by Amanda Cabot
She was right. Austin knew that, and so he took his usual seat at the table and helped himself to a generous serving of scrambled eggs and bacon while he wondered what Hannah was eating.
“I miss the little one,” Mrs. Moore said as she spread strawberry jam on a biscuit.
“Me too.” Even though Hannah rarely spoke, the house seemed emptier without her. “I’d have gone into town if I could have, but that seemed foolhardy with all the ice.”
“Catherine Whitfield’s a good woman. She’ll take care of Hannah and Seth.”
Austin nodded. When he’d realized that the roads were impassible, he’d known that Catherine would take any stranded children home with her. Her house might not be the largest in Cimarron Creek, but it would be warm and welcoming to anyone who needed shelter.
As he took a slug of coffee, Austin nodded again. Warm and welcoming. That described Catherine as well as her home. She was a naturally nurturing woman. Look at what she’d done for him. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that she’d changed, if not his life, at least his perspective on it.
He still didn’t understand how it had happened that she had dreamed of Geraldine—the only explanation was that God had given Catherine that dream at that particular time—but hearing her recount what she had seen had released the burden of guilt Austin had been carrying. There was still uncertainty in his life, like whether or not Enright was still searching for him and whether he would ever be able to return to medicine, but the anguish of believing he could have stopped Geraldine from taking her life was gone.
Now if only they could find a way to heal Hannah.
Catherine woke to a winter wonderland. She smiled as she drew the curtains aside and stared at her yard, marveling at the transformation the storm had wrought. A day ago, everything had been brown and green. Now a thick coating of ice encased the tree branches, and with the sun shining on them, they shimmered like diamonds. It was a scene that deserved to be in a picture book—beautiful to behold but dangerous for anyone who needed to be outside.
A glance through the side window told Catherine the street in front of her house glistened with ice, making her grateful she’d canceled school. While the children would enjoy sliding on the ice, perhaps pretending they were Hans Brinker, she didn’t want them to risk falling and injuring themselves.
It was the perfect day to stay at home. If she had been alone, Catherine would have spent most of the day reading, but she was not alone. She had two children staying with her, and when the roads cleared, she had to talk to two very different fathers. She had offered extra prayers for both children last night, praying that finding the music box marked a genuine turning point for Hannah and that Boone Dalton would not be angered by his son’s absence. Only time would tell if those prayers had been answered.
Catherine dressed quickly, then hurried to the kitchen to make breakfast. As she’d dressed, she decided to serve pancakes with the syrup she’d made with some of Nate’s peaches. It would be a treat for both her and the children. They might not be as excited by the split pea soup she planned for their midday meal, but at least that combined with pieces of cornbread would ensure that they did not go hungry.
As she measured flour and baking powder into the bowl, Catherine wondered whether Hannah would prove to be as moody as her mother and would have reverted to her silent self this morning. But when the girl emerged from her room, the music box cradled in her hands, she was smiling and chattering about the ice.
Thank you, God. One prayer had been answered. Unlike Hannah’s interest in the globe, which had faded quickly, her pleasure with the music box seemed to be more lasting. Boone’s reaction to Seth’s failure to do his chores yesterday and this morning was still unknown.
“Good morning, children.” Catherine enlisted their help in setting the table, then smiled as both of them devoured the pancakes and the strips of crisp bacon she’d decided would be a good accompaniment.
The morning passed quickly. Though she had feared that they might be bored, Seth seemed content to spend the time sketching, while Hannah chattered about everything from the ice storm to the wallpaper in the parlor as she played the music box so often that even Catherine, who loved the melody, grew tired of it. It was with a feeling of relief that she announced lunch was ready.
As she had hoped, Hannah and Seth ate the soup without complaint, although she noted that neither one asked for a second helping. Catherine bit back a smile, remembering how she had protested when Mama made pea soup. “You’ll learn to like it,” Mama had declared, and Catherine had . . . eventually.
She and the children were in the midst of washing the dishes when a knock at the front door signaled a visitor. It had to be Austin. Catherine’s heart began to race as she admitted to herself how much she had been looking forward to his arrival. Ever since she had discovered Hannah with the music box, Catherine had been eager to share what had happened with Austin. The transformation was so dramatic that at times Catherine could hardly believe this was the same girl who’d sat silently in her classroom for more than two months. Was this the way Hannah used to be?
Wanting the changed Hannah to be a surprise, Catherine tried to keep her excitement under control. She greeted Austin with a bright smile, but one that she hoped was no different from the ones she used at the schoolhouse.
“I’m glad you were able to get into town.” That was a major understatement. “How are the roads?”
Austin shrugged as he shed his coat, hanging it on one of the hooks Papa had installed near the front door so many years ago. “Not good, but at least passable.” He looked around, as if expecting to see Hannah in the parlor. “I’m more grateful than I can tell you that you were willing to give Hannah a room for the night. After the way you took care of Seth when he was ill, I had no doubt that my daughter was safe and warm with you.”
She was more than that, but Catherine wouldn’t spoil the surprise. “Seth’s here too. I left them drying the dishes.” She led Austin to the kitchen.
Hannah turned at the sound of her father’s footsteps and held out the pot and towel. “Look, Papa,” she cried as if she were accomplishing some heretofore impossible task. “I’m drying dishes. Miss Whitfield taught Seth and me how. And, Papa, wait until you see what I found. It’s a music box.”
Unable to wait, she dropped the towel and ran to the table. Though her impatience was visible, so too was the care with which she wound the box and set it to playing. “Isn’t that the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard? Miss Whitfield says it’s Viv . . . Viv . . . Viv what?”
As Hannah turned beseeching eyes on him, Seth grinned and said, “Vivaldi.”
“That’s it. Vivaldi. Isn’t it pretty, Papa?”
Though Austin had been staring at his daughter, clearly speechless at the difference a little more than a day had made, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, it is.” Catherine suspected she was the only one who heard the emotion he was trying so hard to disguise.
Austin cleared his throat again. “It looks as if you and Seth still have some dishes to dry. While you’re doing that, Miss Whitfield and I need to talk.”
They did indeed. Catherine led Austin to the parlor, closing the door behind them for privacy.
“What happened?” Though Catherine gestured toward a chair, Austin remained standing.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
He nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This is what Hannah was like before we moved. What did you do to bring her back?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Catherine would not take undue credit. “She found my mother’s music box. The truth is, I believe God led her to it. That’s the only explanation I can find for her opening that particular drawer.” Catherine smiled at the sound of laughter making its way through the door. “She’s been chattering ever since.”
Now came the most difficult part of the story, the part Hannah did not want her father to know. “Hannah told me your wife had a music box.” When Austin looked sur
prised, Catherine continued. “Apparently, she found it in a trunk with her mother’s dresses. She said she used to play with it. From the way she reacted when she discovered my mother’s music box, I’d say it was her favorite toy.” Catherine hesitated for a second before adding, “She told me that you didn’t bring it when you moved.”
Austin was silent for a moment, as if trying to absorb all that Catherine had told him. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. “I had no idea she’d found Geraldine’s things. If I had, well . . . I’m not sure what I’d have done. Hannah’s right, though. I left Geraldine’s belongings behind.”
Though Catherine wondered whether that was because he was hoping to build a future with fewer memories of his wife and her illness, she wouldn’t ask. The question was too personal for even a friend to pose. Instead she focused on Hannah. “You’ve seen what a difference the music box makes. Perhaps you could send for it. It shouldn’t take too long to ship it from Oklahoma.”
Austin’s expression darkened as he shook his head. “I wish I could, but I can’t.” And then he muttered something that sounded like, “It’s too dangerous.”
Austin wished he hadn’t said that. Somehow, the words had slipped out. He could tell that Catherine had heard them, though she was too well bred to ask what he meant. He would have liked to have been able to tell her everything, but he couldn’t take the risk. Though he’d trusted her with Geraldine’s story, no one other than Travis must know what had happened in Philadelphia.
It wasn’t difficult to conjure a smile. All Austin had to do was think about the girl drying dishes only a few yards away. “How can I ever thank you for what you’ve done for my daughter?” Austin had never believed in miracles, but the difference in Hannah seemed nothing less than miraculous.
A strand of silky brown hair came loose from Catherine’s chignon as she shook her head. “I told you, I didn’t do it. God did.” A miracle, or at least an act of God. Austin gave a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
As if she understood what he was feeling, Catherine nodded, then gestured toward the door. “We’d better get back to the kitchen. In my experience, it’s never wise to leave two children alone with pots and pans for too long.”
She opened the parlor door as she said, “I’m as grateful as you are that Hannah’s broken out of her shell. Now my primary worry is Seth. I don’t know how his father will react to his being gone. He probably thought Seth should have walked home yesterday to milk the cows.”
Austin nodded as he remembered Boone’s reaction when his son was ill. “Probably.”
Catherine frowned. “It’s still hard for me to believe, but it seems Boone Dalton values money more than his son. That’s why I’m going to tell him I was afraid Seth would fall and break a leg and that I knew Doc Harrington would charge a lot to set it.”
“Good reasoning, but I’ll save you the trip out there. I can deliver both Seth and your message.” Austin didn’t trust Boone Dalton any more than Catherine did. Maybe even less, because he’d heard rumors that Boone was thought to have caused his wife’s fatal fall down a flight of stairs. Catherine should never be alone with him.
Austin wouldn’t tell her that, because she was just stubborn and independent enough to want to prove that she could handle Boone Dalton. Instead, Austin kept his tone light as he said, “There’s only one flaw in your logic: you’d never let the doctor come near Seth.” Her vehement opinions of the town’s physician were etched in his memory and were another reason why he couldn’t tell her about his life in Philadelphia.
She shrugged. “Boone doesn’t know that.”
Austin couldn’t help it. He laughed.
When they entered the kitchen, Hannah and Seth were exchanging guilty glances. The reason wasn’t hard to find. In the absence of the adults, the children had engaged in a soapsuds war, leaving wet spots on the floor.
Though Austin was tempted to smile at the evidence that his daughter was once again behaving like a normal six-year-old, Catherine gave the culprits her sternest look, a look that he suspected rarely failed to quell even the most rambunctious child’s enthusiasm. “You’ll find rags in the pantry, Seth. When you and Hannah have finished drying the floor, Mr. Goddard will take you both home. I’m sure you realize that I’m disappointed in your behavior, but I’m not going to hold that against you. Hannah, you may take the music box with you.”
Though her eyes widened and she looked at the instrument with what could only be called a covetous glance, Hannah shook her head. “I can’t do that, Miss Whitfield. It belongs here with you.”
“Are you certain?” Austin asked. As much as he admired his daughter’s lack of selfishness, he could not bear the thought that she might revert to silence. From what Catherine had said, the music box was the key to the new Hannah.
He smiled at his daughter, then glanced at the music box. It was indeed similar to the one Geraldine had loved. “Miss Whitfield said you could have it.”
Hannah shook her head again. “She needs it. It was her mama’s.”
A pang of remorse clenched Austin’s heart. If only he’d realized that Hannah had found Geraldine’s trunk and that she’d developed such an attachment to the music box. Though they’d left Philadelphia in haste, he could easily have brought what seemed to have been Hannah’s favorite possession. What kind of father was he that he didn’t know something so important about his own daughter?
Austin looked at the beautiful wooden box, wondering how long it would take to order one for Hannah. Surely he’d be able to get it within a few weeks.
“Perhaps you’d like to borrow it for a week or two,” he suggested.
But Hannah was adamant. “I don’t want to borrow it. I want to play it every day.” Though she shot a glance at Seth, as if expecting him to support her, the boy remained silent as he mopped the largest puddle.
Austin knew the feeling of needing an ally, and he had one. Catherine. He looked from the music box to Catherine and then back to his daughter. “That’s why Miss Whitfield offered the music box to you.”
“She’d be sad if I took it.”
Austin felt as if they were playing ring-around-the-rosy, running in circles, getting nowhere. Unsure what to say to convince Hannah, he looked at Catherine again. Surely she knew how to convince a child. As a parent, Austin had experience with only one, while she dealt with dozens every day.
She met his gaze and gave the smallest of nods, acknowledging his silent plea for help, before turning her attention back to Hannah. “I could bring it to school, and you could play it at recess.”
Hannah, practical, stubborn Hannah, shook her head. “Somebody could break it. Seth thinks that’s why you won’t bring your papa’s books to school, ’cuz someone might break them.” She gave Seth a glance that made Austin believe there had been more going on in the kitchen than just drying dishes and playing with soap suds. The boy’s wink confirmed Austin’s belief that the children had been discussing Hannah’s fascination with the music box and had concocted a solution. He only hoped it wasn’t too outrageous.
Laying a protective hand on the object of the discussion, Hannah turned to Catherine. “Why can’t I live here with you? That way I could play it every day, and no one would break it. I’d be very careful.”
Austin felt the blood drain from his face. If he’d speculated for the rest of his life, he would not have come up with that suggestion. Was Seth the instigator? Even if he was, why had Hannah agreed? Catherine looked as shocked as Austin felt.
“Your home is with me at the ranch,” he said firmly, trying to ignore the pain that the mere thought of Hannah living somewhere else wrought. Didn’t she know how much he loved her and that his life revolved around her?
In a surprisingly adult gesture, Hannah shrugged. “You’re gone most of the time. You won’t miss me.”
But he would. Oh yes, he would. He’d missed her last night and this morning, even though he’d known she would be home again this afternoon. “That’s not tru
e, Hannah.”
When his daughter began to pout, Catherine laid a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you pack your bag, Hannah? Your father and I need to talk.”
“Again!” Seth scoffed at the idea of the adults’ need for private conversation.
Austin glared at the boy. “Yes, young man, again. I suggest you leave us alone or you’ll be walking back to your farm.” When Seth slunk out of the room, Austin turned to Catherine. “I can’t believe Hannah doesn’t want to live with me.”
Her expression was solemn, the furrows between her eyes telling him that this was the first time she’d faced a situation like this. “I won’t pretend that I understand what Hannah’s thinking,” Catherine said softly, “but I suspect this is a passing fancy. Perhaps it’s a result of the last time you were riding the range.”
Austin was silent for a moment, remembering the misery he’d seen etched on Hannah’s face when he’d returned from less than a week away. Though he’d hoped that the change was temporary, it had lasted until yesterday when she’d been here with Catherine and the music box.
“Roundup’s coming,” he said, dreading the thought of two or more weeks away from home. He fixed his gaze on Catherine. “I don’t want to think about how she’ll react to that.”
Those eyes that reminded him of melted chocolate softened. “This might be the solution. Hannah could be like some of the other children who live on ranches. They board with a family in town during the week, then go home on weekends.” Catherine’s voice was steady as she said, “I’d be willing to try that, if you are.”
Austin took a deep breath, trying to view the proposal impartially. It wasn’t easy when his daughter’s happiness was at stake. “It’s a big step,” he admitted, “but the truth is, it would give me more time on the ranch. There never seems to be enough time to get everything done, even with Kevin Moore’s help. It would be easier if I didn’t have to drive back and forth to town twice a day and if I didn’t have to worry about Hannah retreating into her shell.” Austin paused, trying to beat back the ache that the thought of leaving Hannah in town wrought.
