A Passing Glance

by Amelia C. Adams

  Nora pulled in a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry I sent you away before—I was just so tired.”

  “We understand,” Olivia said, her smile tight. “Childbirth is exhausting unlike anything else, from what I understand, and you needed your rest.”

  Nora nodded. “I’ve also been thinking quite a lot.”

  Olivia pulled in a sharp breath, and she reached out to grab her husband’s hand.

  Either ignoring Olivia’s reaction or forging on despite it, Nora continued. “I didn’t realize how seeing her little face was going to impact me. Suddenly, I started doubting myself and questioning every decision I’d made since coming here, and the last two days have been the most difficult of my life. But I know now what I need to do.”

  Pastor Osbourne swallowed. “And what is that, Nora?” he asked quietly.

  Nora closed her eyes. “I know she belongs with you.”

  Olivia let out a little sob and pressed her hand to her mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered after a moment of trying to compose herself.

  “Would you like to hold her?” Elizabeth stepped forward, extending the tiny bundle, and Olivia came to her feet. With hands that trembled, she accepted the baby, and her eyes flew wide open in wonder as she looked at the little face.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, Nora, she’s gorgeous.”

  “Yes, she is.” Nora pressed a hand to her chest, tears forming in her eyes and beginning to roll down her cheeks. “And she’s so sweet and good, and she only complains when she needs to be changed . . .” Her voice broke off, and Elizabeth wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  Olivia looked up with shining eyes. “Thank you,” she said again. “I know this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and I know you must be questioning yourself even now, but I promise you, this child will be loved and fed and cared for and educated . . . She will have everything she needs for a wonderful, happy life. We aren’t rich enough to spoil her, but she will never lack for anything she needs.”

  “I know that, and that’s why I can give her to you. You understand her origins, and you understand that she needs and deserves the best life she can have.” Nora wiped her cheeks with the flat of her hand. “I hope . . . I hope you’ll let me see her.”

  “Oh, of course! As much as you want,” Olivia answered quickly. “We would never keep her from you.”

  Nora pulled in a deep breath. “Thank you. And thank you for loving her even before you knew her. I think . . . I think it’s best if you take her right now. Please. I’ve already said my goodbyes to her before we came downstairs, and I don’t think I could bear it if we dragged this out any longer.”

  The Osbournes stood up again, and the pastor took Nora’s hand. “There’s no way to tell you everything that we’re feeling right now, but I imagine you know,” he said. “We are indebted to you in ways . . .” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

  She nodded, then turned away, closing her eyes.

  Posy almost couldn’t stand the heartache she saw written all over her friend as the Osbournes stepped outside. She had never seen someone in so much agony, and there was nothing she could do—there was no solution to this situation that didn’t come with tears and anguish.

  “Oh! The baby’s things!” Nora looked down at the floor, where a little bundle of diapers and clothing had been set. “Posy, can you run that outside to them?”

  “Of course.” Posy snatched up the bundle and dashed outside, where the Osbournes were climbing into their buggy. Olivia had handed the baby to the pastor while she took her seat, and he now held the child close to his chest, smiling down into her face. It was obvious that they were both smitten with their new daughter.

  “Nora asked me to bring you this,” Posy said, hating to interrupt the moment, but knowing she needed to make her delivery.

  “Thank you.” The pastor took the bundle with his free hand and passed it up to Olivia. Then he turned back to Posy. “Please keep a close eye on Nora, will you? I’m concerned that these next several days—and perhaps longer—will be particularly hard on her.”

  “I will. We all will,” Posy promised. “She’s surrounded by friends here.”

  “I’m very glad of that. And please don’t hesitate to send for us if she needs to see the baby or would like ecclesiastical advice—or just to talk.”

  Posy nodded, then watched as the pastor handed the baby up to Olivia and climbed into his own seat. She stood on the sidewalk and shielded her hand from the sun as the buggy slowly made its way down the street, carrying the baby to her new home.

  She felt the loss already.

  When she returned to the parlor, she found Nora sobbing as though her very soul had been ripped out of place, Elizabeth and Giselle on either side, holding her tight. “Tell me I did the right thing,” Nora said at last, gasping out the words. “Tell me because right now, nothing feels right. Nothing at all in the world.”

  “You did the right thing,” Elizabeth soothed, brushing the hair out of Nora’s face. “But if you’d kept her, I would say the same thing. Following your heart is right, Nora. Your heart knows your baby—they lived together for nine months, and your heart knows what she needs.”

  “Right now, I just . . . I just feel like I’m dying.”

  “I know. I know, sweet girl. Let’s get you upstairs and back in bed, and you take all the time you need to cry or yell or sleep—whatever you need. Mostly, you need rest.” Elizabeth slipped her arm through Nora’s and helped her stand.

  Just then, they heard the whistle of the train, and Giselle groaned. “If that infernal beast could be late even once, especially today . . .”

  “It’s all right. Nora and I will be fine.” Elizabeth guided Nora to the stairs, and Posy followed Giselle into the dining room to make sure everything was set for the next meal. What a horrible thing that the mundane routines of everyday life had to interrupt a moment that was anything but mundane and refuse to give space to something that would impact Nora’s life forever.

  Chapter Five

  Posy dumped the next two tablecloths into the washtub and began to scrub. Emma had gone upstairs to be with Nora after the meal service, and it was time to catch up on some much-neglected laundry. The waitresses weren’t laughing and chatting like they usually did while they worked, though. The seriousness of what had happened earlier was weighing on all their hearts, and Posy suspected that in some way, they were each changed. They had been by Nora’s side through everything, and it was foolish to think that they wouldn’t be impacted in some way as well.

  The whicker of a horse caught Posy’s attention, and she looked up from the washtub to see Jesse, her half-brother, riding into the yard, another horse trailing behind with a deer carcass draped across the back.

  “Jesse!” She left the tablecloths in the water and ran across the ground to meet him, giving him a hug as soon as his feet hit the dirt. “You’ve been hunting.”

  “Mrs. Brody said you could use another deer.” He returned Posy’s hug, smelling of sunshine and the outdoors. “What’s going on? You’re all so solemn.”

  “Nora sent the baby home with the Osbournes today.”

  “Oh.” He pulled off his hat and wiped his forehead. “I can’t imagine that was easy.”

  “Not at all, but we’ll make a venison stew and try to forget our troubles.”

  He laughed. “Sometimes when you quote your mother, you sound so much like her.”

  “I don’t consider that a bad thing.”

  “Neither do I. Not at all.” He turned and caught Giselle up with a kiss. “Hello there. I got a deer for us as well, but I dropped it off at the house before coming here.”

  “Oh, I’m glad. I’ve been wanting to try making some jerky all by myself.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “All by yourself? You’re certainly feeling adventurous.”

  Giselle pulled a face. “Well, I don’t mean from scratch. You’re still going to gut it and skin it, aren’t you? And cut me some nice s
trips of meat to use?”

  “Yes, I’ll do all the hard work and leave the easy part for you, my dear.” He ignored the second face she pulled and picked up his reins. “I’ll take this one around the back of the barn and cut it there so I don’t frighten the next batch of guests if they happen to peek out the window.”

  “You do that,” she called after him, then turned back to Posy with an amused expression. “That brother of yours . . .”

  “He’s a Neanderthal, but you love him,” Posy finished for her, knowing their relationship well.

  “Exactly. Oh, good. We’re almost done here.” Giselle picked up a basket of wet napkins, took it over to the line, and began hanging them as Posy turned back to the tablecloths.

  Jesse hadn’t wanted to settle down in one spot, but when he met Giselle, he was willing to compromise in order to make their marriage work, and he seemed happier than Posy had ever seen him—he hunted whenever the urge struck him, and the rest of the time, he was content in their small Topeka home. He sold his fresh meat here and there, providing income, and the time spent away from town rejuvenated him. He really came alive around his wife, though, and Posy was so glad he’d found someone to share his life with who understood his wanderlust.

  Now if she were only that lucky.

  When a woman married, she was supposed to stay where she was put—it was easier for a man to go off hunting or fishing or on business. He expected to find his wife at home when he returned, but what if she was the one who craved the river and the mountains and the sky? What then?

  After she finished the tablecloths, she went inside to make up the guest rooms, and Elizabeth asked her to take care of rooms one, two, and three. Room one . . . where Parker Monroe had stayed. She paused for a moment in the doorway, remembering what he looked like, how his voice had sounded, and she smiled. He’d gazed into her eyes and caught glimpses of her soul, she was sure of it. And the way he loved his horse, the way he preferred riding to taking the train—he must understand what it felt like to be one with the wind and the earth and the sky. He wouldn’t think her silly for feeling that way, would he?

  She had no way of knowing, and she didn’t even know if she should be wondering. When he got back, he’d be so busy settling into his new home and learning the ins and outs of his job that he’d likely forget all about her, and then she’d chastise herself for daydreaming about him. It was better to put him from her mind than to keep dwelling on him.

  She made up the room as quickly as she could and then moved on. That’s exactly what she’d do about Parker Monroe—she’d move on. If something ever were to happen, it wouldn’t be for a long time anyway, and there was no sense in getting herself caught up in a man she’d only spent a few minutes with.

  Funny how she kept having to remind herself of that . . . like the facts just wouldn’t stick in her head long enough for her heart to believe them.

  ***

  Parker squinted as the morning sunlight cut through his bedroom window and fell on his face. “It’s too bright,” he mumbled, holding up his hand to block the glare.

  “Well, at least you’re awake now to complain about it,” Miranda said from where she stood by his dresser.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m packing up your things, dear brother. While you’ve been lounging around in bed, I’ve been finishing up this whole moving-to-Topeka project.”

  He sat up slowly, trying not to jostle his aching head. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “A day and a half or so.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t have time for this.” He tried to stand, but his legs were wobbly, and he sat again quickly before he toppled over.

  “Be that as it may, it’s what happened. Dr. Lewis was here and said you’d live, so we let you sleep until you were done. Looks like that’s now. I have some soup on the fire, if that sounds good.” She put a stack of his shirts into the valise next to her and started walking toward the bedroom door.

  “Just some tea to start, please,” he said. “Maybe soup in a little while.”

  She nodded. “Probably wise. I do think you should try to come out to the table, though. Get your body moving around a little bit.”

  She was right—if he’d been in bed for a day and a half, he’d better move around or his muscles would fail him altogether. He hoisted himself up and hung on to the doorframe, then managed a few stumbling steps out to the kitchen table.

  Miranda set his tea down in front of him and scowled. “You don’t look any better at all than you did when you first went to bed.”

  “Oh, I’m better,” Parker replied. “I’m pretty sure the fever’s gone.”

  “The fever might be gone, but that doesn’t mean you’re well. Gracious, Parker—what did you do to yourself?”

  “Whatever I did, it was unintentional.” He picked up his tea and took a sip. “I want to be of help to you, I really do.”

  “I know that, but you can’t right now, so I’m doing the best I can. We’re almost completely packed, and now it’s a matter of loading up the wagon. I hate selling off so much of Mother’s furniture, but taking it along just isn’t practical.”

  “It would be nice to keep it all, but we’d have to hire more wagons, and drivers for those wagons—”

  She sighed, interrupting him. “I know. Believe me, I’ve worked it through from every angle, and I know it’s not practical. I’ll get over it, I’m sure. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about, and I need to make sure you’re up to it before I say anything.”

  His eyes shot up to meet her gaze. His sister was the most forthright person he knew, and if she felt the need to couch her news in soft terms, something was definitely wrong. “What is it?”

  She toyed with her own teacup. “Freya was stolen out of the barn last night.”

  Parker came to his feet, forgetting that they wouldn’t hold him just yet, and collapsed back into his chair. “What? Who . . . how . . .?”

  Miranda lifted a shoulder. “A small group of Indians crept into town, stole some horses, and rode off on them sometime around midnight. Miles Jepperson got off a shot as they passed his place and he thinks he got one of them in the shoulder, but they escaped.”

  Parker pounded his fist on the table. “And I was asleep through the whole thing.”

  “Your fever only broke around six this morning,” she told him. “You weren’t just asleep—you were delirious.”

  “But still . . . what kind of deputy am I going to be if I let theft take place right under my nose?”

  She gave him a look. “This wasn’t your fault, Parker. It’s the Indians’ fault—they decided to steal the horses. Miles figures they got away with five animals from this town—animals we can’t afford to lose.”

  Parker tried to push down the rage that was building inside him, but he was weak from being sick, and he didn’t have the strength to be reasonable. “Why did the government have to put the boundary line for Indian territory right where they did? Why couldn’t they have put it a hundred miles, two hundred miles farther south? I’m so tired of dealing with the thieving and the danger and . . . and just everything having to do with Indians.”

  “I know.” Miranda reached across the table and touched his arm. “But we’re going north, and that will be so nice. You didn’t see any Indians in Topeka, did you?”

  “No, thank goodness.” He drained the rest of his teacup. “What are we going to do about Freya?”

  “Some of the men in town have gone out to see if they can follow the trail and get the horses back. If that doesn’t work, we’ll just have to buy another horse.”

  Parker groaned. There was so much wrong with what his sister had just said. If those men did catch up with the Indians and tried to take back the horses, chances were good that lives would be lost on both sides. And if they had to buy a new horse . . . horses weren’t cheap, and they weren’t readily available in that area. He’d have to hop a train and locate one, then ride it back and collect his
sister and the wagon before they could leave, and he might not get back to Topeka when he’d promised.

  “Did they steal my saddle?”

  “No. I checked.”

  He nodded. “That’s something at least, but we don’t have two hundred dollars sitting idle at the moment, and I couldn’t get a good horse for any cheaper.”

  Miranda stood up and moved over to the fire, where she gave the soup pot a good stirring. “I have one idea,” she said at last. “We could sell Mother’s jewelry.”

  “No! That’s supposed to be for you, for when you get married. I’m not going to take that away from you.”

  She turned to face him. “Let’s be honest, Parker. I’m not getting married any time soon. Do you see a string of young men banging down my door? The only men I’ve seen around here are more than twice my age, and I’m not interested in being someone’s nursemaid and making them thin rice pudding every day for their dinner, thank you kindly. If that jewelry can be used to get us to Topeka, that’s what we should do.”

  Parker braced his hands on the table as he stood up. “I’ll keep that in mind, but just know that I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid it. I’m not going to make enough to give you a dowry—that jewelry is all you have.”

  “And what if I want to marry a man who doesn’t care about a dowry? That tradition is so old-fashioned, anyway.”

  “You know it’s mostly for your protection, so you’ll have something to fall back on.” He moved toward the door. “I’m going to go talk to Miles.”

  “You might want some shoes,” she pointed out.

  He looked down at his feet. “Oh. Of course.”

  “I’ll get them.” She went into his room and came right back. “Are you sure you’re well enough to go gallivanting all over the neighborhood? I mean, if you aren’t even aware that you’re barefoot, how do I know you’re not going to collapse right in the middle of my flowerbeds?”

  “You can watch me from the window, and if I collapse, you can come get me,” he replied as he put on his shoes. “I’m getting stronger by the minute, Miranda, and being angry is giving me more energy than I would have otherwise. I want my horse back, and I want us to be able to move on time. We have a future in Topeka, and I don’t want to keep it waiting.”