searching her face once again. She sniffled, squinted her eyes, and moved on to be beside Drew, still marveling at how things had taken another sudden turn in her life. To be with Drew? It was almost unbelievable, just as it was unbelievable that he had always planned to return to her, that his dreams had been filled with her as hers had been filled with him. But for her there had also been Adam. She had to wonder who there had been for Drew during those long, empty nights. But no, she didn't want to know. She didn't want to think about it. It could ruin her present happiness if she let her thoughts wander to that part of his life. She knew that he hadn't fully accepted the role that he had discovered Adam playing in her life. There had been no way to keep him from finding out.
She had handed The Towers over to Adam to run for her, instead of selling it to a stranger. She would return by train, often, to check out how things were going at The Towers and The Old Homestead Parlour. Smiling to herself, she remembered the shock in Alison's eyes when Alison had been told that she was now in full charge of the girls. The title of Madam Alison was suddenly thrust upon her. Not yet realizing the security of Drew's companionship, remembering how fast he could disappear from her life once again, she hadn't been willing to completely hand over her ownership of The Old Homestead Parlour. Not just yet. If Drew would do as in the past she would have a place to return to. Yes, she had The Towers, but she needed much more than that. She would always have The Old Homestead Parlour.
And Adam? His reaction hadn't come as any surprise to Eugenia. When she sat him down to have the serious talk about Drew's return, she hadn't seen a look of remorse in his eyes. She had seen a look similar to relief. The same Was true when she told Nell. This had confirmed her beliefs about the relationship of these two. That they had been intimate with one another. And how could any man live under the same roof with Nell without being pulled in her direction? She was a picture of youth, beauty, even innocence. But now, Eugenia only hoped for the best for Adam and Nell. She only hoped that Adam would marry Nell. Make it legal. They had everything else going for them—a home, money, anything that anyone would want in life. All this Eugenia herself had made possible for them. She only hoped that in time she wouldn't grow to hate herself for being so lenient with them. She only hoped that they wouldn't take advantage of her kindness. But, again, only time would tell.
And Iris… and Key? Key had wanted to travel with Eugenia, to go wherever she went. But Eugenia had told him that she would send for him if all went smoothly with her transition—if, indeed, Drew did marry her, and take her to the home he had described. But she wasn't ready to accept his words until it all did happen, until it all did, indeed, become reality. When the ring was around her finger, and he had carried her across the threshold, she would then know that he was being truthful with her. Now all she had was his word, and his body. That would have to be enough until they reached Colorado Springs.
Something about the way the land was stretching out flatly around her, made Eugenia begin to recognize parts of it. Wasn't that the gorge where she had hidden from her sister Elizabeth when Eugenia had been only seven? And wasn't that the creek where her Papa had caught so many trout, whooping and hollering so loudly with each fresh capture until his voice had echoed back at him in a million softer voices?
Feeling her heartbeat increase in the hollow of her throat, she was now grateful to Drew for having agreed to visit her parents' homestead before moving on to Colorado Springs. He had frowned upon the idea at first, saying that the ride by train would be so much more pleasurable for them, more direct than having to go by horseback to "hell knows where," he had grumbled. But now she couldn't be happier for having pushed her question to a "yes" from Drew.
"Drew, there it is," she shouted, pointing to a small spiral of smoke curling upward into the sky above them, knowing that it was rising from her parents' own chimney. She could envision them at the supper table, all three of them, probably eating biscuits, greens, and pork, chattering merrily among themselves, having long forgotten about Eugenia, thinking she must be dead. But now she would ride right up to the door, shout their names, and surprise them…
Something took Eugenia's eyes. Something had been added to this hillside. She tightened the reins of the horse and swallowed hard, recognizing it to be a homemade tombstone thrust into the ground above a mound of dirt. A mound of dirt piled high with fresh, fall flowers. "Elizabeth?" she wondered aloud, remembering Elizabeth's frailness.
"Drew. Come quick," she shouted, jumping from the horse, almost afraid to read the name etched across the stone. She was aware of Drew's horse at her side now, and waited for him to climb from it and take her hand in his.
"Whose is it?" he asked darkly.
"I'm afraid to look," she whispered.
Drew pulled a match from his pocket and struck it on the bottom of his boot. He bent down and held the match to the name, reading it.
"Hiram Carter, beloved father and husband, 1846 to 1903. May the mountain accept this man as he had accepted the mountain."
Eugenia put her fist to her mouth, muffling a loud sob. She shut her eyes and let the tears warm her cheeks, feeling a deep emptiness inside her. She longed for her Papa's embrace and kiss. And now? He was dead. Gone forever from her.
"It's all my fault," she blurted, covering her eyes with her hands, feeling the ache of guilt at the pit of her stomach.
"Eugenia!" Drew said quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her. "Stop that! How in hell could this be your fault?"
Eugenia flung her arms a
round Drew and took from him what her Papa could never ever give again. "If I hadn't left, I would've been here. To continue to help him. He never had a son. He had always depended on me to help him when he got old."
Drew's eyes studied the stone once again, figuring the age of Eugenia's Papa. "But, darling," he said in a low whisper, into her ear, "Your Papa wasn't an old man. He was only fifty-seven. Leavin' him didn't make him die. Please don't think that way."
Eugenia's gaze met Drew's. "But he had always said I would take over the chores when he wasn't able," she continued to sob. "Don't you see? He wasn't able, and I wasn't there."
Falling to her knees, Eugenia began to rearrange the flowers in a neat pile. They weren't her own gift, but she knew that her Papa could sense her presence in some way. Her being there could be her gift to him. She had returned. She was a bit late, but now she would try to make it up to him. Somehow. She would find a way.
"I love you, Papa," she whispered, then rose and climbed back atop her horse. "Let's hurry to the house," she said solemnly. "I'm sure Mama needs me now."
Drew looked darkly in her direction, seeing a different Eugenia than he had ever seen before. "Sure, babe," he answered. "Sure."
In only a few winding turns between tall spruces and pines, Eugenia could see the house standing before her. It was no different. It was the same faded-out color of gray. The house was made by her father's hands, a house that had been her home for so long. Her eyes moved over it, seeing dim lighting from the kitchen window on the lower floor and what was once she and Elizabeth's shared bedroom on the upper floor. She could only think of the house as being one of silence without her Papa's booming voice to fill the void. Then her eyes moved around her. The farmland stretched out around her was full of weeds, stiff, dry, blowing in the evening breeze. And the stables sounded silent.
Panic almost seized her. "Drew," she said, pulling her horse up beside his. "I'm frightened. Without Papa how has Mama existed?"
"One way to find out," he said. "Come on, Eugenia. We must hurry along."
