Chapter 6

Sylvia's was puzzled—and frightened. "What is it, Adam?" Her fear was that Adam was going to tell her goodbye, to say that he was in love with another woman.

"I'll just say it outright." Adam dropped Sylvia's hands and stood up; he felt the need to move so he paced. "I…" he struggled to find the right words. Although he had in a manner rehearsed what he would say on the way over, now the words he had planned seemed stilted and cold. "I have a son I didn't know about. His name is Ezra and he's almost a year old. I'm bringing him home in the next week or so."

He turned to face Sylvia and to his relief, she didn't look as if she hated him, only that she was confused. "Oh. I see. I suppose then that you'll want to marry…" Her voice dropped off and she looked away, her eyes filling with tears; her heart was broken.

Adam had talked marriage before with her and not in the midst of a passionate embrace goodnight as he held her on the porch steps but in the cold light of day. Sylvia was willing, not just willing bur desirous to be his wife as she had told him earlier. "After a decent time has passed, of course, for my family's sake. My mother used to always accuse me of being selfish, of only thinking of myself and I would only be enforcing that if I married too soon—I do want the pleasure of being your wife, Adam. The Stewarts, Philip's parents, felt I should join a convent after he died and if they find out that I've married so soon, well, my parents would suffer for it socially, I'm afraid. I…oh, Adam, I do love you. I…I know this sounds awful, but I love you even more than I had Philip, than I ever loved anyone in my life. Do the dead haunt one, Adam, if they're angry? If I say that I feel stronger for you than I ever did for Philip—ever, is that a sin? I…I often wonder if his death…oh, Adam, had he lived I never would have met you but I suppose I would have been happy. Odd, how our lives veer from the road we planned for ourselves."

"Sylvia, plans are worthless in the long run," he had said at the time as he kissed her eyelids, her smooth cheeks, her silky neck. "Let's not look too far ahead; let's just look for happiness with each other."

And over time their kisses on the front porch became more passionate and when Adam would take Sylvia out on Sunday afternoons, she came close to yielding to him, her body urging her for the ultimate joining as they sat under the trees, her own passions matching his. Nevertheless, they always refrained from taking the ultimate step they would take once they were husband and wife. To his surprise, Adam found he didn't mind waiting as Sylvia was worth it although he once joked to his father that he felt like Abelard—the desire was strong but there was no way to relieve it. And then he had added, except alone.

But Adam found that telling Sylvia about Ezra was difficult. "Sylvia," Adam said as he struggled with how to tell her everything and yet not sound as if he was asking for sympathy, "his mother is dead. She told a friend before she died that I was the father but I have my doubts. Nevertheless, I accept him as mine as it's possible. Let me start at the beginning." Adam stopped pacing and sat down; Sylvia shifted to face him. "It seems that there was a man named Tom Burns who looked like me, resembled me so closely that he found he could pass himself off as me—so he did. He didn't know about me or that he looked like me until he just fell into it and he had need of a horse and money so he took advantage of our resemblance. I was incredulous—couldn't believe it but the neighbor who gave him the horse and the banker who gave him the money, both believe Tom was me. He looked enough like me to fool anyone who wasn't…well, I doubt he would have fooled my family or close friends as I was unable to fool Ann—Ezra's mother. She eventually realized I wasn't Tom but she loved him and since he was gone, well, it becomes confusing in a way."

Sylvia listened intently, hung on every word as Adam related the events that led up to his receiving a telegram telling him that he and Ann had a son together and that Ann was dead.

"And that's why I go to Placerville every few months, to see Ezra and to pay for his keep and now, I'm going to hire someone to go with me to fetch Ezra home. He's old enough to be bottle-fed and as I said, and although it's possible he's not mine, there's a chance he is so I have to do the right thing." He paused while Sylvia sat quietly. "I would understand if you tell me to leave and never come back. I should have told you about Ezra earlier but I was so…I wanted you and was afraid that once you knew...I'm sorry, Sylvia, that I even had to involve you. I suppose I was hoping that things would work out another way but…"

Sylvia sat up straight and set her jaw. "I'd be willing to go with you to bring your son home, Adam. My Aunt Polly will loudly object but that doesn't matter. I'll go with you. When are you leaving?"

"Sylvia, you know you can't. Traveling alone with me? I can't even keep you out after dark unless we're supervised. It's best you stay here. Traveling in a wagon over that rough country…it's not for you. And even if you could go, I couldn't bear seeing you have to endure all those hardships."

"I'm not made of cake, Adam. I can travel as well as anyone and I'm…although I don't enjoy hardship, from what the pastor preaches, hardship and suffering are supposed to bring one closer to God but the only one I want to be closer to is you. Let me go with you, Adam. I'll take care of the child. I'll….cook and rock the child to sleep…I don't care what my Aunt says—or anyone else. And I can't let you face any censure alone, not if I'm to be your wife. I am still to be…you still want me, don't you?"

Adam rose from the settee and looking down, he held Sylvia's face in both his hands. She reached up and put her hands over his and his heart swelled with love for her. He believed he had never seen anyone as lovely as Sylvia and knew he was lucky that she hadn't shown him the door and told him to never return. He knew that he had underestimated Sylvia—she was more steely and stronger than he had believed.

"Yes, I still want to marry you-nothing could change that. But I can't take you along because I love you. I've hired a girl who worked for Pastor Cleary and his wife—took care of his wife while she was ill. She's going to be Ezra's nurse, so to speak."

"I see," Sylvia stood up and Adam's hands dropped away. "Well, if you'd rather take another woman…"

"Fiona Flanagan is hardly a woman. She's an Irish immigrant, merely a girl, who came over as a bond servant and worked it off. She's used to hardship and she's accepted the job. She needs the job to live."

Sylvia offered a weak smile. "Forgive my pangs of jealousy, Adam, it's just that…I should know better. I don't seem to have much faith in you, do I? That's a fine way for me to show my love for you. I'm sorry for that."

"Sylvia…I'm not as wonderful as you think. I have weaknesses of the flesh like all men and although you're the only woman I want to marry, the only one I want to share my future with, there have been other women, women who…"

"Adam," she said putting her hand on his arm, "you can confess all your sins later…after we're married. Part of the reason I love you is because you're a man with passions and needs that I want to fulfill. Hopefully though, you'll choose me and only me to go through life with you."

"Yes," Adam managed to say; her words, her intimations of promises of pleasure made his voice thick with desire. He took Sylvia in his arms and kissed her and she responded with more passion than he had ever experienced before and it was all he could do not to pull her down on the settee and enjoy her. He felt she would be willing—tonight Sylvia would be willing to give him her body so that he would want to return quickly to her. But he didn't take advantage of the situation as he felt that's what he would be doing—taking advantage of her, over his beloved Sylvia. So instead, he swore to her his undying love and told her that he would return to her arms and then they would discuss becoming a family—him, her and Ezra.