“I hate that everyone in town believes I owe him.” She sniffled. “That I am now beholden to him.”
“No,” Irene said in a severe voice. “You aren’t, and you never have been. And it doesn’t matter what the townsfolk think. It matters what you believe.” She squeezed Helen’s hand. “I know I’m no relation to you, Helen, but I would urge you to speak with him. Don’t let more days of silence and misunderstanding separate you. He’s a good man.”
Warren accepted a bowl of stew from Sorcha. He dunked in a piece of day-old bread and quickly ate the meal in front of him. “Thank you. I seem to be in the habit of eating at my friends’ homes, but I appreciate the meals.”
“Ye’re a man who shouldna be as thin as ye are,” Sorcha admonished with a tsk. “Ye’re not eatin’ like ye should.” She waited a moment, biting her lip as though battling with herself over whether or not she should ask the question.
“I’m not drinking, Sorcha. I know you and your brothers are worried I’ll drown myself. I didn’t after she went to the ranch, and I won’t now.”
Sorcha nodded her head. “Good. ’Tis good to see someone learn from their mistakes. From what little Cailean and Alistair told me, yer last affair with a bottle was enough for a lifetime.”
“It was,” he whispered. “And it cost me more than I ever realized.” He stilled when he sensed someone entering the room. He looked over his shoulder, unable to fight his pleasure at the sight of Helen. “Miss Jameson.”
She nodded at him. “I will return home tomorrow. Perhaps now would be a good time for us to have our discussion?” She motioned toward the parlor.
Warren followed her there. He bumped into her as she stopped short, frowning at the sight of Alistair lounging on a settee.
When Alistair saw the two of them together, he leaped to his feet. “I’m off to see Sorcha in the kitchen. Lettie’s visitin’ with Anna and meetin’ the baby.” He clapped Warren on the shoulder and shut the parlor door behind him.
Helen moved away from him and sat in a chair. He paced around the room. Neither spoke for many long minutes.
“Let me get this out, Helen.” When he saw her nod, he tugged a footstool over to sit on in front of her. “Forgive me. I didn’t listen to you when you asked me to. I didn’t have faith in you. I was a jealous fool, and I hurt you.” He paused, his expression sobering as she failed to respond to any of his words.
“I promised you that I would not hurt you. And then I used the one weapon you are defenseless against. Words.” His eyes shone with regret. “Please forgive me.”
She gripped her hands together, pulling them away from him so that he would not touch her. “I don’t know if I can.” She paled, and her lips trembled. “I don’t want to live in fear of the next time you act out against me because you didn’t trust me.”
“Helen, I was an irrational fool. A jealous fool. I had been honest with you, and you hadn’t granted me the same courtesy.” His eyes flashed with disappointment and anger. “This entire separation could have been avoided if you’d trusted me.”
She sniffled. “Why should a lawyer believe a girl with a schoolhouse education could be smart enough to be a midwife?” She stilled when he gripped her arms and his eyes flashed fire.
“Because you know me. Because you know I’m more than the prejudices of your family. Because I love you and believe in you.” He brushed away a tear on her cheek. “You must overcome these doubts, Helen. I would if I could for you, but it’s your battle.”
He paused and dropped his hands. “Why didn’t you leave your mother’s house and announce to the world you were a midwife? You could have lived independently.”
Helen shook her head. “I’d been the midwife’s assistant. I had no money saved, and no one would rent me a room with only the promise of future payment.” She shared a look with him. “You know what Mr. Barclay and Mr. Stubbens are like. They would have expected … something from me.”
She flushed and lowered her gaze. “I have no friends in this town. At least, that’s what I believed.” She paused, clamping her jaw shut in anger. “And then I heard about my brother’s debt. And you courting Sorcha.” Her expression was momentarily desolate.
“Lies,” he rasped.
“Perhaps.” She bit her lip. “And then I didn’t much care what happened to me as long as I escaped my mother’s home.” She looked up, blanching as his gaze blazed into hers.
“Helen,” he breathed, breaking off as the parlor door opened.
Sorcha flushed at interrupting them. “I beg yer pardon, Helen, but Anna’s askin’ for ye.”
Helen nodded and rose.
Warren grabbed her hand. “We’re not finished, love.”
She met his intense stare before moving past him to attend her patient, the door closing softly behind her.
Cailean rose to answer the door at the gentle knock, his hand tracing his daughter’s downy head in his wife’s arms. Then he shared a smile with Annabelle that their daughter remained asleep. At the door, he grabbed Bears into a hug and pulled him inside, pushing him into the chair near where Annabelle lay with their daughter.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Bears said. “Congratulations.” His gaze roved over the bundle swathed in blankets.
“Here. Take her,” Annabelle said, holding the baby out to Bears.
He nodded with a bashful smile and held her to his chest, tracing a finger over her cheek and kissing her head. “You are cherished,” he whispered. He murmured something else in her ear and then raised exultant eyes to his partner and friend. “You are most fortunate.”
“Aye,” Cailean said. He took a deep breath as though his chest were tight. “I am blessed with a beautiful wife and daughter. Now we must just decide what to name her.”
Annabelle held her hand out to Cailean, and he sat beside her hip on the bed, and they watched as Bears crooned to the baby in a deep, melodic voice. “We are thinking of Alice, after my mother.” Annabelle flushed as Bears shook his head.
“I would honor the past and the present with her name,” he said. “Although I know that’s not how it’s done among …” He shrugged and rocked the baby as she slept.
“What would you suggest?” Cailean asked, unable to hide the humor and annoyance in his voice.
Bears’s gaze filled with patient understanding. “I would name her after something you love here and the place you’re from.” He waited as confusion flitted over their expressions. “Skye.”
“Skye?” Cailean breathed. “We couldna name our daughter such a thing.”
“Why not?” Bears asked. “It would be her name, honoring both your homeland and hers.” He kissed the baby’s head and then handed her back to Annabelle. “I hope she remains as healthy as she is today.” He rose and nodded his goodbye, shutting the door behind him.
Annabelle slipped from the bed and placed the baby in her bassinette before lying on the bed again, with Cailean spooned around her. She asked him, “What do you think about his name for her?”
“I think our family should leave us alone to name her what we want,” he grumbled.
She laughed and pulled his palm to her mouth for a kiss. “How lovely you consider him part of the family.” She asked again, “What do you think?”
“I like the name, but I don’t know that it’s appropriate for a wee bairn,” he said. “I fear she would be teased at school.”
Annabelle sighed. “Children will find a reason to tease, whatever her name.” She smiled and turned toward him, taking his face between her palms. “I think Bears is right. I want to honor your home and this place. Let’s name her Skye Alice. That way, if someone objects, they can call her Alice.”
Cailean kissed Annabelle and cradled her at his chest. “Aye, Skye Alice MacKinnon. A fine name for our wee lass.”
Fidelia opened the door, entering the room silently. She paused to find her sister asleep, Annabelle’s hand trailing over the edge of the bed to lie beside the baby in her bassinette. The baby mewled, an
d Annabelle sprung awake.
“Shh,” Fidelia whispered, moving to take the baby in her arms. “There’s a love.” She kissed her niece’s forehead and then passed her to Annabelle, who now sat upright against a pile of pillows. Fidelia watched as Annabelle traced a finger over her daughter’s cheek before adjusting her gown to breastfeed her.
“Thank you for being here, Fidelia. I know you don’t like children.” Annabelle rested her head against the pillows, her eyes closed.
“Whatever gave you the impression I dislike children?” Fidelia sputtered. She sat on the other side of the bed.
Annabelle cracked her eyes open. “You’ve never been excited either time I’ve been pregnant.”
Fidelia paled. “I’ve seen too many women die due to pregnancy. Due to botched births.” She swallowed. “Due to the desire to no longer continue with their pregnancy.” She flushed at Annabelle’s searching stare. “I’m tired of being jealous of you,” she breathed.
Annabelle gripped her sister’s hand, breathing a sigh of relief that she remained beside her without any need to restrain her. “I know I’ve failed you. I know I’ve disappointed you. But you must know how much I always admired you when I was younger.” She watched a tear track down her sister’s cheek. “How much I wished I could be as brave as you.”
Fidelia choked on a laugh. “I was never brave.”
“You may believe you weren’t, but you have always seemed brave to me. You survived, Dee, where I would have given up.”
For the first time since Annabelle’s arrival in Bear Grass Springs nearly two years ago, the silence between them that ensued was harmonious. “What will you name her?” Fidelia whispered.
Annabelle chuckled. “I want her to have her own name. Not a name that is solely a testament to anyone from either of our families.” She kissed her daughter’s head. “But I still want to honor our mother. She sacrificed for us.” She shared a long look with Fidelia, and the mutual remembrance of their mother’s suffering shone in their gazes. “I also want to honor Cailean’s roots. For too long he ran from his past.” She paused as she ran a hand over the downy soft head of her daughter. “Skye,” she breathed. “It was Bears’s idea, and I think it’s perfect.”
Fidelia smiled. “It is. Does Cailean agree?”
“He didn’t at first, but he does now. He’s come to realize the wisdom behind my reasoning.” She smiled as Fidelia laughed. “Alistair will be her godfather. I want you to be her godmother.”
Fidelia’s eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head.
“Is that a no?” Annabelle asked as she frowned.
“I can’t believe you’d consider me appropriate as a godmother.” She waited as Annabelle nodded. “Yes, I will. I will only ever show her love.”
Annabelle laughed. “I suspect she’ll need discipline if she’s anything like her father or me.” She ran a hand over her swaddled form again as Skye fell asleep against her breast. “But, yes, she will only know love and devotion.”
Chapter 8
The following day Warren knew Helen was to leave to return to the ranch. He arrived early at the livery, scowling as he saw a sleigh outside the barn. He entered the barn and glared at Bears who calmly curried a horse. “Why the sleigh?”
Bears looked up, his black eyes an unfathomable mystery as they beheld the fidgeting lawyer. His long hair was held back by a piece of leather and formed a black cascade down his back. “You’re the lawyer.” He patted the horse’s neck.
“Because Helen leaves today.”
Bears nodded, and his lips quirked as though entertained by Warren’s fidgeting. “What remains to be determined is who escorts her home.”
Warren frowned.
“If you are more than book smart, lawyer, you’ll find a way to drive that sleigh, and your love, to the ranch. Or you can leave it to Alistair.”
Warren frowned. “If I were smart, she’d remain here with me.”
Bears made a disgruntled noise, and the horse jerked its head as though in agreement that Warren was a fool. “Patience is a show of caring, lawyer. No one likes to feel penned in.”
Warren nodded and strode from the livery deep in thought. He knocked on the front door of Cailean’s house and smiled at Sorcha when she answered it.
“She’s packed, Warren, and plans to travel after breakfast.”
Warren frowned. “Is breakfast ready?”
Sorcha flushed, but it seemed more from pride than embarrassment. “Nae. I’ve had a few mishaps this morning, and I’m delayed.” She poked him in his arm. “I’d begun to believe ye were never to appear. A person can only ruin so many pans of eggs.” She huffed and marched back into the kitchen.
Warren chuckled and took off his outerwear. He entered the kitchen and saw Helen nursing a cup of coffee. “Helen, might we speak again before you leave?”
Helen watched him with wide hazel eyes and nodded. She set down her coffee cup and preceded Warren into the deserted, cold parlor. While he knelt in front of the stove, she sat on the settee.
Warren fiddled with the stove, coaxing dormant embers back to life and then adding wood until a blaze formed. He watched the fire a moment before facing Helen. “This is what I want to do for us, Helen. For I know our emotions are there. They are simply waiting for us.”
He watched as yearning and hope battled within her, and he gripped her hand. “We must face the past, Helen, if we are to move forward.” He swallowed. “Will you listen to me?” He knelt in front of her.
When she nodded, he took one of her hands between both of his and massaged the joints of her fingers. “I spoke with Harold yesterday. I never realized all that transpired after my father died.” He closed his eyes. “All I remember is an unremitting wave of grief and anger.” He opened his eyes to meet her somber gaze. “And then a burst of hope and warmth and love when you and I were together. The one memory I have from those days that is clear is the time I spent with you.”
She shook her head as a tear tracked down her cheek. “You wanted nothing to do with me the next day.”
“That can only be because I was a drunken fool.” He raised her hand to his forehead as he bowed his head and let out a stuttering sigh. “I drank like a madman, wanting to erase all my pain and sorrow. I had no care for anyone but myself. And then there was you.” He dropped her hand but held it still, as he raised his head to look her in the eye. His eyelashes were spiked with tears. “Finally there was some chance for us, but it was the wrong time.”
“I should never have answered the summons,” she whispered.
He shook his head as he sat back on his heels. “What summons?”
Her gaze flit over him, searching for deceit. Instead she discovered confusion and despair. “I received a letter, in handwriting that I thought was yours. It asked me to meet you. Said you were in a bad way. That you thought you didn’t want to live anymore.”
Warren paled. “I never wrote that.” He dropped her hand and scrubbed at his face. “I think I didn’t write that.” He lifted dejected eyes to her. “I can’t remember what I did or didn’t do. I would never have played you false though. You were the one good thing I didn’t want to harm.”
She nodded, as tears poured down her cheeks. “I arrived, and you seemed surprised to see me. Then delighted. I knew you were half drunk at best. I knew the signs from my father. And yet I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t want to leave you. Not once you started kissing me.”
He dropped his head with a groan. “Oh, Helen, no wonder you despise me.”
She grabbed his face and held it until he met her gaze. “Do you swear you remember our time together?”
He nodded. “Of course. You have a mole under your left breast. Once wasn’t enough, even though I know I hurt you the first time.” He ran a finger over her lips. “You were my dream brought to life.”
She sobbed and bit her lip. “Then why did you say those things the next day? Why wouldn’t you look at me?”
He shook his head. “I don�
�t remember saying anything. And I was hungover and miserable. I would have waited, but I knew you expected me to ask.” He paused. “I think my cousin had something to do with all of what happened. I sobered up after he left.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He knew we had been together. He was staying with me, and I doubt we were subtle. Or quiet. I was too drunk to think to protect you from gossip.” He flushed. “The next morning he urged me to speak with you. Told me that waiting was disrespectful and that you’d despise me the longer I took to ask you.”
Her expression was pained. “You were like your old self after he was gone. And, for a while, I thought you had forgotten what had … transpired between us.”
“We made love, Helen. And it was glorious.”
She sighed her agreement and dropped her head against his forehead. “And then your searching looks began. Your comments. And I knew you remembered. And you were angry with me.”
He ran a finger through her hair, tugging at pins. “When a man is turned down, he tends to be upset.”
She waited, staring deeply into his blue eyes. “You truly wanted to marry me?” She saw the affirmation in his gaze, and a tear leaked out. “You aren’t upset that I’m not slimmer, smarter, wealthier?” She swallowed a shriek as his hands roved to her hips and caressed them.
He darted forward on his knees, nipping at her lips. He groaned as she melted into his embrace, and he tugged her closer until she fell off the settee and sat between his sprawled legs, his hands buried deep in her thick hair. Their kiss intensified, and soon he pulled away, gasping for air.
“I’ve wanted you from the first, Helen. Your mother tried to poison you into believing you were unattractive.” He ran a hand over her cheek. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He kissed her again. “But it’s not your beauty that brings me to my knees. It’s everything else about you. Your determination, your strength, your honor, your ability to face a challenge that most shy away from.”
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