Free Enduring Love by Bonnie Leon Page A

young to understand. “It’s not a good idea right now.” Her voice trembled.
    Thomas rested a hand on his mother’s arm. “It’ll be all right, Mum. Dad’ll make it right.”
    If only he could. Hannah wound a bandage around the gash. “I hate Margaret.” Thomas scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.
    “You don’t even know her.”
    “Don’t have to. She’s not decent. Can’t be. If she were, she wouldn’t do this to us.”
    Hannah had wondered about that, but she dare not voice her qualms. It would only make Thomas’s doubts stronger. “I understand why you’re angry, but what if she sees us as the ones who’ve hurt her?” Hannah tied off the bandage. “After all, she was married to your father before he met me.”
    “But that was when he lived in London . . . and he didn’t know ye then. If he would ’ave, he would’ve married ye instead of her.”
    Hannah smoothed the bandage. “Better?”
    Thomas nodded and stood. “I’ll talk to him, make him understand.” He threw an arm over Hannah’s shoulders. “He’ll come back. I know he will. He loves us.”
    “Of course he does, very much. But this isn’t about how much your father loves us.”
    Hannah wasn’t ready to talk with Thomas about any of this, especially not about their eventual move. But she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Thomas, your father can’t stay here while I’m living in the house. It’s not respectable.”
    “But he’s yer husband.”
    “You’ve got to get that idea out of your head. We’re not married.” The statement felt like a punch to her stomach. We’re not married. We never were.
    “It’ll work out . . . somehow,” Thomas insisted.
    “Things will work out, but not likely the way we want them to.”
    “Why not? Can’t God make it happen?”
    “God’s ways are not always our ways, Son.” She took his hand. “We’ll have to move on . . .”
    “Ye mean leave ’ere?”
    “Yes. The farm belongs to your father.”
    Shock registered on Thomas’s face. “Where would we go?” “I don’t know for certain. Maybe the Athertons’ to begin with. They might have a position for me there.”
    “But what ’bout Dad? We can’t leave him.”
    The idea of Thomas staying behind hurt deeply, as if a barb were piercing Hannah’s heart. I must let him choose. “Of course you can stay here with your father if you like. You don’t have to come with me.”
    “No. It’s not right.” He moved down the first step. “I won’t leave and neither will ye.” He stomped down the stairway. “The two of ye’ll be together again. I know it.”
    Hannah had no energy left to convince him of the truth, so she let his statement stand. The day would come when she could no longer avoid the inevitable, but not today.
    Dust kicked into the air, and Hannah saw a rider coming. It was John. He cantered up the drive, stopping in front of the house. “You look done in. Is everything all right?”
    “Ye should ’ave been ’ere,” Thomas said, accusation in his voice.
    “Why? What’s happened?” He dismounted, keeping hold of the reins.
    “The pigs . . . they broke out of the pen.” Hannah moved the soap into her other hand. “Thomas and I managed to get them back inside.”
    John half grinned. “Don’t suppose that was much fun.”
    “No, indeed, it wasn’t.” Hannah stood, her irritation growing. “And while they were out having a bit of fun, they managed to devour a good deal of my potatoes. And the boar bit Thomas.”
    Concern replaced John’s smile. “Are you all right, Son?”
    “Fine.” Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets and stamped the foot of his uninjured leg down on the porch step. “He didn’t hurt me much.” Defiantly, he stared at his father. “We’re not leaving, are we?”
    “Leaving? How do you mean?”
    “Mum said we’ll have to move. That this place is yers.”
    John’s expression turned glum. “This is your home just as much as mine. Nothing can change that.”