1870, Philadelphia, USA.
Martha Whitcomb, the wild child of Philadelphia society, is now a grown woman, independent in wealth and in personality. At twenty-three, still unmarried and childless, she is exposed to constant rumors and ridicule, crushed...
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Benjamin stood at the shipping depot, barely able to contain his excitement. Despite it being nearly three in the morning and there being no sun to speak of, he still lifted his palm to shade his eyes as though in doing so, he might discover the distant stagecoach to be less distant than it appeared.
It remained, to his regret, a good deal away, nothing more than a black mass behind lanterns swaying like drunken fireflies. Still, he smiled in anticipation, a smile that only grew with each passing minute.
It felt like far too long before the coach finally arrived at the depot, pulling to a swaying stop. The door popped open, and his face lit up in a grin so wide it nearly broke his face. He laughed in sheer delight, immediately recognizing the broad man who had disembarked from the stagecoach. "Sullivan!"
His old friend and friend stared stock-still for a moment, the unfiltered disbelief screaming in his sturdy features, before he laughed as well. "I'll be blamed!" He quickly closed the distance between the two, offering his good hand for a shake that immediately became a tight embrace. "You son of a—it really is you!" he exclaimed after they pulled apart again, staring Benjamin up and down and still looking as though he expected him to vanish in a blink. "How have you reappeared in such a place?"
"Via stagecoach, much like you," Benjamin said, and Sullivan laughed in an attempt at sarcasm that did not quite miss the mark.
"I assumed, smartarse—oh! Sakes," he muttered, shaking his head and turning back to the coach to offer a hand to the waiting lady inside. "Sorry, Jo—"
"Benjamin!" Joanna squealed even before she had fully disembarked, leaving shock and disbelief untouched and skipping straight for excited joy. She hurried over, throwing her arms around him without a second thought, and he happily returned the embrace. "It is so wonderful to see you again!"
"Mhm," he agreed—Lord, but he had missed these two. He had missed the entire Sullivan/Murphy family, and though he would have preferred not to blindside them with his presence, he could feel that all was again well.
Sullivan reached into the coach again, and, as expected, Isabella disembarked in her smart traveling suit. Upon seeing him, her fine features lit up in still another smile, this one straddling the line between happiness and utter confusion. "My goodness," she commented, a soft laugh popping from her lips as she approached, arm-in-arm with her husband before she pulled from him so she could offer a hand to Benjamin. "Am I still allowed to call you—"
"Of course," he said, squeezing her hand, feeling himself both yearning to embrace her and run away with his tail between his legs. Silly, as he had known full well what he was getting into when he agreed to meet these three in Tucson. Still, it was daunting to stand face-to-face with a Whitcomb sibling, even if she was not quite so intimidating as Thomas or the captain. "Am I?"
"Of course, Benjamin," She laughed, bringing her gloved hands up to squeeze his arms. "This is such a wonderful surprise! I did not expect you would be the one to meet us, but I am delighted to see you again."
