Always to Remember

Within the shadows of honor, courage often walks in silence. -Engraved on the monument Clay built

If he wasn't angry, he certainly did a good imitation. His voice was clipped and as hard as stone. She wrung her hands together. "I love you. Clay." "No, you don't." Meg felt as though he'd just slapped her. "Yes, I do. When you leave this town, I'll go with you." Narrowing his eyes, he studied her. "Will you marry me?" "Yes." "Will you give me children?" "If I can. Kirk and I were never able to conceive, but if I can have children, I want to have yours." "In this town that we move to, wherever it is, will you walk down the street with me?" "Of course." "Holding my hand?" "Yes." "And the hands of my children?" "Yes." He unfolded his arms and took a step toward her. She wanted to fling herself into his embrace, but something hard in his eyes stopped her. "And what happens, Mrs. Warner, when someone you know rides through town and points at me and calls me a yellow-bellied coward? What will you do then? Will you let go of my hand and take my children to the other side of the street? Will you pretend that you haven't kissed me, that you haven't lain with me beneath the stars?" With disgust marring his features, he turned away. "You think I'm a coward. Go home." "I don't think that. I love you." He spun around. "You don't believe in that love, you don't believe in me." "Yes, I do." He stalked toward her. She backed into the corner and bent her head to meet his infuriated gaze. "How strongly do you believe in our love?" he asked, his voice ominously low. "If they threatened to strip off your clothes unless you denied our love, would you deny our love?" He gave her no chance to respond, but continued on, his voice growing deeper and more ragged, as though he were dredging up events from the past. "If they wouldn't let you sleep until you denied our love, would you deny our love so you could lay your head on a pillow? "If they stabbed a bayonet into your backside every time your eyes drifted closed, would you deny our love so your flesh wouldn't be pierced? "If they applied a hot brand to your flesh until you screamed in agony, would you deny our love so they'd take away the iron? "If they placed you before a firing squad, would you say you didn't love me so they wouldn't shoot you?" He stepped back and plowed his hands through his hair. "You think I'm a coward. You don't think I have the courage to stand beside you and risk the anger of your father. I'd die before I turned away from anyone or anything I believed in. You won't even walk by my side." He looked the way she imagined soldiers who had lost a battle probably looked: weary, tired of the fight, disillusioned. "You don't believe in me," he said quietly. "How can you believe in our love?

I can’t help the way they are, but I’ll be damned before I become like them.

Please," Meg whispered. "I don't want any trouble here." He released his hold on her. As though she might say something further, she parted her lips slightly. Then she walked out of the church. "Touch her again, and I'll kill you," Daniel said. Clay wondered if he should tell her brother that he'd be doing him a favor if he killed him… because his heart had just died.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Clay walk to his wagon, where he'd find no shade. Isolated. Alone. How simple it would be to prepare him a plate and walk to the wagon to give it to him. How difficult to step into his world of loneliness.

Has any woman ever touched you?" she asked as she splayed her fingers over his thigh. "No." "Do you want a woman to touch you?" "No." She stilled, and Clay pushed himself up. He cradled her check in his palm. "I want you to touch me.

You can't imagine how much it hurts to be ignored by people… you respect. You don't know how loud the silence is or how deeply it cuts. It's bad enough watching the hatred touch my brothers. I'd rather die than see it touch you.

Meg forgot about cautioning him to be quiet. She forgot about everything but watching the care with which he wrapped a blanket around Mama Warner before gingerly lifting her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. "Comfortable?" he asked. "You know how to hold a woman so she feels precious. Makes me wish I was sixty years younger.

You don’t know how loud the silence is or how deeply it cuts.

She planted her hands on her hips. "Which twin are you?" He studied the ground for a moment, then peered up at her, suspicion showing clearly in his brown eyes. "Joe." "Well, Josh, are you alone out here?" "I said I was Joe." "And I think you're afraid I'm going to tell how you frightened me so you gave me your brother's name.

Wait here, Miz Meg, and we'll holler when we're undressed and under the covers. We know it don't bother you seein' our backsides since you're a widow and all, but it'd sure bother us… even though you've seen "em before. We kinda like to keep 'em to ourselves

He cradled her face between his hands, angled his mouth over hers, and welcomed the bliss she offered. Boldly, she gave her tongue the freedom to roam within his mouth. She sighed. He moaned. He thought a man could become spoiled touching a woman. He might never want to touch stone again. Stone wasn't warm. It didn't alter its shape with the gentlest of pressures. Stone didn't breathe so he could feel its moisture on his face. Rocks didn't make soft sounds that he'd carry with him until the day he died.

It hurts to cry," she said, her voice raspy. "It hurts worse not to." "Did you cry?" "For four days straight." "Is that how long it took you to bury them?" "Yes, ma'am," he said in a voice that sounded like stone grating against stone.

He picked up his knife and started carving again. He concentrated on the lines and planes of the wood to keep his mind from wandering too far into the past. He had his own wounds that refused to heal.

Honeysuckle. She smelled of honeysuckle. He thought about her pert little nose. He'd wanted to smile every time she tilted it to demonstrate her disdain toward him. If her obvious hatred for him hadn't been so great, hadn't hurt so badly, he might have smiled.

There’s no such thing as mostly. It’s either true or it ain’t.

What’s your conscience?” “It’s a meeting place for the things your heart feels and the things your head knows.

maybe only those who faced death daily were able to recognize that courages could be as quiet as a man's thoughts

When you're young, you wish for things in the future, but when you grow old... you wish for things from the past to

A man lived or died according to his decisions in life.

Meg felt her heart lurch. It bothered her that the twins realized that she hated their brother. The words coming from their innocent mouths sounded so ugly.

Hell of a thing when a man’s hatred for another is greater than his love for his grandchild.

A man always has a choice

... in time, the pain from a phisical beating would recede, heal, and scar, but wounds inflicted to the heart left scars that never stopped hurting

When you’re young, you wish for things in the future, but when you grow old … you wish for things from the past

You don't know how loud the silence is or how deeply it cuts.

You'd think wouldn't hurt a little one, but the pain is a great as if they'd been with you all your life. You can't remember what it was like before they touched your heart and you can never forget them