Free After the Storm by Jo Ann Ferguson

older boys had tried to sneak off the train to figure out where they were. This tale was one Brendan had never told him.
    Walking on toward the barn, he picked up a shovel. He tossed it in the back of the wagon. He had gotten his life to where he wanted it. He had the children to fill his days with chatter. Teaching them their letters so they would be able to keep up with the other children in Haven was a pleasure after a hard day’s labor. Now everything was changed, because of a woman who was dependent upon him to take care of her until she took the children and left.
    His hands curled into fists on the side of the wagon. She should not be able to come here and take them away so easily, not when her story had more inconsistencies than a felon’s when facing a jury. Even without his legal experience, he knew she was hiding something from both him and the children. She had left the children in danger once. If she took them away, who could guess what she might do next?
    There had to be something he could do. Tonight, when the children were sleeping, he would push aside the pocket doors to the back parlor and unpack the law books he had left in their crates. If there was anything he could do legally to keep her from endangering these children again, he would find it.

Four
    As Cailin shifted the ragged gown on her lap, another section tore. She picked it up, wondering how many more patches she could put on it before she ran out of fabric from the sleeves she had cut unfashionably short. She ran her finger along the rent. This could be sewn back together. If she took the tiniest stitches she could, it might not be too obvious.
    She looked down at the patches across the bottom of the skirt and laughed sadly. No one would take note of a single repair because the whole hem was now sewn together with so many pieces it looked more like a quilt than a dress.
    The children’s voices came from the front of the house. The heat of the day did not seem to slow them, but she was glad to be able to sit by the window to catch any bit of breeze that might climb up from the river.
    She heard Brendan calling a greeting. Glancing where the sunshine shimmered on the grass before falling through the window to creep across the bedchamber floor, she wondered what Samuel was doing back from the fields when midday was two hours away. Was this his customary habit?
    Cailin set the gown beside the chair. She had left her legs bare in hopes of being a bit cooler, but she could not have Samuel see her limbs if he entered the room. A silly thought, because he must have seen them when she was ill. That was something that could not be changed now. She would not compound their uncomfortable intimacy.
    She reached down to pull the quilt up over her legs. Her head spun with the unthinking motion. When she had been able to walk the few steps from the bed to the overstuffed chair Samuel had brought into the room last night, she had fooled herself into believing she was almost well.
    She ran her fingers along the chair’s brocade arms. The dark blue fabric was shiny, not from wear like the furniture had been in the servants’ quarters in New York, but from unimaginable luxury.
    â€œI could become accustomed to this,” she said aloud.
    Her laugh halted when she thought about Samuel’s few words when he had maneuvered the chair through the door. He had not looked at her until he had set it by the double window.
    â€œI thought you’d prefer not to have the children bouncing on the bed when they come to visit you,” he had said. “And, when you’re well enough, you can sit here and enjoy the sunshine.”
    â€œThank you.” Her voice had been as distantly polite as his, sounding as if they had never spoken before.
    â€œIf there’s nothing else you need tonight, I’ll wish you a good night’s sleep.”
    â€œNo, there’s nothing else I need.”
    When he had left, closing the door after him,