Dakota Born

  Luckily—despite his earlier assertions about wanting nothing to do with her search—Gage was willing to help her. He arrived early Saturday morning to drive her into Grand Forks.

  “I made us a thermos of coffee for the drive,” Lindsay said, when she opened her front door. Although they’d talked since Sunday, planning this excursion into the city, Lindsay felt shy around him. She could hardly believe the things she’d said and done. He’d shouted that she was fickle, that he wasn’t willing to lay his heart on the line for her—so she’d handed him hers. They’d held each other in the snow, kissed until she thought she’d melt, then returned to the house, holding hands.

  His mother had immediately noticed the change in their attitudes toward each other and all but crowed with delight.

  Lindsay didn’t know where their relationship was leading, but after much reflection decided it wasn’t necessary to be sure of the future. Her relationship with Monte had made her cautious and somewhat insecure about her own judgment. For now, she liked spending time with Gage, enjoying his wit and his friendship, and was grateful for his help in deciphering her grandmother’s secret.

  “You talked to Lily Quantrill?” Gage asked.

  “Last night,” Lindsay said. “I told her to expect us about ten this morning.”

  Gage glanced at his watch. “Then we’d better leave now.”

  “I’m ready.” She reached for her coat, muffler, gloves and hat. She hadn’t appreciated what it meant to be cold—really cold—until she’d moved to Buffalo Valley. She’d bought an insulated coat and boots through the Land’s End catalog; everything else had been given to her. So far, anyway, she was well equipped to deal with snow and cold.

  “I thought we’d go out for lunch when we’re finished,” Gage said as he helped her to his truck cab.

  “That would be a real treat.” She needed to be back for rehearsals at three that afternoon. She was also scheduled to meet with Sarah Stern to discuss costumes and props. Sarah had been in to talk to the class on Friday and had brought a recently completed quilt, as well as some books that showed different quilt patterns; she’d also brought examples of the natural dyes she used. The students were enthralled, as was Lindsay. Sarah had graciously agreed to let them use one of her quilts in the Christmas production.

  Lindsay found Gage studying her, and he looked so damned sexy it was all she could do to keep from kissing him. She laughed and Gage glanced in her direction. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “I’m happy, that’s all.”

  “I am, too,” he said with a grin.

  “I’m excited about this morning,” Lindsay admitted. “This is the first real chance I’ve had to learn anything new about my grandmother. My dad just doesn’t know any of this history.”

  “Well…I hope Mrs. Quantrill can answer your questions.”

  “So do I.”

  As promised, Lily Quantrill was waiting for them in her suite on the top floor of the retirement center. She sat regally in her wheelchair, a crocheted blanket over her lap. Her hands, gnarled and veined, rested on the arms of the chair.

  “You want to ask me about your grandmother?” Lily asked, before Lindsay had a chance to sit down. Clearly this woman wasn’t one to waste time on idle chatter.

  “Yes,” Lindsay said, “if you don’t mind telling me about her.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if I did,” the older woman muttered. “Now, what do you want to ask?”

  “How well did you know her?”

  “We grew up together, and I considered her one of my dearest and closest friends.” She gestured imperiously. “Sit down, sit down.”

  “Could you tell me about the war years?” Lindsay asked as she perched on a small, elegant couch. Gage sat stiffly beside her, obviously uncomfortable on such a feminine piece of furniture.

  The old woman paused and looked quickly from Lindsay to Gage, then back to Lindsay. “You know about that, do you?”

  “No,” Lindsay responded, then regretted her honesty. If she pretended she knew, she might learn something that Lily Quantrill would otherwise be unwilling to tell her. “I was hoping you’d explain…”

  Mrs. Quantrill paused, apparently choosing her words carefully. “Did you know she was in love with Jerome Sinclair?”

  “My grandfather?” Gage said, his shock causing him to sit even straighter.

  “I assumed that’s why you’re here,” Lily snapped.

  “I didn’t know,” Gage said unnecessarily. His gaze sought out Lindsay’s. “They were never married.”

  “There’s a very good reason for that, if you’ll give me a chance to continue.” Lily Quantrill spoke in a softer voice as she began her story. “Gina Colby was smitten with Jerome from the time she was in junior high. In seventh grade, she told me she planned on marrying him one day. I remember I laughed and asked her if Jerome knew about that.” She smiled at the memory, lost for a few moments in an era long past. “Gina told me Jerome loved her, too, only he didn’t know it yet. Can you imagine? But I’ll tell you what. She was right.” Lily shook her head. “We were all so young at the time. Jerome was a couple of years older than Gina and me. He was a tall, skinny kid, but none of us had much to eat back then.

  “That was during the dust bowl years, during the Great Depression, and we were all so poor we didn’t have two nickels to rub together. People today don’t understand what it was like to live in those times.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Lindsay said, not wanting to get sidetracked. “You said there was a good reason my Grandma Gina didn’t marry Gage’s grandfather.”

  “There was.” She paused, and a sadness entered her eyes. “Gina thought he was dead.”

  Gage reached for Lindsay’s hand and held it tightly. “My grandfather was captured by the Japanese in 1943 and kept in a POW camp for two years,” he said hoarsely.

  “All Gina learned was that Jerome was missing in action. We both knew what that meant. She grieved for him something fierce and even took sick for a time. Her mother was beside herself, not knowing how to help her. She was afraid Gina might die from her grief.”

  “How long was it before she married my grandfather?”

  Lily closed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe six months. Maybe even a year. Anton had been exempted from the war for medical reasons. He farmed with his father and that was his contribution to the war effort. He’d always loved Gina and pursued her for months before she agreed to see him. She seemed like a new woman after she married Anton Snyder.”

  “Then the war ended and my grandfather returned to Buffalo Valley,” Gage said without emotion.

  Lily nodded. “By that time, Brian had been born—Lindsay’s dad—and Gina and Anton had settled down on the farm. Anton had taken over from his father, and the two of them made a good life for themselves.”

  “Did she and Jerome ever talk about it?” Lindsay asked. She could imagine her grandmother’s shock at discovering he was alive. Her shock and his pain. It hurt to think of what they must have endured, loving each other all those years and then pulled apart by war.

  “They must’ve sorted everything out…eventually. Whatever was said remained between the two of them, but I know the early months were difficult for them both. Gina had no way of finding out that Jerome had survived. The Japanese hadn’t released his name. It’d been over two years, and he’d already been through one hell only to return home to another.”

  “That must be why Father McGrath called her brave,” Lindsay said, thinking aloud. “She was married to my grandfather, and yet all those years she loved another man.”

  “I believe Gina always held a special place in her heart for Jerome, but he was the love of her youth. As a woman, an adult, the man she genuinely loved was Anton, always Anton. She pledged her life to him and her heart, and she stood true to her vows. The years proved that.”

  “But Gina and Jerome—they still lived in the same place!”

  A faraway look came ove
r Lily Quantrill. “I suppose that sounds strange to you young people, but those days weren’t like times now, when vows mean nothing. Gina was married to Anton and bore his sons. While it might seem hard to believe, both Jerome and Gina lived in this community, raised their children, went on with their lives. They didn’t have any choice.”

  “What about my grandfather?” Gage asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Was he happy?”

  “It’s difficult to say, but I think so. It wasn’t easy for him when he came home. He was bitter when he found Gina married, but he didn’t hold it against her.” She paused, shaking her head. “The war had been hard on him. He’d never been much of a talker, but he grew even quieter afterward. He eventually married your grandmother Molly, and it’s my belief that he found his own peace…and eventually, happiness.”

  Gage and Lindsay left ten minutes later, declining coffee. On the drive into Grand Forks, they had talked and laughed, but now both were silent.

  “She loved your grandfather,” Lindsay finally whispered. “I know she did.”

  “In her own way.”

  Lindsay stared down at her hands, weighing her thoughts. “I…I don’t suppose it would do any harm to tell you now.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “How I knew about the brick.” She hesitated, recalling that long-ago promise. She’d told her grandmother she wouldn’t tell and had kept her word all these years.

  “Lindsay?”

  “I…promised her.”

  “What?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t tell, but it was your grandfather…You have a right to know.”

  Gage reached for her hand. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

  She nodded, grateful for his understanding. “She loved him, Gage, more than we’ll ever know. For years she wept for him. I’m sure what Mrs. Quantrill said about her loving my grandfather was true, but her heart belonged to her first love. I’m absolutely certain of it.”

  Inexplicable tears filled her eyes and she glanced away, not wanting Gage to see. But he must have noticed because he pulled into a vacant lot and shut off the engine.

  “Lindsay.” Her name was the gentlest of whispers.

  She turned to him then, and he took her in his arms and held her close.

  They clung tightly together, as if holding on to each other now would make up for what their grandparents had lost half a century ago. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

  Joanie waited until Saturday night, when the children were asleep, before she approached Brandon.

  The television blared out the laugh track of a situation comedy as she carried her husband a mug of coffee. He sat in the living room, shoeless feet propped up on the coffee table.

  “Can we talk?” she asked, sitting on the edge of his chair.

  He looked away from the television with obvious reluctance. “About what?”

  She reached for the remote control and turned off the television. “This is serious, Brandon.”

  “All right,” he said, dropping his feet to the floor, tensing. He straightened, his shoulders as stiff and unbending as his stubbornness.

  “I need to ask you something.”

  “If it’s about Christmas—”

  “This has nothing to do with Christmas.” Her husband had already made it plain that it would be a meager holiday season. Each of the children would get one gift. He and Joanie wouldn’t exchange gifts at all, not with each other. Not with anyone. Joanie wouldn’t be doing the normal holiday baking, either. This Christmas there was nothing to celebrate, as far as Brandon was concerned.

  “I want to preface what I’m about to say,” she said, inhaling a deep breath and holding it for a couple of seconds, “because—well, because I don’t want you to respond with anger.”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “In other words, I’m not going to like whatever you’ve got to say?”

  She couldn’t deny the truth of that.

  “Just say it!”

  “I think…” Joanie was afraid he’d never agree, but for the sake of their marriage, for the sake of their family, she had to try. “I think we should sell the farm.”

  Once she’d made the suggestion, she closed her eyes, anticipating his backlash. She didn’t have to wait long.

  Brandon was out of his chair in seconds, pacing the floor. “This farmland’s been in my family for a hundred years!”

  “I know that, Brandon.”

  “You’re asking me to sell my heritage, my son’s heritage.”

  “I’m just asking you to consider it. To look for alternatives. You’re killing yourself working as many hours as you do. We don’t have a life. You’re constantly worried about money. You might want to continue like this, but I don’t. The stress is making me ill. I’m already anemic.”

  Her husband sank back into his chair and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  “The small farmer hasn’t got a chance anymore,” she told him. “Not in today’s market.”

  “Farming is all I know, Joanie.”

  The pain in his voice was nearly her undoing. But she forced herself to go on. “You can learn something else, something less demanding and stressful.”

  He frowned, and she could see his doubt and his fear.

  “My dad said if you were willing, he might be able to get you into the pipefitters’ union. He knows the apprenticeship coordinator.”

  “You talked to your parents about this?” His voice throbbed with hurt.

  “Is that so unforgivable?”

  “It might surprise you, Joanie, but I do have my pride.”

  “Don’t let your pride destroy our lives!”

  Brandon didn’t answer. The muscles in his jaw quivered and he broke eye contact and looked away.

  “You think I’ve…betrayed you by talking to my mom and dad,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “but I’ve done everything I know to save this marriage.”

  Her husband said nothing. Then he muttered, “Your parents were right. We should never have married.”

  “I’ll let you tell Sage and Stevie they were a mistake,” she cried, fighting back anger. This wasn’t the first time he’d hurled these accusations at her, and she was tired of them.

  “That’s not what I mean,” Brandon shouted.

  “In other words, the kids weren’t a mistake. I was.”

  “Not you. Us. We were nothing but one big mistake waiting to happen. I should’ve known better than to bring you here to the farm. You don’t understand what it means to be a farm wife. I should have listened to my instincts.”

  She should be used to hearing it by now; still his words cut deep. “Then your answer is no. You refuse to consider selling the farm.”

  “My answer is hell, no.”

  She nodded, not even disappointed, since this was exactly what she’d expected. Unwilling to prolong the agony, she left the living room and retreated into their bedroom.

  The suitcases were stored in the back of the closet, and she dragged out the largest one and started emptying her dresser drawers. She hadn’t wanted to come to Brandon with threats or hysteria. Had he agreed to consider selling the farm, she would have told him her reason for asking. But the knowledge that another baby was on the way would only add to his burdens. For now, the pregnancy was her secret. She wouldn’t be accused of manipulating him with that.

  “What the hell is this?” Brandon demanded when he found her. “You’re leaving me?”

  Without emotion, Joanie looked at her husband. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. From everything you’ve said and done in the last few weeks, it seems this is what you want.”

  He stood there, silent. Pride kept him from denying her words or asking her to stay, she realized, her heart breaking. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. She loved Brandon, had always loved him, had planned to grow old with him.

  “I know you think you’ve failed us, Brandon, but that’s not true. You’re trying to cope with ci
rcumstances that have become impossible. We can’t go on like this. I was hoping we might be able to try again, but I can see that isn’t going to happen.”

  “Because I refuse to sell the farm?” he asked bitterly.

  “It was the only thing I could think of that would give us a chance. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you plan on taking the kids?”

  She nodded.

  “I guess that’s for the best,” he said, sounding resigned.

  “I haven’t told them. I thought we could do that together in the morning.”

  He agreed. “I assume you’re moving in with your parents?”

  “No. Mom and Dad have a rental that’s vacant and they said the kids and I could live there for the time being.”

  “How long have you been planning this?” he asked.

  “It isn’t what I want, it never was, but we can’t go on as we are now, destroying each other little by little. It’s obvious you don’t love me anymore.”

  “I bought you that damned washer and dryer, didn’t I?”

  Joanie held her head high. “Yes, you did get me the washer and dryer, and you’ve resented doing it every minute since. Do you honestly think I could enjoy using them after the things you’ve said? If I could’ve found a way, I would have returned them both.”

  Brandon watched her silently. Suddenly he stood and walked to the door, but before leaving the room, he turned back. “I suppose you’re expecting me to beg you to stay.”

  “No.”

  “This is your choice, remember that.”

  She nodded.

  “I didn’t ask you to go.”

  “No, you drove me to it,” she said, not immune to bitterness herself. This was hard. She’d anticipated Brandon’s anger, but was stunned by his pain.

  “I’m not coming after you, Joanie,” he said tonelessly.

  “I don’t expect you to, Brandon.”

  “Just remember you’re the one who wants out of this marriage.”