White Mountain

by Dinah McCall

  The dull ache in her heart shifted slightly as his concern gave her momentary ease.

  “Thank you.” Then she changed the subject. “I’m guessing you’re headed to breakfast. The dining room is across the lobby and to your left.”

  Realizing he’d been politely dismissed, he nodded his thanks and turned away from the desk just a an odd assortment of elderly gentlemen exited the elevator and headed for the desk.

  “Isabella…darling…you have no business working like this so soon. Where is Delia?”

  Isabella blew Thomas Mowry a kiss. “Good morning, Uncle Thomas and quit fussing about me. She’ll be here any moment, I’m sure.”

  Jack nodded politely as, one by one, the men gave him a studied look. These, he suspected, would be the men she referred to as her uncles.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Jack said.

  They nodded and smile, but Jack could tell they were only being polite.

  “I’m Jack Dolan,” he said, and held out his hand to the nearest man.

  David Schultz hesitated, but only briefly, then accepted Jack’s offered hand.

  “Dr. David Schultz,” he said. “The gentleman to my right is Dr. Jasper Arnold, then Rufus Toombs, John Michaels, and the last one on my right is Thomas Mowry. We are Isabella’s uncles. Are you visiting family in the area?”

  “Nope,” Jack said. “All my family is still in Louisiana. I’m in the area gathering some research for a book.”

  John Michaels clapped his hands in delight.

  “A writer! I always wanted to write, didn’t I, Thomas?”

  Thomas Mowry shifted his glasses to a more comfortable position on his bulbous nose as he gave Jack a closer look.

  “So you’re a writer, are you? Are you published?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Ah…I see.”

  Jack felt a little like he used to feel when his father would look at his report card. The disappointment was always there, even though he had tried hard not to show it.

  “So, Mr. Dolan…what did you do before you decided to become a writer? For a living, I mean.”

  Jack grinned. “The same thing I’m still doing. I run a computer software business in Washington, D.C,”

  “Enough,” Isabella announced. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dolan. I assure you we do not require our guests to undergo such rigorous questioning. Delia is just pulling into the parking lot, so won’t you join us for breakfast? I can promise there will be no more questions.”

  Jack shrugged off her apology by offering her his elbow.

  “I’ll willingly be grilled any time by an entire room full of uncles just to eat a meal with you.”

  Isabella hesitated. His gallantry was unexpected, but not unappealing. She glanced at her uncles, who seemed to be waiting for her decision. She surprised them and herself as she came out from behind the desk and slipped her hand beneath jack’s elbow.

  There was a faint tremble in her voice, but her gaze was steady. “My father always escorted me to the dining room.”

  Jack gave her hand a quick squeeze of understanding, then looked at the five staring men.

  “Gentlemen…won’t you join us?”

  It was well that he’d asked, because they wouldn’t have let her get away with such a good-looking stranger.

  5

  Leonardo Silvia stood stoically behind his wife, Maria, as the doctor gave them the news. It wasn’t as if it was the first time they’d heard the words, but the heartbreak was still the same.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Silvia, but the procedure did not work. You’re not pregnant, and frankly. I can’t promise you’ll ever be. There are too many factors against it.”

  Maria Silvia bore the news without blame, but in truth, she was angry—angry at God for denying them the only thing she had ever truly prayed for. Oh, she’d said plenty of prayers in the past, and for lots of trivial things, like praying that Leonardo would get a raise at his job, and praying for forgiveness for various and sundry things. But she’d never prayed from her soul the way she’d prayed for a child, and she’d been praying faithfully for more than five years. Her shoulders slumped momentarily, and then she lifted her chin.

  “Thank you for your time, Dr. Worth, but I am not ready to give up.”

  Dr. Worth sighed. In his thirty odd years of practice, he’d never seen a woman so determined. No matter how many times she’d been disappointed, he had yet to see her break down or cast blame. He looked from Leonardo to Maria and then back again, tapping his pen against his desk as he debated with himself about giving them any kind of false hope. Still, as a doctor, he considered it his obligation to tell them everything he knew.

  “While I am certain that I cannot do anything more for you than I’ve already done, there is a place that has a good record for helping couples like you. However…I’m not certain of the costs, so it might be beyond what you could manage.”

  Leonardo saw the momentary flare of hope on Maria’s face. It was all he needed to see. He laid his hand on Maria’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.

  “it cannot hurt to inquire, Dr. Worth. If it is beyond our means, then we will decide. We’ve come this far. I see no reason not to pursue all our options.”

  Maria’s eyes welled with unshed tears, but her voice was strong as she met the doctor’s gaze.

  “This place…where is it located?”

  Worth sighed. “Montana.”

  Leonardo’s eyes widened. “So far?”

  The doctor nodded. “I know it’s a very long way from Queens, New York, to Braden, Montana, but if you two are still in the market to take a gamble, you might just take yourselves on a little trip out West.”

  “Do we need to be referred?” Maria asked.

  “I don’t know, but I will be more than happy to call and make the appointment for you. Just let my nurse know when you would be available to travel. Oh, and just so you know…I’d make arrangements to be gone at least a couple of weeks, possibly more. There will be the inevitable tests to be run.”

  Maria Silvia stood abruptly, clutching her purse against her barren belly, then looked at Leonardo. He smiled and cupped the side of her face. It was all she needed to see. She turned back to the doctor, her voice filled with determination.

  “We will call your office tomorrow,” she said.

  “Fine. As soon as I know your schedule, I can make the call.”

  Leonardo shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Worth.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I haven’t done a thing.”

  Leonardo smiled. “That’s not true. You’ve given us another day of hope.”

  The net day was Sunday. Leonardo had to work but Maria was up at the crack of dawn with him, fixing her hair and ironing her best dress.

  “What are you doing, Maria mia? Going to your momma’s for dinner?”

  She shook her head. “No. I am going to church.”

  “But we went to mass last night,” Leonardo said.

  Maria nodded as she hung the freshly ironed dress on a hanger and unplugged the iron.

  “Yes, I know, but I’m going again this morning. There is something I need to tell God.”

  Leonardo sighed and took his wife in his arms.

  “Maria…we have already prayed to be led to make the right decision regarding the fertility clinic and also to accept whatever comes. Don’t you think God already got the message?”

  Her lips firmed as she turned to the dresser in search of her slip.

  “Yes, I know He hears,” she said, and took a slip from the drawer and pulled it over her head. “But there’s something I forgot to tell Him.”

  Leonardo smiled to himself, watching as his wife disappeared into their closet in search of some shoes. Maria talked to God on a regular basis in the same manner as they were talking now. The only difference was, she didn’t actually hear his answers. Those had to be deciphered through the events in their lives.

  “So, what is the big thing you forgot to mention?
” he asked.

  She came out of the closet clutching a pair of black leather heels, then leaned over and put them on, holding on to the doorknob to steady herself as she did. When she was shod, she straightened and fixed her husband with a straightforward look.

  “I forgot to tell Him that I He will give us a child, the child will be raised os one of His own.”

  Leonardo’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you saying?”

  Maria shrugged. “It’s simple. Boy or girl…whichever we are blessed to receive…we will raise the child for a lifetime of service to God.”

  Leonardo paled. “Maria! You do not make bargains with God! Besides…what if we do have a child? What makes you think that the child will want to give up a life like ours for the service of others? That means no spouse, no children, no choice other than sacrifice and service to others.”

  Maria’s lips firmed as she reached for the dress.

  “I do not bargain with God. I only make promises, and this is mine. Say what you will, Leonardo, but in my eyes, it is a small sacrifice that we make so I can carry your child next to my heart.”

  Leonardo wilted. As always, his love for his wife overcame whatever reservations. He might have regarding this war she waged against her inability to conceive.

  “Then so be it,” he said softly.

  The dress settle on her body, molding itself to her shape as she turned her back to him and lifted her hair.

  “Will you zip me up, my love/”

  Hiding his heartache, her reached for the zipper. “Of course, Maria mia, I’ll do anything you ask.”

  * * *

  Isabella looked at herself in the mirror, checking one last time to make sure her hair was okay. Satisfied that all was in order, she turned away, gazing instead at the five-room suite within Abbott House that was her home. The door to her father’s bedroom was closed, as it had been since the day of his funeral. The last time she’d gone in there was to pick out clothes in which to bury him. She had yet to get up the nerve to go back. She sighed as she moved toward the library, reminding herself that there would be plenty of time later to decide what to do with his things.

  Although the décor of the rooms was straight out of the twenties and thirties, she never thought to change it. She’d grown up with ornate fringed lamp shades, flocked wallpaper and Oriental rugs on shining hardwood floors. While she was a woman of the twenty-first century, she often felt more at ease with things from the past. The influences of her childhood had been strongly impacted by the seven men who had raised her. What was comfortable and familiar to them became so to her, as well. She’d grown up listening to big band music from the thirties and forties rather than the youthful music of her time. And while she’d excelled at her studies in school and had been a popular young girl, she’d never felt stifled or cheated by the lack of female companionship at home.

  But now, things were changing. She could look into the future and know that within a few short years, there was every chance that she would be entirely alone. The emptiness of knowing she would never see her father’s face again, never hear his laughter or groan at one of his silly old jokes, was heartbreaking. She wasn’t over the shock of lowing him and didn’t even know how to begin grieving for Uncle Frank. She’d heard the maids talking about how brave she was and knew the people down in Braden looked at her in the same fashion. But they didn’t know how scared she was, or that she lay awake at nights for the first time in her life, afraid of the future.

  She knelt in front of the safe and dialed the combination, removed the deposit bag, then locked it again before rising. While she would have loved to wallow in misery for the rest of the day, there was too much to be done. Straightening the crease in her slacks, she headed for the door.

  Morning sunlight coming through the windows above the hotel entrance left warm yellow patterns on the floor of the lobby, reminding her of the butter-colored squares from the old quilt on her father’s bed. Someone had given it to him many years ago for helping them conceive their first child. Isabella had heard the story many times in her life but had never tired of it. Now there was no one left to retell the tale, and nothing to remind her but the quilt itself. Taking a deep shaky breath, she made herself focus on what she needed to do first, the deposit bag she was carrying uppermost in her mind.

  She looked toward the desk and saw Delia in conversation with a rather bedraggled stranger. When Delia saw her, she quickly waved her over.

  “You needed to see me?” Isabella asked.

  “Miss Abbott, this gentleman is asking about work.”

  Isabella smile politely as she turned her attention toward the man. She would guess his age was in the mid-sixties, with a good week’s worth of whiskers and dust on his shoes. His clothes were sturdy, but not very clean, and there was a look in his eyes that told her he hadn’t always been this way. When he met her gaze, he automatically straightened his shoulders and held his ground, as if expecting to be refused while he had yet to ask. Isabella held out her hand, waiting for the man to shake it. She could tell he was surprised by the gesture, but she’d learned long ago never to judge anyone by appearance alone.

  “I’m Isabella Abbott.”

  The man hesitate, then wiped his hand on the side of his pants before taking what she offered.

  “I am honored to meet you, Miss Abbott,” he said. “My name is Victor Ross.”

  “What kind of work are you looking for?” she asked.

  “I can do any kind of manual labor. I have no place to sleep, and I’ve run out of money. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

  There was no real need for workers, but Isabella didn’t have it in her to turn away a hungry man.

  “Well, Mr. Ross, I don’t need a regular groundskeeper, but there’s about a week’s worth of work that needs doing. I’m assuming you know how to use hedge clippers and a lawn mower?”

  “I will do what needs doing,” he repeated.

  There was something about the way he spoke that seemed odd, an almost pedantic rhythm to the words that made her think English might not be his first language. But a good speaking voice was not a requirement for mowing the grass.

  “Fine, then. How does eight dollars an hour, plus room and board, sound?”

  The man’s eyes widened as he did some quick mental calculations in his head, and then he nodded.

  “All right,” Isabella said. “Do you have any belongings?”

  He ducked his head. “A small bag outside the door.”

  “Good. There is a building on the grounds out back. All the equipment you will need is inside, along with a small room and a shower. You will eat your meals in the kitchen with the rest of the staff.”

  Victor Ross Looked at her then, judging the kindness in her eyes, and knew her to be a woman with a good heart.

  “Thank you, Miss Abbott. I will not let you down.”

  Isabella smiles. “Put up your bag and then go through the back entrance to the kitchen. You can start work after you’ve eaten. I’ll tell the cook that you’re coming.”

  “Yes, miss. Thank you, miss,” he said, and left before she could change her mind.

  Delia frowned, angling her heavily painted eyebrows into puzzled arches as she looked at her employer.

  “Miss Abbott, what are you going to tell Have Mosely when he comes to mow next week?”

  “Why don’t you give him a call and tell him not to come until the week after next?”

  Delia sighed. “Yes, Ma’am. You’re too tender hearted, you know.”

  Isabella shrugged. “Maybe so, but at least I’ll sleep tonight knowing I didn’t turn away a hungry man. Also, please call the kitchen and tell Sarah the man will be eating with them for the week. I’m going into town to the bank. I won’t be lont.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Drive safe.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella said, and was out the door before anyone else could change her plane.

  Vasili Rostov pushed his way inside the large metal shed and then stood in
the doorway, watching the dust motes shifting in the morning sun. He shut the door behind him as he moved to the back of the building, in search of the place where, for the next few days, he would lay his weary head.

  The door squeaked as he opened it. Inside was a bed just big enough for one, as well as a bureau and a small table and lamp. Except for the lack of a television, it reminded him of his apartment in Leningrad. The comfort was small but welcome, and beat a bedroll and hard ground all to hell.

  He tossed his bag on the bed, ignoring the dust he sent airborne, and headed back outside to the hotel kitchen. He hadn’t had a hot meal since he’d gotten off the plane in Montana. At least now he was on the premises where Vaclav Waller had hidden himself for the last thirty years. There was plenty of time to figure out what his next move would be while he was mowing grass and clipping bushes.

  Isabella was coming out of the bank when she heard someone calling her name. She stopped and turned, unaware of what a picture she made with the sun on her hair and a smile on her face.

  Bobby Joe Cage knew a good thing when he saw it, and Isabella Abbott was definitely it. He, along with a good half dozen of Braden’s finest young men, had been trying to make time with her for several years, but with little luck. However, with the passing of her father and then on of the old men she called uncle, he figured his chances had just increased. He came across the street at a lope, counting on his good looks to make up for his lack of a job and money.

  He took off his Stetson, aware that the sunshine made his blond hair turn gold, and flashed what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

  “Isabella…I’m so glad I saw you. I’ve been meaning to come out to Abbott House and pay my respects, but I didn’t want to intrude on your mourning.”

  “Why, thank you,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in months. Have you been out of town?”

  He’d been shacked up with a showgirl from Las Vegas, which hadn’t worked out, but he had no intention of telling her that.

  “Yes, and I only just heard about your losses after I got home yesterday. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Your father was a real good doctor. If it hadn’t been for him, my sister, Lucy, and her husband wouldn’t have been able to have a baby.”