Charleigh squeezed her arm. “Brent has taken care of them on his own before. They’ll be fine.”
“Aye, but Beatrice is teething, and likely Robert Brent will be soon enough.” She glanced at Clementine, who had looped one arm around her father’s neck. “Perhaps I should ’ave brought both of ’em along.”
Sarah listened to the two women, hoping she would be as good a mother as they were. Sometimes she had her qualms, but with each day, what Darcy called the mothering instinct grew more firmly planted within her.
“I suggest I drop you ladies off at the boutique, along with Michael; you do your shopping, make your orders; and we get something to eat then.”
“Well, now, guv, I do like the sound of that,” Darcy agreed.
“So do I.” Charleigh nodded.
“Then it’s settled.” Stewart looked relieved
Sarah bustled along with the rest of them, and she couldn’t help but notice, the men flanked either side of her, as if protecting her. She wondered if it was due to their promise to Bill to see to her care. The kindness all of them had shown her, “another odd egg,” as Darcy liked to say, moved Sarah beyond words. She now felt as if she fit in with them, but she missed Bill. Tomorrow evening couldn’t come soon enough.
An hour later at the boutique, she was shown a dress similar to the one she wore, though of a much darker color. Darcy must have sensed her disappointment, for she turned to Mrs. Dempsey and shook her head.
“Nothin’ doin’. This isn’t for a funeral, after all. ’Aven’t you got anything that doesn’t look like it’s the color of ashes from a pyre?”
The woman looked taken aback. “I had thought, what with Mrs. Thomas’s condition, she would prefer something more sedate.”
“She’s carryin’ a child, not a coffin.”
“Co-ffin!” Clemmie squealed and clapped her hands.
Obviously flustered, the tall, rail-thin woman blinked and looked as if she might hyperventilate or pass out.
They had attracted the attention of another patron, a blond lady dressed in a beige chemise in the latest style. She wore a cloche hat snug to her head. A string of golden-orange beads circled her neck, reminding Sarah of the Pandanus seed necklaces she had made on the island. The woman looked at Sarah, then quickly averted her gaze.
Charleigh stepped in. “Perhaps something in a midnight blue?”
“Still too dark,” Darcy insisted. “She needs somethin’ bright and cheery. Like that lovely island dress she wore.”
While Sarah left the women to decide the fate of her new dress, she watched the other woman, who edged closer to hear, though she kept her focus on the decor on the wall.
“The color red won’t work, Darcy. All of Ithaca is bound to shun her then. You know that red is considered loose.”
“I’m not sayin’ to dress her as a floozy, Charleigh. I’m sayin’ we might as well put her in somethin’ Bill would like. What husband wants to see his wife in somethin’ drab like that?” She nodded to the dress in question. “Might as well smear ashes on her forehead to give it the full effect.”
“Bring us something yellow. Or pink,” Darcy added to the boutique owner.
“Perhaps something in a muted shade of blue or green?” Charleigh suggested.
Mrs. Dempsey looked from one to the other throughout the entire exchange. She gave an uncertain vague smile and nodded before hurrying to disappear into a back room.
“Perhaps I was a mite hard on her?” Darcy asked.
“Perhaps just a bit.” Charleigh grinned at Darcy’s sheepish expression.
Sarah noticed the expensively dressed woman walk out the door of the boutique without having tried anything on. As she walked, she looked once through the window, meeting Sarah’s stare, then hurried her pace until she was gone.
Eighteen
A loud squalling from the blanket on the grass made both Bill and Brent jump.
“Here.” Brent’s tone was almost frantic as he thrust little Robert into Bill’s hands. “You hold him. I need to see what’s wrong with Beatrice.”
“Wha—I can’t. . .” But it was too late, and Bill sat holding his nephew like a sack of potatoes. He stared into the child’s eyes. The boy looked at him a few seconds, then scrunched up his round face as if he was about to let loose with a bellow to match his sister’s.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Feeling like a fish suddenly tossed onto dry land, Bill shot up from the chair, jiggling the baby up and down. Robert sniffled a bit, then opened his mouth wide and began to bawl.
“Hey, little fella.” Desperate, Bill held the boy on his back, lying against one arm, as he’d seen Brent do. “You got a raw deal being stuck with me, didn’t you?” He jiggled him again, only softer this time, and walked with him up and down the porch. Robert’s cries lessened to a faint wail.
“Tell you what, you tell me your sob story, and one day your uncle Bill will tell you his. When you’re much older, that is.” The boy fully quieted. He hiccupped a couple of times and looked up at Bill, his sky-blue eyes wide as if he could understand.
“What, clamming up already?” Bill chuckled and lifted his hand to the side of Robert’s head, stroking the baby fine hair with one finger for an instant. How did babies get to be so soft? “A little young to be worrying about spilling the beans, aren’t you?”
“You do that well.”
Bill looked at Brent in surprise. His brother walked up the porch stairs, Beatrice in his arms. The girl looked at Bill, then swung her tear-stained face away, burying it into Brent’s neck.
“You would make a good father.”
Brent’s unexpected words of praise settled inside Bill and shook him at the same time. “Me? A good father?”
“Yes, you.”
Bill considered Brent’s words. The thought of creating a child with Sarah, of becoming a father to a helpless baby, boggled his mind. What kid would want to get stuck with him?
As though Brent could read his mind, he shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, though in that regard I doubt I’ve been much aid to you. I was leery of you when you first came here; I admit it. Because of your criminal associations, a number of desirable positions in the teaching field were formerly closed to me. Stewart gave me an opportunity, and now looking back, I can see God’s hand was upon that path of my life. Yet once I was bitter because you and I bore the same name and blood.”
Uncertain of how to respond, Bill stared. This was the first he’d heard any of it. Shame caused him to lower his gaze to the porch, and he looked at the cracks there.
“Yet I would be remiss not to note that a different man came home than the one who left here more than a year ago. I’ve seen the changes; you’re not the same person.”
Bill looked up. The boy in his arms started to sniffle and shudder again, and Bill absently jiggled him.
“The truth of the matter is—and I say this with all sincerity—I’m happy to have you with us at the refuge. I’m relieved you came home.” Brent’s expression was earnest.
Tears stung Bill’s eyes, and he had trouble swallowing over the lump in his throat. “Thanks for telling me.”
As they stared at one another, the years, the obstacles, all fell away. Both men walked toward one another at the same time, closing the distance, and with their free arms, they embraced as brothers at long last.
❧
After being fitted in a dress that was a pleasant shade of blue and receiving two other dresses, one a fine dress of yellow linen for church meetings, and another in a rich shade of green with cream lace, Sarah felt speechless at the women’s generosity.
“Posh,” Darcy said. “You need it. And family takes care of family. Isn’t that right, Charleigh?”
“Darcy’s right.” Charleigh gave Sarah a one-armed hug. “We may not be blood-related, but that doesn’t make you any less family. Bill works for the refuge now, and you both live in our home. We take care of our own.”
Afterward, Michael, who’d been w
aiting on a sofa provided for members of the male gender while their women tried on garments, rose to greet them. “Did ye find all ye needed?”
“Yes, Papa.” Charleigh smiled at Sarah. “We chose some lovely dresses, and the seamstress assured us they would be ready to collect in the morning before our train leaves.”
“Splendid. Then I suppose we should go meet Stewart. I imagine his meeting is long over.”
They found Stewart at the aforementioned meeting place in Central Park, which to Sarah was like a haven of trees and grass in the midst of a stone and wood jungle. He looked at Charleigh, his manner somewhat tense. Without asking why, all eyes were drawn to the small child who sat on the bench beside him. Her face dirty, her brown hair in pigtails, she glared up at them. The apprehension that marked her face belied her tough exterior.
“Stewart?” Charleigh’s eyes were wide as she turned to him.
He cleared his throat. “This is Miranda. She’ll be joining us at the refuge.”
Stunned silence met his announcement.
“A girl?” Charleigh blinked, looked back at the child, then at Stewart.
“See, I told ya they wouldn’ want me.” Miranda scowled and shot off the bench.
Still looking at Charleigh, Stewart caught the girl by the sleeve before she could go anywhere.
“Let me go! Get your stinkin’ hands off me!”
“Judge Markston has handed Miranda over to my care,” he explained, not looking at the girl. “Bill’s almost finished with the storehouse. Perhaps it’s time to make it official and take in girls as we talked about months ago. We could use the storehouse to house the older boys and give Miranda their room.”
Charleigh shared a long look with him, then smiled. “Perhaps it is time at that. But oh, what will the townspeople say when they find out?” Her words were spoken lightly, and he chuckled. She looked at Miranda. “And we do want you. You are welcome.”
Darcy moved forward and held out her hand. “Hello, Miranda. Me name’s Darcy. I’m the cook there.”
Miranda just glared.
“Well, I think I be hearing my stomach a-growlin’,” Michael inserted. “Am I the only one ready to enjoy a meal?”
All in agreement, they hailed a cab, and soon the horse-drawn carriage brought them to their destination. They settled behind the red- and white-checked tablecloth of a fine-looking establishment. Sweet strains of music came from a far corner, and Sarah looked to see a dark-haired gentleman playing an instrument at one of the tables. Delicious aromas, such as she had never known, made Sarah’s mouth water. Everyone at the table engaged in pleasant conversation. All except for the newcomer, Miranda. She sat in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, and pouted as if she were being jailed. However, when a plate of what Darcy called spaghetti was placed before her, the child’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward to practically inhale the long noodles and meatballs without waiting for the blessing Stewart gave.
Once they finished their meal, with Sarah now labeling Italian food a new favorite, a lovely young girl, not quite a woman, came to the table. Sarah stared at her curiously. This girl, with her long fair hair held back with a blue ribbon that matched her bright eyes, seemed different from the dark-haired workers Sarah had seen, among them the exotically beautiful older woman who’d served them their meal.
“Hello. My name is Melissa. My aunt Maria was called away suddenly, and she asked me to come and see if there’s anything else you need. My aunt Maria and uncle Tony own this restaurant,” she added proudly.
“It’s a lovely place,” Charleigh said. “I can’t help but think that your aunt looks familiar, yet I’ve never been here before.”
The girl gave a delicate shrug. “She rarely leaves the restaurant, so I don’t know where you two might have met.”
“Perhaps at the boutique?”
“It’s a possibility.” She looked toward the door as it opened and frowned. When she looked at them again, her smile had returned. “I need to go back to the kitchen now. On behalf of my uncle and my aunt, I want to thank you for visiting our establishment.”
“It was a delight,” Stewart assured. “The food was superb.”
Melissa gave a faint smile and nod, again casting a distant glance toward the door before she hurried away.
Sarah turned to see what had captured the young girl’s interest. A black-haired man in a sharp-looking three-piece suit with padded shoulders and wearing a fedora sauntered to a nearby table. A waiter suddenly appeared at his elbow, effusively greeting him.
Stewart also looked that way and frowned. “I think it’s best we leave. I’m certain the women will want to freshen up at the hotel before the show tonight.”
Charleigh looked his way, her brows drawn up in curiosity, to which Stewart only gave a slight quelling shake of his head. His eyes flicked to the man at the table, and Charleigh followed his gaze. She looked back at him, her eyes widening, and he gravely nodded.
Sarah didn’t miss the signals between them. As they left, she directed a stare toward the mysterious man seated at the table. As if he felt her curiosity, he looked up at her. Sarah’s heart iced over at the evil she sensed behind the man’s dark eyes before he lowered his gaze back to the wine the waiter had brought him.
No one had to tell her why Stewart was suddenly so anxious to leave. Sarah had no doubt that she was staring at one of Vittorio’s henchmen.
An uneasy pall covered the group, but the men later decided to go ahead and take the women to see the Ziegfeld Follies. Sarah enjoyed the music, the costumes, and the dancing considerably, no longer worried about Vittorio or his family. The restaurant was located on the other side of the city; the chances of them running into any of the men in this theater were slim. And as Michael and Stewart had reassured her earlier, the man didn’t even know she was Bill’s wife, so there was no reason for alarm.
All through the spectacular presentation, Darcy excitedly spoke under her breath to Sarah, who sat in the aisle seat. Charleigh had opted out, staying behind at the hotel with Clementine and Miranda, saying she’d seen plenty of Broadway shows and wanted Sarah to go and enjoy herself.
And she did. She enjoyed the colorful costumes, the pageantry, the music, but when she returned to her hotel room, it was with a sense of relief. Unaccustomed to the business and night life of such a bustling city, she looked forward to returning home to the countryside of the refuge tomorrow. And to Bill. She missed him so.
Clutching a second pillow to her chest, she lay on her side to sleep.
Nineteen
“I don’t like the looks of that sky.” Bill stood on the porch late in the afternoon, hands on his hips as he stared at the dark cloud bank. “Soon it’ll be raining pitchforks, unless I miss my guess.”
“It certainly will make traveling to the station difficult, since I’ll need to take the wagon as the automobile will not hold everyone.” Brent surveyed him from the chair where he sat, holding both twins on his lap. “We still have only the one; the brake on the other vehicle isn’t yet fixed.”
Bill nodded. “It’s an old hay-burner if you ask me. Too expensive to run,” he clarified for Brent.
“I hope that the rain doesn’t interfere with the picnic this coming weekend.”
“Picnic?”
“Didn’t I mention it earlier this week?” Brent shook his head. “Perhaps fatherhood makes one forgetful.”
“You always did have your head in the clouds.” Bill’s comment lacked the mockery of old times but still bore a wealth of teasing. “Seriously, you’re a good father, Brent. I’ve watched you these past two days, and it’s been nothing short of amazing how you take care of those two. I don’t know how you’ve managed as well as you have without Darcy here.”
“The first occasion was difficult,” Brent admitted as he rescued his spectacles from Robert’s seeking hands, which had found Brent’s pocket. “However, I learned by both experience and mistake. Darcy almost single-handedly tends to the children approximately 36
3 days of the year. Giving her a few days’ reprieve to enjoy Manhattan twice in that same year wasn’t so much to offer. Though I must admit, had I known that both Beatrice and Robert were teething, I might not have been so eager to enlist my aid. I hope she didn’t keep you awake all night?”
“Between her and Sasi’s howling, it was an experience.” Bill chuckled. The truth was that without Sarah beside him, he’d found it difficult to sleep. “About the picnic. . . ?”
“Ah, yes, the picnic. There will be a church picnic by the lake after the meeting this Sunday. It’s an annual event before we must bid the summer farewell.”
Robert suddenly began wailing. Bill moved toward his brother. “I’ll take her if you need to see to Robert.”
“Yes, thank you.” Once Bill took Beatrice, Brent went with the boy into the house. He was back a few minutes later. “I don’t like this. Robert seems to be running a temperature, likely due to teething, but I certainly don’t want to take him outdoors due to the possibility of rain. Darcy would have my head if I exposed him. Would you mind terribly going to the station alone to collect them? You do remember how to get there?”
“After the turnoff, there’s only one road to follow, Brent.” Bill shook his head, amused. “I think I can find the place.”
“Splendid.”
Bill swiped his jaw, noticing the rough whiskers. “Maybe I’ll head out early and get a trim and a shave while I’m at it.”
“Ah, yes. You do want to get dolled up and look spiffy for Sarah. Of course, I do believe she already thinks you’re the bee’s knees.” Brent’s eyes twinkled.
Bill stared at his brother. “I don’t believe it. Twice in almost two weeks with the slang. Be on the level with me. Are you an imposter? Have you kidnapped my brother?”
“I do believe it was bound to happen one day. I’m surrounded by slang, no matter what efforts I employ to try to train the boys to speak properly. And then, there’s my wife.” He grinned. “It’s difficult to maintain the quality of stuffiness in such exacting situations.”
Bill laughed. It felt like old times again, when they were kids and used to josh each other and horse around. Since yesterday, Brent had completely let down his guard around Bill, bantering with him like he used to do when they were young boys, when Brent had looked up to Bill while Bill regarded him as his kid brother. Bill missed Sarah tremendously, yes, but at the same time he was thankful for this opportunity he’d had to share with Brent and really talk. The occasions had been rare in the past weeks, but once the boys were in bed last night, the two had found one another out on the porch and breached the chasm in their relationship.
A Gentle Fragrance Page 12
