by Lisa Bingham
“How is Jonah?” Willow asked innocently enough as she carried the tray into the other room. Setting the tea things on the overturned crate that she and Charles had been using for such a purpose, she settled into the straight-back chair.
“He’s fine. Willow, what is going on here?”
Before she could say anything, a clatter of boots came from upstairs. Both she and Sumner watched as Charles hurried down the staircase. Just before reaching the last step, he seemed to become aware of Sumner and his gait slowed.
“Dr. Ramsey.”
“Mr. Wanlass.”
Willow was relieved to see that Charles was completely dressed—worn boots, wool trousers, suspenders, dark maroon linen shirt. His jaw was freshly shaved and his hair had been so recently combed that she could still see the tine marks like furrows branching out from a severe side part.
His pale eyes skipped from Sumner to Willow, then back to the doctor. “Have you come to see the babies?” he asked.
If anything would keep Sumner from asking too many questions, it would be the twins. Willow had noted that when the other mail-order brides had visited, one glance at the wee little things had reduced the grown women to mush. Even Iona, practical, matter-of-fact Iona, had begun to coo and prattle.
“Of course I want to see the babies.”
Sumner’s features instantly softened as Charles approached and set the basket he carried at her feet.
“This is Adam,” Willow murmured, pointing to the larger twin with the waves of dark hair.
In the scant time he’d been with them, Adam was making his personality known. He wanted to eat when he wanted to eat, and there was no putting him off. He preferred to be held face out, so that he could survey the room, and he would perk up at the sound of conversation. But he wouldn’t sleep unless his little sister was near.
“And this is Eva.”
Eva was daintier, with only a wisp of hair. Unlike her brother, she was patient, slow to fill her stomach, and preferred to snuggle beneath Willow’s chin. She liked to be wrapped tightly in her blanket. She despised being left bare to the cold, even to change her diaper. Once she began to cry, she found it difficult to stop unless Willow or Charles rocked her. And if her brother was near, she tended to fling out a hand to touch him, as if reassuring herself that he was there.
“Oh, my,” Sumner breathed, her expression softening. “It doesn’t matter how many infants I’ve taken care of in my short career, I’m always so surprised at how small they are.” She reached for the blankets. “May I?”
“Of course. I was hoping you’d check them over. Make sure they’re healthy.”
Sumner took Eva first, laying the baby in her lap. As if sensing she was the center of attention, the little girl stretched, arching her back. Her eyes opened, then she yawned and closed them again.
“Sweet thing.” Then, just like every other adult who’d come into contact with the children, her voice became melodious. “And aren’t you the little princess, hmm, poppet?” Sumner chanced a quick glance at Charles. “I bet you have your papa wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”
Charles shifted uncomfortably, and Willow thought she saw a hint of red touch his ears.
“But I do believe Miss Madams has a wet nappy, don’t you, love?”
“Oh!” Willow jumped to her feet. “I’m so sorry! I should have known, since they slept so late—”
But Sumner waved aside her frantic apology.
“Sit, sit. I’ll want to undress them anyway to give them a proper examination.” She adopted a wide smile—one that was completely guileless, but which Willow recognized as her “do what I say” expression. “Charles, why don’t you go get some fresh water for the twins? Since we’ll have them undressed, we may as well give them their morning baths, don’t you think?”
He sighed softly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“What have you been feeding them?” Sumner asked, turning to Willow.
“Goat’s milk?” she offered hesitantly, worried that the doctor would chide her for doing the wrong thing.
Instead, Sumner nodded. “Nothing wrong with that.” Again, she speared Charles with a look that brooked no argument. “While you’re out getting water, you could tend to the goat, as well.”
It was clear that Charles didn’t want to go, but he didn’t really have an option if he wanted to avoid creating a scene.
“Fine. Anything else you need me to do?”
“I left a crate at the Dovecote. I managed to gather up some of the leftover bottles and baby things that I brought with me from my last posting. I left them on the table in my examination area, if you’d be so kind as to retrieve them.”
Willow watched Charles walk to the door. He slowly donned his hat and coat, then looked over his shoulder as if he hoped Sumner had changed her mind. But she was busy putting the baby back into the basket.
“Is there anything you need, Willow?” Charles asked softly.
She shook her head, wishing that she could think of a logical reason for him to stay. But she also knew that if Sumner was determined to have a private word with her, she’d have it. One way or another.
“I’ll be back then. Soon as I can.”
He closed the door quietly behind him. The latch had barely clicked into place before Sumner stood and walked calmly across the room to throw the bolt. Then she turned, folded her arms and asked sternly, “Now then...what on earth is going on?”
* * *
Charles was still standing bemusedly on the stoop when he realized that he’d forgotten the pails. It wouldn’t do him much good to go for water—or milk—if he didn’t have a container to put them in.
Low laughter sifted through the air and he glanced up to find Jonah regarding him with amusement from where he slouched against the lean-to. The man removed a pocket watch from his vest and checked the dial.
“Six minutes. I’m amazed that she got you out of the house that quickly. It has to be a record.”
Charles scowled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you do. She’s had a bee in her bonnet since she heard that you and Willow married on the sly over a year ago. I’ve been trying to keep her at our place as long as I could, but today she threatened to snowshoe into Bachelor Bottoms if I didn’t bring her here myself.” He straightened, then sauntered toward Charles. “It seems she’s in mother hen mode. She’s been worried that, since you and Willow kept so quiet about your courtship and all, you might have forced Willow into marrying you.”
“What?” Charles turned toward the door.
“It won’t do you any good,” Jonah warned.
Too late, Charles realized that he’d been locked out of his own house.
Jonah grinned. “What did she say to get you to leave?”
Charles hesitated, wondering if he should pound his fist against the rough wood or make a tactical retreat.
“She asked me to get some water and to milk the goat.”
Again, Jonah chuckled. “And what are you going to carry it all in? Your pockets?”
Charles glared at the man, but Jonah merely tipped his head toward the center of town.
“Come on. We’ll go to the cook shack and get you some breakfast—or maybe lunch. Then, we’ll borrow some pails from the back room where they prepare the food. Maybe, if the brides are baking today, we can even snag some cookies to take back to our wives. I know I’ve grown quite fond of the gingerbread men.”
Feeling a little numb—and a wee bit cowed—Charles reluctantly fell into step.
“Do you like gingerbread?” Jonah asked companionably.
“Aye. But I’m fonder of the oatmeal cookies. The ones with the raisins.”
“I can understand that, you being a Scot and all.”
“How long do you suppose this is going to take?”
; “It could be all day, knowing Sumner.”
Chapter Eight
The indistinct male voices had barely faded into the distance when Sumner asked again, “Willow? The truth, now. What on earth is going on with you and Charles Wanlass?”
Willow couldn’t meet Sumner’s eyes. Instead, she bent to fuss with the twins’ blankets.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she offered blithely. The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears.
“Willow Granger, those children are no more yours than they are mine. And if you think I believe that you married Charles Wanlass last spring when he was collecting mine equipment in Newcastle, you may as well claim I can sprout wings and fly!”
Willow’s eyes immediately filled with tears and her body was inundated with a flood of panic unlike anything she’d ever known before.
“You mustn’t tell!” she whispered. “Please!”
The sternness dissolved from Sumner’s features and she rushed to Willow, sitting on the chair again. She reached out, taking her hands, then began chaffing them as if Willow had a chill.
“Willow, honey, I’m not mad. I’m concerned. You do realize that the exchange of vows Batchwell insisted on was legally binding, don’t you?”
Willow nodded, sniffing. “I don’t care. I—we—had to do something.” She broke free, scrubbing at the tears that continued to fall. Although she’d known that her actions might one day incur the disapproval of the rest of the inhabitants of Bachelor Bottoms, she couldn’t bear it if Sumner thought less of her. “Don’t you see? These are Jenny’s babies!”
Sumner exhaled. “I figured as much.”
“She left them in that basket, here in the keeping room of his house. There was a note pinned to the blankets that said ‘Please, please protect my little ones and keep them as your own. They are in more danger than I can express.’”
Willow had thought about that note so many times that the words seemed to have been carved into her heart.
“When Batchwell stormed in, Charles and I...we reacted instinctively. We couldn’t let them be taken away or given to...strangers!” She sobbed. “Don’t you see? When we realized that Jenny had been murdered...”
“I told them not to say that.”
“You mean she wasn’t killed?”
Sumner’s eyes gave her thoughts away.
“You suspect it, too, don’t you?” Willow pressed.
“Yes, but I didn’t want the gossip to get out any sooner than necessary.” She looked down into the basket. Her lips thinned for a moment, then she met Willow’s gaze head-on. “But marriage, Willow?”
“It was the only way. Charles has told me that, when this is all over and we’ve found Jenny’s killer, we can get things annulled if we want.”
Sumner still didn’t look convinced.
“Please tell me you’ll help us. It was Jenny who chose Charles to be the protector of her children. But he can’t do this alone.” She could see that Sumner was weakening. “Please. Jenny was my friend.”
“Very well. But only until we can determine who did this to poor Jenny.”
Willow felt a puff of relief burst from her throat. “Thank you!” She hesitated before asking, “And you won’t tell Jonah, will you?”
Sumner shook her head. “Something tells me that ship sailed long ago—probably about the same time you and Charles exchanged vows.”
* * *
Charles’s stomach was growling by the time he and Jonah collected their meals—bacon, pancakes, eggs and fried potatoes. As the rich scents twined up from his plate, he knew that he wasn’t the only miner in Bachelor Bottoms who would rue the day when the mail-order brides were banished from the valley and Stumpy resumed his job as master chef.
Except now, Charles had more to mourn than the loss of the home cooking they’d been enjoying for a month now. All too soon, his bride would be forced to leave, as well.
Either that, or Charles would have to find a new place of employment.
Jonah led him into the private dining area, shutting the door with his shoulder. “We miss you down in the mine,” he stated, as they settled into their places and draped the cloth napkins over their laps.
Cloth napkins.
Charles had seen the use of more napkins in the last few days than he had in his entire life. The Grottlemeyer Foundling Home had struggled to put enough food on the table. There’d been no extra coin for such niceties as china teacups, cut-glass saltshakers or finely hemmed linens.
“We’ve been trying to make some headway on that new tunnel, number nine. But the announcement of your marriage has left me without an experienced blast foreman.”
Under normal circumstances, Charles was sure that he would have felt a pang of guilt. But when he thought of what might have happened if he and Willow hadn’t agreed to Batchwell’s marriage ceremony...
No. He’d done the right thing.
They both had.
“What in the world were you thinking, Charles?”
Charles had been about to take a mouthful of egg, but when he looked up, his eyes met Jonah’s.
He knows about the lies.
For long moments, his fork hung suspended in the air, the yolk dripping, before he set the utensil down with great care.
As he held Jonah’s stern gaze, he knew there was no sense trying to lie any further.
“How long have you suspected the truth?”
Jonah’s lips twitched at the corners. “Let’s see...from the moment you opened your mouth and insisted those babies were yours.”
“What gave me away?”
Jonah half laughed, half sighed. “The fact that you insisted those babies were yours.”
Jonah uttered the words in a way that made it clear the answer was obvious.
“Let’s face it, man, I’ve known you a long time. If you’d married Willow while you were on a business trip—or you’d received word that you were going to have a child—I would have known about it from day one.” He leaned forward, tapping the table with his index finger. “You never would have kept anything like that a secret. Ever. You would have been owning up to your responsibilities and hotfooting it back to England.”
Too late, Charles realized that his friend knew him much better than Charles knew himself.
“Who else knows?”
“Sumner, I’d wager.”
“You haven’t said anything to her?”
“I was pretty sure I didn’t have to. Willow? Pregnant? With twins? Come on. The girl might have been wearing those horrible tent-like dresses of hers, but she was never pregnant.” Jonah leaned back again, spearing a potato with his fork.
“Do you think anyone else noticed?”
Jonah shrugged. “You might get away with it. Willow has always done her best to stay in the background. She’s always happiest when she isn’t being noticed.” He took a bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. “So, what are you planning?”
“What do you mean?”
“About Willow? You, uh, intend to stay married?”
Even a day before, Charles was sure that he would have offered an immediate “No!” But right now...he couldn’t bring himself to utter the word aloud, so he said instead, “I don’t know.”
For some reason, that made Jonah smile. “You like her?”
“Of course I like her. I wouldn’t have let things get this far if I didn’t think she was a fine woman. An...honorable woman.”
Jonah’s eyes narrowed and he shook his fork in Charles’s direction. “I don’t have to tell you that what you’ve done can have lasting consequences.”
“We are both well aware of that. I’ve told Willow that, in the future, if she wants an annulment, I’ll see to the matter myself.”
“And in the meantime...how do you plan to protect that girl’s reputation? You know how this commu
nity talks.”
Charles could feel his ears begin to heat. “We have separate bedrooms and a pair of babes to take up all our time.”
Jonah didn’t seem convinced.
“When the time comes, I’ll make a full confession, tell everyone how we came to be in this predicament and why. Considering the fact that Jenny was killed and her babes were threatened...that should lend some weight to our explanations. If Willow wants to end things between us, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Again, Jonah seemed to regard him like an insect pinned to a board. “What about you? Do you want an annulment?”
“I don’t know,” Charles finally admitted.
“And those twins. Are they Jenny’s?”
“We think so, yes. Someone left them in a basket in my home with a brief note. Jenny was afraid the children were in danger.”
Jonah seemed to mull over those words. “Judging by what happened, I’d say her fears were well-grounded.”
“Willow and I have decided—by mutual agreement—that the children will remain with us until we’re sure they’re safe. One way or another, we intend to find out who killed Jenny Reichmann.”
Thankfully, Jonah didn’t argue the point. Instead, he set his fork down and reached into his pocket. “Then you’ll be needing this.”
He held out a ring, dropping it into Charles’s outstretched hand. As he studied it, Charles could tell by the size that it was most likely a man’s. It was well-worn, the gold filigree worn away in spots. The stone—an acidy yellow-green peridot—was scratched. Inside an inscription read: Love Always, D.
“What is this?”
“Isaac Zimmerman, the undertaker, took on the job of laying Jenny out this afternoon. He found that clutched in Jenny’s hand, along with a few strands of dark brown hair.”
* * *
Charles returned to find the door unlocked. Carrying the pails of water and milk inside, he set them on the floor and called out, “Willow!”
From above, he heard the sound of quick footfalls. Then Willow rushed down the steps.
