“Gavin!” Patrick called to him, his usual grin in place. “I told Shane you wouldn’t miss seeing him trussed up in holy wedlock.” He strode toward the wagon and lifted Petula from the bed, swinging her high in the air before setting her on her feet. “This can’t be the wee lass, can it?”
“I’m Pet!” she answered with a giggle.
“And can this be Sabrina? Faith, but she’s become a young lady over the summer.” He lifted the older girl to the ground as he had her sister.
Sabrina looked toward the two younger men still standing near the entrance to the house. “Hello, Trevor,” she called to him.
Gavin felt that same chill again.
“Puppy love,” Dru whispered as her hand touched his knee. “You needn’t worry.”
Patrick stepped to the opposite side of the wagon, his arms outstretched toward Emily. “It’s pleased I am to see you again, Miss Harris. Allow me to help you down.” And with that, he lifted her to the ground as easily as he had the children.
Gavin jumped down from the wagon seat, then helped Dru descend.
Patrick let out a low whistle. “Drucilla Blake, you’ll outshine the bride herself, so pretty you look.”
Dru laughed. “Leave off your Irish blarney, Patrick O’Donnell. I’ve known you long enough to keep your empty flattery from turning my head.”
“A shame you feel that way, for I meant it from the heart.” He turned toward Gavin. “It’s not fair you should have so many beautiful women at the Lucky Strike, mate, while I’ve got nothing but brothers to look at.” He motioned with his head for Gavin to follow, then hooked Emily’s hand through his left arm and Dru’s through his right. “Come in out of the cold. We’ve merrymaking to do this day.”
While Patrick squired the ladies inside, Gavin led the team and wagon around to the stables. As he unhitched the horses, he wondered at the odd tension he felt around Patrick. The two of them were good friends. Was he suddenly jealous of the wealth of the O’Donnells? No. That wasn’t it. He was content with the Lucky Strike.
Still, he hadn’t wanted to come to the wedding, and he dreaded going inside and listening to Patrick lavish compliments on the womenfolk.
Womenfolk? Or just Emily?
Setting his jaw, he headed for the house.
Dru hadn’t exaggerated when she said folks would come from miles around to see an O’Donnell get married. The large house seemed in danger of bursting at the seams with people, young and old alike, all of them in good spirits as they gathered close to hear the tiny, dark-haired bride promise to love, honor, and obey the strapping, red-headed groom.
After the ceremony, servants carried platters of food to the long tables set along one wall of the great room in the center of the house. People milled about, chatting with neighbors, sharing gossip, eating and laughing.
Names swirled in Emily’s head. Too many to keep straight. In the past two hours, Patrick had introduced her to nearly every person who lived within a hundred miles of Challis. There were a few from even farther away, like the man with sagging jowls and narrow eyes who stood opposite her now.
“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Harris, Senator Brewer,” Patrick said. “I see that my brother Jamie wants a word with me.”
Senator Brewer rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “Where are you from, Miss Harris? I venture you are not from around here.”
“I’m from Boise City.”
“You don’t say. Harris.” He frowned. “Harris. Do I know your family? I certainly should if they live in my district.”
“I was raised by my sister and her husband, Maggie and Tucker Branigan.”
“You’re Judge Branigan’s sister-in-law? Well, well. I had no idea he knew the O’Donnells.” He lowered his voice. “It never hurts to have wealthy friends when one is in office. I’ll have to have a talk with that brother-in-law of yours. If he were to run for higher office and had the support and money of the O’Donnells behind him, there’d be no stopping him. I can see why he sent you to represent him.”
Emily took a sudden dislike to the senator. “Tucker doesn’t know the O’Donnells, sir. I’m the governess for the Blake family.”
“A governess? Out here?” Bushy eyebrows rose on his wrinkled forehead.
She could almost read the questions running through his mind: Was Judge Branigan in financial trouble? Was Emily in some sort of disgrace, sent away where few people would see her? Was there a scandal brewing? Something that might be politically advantageous to know? It made her blood boil.
“Excuse me, Senator. I’d better make sure my young charges aren’t up to any mischief. You know how children can be.”
“Of course. You go right ahead about your duties.”
What a disagreeable man. When she wrote to Maggie and Tucker again, she would inform them of this encounter.
She moved through the throng of people in the great room, unconcerned about Sabrina and Petula. The children of the wedding guests were all being attended by members of the O’Donnell staff in some other room in the house. She’d only used them as an excuse to leave the senator’s company. In fact, what she wanted most was a few minutes alone. She hadn’t attended a gathering this large in over a year. The room felt too close, the air too thick.
She made her way out of the great room, through more guests who mingled in an adjoining sitting room, and finally found herself in the hallway of the east wing. An open door at the end of the hall beckoned to her. She hurried toward it.
As she stepped into what turned out to be a sunny solarium, she came to an abrupt halt. Gavin stood near the long bank of windows, his expression pensive as he stared outside. She took a step backward, planning to leave.
Perhaps she made a sound, for he turned and looked her way. His gaze stopped her departure.
“I didn’t know you were in here.” Why did she say that? She didn’t need to explain.
He jerked his head toward the windows. “Come look.” His tone seemed ominous.
Emily moved to the windows, leaving several feet of space between herself and Gavin, even though she wished to stand close beside him. Seated on a bench in the garden was Sabrina, her face a portrait of misery. Emily followed the girl’s gaze toward a gazebo where Trevor O’Donnell leaned against the railing, smiling down at a pretty teenaged girl in a pink dress. As they watched, Trevor straightened, removed his suit coat, and draped it around the girl’s shoulders.
“I’d like to break his jaw,” Gavin said.
Emily understood then, and her heart went out to him, despite herself. “Brina would never forgive you if you did.”
“He’s broken her heart.”
“It will mend. She’s only nine.”
Gavin sighed as he turned his back toward the window and looked at her. “I don’t know how to be a father to girls.”
“Nonsense. You’re reacting as any father would in similar circumstances.”
“You think so?”
Emily’s first instinct was always to encourage someone when they were down. Her words to Gavin had been nothing more than that. Words meant to encourage. She’d constructed a barrier between them several weeks earlier, a barrier meant to protect her from her own feelings. But now, as she realized how deeply worried he was, as she recognized how much he loved Sabrina — how desperate he was to be a good father to the girl, how scared he was that he would fail — Emily’s guard lowered.
“Yes, Mr. Blake. I think so. You’re a good father. Brina and Pet adore you.”
He looked at her in silence, his eyes thoughtful and unwavering.
Her breathing grew shallow as she met his gaze, silence surrounding them. She couldn’t let her resolve weaken further. She had to stay strong. He had been so cool with her since she declared her desire to go home to Boise, and that was exactly how she wanted things to remain between them. For both their sakes.
She lifted her chin and said with as much dignity as possible, “I think I’ll return to the party.”
“You’ve had a good
time today?” he asked before she could turn to leave.
She nodded, stayed by his words.
“I won’t be able to give Sabrina a wedding like this one when her time comes.”
Her resolve failed her. “She won’t need a big wedding. All that will matter to her is that she loves the groom and that her family is with her.”
More silence and then, “Thank you, Miss Harris.”
If she didn’t leave now, she might begin to cry. Her thoughts and emotions were all a jumble. She was confused about her feelings for this man. But where could she turn for guidance? Oh, if only Maggie were here. If only she could ask her sister what —
“Ah, so here you are.”
She turned toward the sound of Patrick O’Donnell’s voice, grateful for the interruption, thankful for any excuse to escape.
Patrick stood in the solarium doorway, Dru holding his right arm. “We’ve come looking for you both.”
One look at Emily’s face and Dru knew that something had changed between those two. She had almost given up hope in the weeks they’d been back home. She’d begun to wonder if she’d mistaken Emily’s feelings. But there it was in her eyes, clear as day to anyone who had eyes to see. Could Gavin see it? No, she didn’t think he could.
I must talk to her. I must tell her it’s all right. I must talk to them both. I cannot wait any longer.
Patrick said, “Gavin, I think Dru would like to go home. She’s feeling tired.”
Gavin moved toward her in an instant. “I was afraid this would be too much for you.”
“It wasn’t too much for me,” she lied. “It did me good to be here. But it is growing late, and I would prefer to arrive home before dark.”
Emily said, “I’ll get the children and meet you in the front hall.” Then she hurried out of the solarium as fast as decorum allowed.
God, please don’t let me be too late. I feel certain she is the one you mean to love my daughters and to love Gavin. Please don’t let me be too late.
Sixteen
It was nearly dark by the time the family arrived home, the first stars already visible in the east. Dru stirred and lifted her head from Emily’s shoulder as the wagon rolled to a stop in front of the house. Gavin jumped down from the wagon seat, then took his wife in his arms and carried her inside.
Emily turned to look behind her. “Wake up, sleepyheads. We’re home. Let’s get you inside and into your own bed.”
Sabrina groaned and rolled onto her side beneath the blankets, snuggling closer to her sleeping little sister.
Emily reached down and gently shook the older girl’s shoulder. “We’re home, Brina. Time to get inside. It’s cold out here.” Holding her skirt out of the way, she stepped down from the wagon and went to the back of the vehicle, waiting for Sabrina and Petula to join her there.
They didn’t budge. She was about to climb into the wagon bed when Gavin reappeared.
“You’ll ruin that pretty dress of yours, Miss Harris,” he said, stopping her. Then he hopped into the back of the wagon. He lifted Petula first.
“Give her to me, Mr. Blake. I’ll carry her inside while you get Brina.”
He hesitated a moment, and she felt him watching her. What was he thinking? She wished she knew.
He knelt on one knee and passed the child from his arms to hers. Emotion formed a lump in her throat as she carried Petula into the house. This all felt too right. The four of them home from an outing, the children tired, her carrying them to bed with Gavin.
Only there weren’t just four of them. There were five — and she was the fifth. She was the one who didn’t belong.
Once in the children’s bedroom, Emily sat on the edge of the bed and helped Petula out of her coat, shoes, and dress while Gavin did the same with her sister on the opposite side of the bed. Although still half asleep, Petula managed to sit up and raise her arms when told to. But the instant her nightgown slid over her head, she turned and crawled under the covers, her arms clutching her pillow close. Emily leaned down, straightened the blankets over her shoulders, and kissed the girl on the forehead.
“Good night, Pet,” she whispered.
When she straightened, she saw Gavin drawing the covers over Sabrina. As Emily had done with Petula, he leaned low to kiss Sabrina’s forehead.
“Sleep tight,” he said.
Emily’s heart beat an odd rhythm in her chest. Oh, how she wished —
No, she wouldn’t wish it. She wouldn’t think it.
“I’ll walk you to your cabin, Miss Harris, and make sure you’ve got a fire for the night.”
“It . . . it isn’t necessary. I can — ”
“I’ve got to unhitch the team anyway. It’s no bother.”
It would have been easier if he’d stayed angry with her. It would have been better if she’d remembered she didn’t even like him much.
They walked in silence toward Emily’s one-room cabin. When they entered it, they discovered the temperature inside was nearly as cold as outside, the fire in the stove having long since burned down to a few coals. Gavin built it back up in no time.
Dru knelt beside the bed, hands folded, head bowed.
“Help Gavin, Lord. Draw him by your Spirit. Teach him to trust you. Touch his heart and heal it.”
Tears splashed onto her knuckles, then slid slowly over her fingers to the comforter beneath her hands.
“When I’m gone, Lord, knit a new family together. Bring this house alive with love. It’s seen too much heartache already. I want my girls to be happy. I know that Gavin and Emily care for each other, but they’re trying so hard not to care because of me.”
She drew a deep breath as she looked toward the ceiling.
“I haven’t gone about this the right way. Help me make it right before I go.”
Gavin turned from the stove. Emily stood in the center of the room, clutching her coat collar close about her throat, her face lit by the firelight from the open stove door.
“It should warm up in here pretty fast,” he said.
She nodded.
He glanced about the darkened room. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat. “Listen, I know I haven’t been . . . I’ve been a bit gruff with you since we left the basin. I . . . I’d like to say I’m sorry. It isn’t your fault.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Blake. I understand.”
He doubted she did. For that matter, he wasn’t sure he understood himself. The reason seemed to shift from day to day, moment to moment. Was it because he thought her too much like his mother, selfish and spoiled and desiring an easier life, one she could have with her prosperous sister and brother-in-law in Boise? Or was it because Patrick O’Donnell had showed interest in her? O’Donnell, who could give her that easier life right here in the Challis area. Or was it because Gavin found her so tender with the children, so gentle with Dru, so full of life and laughter? So irresistible, when all reason and all rules of common decency told him he should not find her so.
“I’d better take care of the horses.”
In three strides he could reach her. In three steps he could gather her in his arms and pull her close and kiss those sweet lips. Everything inside screamed for him to do just that, but somehow he managed to turn on his heel and walk away from her.
“Good night, Miss Harris.”
“Good night, Mr. Blake,” he heard her say as he pulled the door closed behind him.
He’d lost his mind. That was the only explanation for the things he felt, for the things he wanted. He’d lost any shred of common sense, and Emily Harris was responsible for it.
Seventeen
Emily dreamed that Gavin had kissed her. She dreamed he’d held her close and whispered words of love. She dreamed that he’d stayed with her. Dreams that seemed real and possible. Dreams that made her feel guilty, even in sleep.
After dressing the following morning, she checked her reflection in the mirror atop the bureau and pinched
her cheeks between forefingers and thumbs, trying to put a hint of color in her pale complexion. But there was nothing she could do about the look of shame in her eyes.
“I’m a horrible person,” she whispered. “How could I let this happen?”
What she wanted was to crawl back into bed and stay there all day. But she couldn’t. She had obligations to Dru and to the children. She’d given her word that she would take care of them, and despite the fragile state of her heart, she wouldn’t let them down.
Oh, Maggie, I wish you were here. You could tell me what to do.
At the door, she took her cloak from the peg and threw it over her shoulders.
Gavin . . . His name echoed in her heart.
Pulling the hood over her head, she opened the cabin door and hurried toward the main house. Just as her hand touched the latch, she heard the clatter of hooves and turned to see Gavin ride his gelding out of the barn. If he saw her there, he never let on.
Just as well.
She lifted the latch and entered the kitchen.
“Look what you did!” Sabrina’s shrill cry brought Emily up short.
Before her stood Petula, already in tears, egg yolks spotting her leggings and broken shells surrounding her feet.
Emily shrugged off her cloak and hurried forward. “Don’t cry, Pet. We can clean this up in no time.”
“Ma wanted an egg for breakfast,” Sabrina said, glowering at her sister. “And Pet just broke the last of them. The hens won’t lay any more until tomorrow. Pet ruined Ma’s breakfast.”
The younger girl began to sob. “I . . . I did . . . didn’t mean . . . mean to drop them.”
Emily pushed tangled brown hair away from the child’s face as she knelt beside her, unmindful of the gooey mess on the floor. She kissed Petula’s cheek. “Hush now. Shh. Your mother will understand. We’ll make her something she’ll like much better than eggs.”
“What?” Petula sniffed, then rubbed her sleeve beneath her nose.
“I don’t know. Why don’t I go ask her?” She gave the girl an encouraging smile as she rose to her feet. “Brina, would you please help Pet clean up the floor while I see what will tempt your mother’s appetite?”
Robin Lee Hatcher Page 11
