Northern Star

Chapter 31

The next few days passed peacefully. Hunter saw Perry at meals and in the afternoons when they talked on deck. Each evening he'd walk her to her cabin and politely say good night. It bothered him that after she closed the door he'd hear the bolt being pushed. She didn't trust him. He'd always prided himself on being a man of his word. Each time she threw the bolt, he swore to convince her of his good character. It was vital for Perry to trust him again- as vital as trusting himself.

They anchored in the same cove where she'd been put ashore months ago. Amid the music of the sails being lowered, Perry hurriedly dressed and packed her belongings. She'd just begun tying her hair back when Hunter knocked.

Opening the door, she struggled with her ribbons. "I'm almost ready. Please, give me minute." She picked up a brush and combed back her ebony curls.

Hunter leaned against the door frame, showing no signs of impatience. "I'll wait all morning if I can watch." He'd grown in his belief that there was no more beautiful woman than this creature before him. With this knowledge in mind, he studied her movements.

Glancing over her shoulder, she became very aware of the intimacy of her act and her fingers suddenly became clumsy.

Hunter stepped up behind Perry. "Let me tie your ribbon?" he asked at her ear.

In an effort to save time she agreed. His large hands tried to wind the ribbon around her curls as she held her hair together at the nape of her neck. Within a few minutes the ribbon was twisted and knotted while Perry's hair hung in a messy tumbling of curls about her shoulders.

She looked in the mirror at Hunter's confused face behind her and burst into laughter. "Have you ever tied a ribbon, Mr. Kirkland?"

"Well, no," Hunter admitted, twisting the ribbon around his long finger, "but it didn't look all that difficult."

Perry turned to face him, and for an instant she saw the boy within the man. She gently pushed him until he backed into the only chair in the room. "Sit down and wait. I'll do it myself." Her laughter filled the cabin, and he leaned back, content to relax.

With renewed purpose she pulled the end of another ribbon from her bag. "I have another ribbon," she said as she tugged, wishing she'd packed more carefully.

Finally frustrated, she yanked on it. Several items tumbled from her bag. Her mother's pouch landed on the floor between Hunter and her.

He slowly reached down and lifted the old leather pouch, a question in his eyes. She made no move to take it from his hand. He knew, of course, that it was the same one she'd fought to keep away from him in the old barn.

She stared at the leather in his hands. "It's all I have left of my home. It belonged to my mother."

Hunter smiled, realizing she was trusting him with her secret. "You needn't tell me."

"I don't mind." She worked her hair into place. "My mother, for some reason, made my father swear he would keep this pouch with me always. All it contains is a few rings and several old papers, but it was all we saved from the fire and the Yankees."

"What kind of papers?" Hunter asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing unusual. The kind all families keep. Birth certificates, baptismal certificates. There's even a letter from the doctor who delivered my mother."

Hunter seemed lost in thought as he stared at the leather. Slowly she closed her fingers around the top of the pouch and pulled it from his grip. "I'm ready."

Looking up, he said, "You look like a vision."

Perry suddenly burst into laughter. "I hope I don't frighten anyone."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Everyone in these parts thinks I'm dead."

"I'll step ahead of you and tell everyone you're very much alive." Hunter bowed, like a knight offering his services.

Perry curtsied before disappearing through the door, and he wondered, even now, if she weren't more a vision than a reality. For he couldn't help but fear she might vanish from his life at any moment.

Twenty minutes later, when they stepped out of the row-boat and onto the dock, they were met by John Williams's hired hand, Hank. He greeted them with a twitch of a grin and sadness in his eyes.

After Hunter introduced Perry, Hank cleared his throat several times. His large, calloused hands twisted his slouch hat. "Mr. Kirkland, I'm glad you're here. We got your telegraph wire yesterday. I've been coming down every four hours since." His face was as gray as the day.

"How's my grandfather?" Hunter words were as tight as his grip on Perry's elbow. She could feel him bracing himself for whatever Hank answered.

"He's mighty bad, sir. They didn't think he'd make it through another night." The hired hand lowered his head, not wanting to see the pain in young Kirkland's face. Hank had known Hunter as a boy, and he'd always liked and respected him.

"Let's go." Hunter moved toward the wagon.

Hank followed with the bags. "I didn't know you'd have the lady with you, sir. I brought you a horse in case you wanted to travel faster. The lady is welcome to ride with me and the bags back to the house, or, if you like, I'll ride the horse."

The man was obviously confused by Perry's unplanned presence. He grew confused and frightened when everything didn't go as planned. Hank had suffered greatly because of John's illness, for there was no one to tell him what to do. He'd been glad to hear of Hunter's coming. Now he could resume his accustomed pattern of life. Hunter would tell him what to do, and he'd follow without question. To Hank there were only two kinds of people, those he believed and followed and those he avoided. He'd tried the army at the beginning of the war, but he'd become too baffled trying to decided whom to trust and whom to avoid. In his first battle he'd injured his arm in a fall before the first shots were fired. The army sent him home to sit out the war.

Placing his arm on Hank's shoulder, Hunter's tone told how well he understood the older man. "Hank, I want to get to my grandfather faster than that wagon can travel. You did right to bring the horse. I'll ride and you bring the bags."

Hunter swung into the saddle and looked down at Perry. "The lady will ride with me." He offered his hand down to Perry and removed his foot from the stirrup. "I've seen her ride, and this will be no challenge for her."

He wasn't ordering but asking. He could have easily lifted her into the saddle, but he awaited her decision. She hesitated only an instant before lifting her skirt and stepping into the stirrup. As her hand touched Hunter's he pulled her into his arms so that she sat sideways in front of him. He held her close to him as he turned to Hank, who was staring, somewhat shocked, at the pair.

Hunter laughed. "I assure you the lady may look fragile, but she's able to ride. We'll cut across the fields and be at the farm an hour before you."

Within minutes they were out of Hank's sight, riding swiftly across the winter fields toward the Williams farm. For safety she slid her arm around Hunter's waist and rested her head against the rock-hard wall of his chest. The pounding of his heart thundered in her ear, and she remembered accusing him of having no such organ.

Finally Hunter slowed his horse to a walk as they moved through trees. Branches, barren in winter, lashed out at the unwanted visitors. Perry buried her head lower into his chest, as strong arms came up, shielding her from harm. After several minutes they emerged on the other side of the trees and into a shallow stream. "My grandfather showed me every shortcut through these woods years ago," Hunter explained.

His thoughts were suddenly filled with memories of his childhood. The old man had always had time for him. They'd spent many evenings talking of all the wonders of the world. Here, on this farm, Hunter never felt alone, not even after his mother died. Now John Williams was dying. Hunter instinctively tightened his grip around Perry's waist. He kissed her hair softly. "Thanks for coming with me." His words were barely heard above the splashing water.

Perry understood. She sensed Hunter's loneliness. He needed to know she was near. His need for her now stirred her far more than his independence had.

They were within sight of the house before he spoke. "No matter what happens, I want you with me."

"I'll be there if you need me," Perry answered. She knew there would be time enough to get in touch with her brother, Andrew. Hunter was alone, and she owed him the favor of standing alongside him.

He rode to the front steps and jumped down. Lifting Perry to the ground, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up the steps.

As their feet rumbled across the porch the door flew open, and Mary Williams hurried into the morning light. Her puffy eyes and hollow cheeks showed the impact John's illness had had on her. She'd aged ten years since Perry had seen her. Now the old lady had eyes only for her grandson as she cried joyfully and ran into his arms.

Hunter lifted her off her feet as she shouted, "Hunter, my dear Hunter!"

He set her to ground and whispered, "Grandfather?"

"He's resting quietly, but he's had a hard night. I thought I lost my John more than once." Mary cried softly, "I'll tell the doctor you're here."

Hunter cradled Mary under the protection of his arm. "Grandma, I brought someone with me."

Before he could say more, Mary glanced around him and saw Perry standing in his shadow. "Perry!" she shouted, "Can it be true? Perry?" Surprise lit Mary's eyes.

The old woman threw her arms around Perry and wept for joy. "We all thought you were dead."

"I know," Perry cooed as she stroked Mary's head. "But as you see, I'm very much alive. I'll explain everything later. First, I'm worried about John and you."

"I'm fine, dear, just a little tired. John started out with only a cold," Mary explained as she led them into the house. "It settled in his chest and grew worse. The doctor has been here every day, but each day he grows weaker. I'm worried sick." Tears bubbled over her tired eyes.

Perry wrapped her arms around the old woman and patted her gently on the shoulder. "Now you just stop your worrying, Mary. Hunter and I are here. We'll take over the worrying while you rest. You can take care of John when he wakes."

Hunter watched as Perry coaxed his grandmother over to a comfortable sofa. Her gentle concern touched his heart.

As Perry talked with Mary he looked around the large living area that was so typical of his grandparents. Unlike most farmhouses built forty years ago, it had only one large room. John hadn't wanted his house to be divided into a maze of little rooms, so he'd built one huge room running the length of the front of the house. The only other two rooms downstairs were a dining room and a large kitchen. Hunter smiled as he remembered his grandfather sitting in one corner behind his desk, trying to work, as Hunter and Mary played checkers by the fire.

He could almost hear his grandmother saying, "If you'd build a study, John, you could have it quiet enough to think."

John always replied, "But I couldn't watch my beautiful wife all day."

Hunter knelt beside the woman John had never stopped calling his beautiful wife. "Grandmother," he whispered, "I'll sit with Grandfather. If he wakes, I'll call you." Her eyes were already growing heavy as her head rested back on the pillows.

Perry sat on the edge of the couch, talking softly to Mary, reassuring her that they would do everything that needed doing if Mary would only take a short nap.

Mary mumbled a soft thanks and drifted into sleep as Perry drew an afghan over her. Hunter bent and kissed his grandmother's cheek.

As he stood, he whispered to Perry, "We got here just in time. I don't know how sick my grandfather is, but my grandmother is completely worn-out."

Perry nodded and moved with him toward the stairs. "She just didn't want to leave his side until she was sure he had someone who loved him close by."

Hunter took a step by the stairs. "It may be a long day sitting with him." He moved up another step.

Perry knew what he was asking. "I'll stay," she said simply. "There'll be plenty of time to let Andrew know I'm here later."

He held his hand out toward her. She accepted his silent invitation and they walked up together. He was slowly learning about this little Southern lady. She was a woman with her own mind, not to be ordered or bullied and steadfast in her loyalty when times were hard.

As Hunter turned the handle to his grandparents' bedroom the doctor stepped onto the landing. Dr. Moore was a country doctor whose years of watching human suffering showed in his face. He was worn-out and should have retired years ago. But the war had called away all the younger doctors; and someone had to see to the people back home. Now his eyes were disheartened because he knew he was losing a lifetime friend. These young folks wouldn't understand, he thought, but John and he had been young together. They'd both courted Mary, even though there had never been any doubt which one she'd pick.

How could he explain to Hunter that after sharing a lifetime with a friend like John Williams a part of him was dying too? So the old doctor just smiled his sad smile at Hunter, knowing they wouldn't realize it, but to Dr. Moore, John would always be remembered as looking very much as Hunter did today. Dr. Moore knew Mary also saw John as young and strong. Sometimes God seems to bless a couple, the doctor thought, with a special kind of blindness. All their life together they saw only the beauty in each other and never the aging.

"Dr. Moore," Hunter asked, interrupting the old man's thoughts, "how is he?"

"He's weak, I'm afraid. To be honest, son, it's just a matter of hours till he goes to meet his maker.'' The doctor's face was solemn. The hardest part of his job was not watching the dying but helping the living to let go.

Perry let out a soft cry and turned toward Hunter's shoulder. He encircled her with his arm and drew her to his side. "Thanks, Doc, for being honest with me. I'll sit with him for a while."

The doctor nodded, and Hunter stepped inside the bedroom. Perry turned to Dr. Moore. "I'm Perry McLain. I want to do anything I can to help." She lay her hand on the doctor's arm. She could see that his pain was great.

"Thanks, miss, but there ain't much anyone can do," he muttered. "You any kin to Andrew McLain?"

"He's my brother." She was surprised the doctor would know her brother.

"I've heard of a Doc McLain moving in at Three Oaks. Hope he'll help me out with the doctoring," he stated. "Didn't know he had any kin left alive."

The old doctor started down the hall. "I'll be here most of the day. Call me if John stirs. Otherwise I think I'll sit out on the porch for a while."

Perry watched his slow movements down the stairs, then joined Hunter in the dying man's bedroom.