by Caroline Lee
Laughing, Penelope stepped around the workbench to take the baby from him. As she did, her hands closed over his, and their eyes met over the tiny black-haired head. And her heart lurched. There was something there, something in this moment, which screamed to her.
This is what life is about! A hardworking man, a tiny life relying on the two of you! The joy in his face when you walked in, the pride in keeping the baby safe and happy!
Her rather important job at Prince Armory seemed to matter less and less these days.
And then the baby’s lower lip pulled down in that adorable pout Penelope couldn’t resist, and she was pulled back to the here-and-now. “Oh no. Shush, shush, darling,” she murmured as she cradled the baby to her breast. “I’m here, I’m here.” Miraculously, her voice—or something about her—always seemed to calm the baby. “Let’s get you something to eat, hmmm?”
She continued to talk to the little one as she picked up the bottle Micah had obviously made earlier and gave it a few shakes. “It’s not as warm as you like it, but it’s hot outside, isn’t it?” The little one reached for the bottle and Penelope had to chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” The new-fangled rubber nipple on the end of the tube slipped easily into the baby’s mouth, and she sucked eagerly. “That’s right, little one. Everything’s fine now, isn’t it?”
She’d been amazed when Micah had pulled the glass bottles from a shelf in the pantry and sent Tom running into town with enough money to buy formula. Formula! She’d had no idea babies could drink something powdered which worked as well as milk! Apparently, Blue had come to the orphanage as a baby too, and Abuela—the elderly woman who’d raised Micah—had invested in some bottles to keep on hand. Those and the diapers had certainly come in handy, although recently, Penelope had found herself doing more hand-washing than she ever had during her adult life.
And to her surprise, she was loving every minute of it. Babies had never interested her too much when she’d been at the orphanages; they were just tiny, loud little things that a bunch of harried women up on the top floor rushed about taking care of. Sometimes the little ones grew to become noisy little children, and sometimes they were weak and were buried in the orphan’s lot at the cemetery; it was just a fact of life in the orphanage.
But this baby would lack for nothing, she knew. In a few short days, the little one had completely stolen her heart, and as Penelope held the bottle at the precise angle Micah had taught her, she knew she’d move Heaven and Earth to keep this baby safe.
The little one had dark hair and eyes, which might eventually be a shade between green and gray. Penelope couldn’t help but think of herself when she stared down at the baby. Had she ever looked like this? She must have, because she’d arrived at her first orphanage at just about the same age. Small and helpless and hungry.
The matron had said an old woman with a big wart on her nose had delivered Penelope to the orphanage late one evening in the middle of a rain storm. The woman hadn’t even named the baby before she’d disappeared, so after a few days, the matron decided on “Penelope,” since the older children were reading Odysseus.
And that was the sum total of Penelope’s knowledge of her beginnings. She knew orphan children’s pasts were often a mystery; rarely did one have the fortune of finding their true family. The best they could hope for was making a family. Although, seeing Micah and his family, suddenly that option didn’t seem like second-best.
What about this baby? Did she have a name already? A loving family who had cradled her to their hearts? Or had she been cast off, the same as Penelope? Would they ever know the truth about her?
The little one was sucking down the last of the milky formula, and her wiggles drew Penelope’s attention away from her maudlin musings.
She cleared her throat. “Did you pick up any more formula, or should I stop by Crowne’s this afternoon?” The question came naturally, as if she were not only aware of what it took to care for a baby, but familiar with the town as well.
“I think we’ve got enough, although I did ask Ian to order some more just in case. Once she’s a little more settled we’ll start her on solids, and things will be easier for everyone.” All that was visible of Micah was the top of his head leaning over the workbench as he concentrated on the part of the saddle in front of him.
“Solids?” She lifted the baby to her shoulder to be burped. “But she doesn’t have any teeth!”
He froze for a moment, and when he glanced up at her, he was smiling. “She doesn’t need teeth, Pea. We’ll mash up the food real good. Start with boiled vegetables and make sure they’re so mushy she can eat them without teeth.” His grin grew. “We can start with peas.”
“Oh.” She focused once more on the tiny mouth sucking greedily at the bottle. “I guess there’s so much I don’t know about babies, huh?”
“That’s alright. I know plenty.” It wasn’t bragging, just stating the facts. She knew he’d helped to care for all of the younger children at the orphanage. “And I also know it’s much harder on your own.”
He wasn’t looking at her anymore, so she felt safe peeking his way again. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, babies require a bunch of hands. Jack is alright, but Tom is all thumbs, and the twins…well, they’re a little too enthusiastic. Rojita would’ve been in charge usually, but I refuse to telegraph her and Hank and tell them to come home sooner. But…if I didn’t have you here—if I was trying to take care of the baby and that bunch of dunderheads…I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
There was something in his voice which told her his words were important somehow, but she didn’t know how to respond.
He cleared his throat, staring down at the leather without having actually moved his tools in a solid minute. “I guess what I’m trying to say, Pea, is thanks. I’m still not sure why you came to find me, but having your help for the last few days has meant a lot.” He glanced up at her, and seemed surprised to find her staring. “And you too. Just being here, I mean. It’s meant a lot.”
Her smile was tentative. “I’m glad to be here.” She was. She’d learned so much about diapering and bathing and burping and swaddling…and Micah. She’d learned so much about Micah, and as a result, herself.
Uncomfortable at revealing so much about herself, she cleared her throat and looked down at the baby. Her little contented smile was heart-warming, and Penelope made a face to try to get the baby to giggle. She brushed one fingernail lightly down the infant’s cheek, and marveled at the little one’s perfect skin. “When do babies get their teeth?”
“Six months, maybe eight, depending on the kid.” She could tell from the way his voice sounded Micah was working on the saddle once more. “She’s still got a few to go.”
“You know how old she is? Did you find out more about her?” The baby seemed to know they were talking about her; she blinked slowly, but otherwise didn’t take her gaze from Penelope’s.
“Yeah, turns out that ten-year-old boys aren’t really the most reliable when it comes to getting information,” he muttered, his attention on the leather. “But I asked Meri Carpenter yesterday evening.”
“She’s the doctor’s wife, right?” Over the last few days, Penelope had found herself asking all sorts of questions around town in an attempt to learn more about the place Micah called home. And the more she learned, the more fascinated she became at such a welcoming, happy place.
“No, she’s a doctor in her own right. She tended Abuela last spring.”
“Oh.” Penelope knew the old woman’s death was still raw to all of them. “Well, what did Doctor Carpenter say about our little girl here??”
“She was the one who happened to be standing nearby when Pearl Pettigrew got off the train—Pearl’s from Haskell. She, ah…she works at Bonnie’s Place.”
Penelope broke her gaze away from the little one’s. “Bonnie’s Place?”
As she watched, Micah’s cheeks reddened, but he didn’t look up. “Yeah.”
&
nbsp; It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she understood. Bonnie’s Place must be a whorehouse, or someplace similar enough to make Micah blush to talk about it. “Ah. Alright then. So Pearl is the mother?” If so, the baby’s father was probably one of her customers.
“No. Pearl is real tiny, with pale hair and a real squeaky voice.”
She couldn’t resist teasing. “Sounds like you know Pearl pretty well.”
His eyes flew up to meet hers, and the shock in them made her want to giggle. The thought of Micah knowing any woman “pretty well” was enough to make her stomach flip over—and she’d have to examine why that was later—but he sure was fun to tease.
“I just— I don’t— I’ve met her—“
She started giggling, and had to put him out of his misery. “So you don’t think Pearl is the baby’s mother?” The little one nestled in the crook of her arm was long-limbed and dark-haired, much like Penelope herself.
He cleared his throat once more, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Meri told me Pearl said the baby is about four months old, and the mother is one of, um…her colleagues.”
“At Bonnie’s Place.” Penelope kept her tone and expression serious, but felt like smirking at Micah’s discomfort.
“Yeah. A gal named Clara. She’s the really, really tall one.”
“You say that like I should know who she is.”
He blinked at her for a few seconds, then his face split into a grin. “Sorry, Pea. I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“That you weren’t one of my friends—I mean, one of the men I hang around with on Saturday nights at the Gingerbread House, like Max DeVille and the others.” His smile dimmed, and he cleared his throat again. “But you are one of my friends. Right?”
Drat these stupid tears. It must be the baby she was holding; she wasn’t usually this emotional. “I’ve always been your friend, Micah.”
He nodded once, his now-serious eyes as dark as his hair. “I’m glad you’re here, Pea.”
“Me too.” It didn’t seem sufficient to convey how special this time was to her, or how much she’d fallen in love with his life.
Instead of trying to find the words, she rubbed her nose against the baby’s forehead. The little one always smelled so wonderful, no matter how many dirty diapers they’d gone through, or how long ago they’d last bathed her in the basin on the counter. She smelled like…it was impossible to describe, but the scent—and the fluffy black hair and the gummy smile and those baby coos—never failed to send a jolt of longing through Penelope.
Desperate to change the subject, she hurried to ask, “Did this Pearl say what the baby’s name is?”
“No.” He’d gone back to his work. “She said Clara never let herself name her. She’d been planning on giving her up to a family who wanted a baby, so she couldn’t bring herself to name the little sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Penelope grinned at the endearment. “Do you know of any families in the area who want a baby?”
“I haven’t heard of any—we are an orphanage, after all. Blue wasn’t the last baby we took in actually—there was a little boy about eighteen months ago. But he was adopted by a farm couple a few miles west of here and is fat and sassy now.”
“No one ever wanted Blue? Or the girls or any of the others?”
“There’ve been other orphans who’ve come and gone, you know. But…” He leaned in closer to his work, concentrating on the leather. His words turned speculative. “But we’re a family, si? If someone came along and tried to adopt Blue or one of the girls—or even Jack or Tom, although God knows why anyone would want those dunderheads—I dunno if I could let them go. They’re a part of my heart now.”
A part of my heart. This boy who’d grown up to be a good man, a brave and intelligent and special man, was worth more than his father was willing to pay to have him back.
“So you wanna name her?”
His question took her by surprise. “What?”
“The baby.” He still hadn’t looked up. “What would you name her?”
Penelope bounced the little one a little, and then held her upright. The baby burbled and smiled that special smile, which showed off her one dimple and crinkled her eyes. Penelope’s heart melted, and she resisted the urge to kiss the little cheeks. “Antonia.”
“Antonia? Why?”
“Anthony is the patron saint of lost things. She was lost, but now she’s found a home.” And a place in his heart, Penelope knew. A place in her own heart, for that matter.
“You’re Catholic?”
It wasn’t the question she was expecting, but she answered it, speaking to the baby instead of him. “I was lucky enough to receive a scholarship to a prestigious girls’ school through one of their charities. I found I liked the idea of saints interceding on my behalf. Lord knows I could use it.”
He chuckled. “Alright. ‘Antonia it is. But be warned that the girls are going to call her ‘Toni.’ I just know it.”
His utter ease with these children—this baby—shook her in the most wonderful way. “You belong here,” she blurted.
It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyhow. “I do. I couldn’t imagine life without my family.”
Then he smiled, and Penelope smiled back, and she knew the truth.
She was falling in love with Micah all over again, and she couldn’t hurt him. This is where he belongs—this humble leather-working shop, this orphanage, this family. This was his life, he was happy here… and she wouldn’t take that away from him.
It would break her heart to leave him, to leave little Antonia, to leave this town and this life she was coming to adore. But she couldn’t hurt him.
CHAPTER FIVE
“So what you’re saying is, I’m a terrible cook.” Micah pretended outrage as he held out his hand to help Pea step down to the boardwalk in front of Mayor’s Books on their way to Crowne’s Dry Goods. He liked the way she held his hand a few moments longer than necessary.
Pea snickered at his tone. “No, no! Well…yes.”
She giggled—actually giggled—again. In the almost-two weeks since she’d exploded back into his life, she’d changed. He hadn’t pressed her for an explanation on why she’d tracked him down, and something told him he didn’t want to know. But when she’d arrived in Everland with him, she was anxious and uptight. He remembered the way her knuckles had turned white as she’d clenched the handles on her rifle case, and how she’d whipped her head around, trying to keep track of all the people and conversations around her.
Now though? Now she laughed with him and the kids all the time. She was relaxed; she teased. She not only recognized people in Everland, she greeted them by name and asked after their families. And Antonia? Dios mio! Seeing her strolling down Andersen Ave, holding that baby…it was like a dream come true.
Well, a dream he hadn’t even known he’d had. But Pea had always been part of his heart—she’d never left it. And now she was here, cradling and cooing at a baby with dark hair and green eyes just like a mother would. It was enough to make a man’s heart swell.
“You think you can do so much better, huh?” He jabbed the giggling Penelope with his elbow, but carefully, so she didn’t jostle little Antonia. “I mean, I’ve had your cooking, and I appreciate you making that— What was it? With the chicken?”
“Baked chicken,” she said blandly.
“Yeah, everyone liked that meal. But I’m the one with the baby experience here.”
“And I’m apparently the one with taste, Micah. No wonder she didn’t like her first taste of real food. You just mashed up some peas!”
He rolled his eyes as they meandered past Mayor’s Bookstore. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Sure, if you want the poor dear to grow up without any appreciation for fine cuisine.”
“And you think you can do so much better?”
“Tonight I’ll take the rest of the peas you managed not to desecrate, and I’ll make a pea soup w
hich will tickle your fancy well enough.”
He made a show of slowing thoughtfully to a stop, then clucking his tongue against the top of his mouth. “I dunno… I’m not particularly ticklish.”
Having stopped as well, she snorted and rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll save it all for this sweetie, won’t I?” He loved the way she puckered her lips when she spoke to the baby. “You’ll like my pea soup, won’t you, sweetheart? It’ll be yummy and it’ll fill up your tummy so much better than just mashed peas. Yes it will.” She blew a raspberry, then giggled along with the baby. “You’re just the cutest little thing, aren’t you?”
“You really are.”
Her gaze jerked towards him in surprise. “The baby, not me.”
Micah grinned. “Both of you. You’re adorable.”
And Dios mio, he liked the way she blushed. The way those eyebrows pulled together in the middle, like she was confused by his praise. He liked everything about her.
Of course, after almost two weeks working beside her for the baby’s sake, he knew she wasn’t for him. She’d often spoken about her life back in New York, and how she’d have to return. He could tell how proud she was of her position and everything she’d worked for, and knew there wasn’t a place for her here in Everland.
Especially with someone like him—a poor, scarred leatherworker. Even if that poor, scarred leatherworker hadn’t suffered a single headache since she’d been here, since she’d rubbed his head and brought back so many good memories.
So he cleared his throat. “You sure you don’t have any baby experience? You mastered the ‘baby-talk’ thing pretty well.”
She shoved her nose in the air and raised one expressive eyebrow. “I might be a strong, independent, self-sufficient woman, but aren’t women supposed to also be intrinsically nurturing? I am still a woman, am I not?”
He had no idea what “intrinsically” meant, but it didn’t matter. Chuckling at her haughty tone, he made a production out of eyeing her fancy green gown—one of three she’d brought in that valise—top to bottom, lingering on the curves of her hips and breasts. “Yeah, Pea,” he drawled. “I suppose you are.”
