In the dark of the night, the thought of bundling up Angela and stealing away tempted. Maybe, someone in town would take them in until Tavia figured out how to earn a living. Wasn’t maintaining the relationship with Angela the most important consideration? Although desperate to keep the baby close, she’d not leave. This ranch had become her home, a place where she’d found security, and she’d never do anything to endanger the baby’s well being.
Her night of indecision finally passed. Now, she stood in the sitting room, pressing a hand to her jittery stomach and scanning the path from Dorado. Tandem hoof beats of horses echoed like strokes against a bass kettledrum. Portents of danger or impending doom. Tavia spun from the window and dashed into the kitchen where Edlynn scrubbed vegetables. “They’re here.” She patted the pins holding her hair, making sure the bun was still tidy. “Should I wake up Angela?”
Edlynn grabbed a towel and wiped her hands. “Not just yet. I think you need to take a few breaths, and then go to the back door and ring the bell. I told Fitz that’s how you’d call him in.”
Of course, she should have thought of arranging a similar signal. If she’d been having real conversations with her husband, she might have done so. Heat infused her cheeks at the knowing look in the housekeeper’s eye. “I can do that.”
“The coffee’s almost brewed. Once Mister Saunders has come inside and greeted the visitors, I’ll deliver the tray. Best to let the sheriff run the agenda. Don’t you think?”
Not when the man’s sworn duty was to follow the law. But she didn’t verbalize her adamant objection. Tavia grabbed the shawl hanging by the door, tossed it over her shoulders, and pulled open the back door. Cold air slapped her cheeks, but for once, the chilliness felt good. Then she leaned outside to give the bell rope three sharp yanks.
Ten minutes later, with stiff introductions made and the proper condolences expressed and received, Tavia perched on the edge of the sofa she shared with Fitz. The sheriff and Mister Weller sat in the matching armchairs. So far, she’d listened to Daniel explain about his job as a horse trader. This man was in need of a shave and a haircut. Gone for five days out of every seven, he sometimes remained home for as long as a week at a time. Mister Weller related that his father was sharp as a tack and enjoyed afternoons by the fire lost in a good book.
Did this man sitting across from her know anything about children? She shot dark glances at Fitz, hoping he would ask a question or two, but he appeared relaxed and content to just listen. Her stomach roiled, and her hands fisted in her lap. Maybe if Angela stayed asleep, this man would view waiting as a waste of time and leave. She drew in a calming breath, knowing he hadn’t traveled thirty miles just to chat.
Sheriff Hawksen cleared his throat. “Missus Saunders, might Mister Weller meet the child?”
Nerves as taut as an overstretched wire, Tavia shot to her feet. “I’ll see if she’s awake.” As she passed Fitz, she made eye contact and jerked her head to the hallway. When he didn’t respond, she stepped on the toe of his boot and again jerked her head.
“Uh, excuse me, gentlemen.” He rose and followed her into the den.
She waited in front of the fireplace glowing with red embers, hands on hips. “That man is not appropriate.”
“How can you say that?” Fitz’s dark brows crashed down.
“He’s never home, and the grandfather is probably too old to be responsible for a baby.”
Fitz put his hands on her shoulders. “Tavia, calm yourself. We have to be open-minded. These men are her blood relatives who have the legal right to have her living with them. We have no rightful claim on Angela.”
“Rightful? Well, I do.” She pounded a fist to her chest. “I claimed that sweet girl the moment the stagecoach pitched airborne, and that feeling doubled when I realized her mama and papa were dead. I stood over the graves of her parents and promised I’d see to her safety.” The thought flashed through her mind that she’d also promised to reconnect Angela with her kin. But that pledge was made before she and the baby formed a heart-bond. She swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. “I’ll get her and bring her downstairs. But you need to ask questions about his experience caring for children. I heard no mention of a female living in that household. That’s an important factor for a baby girl. Is a housekeeper present?”
Fitz set his upright finger against her lips. “Tavia, trust me. I know the questions to ask.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead, and then turned and disappeared.
To keep from calling his name, she covered her mouth and shook her head. Trust him? When he wanted to rip Angela from her arms? On her walk upstairs, she thought of how his attitude had changed since the first day of their arrival and realized she did trust he had Angela’s best interests at heart. Waking up the baby when she wasn’t ready produced a few unhappy squeals, and Tavia started to rock and jostle her into a better mood. Then she stopped. Her uncle needed to know this fussiness was how babies sometimes woke up. After performing a quick diaper change, she headed downstairs and paused at the edge of the front room.
The men stood, and she waved them back to their seats. “Mister Weller, this is Angela. From what Missus Weller told me on the stage ride, the baby is almost eleven months old.”
Angela pulled at Tavia’s blouse and fussed, her lower lip curling down.
“She’s a little grumpy, because she wasn’t ready to wake. But walking her across the floor and rubbing circles on her back usually calms her.” She walked over to his chair and lowered Angela onto his lap. “I’ll go heat the milk for her bottle.” She waited until the uncle awkwardly grabbed Angela’s hips before she released her grip then scurried away. At the doorway, she turned.
Tears wetting her plump cheeks, Angela twisted and thrust out her hands. “Ma-ma-ma.”
She’s calling for me. Tavia fought against the tightening of her throat. She performed the task of heating the milk so many times over the past two weeks, now she moved by rote. Once the bottle was assembled, she picked up a towel from the laundry room then walked toward the front of the house, aware Angela’s cries had risen to a piercing shriek.
Her uncle held her stiffly as he shuffled across the floor. Both he and Angela had their backs arched away from the other. And the visit went downhill from there.
Two days later, Grandfather Weller sat in the very same chair his son had occupied. His visit was because he wanted to see the baby with his own eyes. He assured them he employed a housekeeper who cooked his meals and cleaned his house. She’d worked for the past twelve years since his dear Arleta died.
This time, when Tavia brought down the baby, she lingered at the foot of the stairs and signaled for Fitz to join her. In the den, she paced, holding Angela tight to her chest. “I can’t do this a second time, Fitz. I thought I could, but I can’t bear to be a part of this arrangement. Not again. My heart is breaking.” Throat tight against unshed tears, she gazed into his frowning face.
Shaking his head, Fitz blinked, and his brows lowered even more. “Tavia, you are stronger than you think. Come with me, love. At least, talk with the man.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll let you ask him any question you want.”
“I won’t be the one to give her away, when all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and never let go.” For the last time, she dipped her nose into the crook of Angela’s neck and inhaled the sweet honey-almond soap smell from her last bath. “You’ll be in my heart forever, sweet girl. Know that I love you.” Then she placed a kiss on a tender chubby cheek, held out Angela with straightened arms, and closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks. When Angela’s weight lifted from her hands, she crumpled to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Only then did she release the sobs she’d been stifling.
“Oh, Tavia.”
Although she heard tenderness in his tone, she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Do what you must. Just go, Fitz.”
~**~
From the doorway, Fitz tossed one last look at his devastated wife, and helpless
ness swamped him. What was the best solution here? A long time might pass before their relationship would be right again if he let this baby leave the house. Didn’t she know the special feelings he’d developed for Angela while tending her through Tavia’s illness? With a hand cradling Angela’s head, he pressed a kiss to her forehead then he entered the front room. “Sir, here is your granddaughter. Let me show you what she’s learned since your son visited.” He eased Angela off his hip, and then he placed her hands on the sofa cushion.
She sidestepped to the end of the sofa and back, pounding a hand on the cushion and then hoisted a knee and climbed up onto the sofa.
“No, sweetie, let’s show your grandfather how you can walk.” He scooted her off the couch and placed her hands on the cushion. Then he moved to the end of the sofa, bent over, and held out his hands. “Come on, little one.”
“Oh, she’s bigger than I thought.” Mister Weller frowned.
Chortling, Angela stumbled a couple of steps forward with her arms thrown up high for balance.
Fitz alternated his gaze between the gray-haired man who seemed to disapprove and Angela whose excitement should have been irresistibly contagious.
“And the child is walking?” Mister Weller’s mouth puckered. “I somehow thought she would be content in a contained space while we all got comfortable with one another.”
That statement doesn’t sound promising. “Well, sir, I have to tell you this little girl stole the hearts of everyone in my household.” He moved back a couple steps, wiggling his fingers so she kept coming toward him.
Angela flung herself forward. “Da!”
The single syllable pinched his heart. Had she just labeled him as Dad? Fitz scooped her up, and then moved to stand next to the armchair where Mister Weller sat. “Would you like to hold her?”
“Of course, she is my Richard’s child.” Mister Weller lifted his arms.
But Fitz remembered the jittery move of the coffee cup on the saucer and didn’t trust the older man’s strength. “This, Angela, is your grandpa.” He placed her on the man’s thin, trouser-covered legs so she faced him, and he moved to the closest chair.
“Hello, young lady.” The man extended a hand between their bodies, as if for a handshake. “I am your grandfather.”
Fitz stiffened. Only with great restraint, he clamped his hands on his thighs. “Uh, sir. You need to hold onto her tightly so she doesn’t fall.”
He gave a rusty chuckle. “Has been quite a few years since I have handled a baby.” He set his bony hands on Angela’s shoulders. “I think she has my son’s nose, but the dark eyes and hair come from that wife, I mean from Sylvia.”
Angela leaned forward and grabbed the gold watch chain looped across Mister Weller’s waistcoat. Giggling, she jammed it into her mouth and sucked.
“No!” Mister Weller pulled it from her mouth and unclasped her fingers.
Wide-eyed and lip quivering, she blinked at him and then glanced over to where Fitz sat.
“You’re all right, sweetie.” Fitz fought to keep his voice even, when he wanted to ask the man what the dickens he was doing by yelling at a baby. “Grandfather doesn’t think the chain is a toy. Even if it is shiny, and babies are more like magpies than most people think.”
Angela launched herself toward the shiny gold chain.
Grandfather made a grab to keep her on his lap. “Maybe you should take her back.”
“Just set her feet on the floor and let her move around.”
Within a couple minutes of watching her sidestep along the settee, Grandfather’s eyes had grown huge. “How often does she sleep?”
“Morning and afternoon naps of about an hour to an hour and a half each and about nine hours at night.” He shrugged, thinking what Tavia told him about the baby’s schedule. “Most nights, she sleeps through, but sometimes, she needs a two o’clock bottle.”
Shaking his head, he pursed his lips. “I had forgotten that fact about young ones. When Richard and Daniel were young, of course I was busy with my career, and my wife handled all those chores.” His gaze followed her as she climbed up on the sofa and then slid down, giggling.
Fitz took a deep breath. “May I make a suggestion, sir?”
“I’m listening.” He watched as Angela dropped to her hands and knees and crawled out of sight into the hallway.
“Just a moment.” With long strides, Fitz chased her down and whisked her up into the air so she looked right down at him. They shared a special grin, and then he propped her on his hip, rocking side to side as he formulated what he wanted to say. The next few moments contained the potential future happiness of his family. “Let my wife and I adopt her. My ranch is successful, and she’ll never want for food or a roof over her head.”
Grandfather shook his head and raised a hand. “I can assure you I have money. She would not go wanting.”
“All right, I concede that point.” Maybe he should have ordered his arguments better. “From what I’ve learned, your son and his wife were about the same age as my wife and I. Perhaps a more appropriate age to be caring for an active baby. And one who will only require more tending as she graduates from walking to running to discovering how to open a door.”
The older man scratched his chin. “I will admit I had not expected her to be quite so energetic. I must not be remembering that aspect from my boys’ young years.”
Fitz glanced down into Angela’s dark brown eyes as she pinched and tugged at his shirt button, and his heart lurched. She does belong with Tavia and me. “She’ll certainly have plenty of love. My wife already thinks of the baby as her own. Partially because they survived that horrible crash together.”
Angela nestled her head on his chest and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, humming.
“I saw the wreckage, sir, and the fact that two of the inside passengers walked away is a miracle.” Emotion grabbed his chest, and he sucked in a deep breath to relieve the pain. He rubbed circles on the baby’s small back.
Mister Weller cleared his throat. “Just what would the arrangements be?”
Tavia, who had been lingering at the open den door, rushed into the room, blinking back tears. “Please, sir, you could visit any time you wanted. Both of my parents are dead, and Fitz’s live on the East Coast.” She scooted next to Fitz’s side and gazed upward.
He saw her tremulous look and the hopeful question in her eyes. Smiling, Fitz nodded.
“We’d love for her to know you as her grandfather, but if you’ll allow us to adopt her, we’d be proud to raise her as our first child.”
Mister Weller pushed himself to a shaky stand and shuffled across the intervening space. He gave each adult a piercing look, and then he ran a gnarled finger along Angela’s cheek. “I somehow think you two were meant to come into Angela’s life when you did. I don’t see my household as accommodating a young child as well as yours has.” He tilted his head to one side and sighed. “She is a beautiful girl.” Then he squared his shoulders and held out his hand. “I’ll be expecting whatever legal paperwork is needed.”
The band binding his chest eased. Fitz squeezed Tavia’s shoulder before releasing Angela, and then shook the man’s hand. “We meant what we said. You and Daniel will always be welcome for visits.”
“I appreciate that offer. Good day, folks.” The man gave a curt nod, and then strode out the front door.
Tavia gasped and danced the baby in a circle before moving to the front window. “Oh, Fitz. Thank you. We didn’t even discuss this possibility, but adopting is the perfect solution.”
Finally drawing a full breath, Fitz walked to where his girls stood giving Angela’s grandfather a last wave as he climbed into the rented buggy. He slipped an arm over her shoulders and drew her against his side. “I love her, too, Tavia.”
“I know. I just can’t believe we’ll all be together. I found my mail-order haven, and now the same place is where Angela joins our family.”
Epilogue
A ray of sunlight caught Tavia ac
ross the face. Stifling a moan, she grimaced and ducked her head. Her forehead bumped against warm muscles at the same moment she heard deep breathing. Fitz! The scent of leather that always clung to him filled her nose. Keeping her eyes closed, she remembered the joy of being held in his arms and the passionate kisses and touches of their first night of marital intimacies. Through the years, she’d overheard enough from soldiers’ wives at the forts to know the basic anatomy involved. What none of those women had ever shared was the extent of the blissful feelings. Heat invaded her cheeks, and she peeked with one eye to see if her dear husband still slept.
A shock of dark hair tumbled over one eyebrow. She tightened her fingers to keep from brushing it aside. Faint lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, contrasting with his tanned skin.
“Keep staring, and I may have to respond.” Fitz slipped a hand over her stomach.
She gasped, her heart rate jumping. “I thought you were still asleep.” The caress through her night rail made her shiver.
He opened his eyes, planted a soft kiss on her lips, and then stretched. “Merry Christmas, my sweet.” After a glance toward the curtained window, he nodded. “Looks like clear skies have arrived. The storm seems to have passed.”
“Merry Christmas to you, my husband.” Tavia sat up and wrapped both arms around her bent legs. “I can’t wait to get Angela outside to play in the fresh snow.”
“Nor I.” He scooted to the edge of the bed and stood, raising his bared arms over his head. Then he walked to the side table where a ceramic pitcher and bowl were set.
Tavia watched the play of muscles across his back as he poured water and splashed it on his face. The soft cloth of his long johns clung to his behind, reminding her of the taut muscles beneath. She shook her head and bounded out of the bed, sucking in a breath when her feet touched the cold wooden planks. “So much work needs to be done. I need to help Edlynn prepare the holiday meal. Angela will awaken soon, but she doesn’t have the proper clothes to be outside for long.”
Mail-Order Haven Page 14
