Annabelle nodded and then groaned as another pain struck. She relaxed with Helen murmuring soothing words.
After the pain passed, Helen rose, wiping her hands on a towel. “I’ll be right back.” She slipped out the door and headed downstairs. She poked her head in the parlor, blanching when she saw Warren present. “If I may, Mr. MacKinnon?” She flushed when all three MacKinnon men jerked to stare at her, and Warren glared at her. “Cailean.” She motioned for him to follow her outside.
“Tell all of us. We all love Belle.” He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed.
“Your wife is doing wonderfully well. The birth is progressing normally, although I can’t tell you how long it will be until you hold your baby in your arms.” She met his surprised, delighted stare. “There is no cause for alarm at this point. However, she would benefit from you holding her hand for a few moments.”
He raced past Helen and up the stairs.
She moved to follow him, stilling when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Helen,” Warren whispered.
She thrust her shoulders back and stiffened her spine, causing his hand to drop off her shoulder. “Not now, Mr. Clark. I must attend to my patient.”
“I will wait for you,” he said.
She was uncertain if that were a threat or a promise and returned upstairs. The birth progressed slowly as the night wore on. Cailean remained by Annabelle’s side, even as his wife slumbered for short spurts as it appeared everything had ground to a halt. Sorcha and Irene had left to sleep nearby, giving Helen instructions to wake them if they were needed. Soon the pains came faster, and Helen knew it was time for Annabelle to start pushing.
“Mr. MacKinnon,” she whispered. “I think it would be appropriate for you to leave now.”
“Do I have to? I know what births are. I want to stay with my wife.” He met Annabelle’s pain-drenched gaze. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Stay, please,” she gasped out. She groaned and clutched at his hand.
Soon Helen focused on Annabelle and the birth of the baby. After a mighty push, a wail was heard, and then, after another, Helen beamed at Annabelle and Cailean. “You have a daughter.”
Cailean’s arm was around Annabelle’s shoulders, and he held her close. “We have a daughter, Belle.” He swiped away her sweat and tears, with no concern for the tears that poured down his cheeks. “’Twas the most remarkable thing I have ever seen.”
Helen cut the cord, swaddled the baby and placed her into Annabelle’s waiting arms. “She’ll be hungry soon.” After passing the afterbirth and ensuring Annabelle was not bleeding too much, Helen slipped from the room. She stopped short in the hallway, Fidelia Evans blocking her path.
“Tell me that she is all right.” Fidelia clamped her jaw and then demanded, “Tell me that Anna is well.”
Helen nodded and reached forward to squeeze Fidelia’s arm. “Yes, she’s fine. Tired but elated at the birth of her daughter.” Helen smiled as Fidelia’s eyes filled with tears. “Congratulations, Aunt Fidelia.”
Helen left a quietly weeping Fidelia and walked down the stairs. She poked her head into the parlor. Ewan lay sprawled on the settee, while Alistair was asleep in the large wingback chair. Warren had collapsed on the floor, with a throw blanket for a pillow. She sighed and turned to the kitchen to make coffee. When it was brewed, she sat at the table and took a deep sip. She laid her head on the table and closed her eyes as she drifted in a state of semiwakefulness.
A hand on her shoulder jerked her awake. She met Alistair’s worried gaze and smiled. “A girl. You have a niece, Alistair.”
He remained somber.
“Annabelle appears to be doing well. I’ll remain here for a few more hours to ensure she is fine before I leave.”
“Stay for a few days. Fevers can set in later. We can’t lose her,” Alistair whispered. He let out a deep breath. “Thank ye. Even if ye believe ye were no’ needed, ye were. Ye eased his torment.” He nodded his thanks again before returning to the parlor.
She heard a grunt and then a whoop of joy before a shushing noise. Unable to fight a smile at Ewan’s exuberance, she took another sip of coffee. Her smile faded as Warren entered the kitchen and helped himself to a cup.
“Helen,” he whispered, sitting across from her. “I … We must talk.”
She shook her head. “Not now. Not when I am exhausted.”
He nodded. “Will you come home with me? Rest and then speak with me?”
She looked up to see Alistair in the doorway. “I’d prefer to stay here. To be near Annabelle in case she needs me. Is there somewhere I can rest?”
Alistair nodded and then stepped aside as Sorcha entered.
“Come, Helen. I have a room readied for ye.” Sorcha looked between Helen and Warren as Helen left the room, before Sorcha followed her from the room.
When Helen entered the small bedroom, she collapsed onto the bed. As Sorcha was about to shut the door, Helen whispered, “Wake me in two hours. I need to check on Annabelle.” She was already asleep by the time the door shut.
Warren sat in silence in the kitchen, staring into space, as he thought through his last interaction with Helen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted around him, and the room heated as the fire in the stove had been stoked.
Alistair leaned against the doorjamb as his friend sat in dejected silence in the kitchen. “Ye canna imagine she’d return to yer house after ye threw her out.”
Warren tilted his head as he studied Alistair. “I would remind you that you acted as much of an ass before you married Leticia.”
Alistair grinned. “Aye, I did. An’ I had to beg her forgiveness.” He sighed as he pulled out a chair and sat across from Warren in the chair Helen had vacated. “Let me guess. Ye didna even allow her to explain. Simply saw her with Frederick and overreacted.”
Warren snorted. “Tell me how you would have acted had you seen Leticia in the arms of another man.” He flushed when he realized Alistair had—when her husband had returned and demanded she come back to him. “You should know it’s impossible to always be rational.”
Alistair chuckled. “Aye, but for a lawyer such as ye, it must be difficult to admit such a failing. For I’ve never seen ye at a loss for words or irrational.” He paused as he met Warren’s gaze. “Except when ye are around Helen.”
He waited, but Warren remained silent. “I ken there were painful words between ye. And her mother has used words Helen’s entire life to control her and to shatter her sense of self.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Warren hissed in a sharp breath. “I acted no better than that woman I despise.”
Alistair shook his head. “No, ye acted the way ye did because ye love her. Something her mother has no’ done in years.”
“How long have you known?” The words emerged as a low rumble, as though torn from him. “How long have you allowed me to stew in my misery when I could have made amends?”
Alistair sighed. “I did no’ ken a thing until I went to Irene for help yesterday. She knew. She told me to go to Frederick’s.” He waited as Warren flushed red. “I’d calm afore speakin’ with Irene. She’s one to guard secrets. Yours. Helen’s. Mine. I wouldna want her to change.”
Warren stared at Alistair for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll return later today. Please don’t let Helen leave without seeing me.”
“I canna promise that. I will no’ keep her against her will if she wishes to leave. However, I imagine she’ll be here until tomorrow.” They paused as Cailean entered the room.
Warren watched as Alistair rose and pulled Cailean into a bear hug, slapping him on his back a few times. “She’s all right, Cail. She and yer bairn will be fine.”
Cailean shuddered out a breath and swiped at his face as he leaned away and sat at the table. He smiled his thanks as Alistair set a cup of coffee in front of him before joining him at the table. “Thank you for going for Helen. She said this was a normal birth, but she
made everything easier.” He took a sip of coffee and sighed. “Her quiet competence soothed Belle and eased my panic.”
“Aye, ye had to ken I’d do what I needed to help ye and Anna.” He smiled impishly at his brother, looking more like Ewan. “Have ye decided on a name yet?”
Cailean shook his head. “We didn’t want to tempt fate, thinking of a name before the birth.” He yawned and raised his arms over his head as he stretched. “I won’t be much help to you and Bears in the livery for a few days.”
“Ye ken I dinna care about that. And Bears doesna either.” Alistair nodded to Ewan as he strolled in with dampened hair, wearing fresh clothes.
“I raced home to tell J.P. the news. I swore her to secrecy so it won’t be in tomorrow’s paper.” He slapped Cailean on the shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, Cail.”
Warren pushed away his cup. “I should leave. I’m sorry to have intruded.”
Cailean watched Warren with an assessing gaze. “You had your reasons to be here. I hope you find your peace with Helen.”
Warren nodded and rose. He gripped Cailean’s shoulder for a moment and then left through the front door. He stood on the stoop a moment before he headed to the café. After reading the sign, informing the townsfolk the café was closed for the day, he headed down the alley to the back door.
Harold answered Warren’s knock with a glower. “Can’t you read? We’re closed.”
“I’m not here for food.” He stared at Harold, the disappointment and anger clear in his gaze.
Harold sighed and waved him in. “Irene’s still at the MacKinnons. I imagine she’s bustling around, bursting with pleasure to be around a baby again. That woman loves babies.”
“Most women do,” Warren murmured.
“You’d be surprised,” Harold muttered as he moved to the stove and filled up two plates with eggs, beans and toast, setting one in front of Warren and then another at his place at the table. “I was about to have breakfast. You might as well join me.”
“How did Leticia do yesterday?” Warren asked as he let the scrambled eggs cool a moment before digging in.
“Oh, she’s a wonder at coaxing people to order more than they’d like. We ran out of cakes and pies by midafternoon. Made the supper crowd grouchy.” Harold laughed and then took a bite of toast. “I know what’s gnawing at you. And you have no reason to be upset with us. Ain’t nothing we would have done differently.”
Warren ate in silence a few moments. “Why wouldn’t you tell me the truth?” He waited as Harold stared at him implacably. “When you knew I didn’t understand?”
“That ain’t the question, and you know it. Why would a man, who’s supposed to be so smart, believe the words of a known gossip and liar over the woman he loves?” He pointed the tines of his fork at Warren. “You let Helen down. You failed her. No one else.”
Warren set his fork on the plate and sighed. “I know I did. I don’t know how to apologize. How to make her see that I was a fool.”
“You were a jealous idiot,” Harold said with a disbelieving shake of his head. “You’d already lost her once to her mother’s ploys. How could you allow it to happen again?”
Warren jerked as though he had been physically harmed. “What did you say?” When Harold watched Warren with regret, he canted forward. “What did her mother have to do with what happened between us three years ago? And how do you know anything about it?”
Harold rose to refill his coffee mug. “Irene would be irate with me for speaking with you. She believes we hear things in confidence in the café and that we should act as though people were speaking in a confessional.” He snorted. “But I ain’t Catholic, and I hate the way that woman’s treated her daughter. Treated the MacKinnons. Treated you.”
Harold paused, as though battling with himself over what more he should say as he sat again. “I don’t know all that transpired between you and Miss Jameson, but I suspect it was enough to alarm a doting mother. Three years ago, she still had some of those motherly tendencies. Mrs. Jameson feared you were turning into her ex-husband. A drunk. A debaucher. And she wanted you far away from her daughter.”
Warren’s jaw ticked. “I’d just lost my father. I know I acted a fool, drinking too much and getting into bar fights …” He scrubbed at his head. “It’s all a bit fuzzy, exactly what happened during those days.”
Harold snorted. “Well, those of us who witnessed it will never forget it.”
Warren flushed with shame.
“Our upstanding lawyer, acting like the worst ruffian come down from the mine. Shouting obscenities, shooting at the mirror in the Stumble-Out, visiting the Boudoir. Yodeling in the streets at all hours, drunk as a skunk.”
Warren’s jaw dropped open. “I would never act like that,” he protested as he shook his head, trying to reconcile what he heard with who he was.
“You did all that and more the entire time that rascal of a cousin of yours was in town.” Harold sighed. “I think we were half hoping you’d leave with him, and half hoping he’d leave and we’d have our old lawyer and friend back.”
“Jeremiah left,” Warren whispered. “I remember things afterward.”
“’Course you do. You stopped pouring whiskey down your gullet. I haven’t seen you drink more than a few sips of any spirit since.”
They sat in silence a few moments. “Are you saying, in that one instance, Mrs. Jameson acted to protect her daughter? From me?” Warren’s gaze was devastated.
Harold nodded. “I believe she did.” His mouth firmed. “But she went too far. She had to convince her daughter that you wanted nothing to do with her. That you were a horrible man. And, once you’d cleaned up, that was harder to do. So she changed her tactics and demolished Helen’s spirit.”
Warren sat in a dazed stupor for many minutes. “The things Helen accuses me of saying, I never said them. I know I never said them. I would never have been cruel to Helen.”
“If you did, you were coaxed into it. You were so drunk and out of your mind, you wouldn’t have known what you were saying.” He met Warren’s gaze. “And you were cruel to Helen when you threw her out of your house.”
Warren rose and paced to the stove and back before gripping the edge of a chair. “Why did no one realize she was training with the midwife?”
“Oh, plenty knew. Those she helped. Those who paid attention.”
Warren flinched at the implied criticism.
“You’d have to ask her why she was intent on keeping her secret.”
“This town lives on gossip. Why did none spread about her learning such a skill?”
“Those she helped understood her desire for secrecy, and they did not want to jeopardize her ability to learn more by gossiping about her.” Harold smiled. “And her mother’s treatment of Helen was no secret. All who were aware of her time with the midwife knew what would happen should her mother learn the truth. None wanted to be the cause of any more suffering for Helen.”
Warren stared into space as he thought over Harold’s words. “Even J.P. pitied Helen and stopped writing about her.” He nodded to the food and coffee and turned to the door. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Warren, in this life, you must remember, it’s our ability to ask for forgiveness that determines how our lives will unfold. Don’t cling to pride or hurt when you could instead find love.”
“Thanks, old man,” Warren whispered and slipped out the back door.
Helen rested in the room near Annabelle’s. She listened as the new mother cooed to her baby and at the murmur of voices as the MacKinnon siblings visited with Annabelle and their niece. Helen curled into herself and closed her eyes. When the bed dipped, she flicked open an eye. “Hello, Irene.”
“Don’t be upset that I gave away your secret. You were needed here last night.” Irene tugged a throw around Helen and tucked her in.
Helen swiped at a tear that leaked out. “I’m not upset with you. I knew my secret would be found out eventually. My mother’s disregard for
me gave me time to pursue my interests. At times she focused on me, but I was generally free to do what I wanted.”
Irene tsked. “As long as you kept the house clean, had supper on the table and never gave her any grief.”
Helen shrugged. “I knew better than to expect anything more.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Helen. You should demand so much more. You’ve allowed yourself to accept lies for too long.” As Helen remained silent on the bed, Irene ran a hand over her head. “I’ve had letters from Frederick since you moved to live at the ranch. He writes nothing but praise about you. I would worry that he’s smitten, but he knows you are not free of Warren.”
Helen shook her head. “Frederick is like a brother, Irene. I think he loves another, but I don’t know who it is.” She turned to meet Irene’s gaze. “Did you and Mr. Tompkins have such a difficult time?”
Irene laughed. “Heavens, no. He was the best friend of one of my brothers. Tobias’s father. Once we realized we weren’t young boys and girls any longer, we knew that we’d marry.” She smiled. “I can’t remember my life without him in it.”
Helen sighed. “That’s lovely.”
“It is. And I feel very fortunate to have Harold.” She swiped a finger under Helen’s eyes, clearing away a tear. “But never imagine we haven’t had our problems. No life is free of them.”
Helen turned her face against the pillow.
“Your man’s been here a few times today, looking for you.”
“He’s not mine. And I still don’t know if I want to speak with him.” She shuddered. “He promised not to hurt me. And yet he did.” She whispered, “Again.”
Irene gripped her shoulder. “I can’t lie and say I know what happened between you. But I can imagine his anger at seeing you arrive in town with Frederick. Especially since Warren had already saved you from the Boudoir.”
“I never asked him to save me!”
Irene chuckled at Helen’s anger. “No, I can’t imagine you did. However, the fact remains that he placed the highest bid and rescued you from at least one very uncomfortable night. I doubt you would have liked the reality of what you had agreed to if he hadn’t bid for you.”
Montana Renegade (Bear Grass Springs Book 4) Page 11
