Every Blue Moon

by Hildie McQueen

  Grace came over to him and squeezed into the chair next to him. Bronson lifted both eyebrows at her innocent smile. “I think you should court Olivia. She spoke of you the other day and got that look.”

  “What look?” He leaned away from his sister-in-law, because when Ashley watched them, his brows drew together.

  “Really?” his mother piped up. “It makes sense she’d find my boy irresistible, especially after being trapped in the cabin with him.” Immediately, his mind went to sharing the bed with Olivia and he cursed inwardly when his face warmed. His mother didn’t seem to notice. “Of course, you’d been knocked on the head pretty bad. You may have been a bit out of sorts.”

  “I was fine, Ma.” He really wanted to know what Olivia had said about him, but couldn’t find a way to ask without his mother pouncing on it and going into full matchmaker mode. “I don’t think Olivia holds me in high regard.”

  His mother sniffed. “See, I knew it.”

  “Quite the opposite, she mentioned something about you being an honorable man.” Grace patted his hand. “I think she’s sweet on you. Of course, she wants to be courted properly.” She stood and went back to where his mother sat. “What about Josiah? He’s single and has that romantic look about him.” Just like that, the woman discarded Bronson as a prospect.

  “Josiah is not romantic,” a scowling Ashley finally decided to speak. “Why do you think that, Grace?”

  “We’re having a woman’s conversation, no need for you boys to interrupt,” his mother admonished and both women began to chuckle, ignoring Ashley’s narrowed gaze.

  Bronson wondered if Olivia turned him down because he’d not asked properly. He scratched at his beard stubble. It was true. He’d made it all about his duty to her after what transpired. He’d never told her how beautiful he found her or that he thought about her often.

  Exactly how did a man go about courting? “What do you consider the proper way to court?” He looked to the women. “I mean, Ashley didn’t exactly court you, Grace, did he? If anyone is clueless, it would be him.”

  Ashley turned to him and nodded which made his mouth twitch. At least his brother was honest.

  Grace and his mother turned to him. Maybe he’d give it another try with Olivia. There was little to lose at this point.

  Other than his pride.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I didn’t court you properly.” Grace was caught off guard when Ashley took her hand upon arriving at home and pulled her away from the doorway onto the porch. “Come here.”

  He wrapped his strong arms around her and enveloped her against his large body. The chilly night remained clear and Grace snuggled into his chest. “Are your feelings hurt, dear?”

  Shivers traveled up her spine at the sound of his deep timbre. “You didn’t hurt my feelings, but it got me to thinkin’ that you might want to be romanced.” His lips nuzzled into her neck.

  If he only knew that he romanced her every time he looked at her, each time he reached for her hand and pressed his lips against her skin. Sometimes, she caught him watching her when he didn’t think she knew it and when she’d look up, a corner of his mouth would lift. Just enough to entice her near and kiss it. Yes, the man didn’t know it, but he definitely was a romantic.

  Then again it wouldn’t hurt to let him try a bit harder. “Well, sometimes I do wonder what it would be like to get flowers or poetry.”

  “Poetry?”

  “Mm hmm.” She lifted her hand and caressed his face. “I bet you could write something that would melt my heart.”

  *****

  The next evening, Ashley bent over his piece of paper. When he scratched a line through his words, it tore and he cursed, crumpling and throwing it into the fire. Grace was absolutely wrong, he couldn’t write poetry. The words in his mind came across horribly when written down.

  “What are you so deep in thought about?” Grace came up behind him and slipped her arms around his neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I am not a poet.” He waited while she remained quiet, her hands sliding across his chest.

  “I think you’re wrong, Ash. With all the time you spend in thought, there must be so many beautiful things in your mind. I bet you’d write the most beautiful poems.”

  With a grumble, he shrugged. “You have a vivid imagination.”

  In thought, she rounded him and sat on his lap. Ashley wondered what he could say that would be anything close to a poem. Nothing came, so he sighed and pulled her against him.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Grace pushed away. “Talk to me.”

  He looked around the room for inspiration. “Grace…” she stopped his words with a soft press of her lips over his.

  “What do you feel when I kiss you? How about when our eyes meet?” She looked into his eyes and he wanted to grab her and kiss her again. Harder.

  Finally he gave in and decided to be honest.

  “It’s like warm embers stroked by a breeze that turn into flames that burn straight into my soul. Each touch of your hand and lighting of your fingers over mine is like heaven. It makes me thankful, not just for you, but for us. If there was a way to snap my fingers and make time stop each time you smile at me, I would.”

  He stopped talking when a tear slid down her face. “I’m sorry.” At least now she knew he couldn’t express his feelings. It didn’t occur to him that his dumb words would bring her to tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  It was unexpected that obviously he also made her angry. She grabbed his shirt, her fingers clutching the fabric, tugging at him as if trying to shake him, if not for her slight size.

  “Stop talking, Ashley.”

  Of course, it would be the smart thing to do.

  Her shiny, dark eyes met his and he swallowed waiting. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” She cupped his face. “I want to remember each word and keep it in my heart.”

  All he could do was blink at her.

  “Oh, Ashley, I love it. Did you memorize it just for me?”

  “No. I just told you what I feel.”

  “I am going to write it down.” She jumped to her feet and rushed about the room looking for a piece of paper. Once back at the table, she bent over the paper scribbling quickly and then looked over her shoulder at him. “What was that you said about snapping your fingers?”

  “Each time you smile at me,” he told her and was gifted with her lips curving. Ashley snapped his fingers to emphasize it.

  “You are the most amazing man.” The next thing he knew, he was being pulled toward the bedroom by an overly enthusiastic wife.

  Apparently poetry did work.

  He’d have to tell Bronson.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With every side-to-side motion of the carriage, Olivia’s stomach pitched and gurgled, forcing her take great gulps of air in an attempt to keep from retching. Thank goodness her aunt’s home in Virginia City was not too far. They would arrive soon and, once there, she could excuse herself and get sick in private.

  She closed her eyes and put her face to the portal hoping the cool breeze would help. “Mother, do you have any bread in Aunt Judith’s basket? I’m a bit nauseous.” An understatement, her stomach pitched once again and she placed her hand flat against it. How could she have been so unlucky that after her first time with a man she’d become pregnant? Yes, they’d made love more than once, three times actually, but that didn’t make it right in her mind.

  Each day that passed confirmed what she dreaded and now the motion sickness made her positive. She was expecting Bronson’s child.

  Already she’d begun to formulate a plan. One that would hopefully work in her favor. It would be a way to avoid humiliating her parents and keep the gossips at bay.

  Once they returned from visiting her aunt, she’d face both her mother and father to confess the truth. Their hearts would be broken, of course, and there was no way to help it now. It broke hers to hurt them in such a way. She’d committed the wor
st offense possible, violating their trust in her.

  No matter everything she faced, Olivia did not resent the child in her womb. He or she would soon be her entire world, someone to love unconditionally. A beautiful face with golden curls and bright blue eyes came to mind and, for a few minutes, it brought a respite in her upset stomach. She couldn’t wait to meet the baby, to hold the precious bundle and care for him or her with love and dedication. She’d spend nights in watch over the cradle while the infant slept, delighting in every breath.

  Motherhood came to her, not in the way she planned, but a blessing nonetheless. It didn’t escape her that Bronson would suspect, but he’d be married to that Laura person by then if he was so smitten by her and there was nothing he’d be able to do. Yes, she would admit to him the child was his, but by then he wouldn’t be forced to marry someone he did not love. She, on the other hand, had already fallen in love with him, but surely that would pass. Or would seeing him in her child’s features every day only reinforce it? A sigh escaped. There was no use in wishing for what she could not have. Yet her heart physically ached at the thought of Bronson with another woman, with another child in his arms.

  Once she spoke to her parents, she would go to New York and stay with her sister until the baby was born. The specifics of her plan sort of dissolved after that. Sometimes, she considered a story of becoming a widow soon after marrying in New York, other times that she’d be bringing back a niece or nephew to raise as her own. Either way, she would return to Alder Gulch. It was hard enough having to leave her father to fend for himself at the clinic for the few months she’d be gone. Plus, it was home. It was where she’d be able to catch glimpses of Bronson on occasion. Yes, each time would be difficult, not able to touch him or ever experience his kisses again, but hopefully it would be enough.

  The coach traveled over an especially unleveled area and immediately her insides revolted. She placed her hand over her mouth and was sure her eyes bulged.

  “You don’t look well, should we stop?” Her mother’s worried gaze raked over her. “Are you going to be sick?”

  Olivia’s voice shook. “Y—Yes please, just for a bit.”

  With her mother’s knock on the roof, the driver pulled the carriage to the side of the well-traveled road, having to maneuver it under trees to keep enough of a clearing for anyone passing by.

  She couldn’t wait for the elderly man to open the door. Instead, she plowed past him to rush behind some trees for privacy and threw up.

  The cool weather and the now stable ground beneath her helped some, but she still wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground and allow the nausea to pass.

  Her mother came close and patted her back. “My poor, dear. There, there.”

  With difficulty, she straightened and allowed her mother to take her arm to walk back to the carriage. A soft smile curved her mother’s lips when she looked to Olivia, the knowing light in her eyes confirmed by her quiet voice. “I was sick like this when I carried you. It will pass, dear, but I’m afraid carriage rides will not be easy for you in the first months.”

  That’s when she fainted.

  Sunlight poured into the room through sheer curtains and Olivia rolled to her side, thankful the entire coach ride experience had been nothing more than a dream. Maybe if she opened her eyes, she’d find out that she’d never left home and she could beg out of going to her aunt’s. The thought of spending the day in bed made her smile.

  She reached for whatever was on her forehead and found a moist cloth.

  No. Oh no. It had not been a dream at all, but a stark reality. Hard, annoying reality.

  “Awake are you? Feeling better, sweetheart?” her mother said as she and her aunt’s faces hovered above, both peering down at her.

  “It’s a good thing someone happened by and helped your mother and Henry load you in the carriage. My driver is too old for such things,” her aunt told her cheerfully. “I tell you, Dottie, babies are trouble from the start. That’s why I never had any. This one being a Cole, well, I figure he’s gonna be a rascal, too, just like his father.” She gripped both hands together and raised them to her chest. “Of course, I was never truly courted, either.”

  “Judith, you were courted by that nice man Albert Pike. You broke that poor man’s heart,” her mother admonished while placing a new cloth over Olivia’s brow. “He was truly smitten and followed you about like a lost puppy.”

  “He was shorter than a child. Looked me straight in my bosom. Who wants a husband you can’t see eye-to-eye with? Eye to bosom is not the same.” Her aunt chuckled which prompted her mother to as well.

  “Oh, the things you say, sometimes. I can’t help but snicker when I’m home alone remembering.” Her mother laughed until she had to wipe a tear from her eyes.

  “Did you know Albert married Marietta Harris?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, poor Mr. Harris couldn’t have been in the ground a few hours and Marietta had planted her plump self in Albert’s bed.”

  “Judith!” Her mother slid at look toward Olivia. She wanted to roll her eyes. Obviously she was not a virginal maid to be kept in the dark about adult topics anymore.

  “Do you remember how handsome Hank Cole was when he was that boy’s age?” Her aunt continued chatting while pouring tea into a cup. “Does this boy, Bronson, resemble him? I only remember Ashley. That one is a big boy.”

  “Oh yes,” her mother replied with a wide smile. “All of Hank’s boys are rather tall and just as handsome, if not more so, than their father.”

  “I sure hope they continue to make pretty children.” Her aunt’s gaze flickered in Olivia’s direction. “I’ll love the child even if it turns out to be homely, of course.”

  “Judith!” Her mother couldn’t stop the loud, unladylike chuckle that escaped. “Stop now, you’re going to hurt Olivia’s feelings.”

  Olivia frowned, wanting to ask if anyone found her predicament troublesome in the least. Especially since they seemed to have forgotten she was even in the room.

  A bell rang.

  “Oh, my goodness!” her mother exclaimed, her face brightening. “There’s someone at the door. It must be Calvin’s reply. That was fast, wasn’t it?” she said referring to Olivia’s father. She turned to Olivia and blinked as if just then remembering her. “Stay there. I’ll be right back; don’t move. We’re leaving in a couple hours and I want to make sure you’re rested enough.”

  “I am not moving. I plan to stay in bed for the rest of the day,” Olivia grumbled. “I thought we were staying here for a couple of days. I am not prepared to travel again so soon. Mother?” She gave up when her mother continued on her way out the room, not listening.

  Her aunt neared and sat in a chair they’d pulled up to the bedside. “Don’t look so confused, dear. I know it seems like a mess at this point, but once you’re married, it will all be fine as rain.” She lifted her hands to her hair. “I’ve got Eugenie coming to fix my hair. I can ask her to do something about yours, too.” She reached for a bell and rang it, swinging it more like a whip than with any delicacy. “Eugenie!”

  Her aunt gave Olivia an expectant look. “Come to think of it, maybe we can bring Eugenie along. So your hair doesn’t get all disheveled if you can’t stay straight.”

  “What are you talking about?” Olivia finally croaked. “I’m not getting married.”

  “Oh, yes, you are, young lady.” Her mother returned waving a strip of paper like a banner. “Thank goodness my suspicions had your father prepared for this. As we speak, he’s rounding up that Cole boy and the judge. We are returning to Alder Gulch and there’s going to be a wedding.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  An angry man always seemed larger than normal. Bronson could tell from the glare he received from Dr. Dougherty that he was the reason for whatever it was that angered the man.

  With a snarl, the doctor pushed past him into the house. “I must speak to you and your parents at once.”

  His
stomach sunk, something was definitely wrong. Terribly and utterly wrong.

  Just as he was about to call out, his mother came in from the kitchen, a towel in her hands. “Whatever is the matter, Calvin? Please come in. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Dr. Dougherty’s expression visibly softened at his mother nearing. Funny what a lovely woman did to a man. But when his eyes cut to Bronson, they were still sharp with fury. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but I have an important matter I must discuss with you and Hank at once.”

  “Of course,” his mother replied sending him a questioning look. Bronson shrugged in reply. “Go fetch your father. He just went out back.” She ushered the doctor into the kitchen. “Come, Calvin, I’ll pour you some brandy. It looks like you need it.”

  Bronson found his father on the porch cleaning his rifle. He wondered if it was the best time to bring him inside for what had to be bad news of some sort. His father’s sky blue eyes met his and he found himself wanting to be five again.

  “Pa, Doc is here. He’s asking to speak to you and Ma. Me, too.”

  “Is that so,” his father’s brow furrowed. “Something I should know?”

  “Could have something to do with what happened between Olivia and me when we were snowbound in Josiah’s cabin.”

  “Don’t say anymore.” His father stalked into the cabin. Thankfully, he’d placed the rifle on the floorboards. “Come on.”

  The air in the kitchen was thick with awkwardness. His father shook the doctor’s hand and sat at his usual spot at the head of the table. “What brings you around, Calvin?”

  Calvin Dougherty looked first to his parents then his gaze landed on Bronson. “This is a delicate matter that must be dealt with today. Dottie and Olivia are in Virginia City. They were to spend two days, but are now forced to return immediately.”