Emalyn's Treasure Read online

  “No!” she said. “You promised you’d get rid of him.”

  “I’m asking that you trust me now, Emalyn. He might be just the person I need.”

  She wrung her hands.

  “How could you possibly need him?” she said. “He’s a beggar, maybe even a thief. He makes me nervous. I’m sorry, but it’s out of the question.”

  Owen lifted her chin.

  “Do you trust me, my swan?”

  With his beautiful ice blue eyes fixed on her, Emalyn felt all her resolve melting away.

  “I trust you,” she whispered. “Yes, I trust you. I love you.”

  Owen smiled down at her.

  “Then, please, trust me now as never before. I have only your safety in mind, love. I promise you that I would never do anything to bring harm to you or the house. So, bear with me, please. Stand beside me knowing that I have only the very best of intentions.”

  He kissed her softly on the lips.

  Emalyn closed her eyes and let the power of his kiss wash over her in a tingling wave of warmth.

  Then she watched as Owen walked across the road and knelt beside Mr. Jones and the beggar.

  A little shiver passed through her.

  Another blast of thunder shook the ground. The earlier rain had turned into a violent storm and now raged in the night, shaking even the thick windows of Dunaghy Manor.

  In her dream, Emalyn flailed against a storm then took a few steps forward, toward the shimmering light and the voice that called to her.

  The blue heavens had turned almost black now, and as she watched, the spark of light traveled directly to her. It struck the ground between her small feet, blackened the bottoms of her shoes, and caused a loud humming in her ears.

  And then he appeared.

  “Run,” he said. “Run for safety.”

  Emalyn’s eyes fluttered open and she moaned.

  “I know him,” she mumbled. “I know him.”

  A flash of lightning lit up the bedroom.

  Awake now, Emalyn turned her head to see Owen sleeping soundly on his side, both hands tucked under her pillow. As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed and curled up in the green velvet chair, her fingers stroking the stiffened spot where her treasure lay buried in the cushion.

  When the lightning flashed again, she marveled at the way the light cast a soft glow on Owen’s body illuminating the broad chest, muscular arms and handsome face. His blond hair fell across his forehead.

  Her thoughts drifted to her lost baby, a miscarriage she’d suffered during the first year of their marriage, within the first month of her pregnancy. The doctor’s pronouncement that she would probably never be able to carry a child to term had devastated both of them, and for months afterward, they had often cried together at night: she because she would not be able to give her husband a child; he because the thought of losing her was too much for him to bear.

  He’d whispered this to her often as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, and as she closed her eyes and slipped away, she heard his words: “Swans mate for life. If one should die, the other would pass away of a broken heart.”

  Owen stirred and turned over onto his back, one arm extended over Emalyn’s side. She yawned then crawled in beside him. His arm wrapped around her and drew her close to him.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

  Emalyn giggled.

  “You’ve been sleeping. You didn’t even know I was up.”

  He turned over and stared down at her.

  “And now that you are….”

  She giggled again until his hungry kisses silenced her.

  As daylight broke and the storm passed, Emalyn woke to see Owen standing in front of the cheval glass mirror adjusting his silk tie. She admired the striking figure he cut in his tan cuffed pants, white collared shirt, and tweed sweater vest.

  “How handsome you look this morning,” she said and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  Owen stood back, took a look at himself, and turned to her. Then he walked to the bed, scooped her into his arms and stepped toward the mirror as he lowered her gently to the floor.

  “This,” he said, standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, “this is my reason for doing everything. This petite beauty who is my wife and my eternal love.”

  She put her hands over his.

  Owen wrapped her arms around her waist and kissed her gently on the cheek.

  “Today is a big day full of surprises for you, my swan.”

  “Surprises? What kind of surprises?

  “Ah, well if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises, eh? Put on your most elegant suit and meet me at the entrance to Dungarran at noon. Bring Fiona, too. She’ll be delighted.”

  “What on earth have you done, Owen?”

  “You’ll see. Meet me at noon. Now, I’m late. I must leave you for a while.”

  “Owen, wait.”

  “Yes, love?”

  “I’ve been thinking about the beggar.”

  Owen looked at her quizzically.

  “I do trust you, and if you say that you have a job for him, then I agree with you. Your judgment about character is always right, so I will trust him as you do. I know you would never do anything to harm us.”

  Owen hugged her.

  “Thank you, my darling. It fills my heart with joy to hear this. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help him?” Emalyn said.

  “Just be your sweet self. That will be more than enough.”

  He was out the door almost before she could blink.

  “Fiona,” she called. “Will you come up here for a moment?”

  Emalyn searched through her wardrobe and chose a herringbone skirt and beige silk blouse.

  “You’ll need the overcoat. It’s windy and cold today,” Fiona said. “Can’t have you going around without the proper wrap.”

  “And you’ll be needing yours, as well,” Emalyn said. “Owen says we are to meet him at the entrance to Dungarran at noon.”

  “Whatever for?” Fiona said.

  Emalyn shrugged.

  “Some big surprise for us. We must go.”

  “Should I prepare a luncheon, do you think?”

  “No, he didn’t say anything about a luncheon, just that you and I were to meet him at noon wearing our Sunday best. And Fiona, one more thing. You remember the beggar and his dog?”

  Fiona frowned.

  “Certainly. Up to no good it seems to me.”

  “Well, I’m not sure what Owen has arranged, but the beggar will be working for us now. So, please see if you can find it in your heart to accept him.”

  “Working here?” Fiona asked.

  “Yes, he’ll be staying in the guest house, I assume. Owen has a job for him.”

  Fiona sighed.

  “I suppose if Mr. Owen thinks it’s all right then who am I to disagree?”

  Emalyn hugged her.

  “We must make him feel comfortable,” she said.

  “Your Owen,” she said, “always cooking up something.”

  “Oh, Fiona, he’s a dream of a husband, isn’t he? God sent me the best man in the world.”

  “I think you’re right about that. I’ve never met another like him. Now, let’s take a look at that skirt and blouse to see if they need tidying, and what will we do with your hair?”

  “Owen likes it loose, so that’s the way I’ll wear it. Loose under my hat. I think there’s enough curl, don’t you?”

  Fiona ran her fingers through the long red curls cascading down Emalyn’s back.

  “Ya have curls aplenty, my girl. You’ll be stunning as usual.”

  “As long as Owen thinks I’m beautiful, that’s all that matters.”

  “Well, you’re set then, aren’t ya? He thinks you’re the most gorgeous woman on earth!”

  The two of them chuckled.

  When Fiona left, Emalyn straightened the bed and tidied the room. She picked up the framed p
hoto of them on their wedding day and thought that they still looked much the same, still smiling and happy. She blew some dust off the edges of the frame and set it back in place on her nightstand.

  After a warm bath, she sat at the vanity table and brushed her hair. In spite of her happiness, a deep depression settled over her as she looked at the photo of her mother and father. She picked up the little golden frame and hugged it to her chest. Tears formed in her eyes.

  “I’d give anything to see you both, talk to you, wrap my arms around you. Oh, Mama and Papa, I miss you terribly.”

  She wondered if she would ever stop missing them or if this grief would be with her until the end of her days.

  A knock on the door took her thoughts away from her parents. She wrapped her silk robe tightly around her.

  “Fiona? You don’t have to knock. Come in.”

  The door opened slowly.

  Emalyn frowned and got up.

  “Fiona?” she said.

  But it was Percy. He was holding a box tied with a bright red ribbon.

  “From Mr. Owen,” he said, “to take to the noon meeting.”

  He handed her the box, and though he smiled, something about that smile made Emalyn shudder. She closed the door without a word to him and set the box on the bed.

  Something compelled her to look at the green chair. She knelt in front of it and ran her hand over the cushion. Then she sighed.

  It is here. It is safe. My treasure.

  When she had finished readying herself, she met Fiona downstairs in the foyer.

  “Whatever is that you’re holding?” Fiona said. “A gift for Mr. Owen, eh?”

  “Percy brought it to me a little while ago.”

  “Percy? But he’s in school.”

  Emalyn looked at Fiona and shook her head.

  “He delivered this to me and said it was from Owen and I was to take it to the meeting.”

  “That boy,” Fiona said. “Lord help me. He’ll never amount to anything. Mr. Owen would not have taken him out of school to do such a thing.”

  “Should I take it with us?”

  “He’s probably wrapped up one of those toads he’s so fond of. But let’s take it and show it to the Mister. See what he says.”

  As they opened the front door, Emalyn stood in shock at what she saw. She put her hand to her chest and fingered the strand of pearls.

  “Yes? May we help you?”

  The tall man dressed in an expensive suit bowed at the waist. His long hair was slicked stylishly back and tied at the neck. His face, clean shaven and quite handsome, reminded Emalyn of someone.

  “I am here to escort you to the meeting,” he said.

  “Are…are you…the beggar?” Emalyn said. “You are, aren’t you?”

  When he straightened, again, he seemed taller than she’d remembered, much taller and more handsome with broad shoulders like Owen’s.

  Fiona stood with her mouth open.

  Then, Emalyn heard a dog barking.

  “My friend, Mr. Jones,” the beggar said. “He looks quite nice since his bath.”

  The enormous dog sat and held up a paw.

  “He’d like a shake, Lady Emalyn, if it doesn’t frighten you too much. He’s mostly a kind and gentle soul.”

  Emalyn bent and took the dog’s paw in her hand. Instantly, she felt warm and comfortable all over. She relaxed and felt no fear at all.

  “Good morning to you, Mr. Jones,” she said. “You look very handsome since your bath,” she said.

  Mr. Jones looked over at the beggar who reached down and patted him on the head.

  “Shall we go now?” the beggar asked. Then he reached over and held out a hand. “Allow me to carry the package.”

  Emalyn handed it to him without a care.

  With a sweeping gesture, he stretched out his arm. “Ladies first.”

  She locked arms with Fiona.

  “Thank you very much,” Fiona said to him. “We appreciate your help.”

  Emalyn patted her arm, then stopped and turned around.

  “Would you tell us your name, please?” she said to the beggar.

  “My name?” he asked.

  “Yes, what is your name? I don’t want to keep calling you the beggar. A proper gentleman needs a proper name.”

  Softly, the beggar spoke.

  “I am called Jude by my family.”

  “And would you have a last name?”

  “Emalyn!” someone called. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you.”

  Pearl Murphy walked toward her waving.

  “Pearl,” she said to her friend. “I’ve been meaning to stop by.”

  Pearl hugged her then grabbed Fiona’s hand.

  “How are you, Fiona? You look lovely today.”

  Fiona smiled.

  “Ladies, if you please. We don’t want to be late,” the beggar Jude said.

  Pearl frowned.

  “Now, who might this be?”

  “This is Jude,” Emalyn said, “and Mr. Jones, his four-legged friend. New to the area.”

  “You’re here on business, then?” Pearl asked.

  “Come on,” Emalyn said. “Let’s get to the meeting before Owen worries that something’s happened to us.”

  As they all crested the hill at the entrance to Dungarran, Emalyn saw a large structure covered in what seemed to be an enormous sheet.

  Owen stood in the middle of all of the board members and their wives. The Bishop stood to one side of the group.

  Emalyn waved to her husband.

  “Ah, there she is, my beautiful bride,” he said and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re stunning,” he said.

  “Fiona, Pearl, how nice you both look,” Owen said. “And Jude, thank you for escorting the ladies safely here. What is that you have there?”

  “Percy gave that to me this morning to bring to the meeting. He said it was from you.”

  “From me?”

  For some reason she couldn’t explain, Emalyn felt faint. Her hands trembled, her heart raced, and beads of sweat popped out across her forehead.

  Suddenly, behind her, she heard the beggar Jude say, “It’s all right, Lady. Sit here,” as he scooted a chair under her. “Just relax.” He got a chair and offered it to Fiona. “Please, sit beside her.”

  Fiona sat and rubbed Emalyn’s hands.

  Mr. Jones, suddenly alert, ears forward, tail straight up, began a low rumbling growl. Within seconds, it turned into a fiercer sound. Then, he darted off like a bolt of lightning and charged into the wooded area surrounding Dungarran’s entrance.

  “What is wrong with the dog?” Fiona said. “He took off like a shot.”

  “He’ll be back,” the beggar Jude said.

  The Bishop bent beside Emalyn.

  “If you’re up to it, we’ll begin with a prayer.”

  When the prayer was done, the board members all gathered around the sheet-covered structure.

  “Owen, if you’ll do the honors,” Councilor Murphy said.

  Emalyn watched the one swift movement it took to remove the sheet.

  Owen looked at her and said,

  “Behold, the Dunaghy-Meade High Cross. Five years ago, our fathers were killed because of this cross, but it was what they wanted to symbolize the economic growth of Dungarran. So, to honor them and all the fine citizens of this town, it stands now as a beacon of growth and prosperity to all who enter here.”

  Emalyn stood and took a step forward, but the beggar Jude touched her elbow.

  “Please, Lady, stay where you are.”

  She started to protest, but the look in his eyes compelled her to stay.

  “The package,” Owen shouted in their direction. “Someone has brought a gift to mark this special occasion. Jude, will you bring it?”

  The board members applauded when they saw the gold box and bright red bow.

  Suddenly, they heard a man scream.

  Mr. Jones appeared, his huge mouth clamped around a man’s arm. The enormous dog was dragging t
he man out of the dense forest.

  “Johnny Macahern,” Councilor Murphy said. “What are you doing here?”

  The beggar Jude whistled and Mr. Jones let go of the man and came running back to him. He pointed to where Emalyn stood. “There,” he said.

  Mr. Jones trotted over and flopped down beside Emalyn, Pearl, and Fiona.

  The board members all moved away from the cross, closer to the forested area where Johnny Macahern sat like a whimpering child.

  But Owen stood beside his high cross holding the package in his hands.

  Pearl called to him, “Owen, wait…please wait.”

  Emalyn looked at her then turned immediately in Owen’s direction, her heart like a hammer in her chest.

  “Owen, darling. Wait!”

  But Owen focused on untying the bright red ribbon.

  The beggar Jude had moved to stand next to him.

  When Emalyn tried to run to be beside her love, Mr. Jones blocked her way and nudged her back in her chair.

  “Stop it,” she yelled at the dog.

  The next moments seemed to move silently in slow motion.

  The beggar Jude looked over at her and nodded. She hadn’t noticed before the soft golden light that surrounded him. He drew back and threw the package. It flew through the air. Then, he wrapped his arms around Owen, hugging him tightly to his chest. Owen glanced at her and mouthed, “I love you.”

  Emalyn knew something was terribly wrong. She yelled as loudly as she could, “Owen!”

  Then a deafening sound blasted through the silence. Emalyn covered her ears. And then, her world turned pitch black.

  A cold nose on her cheek roused Emalyn from a deep slumber. Her eyes fluttered open and she shielded them with her hand against the bright sunlight filtering through the brocade draperies.

  She saw Fiona bend down close to her, eyes red and swollen. She whispered, but the whispers sounded odd and far away to Emalyn. Fiona stroked her forehead and kissed her. Emalyn was only vaguely aware of others milling about in her room. Indistinct voices, unintelligible mutterings. The world seemed enveloped in a black fog.

  Then she felt a heavy weight beside her on the bed and smiled.

  “Owen,” she whispered. “I knew you’d be all right.”

  She closed her eyes, laid a hand on his pillow, and drifted into sleep.

  When she opened her eyes again, only her beside lamp shone in the darkness. She ran her hand across Owen’s pillow expecting full well to turn and see him sleeping like an angel beside her. Her handsome Owen. Her soul mate. Her…