Clinton Storm had remarried when Caleb was nineteen. Ruth Decateur, half Clinton Storm’s age, had been a wealthy, eccentric spinster of thirty-eight when she had met and fallen in love with the handsome widower. She soon became more than a stepmother to Caleb; she was his friend and as close a confidante as he had ever let anyone become. After Clinton’s death, Ruth had remained in the Boston house, always happy to greet Caleb and determined to make him feel the place was still his home. She even saw to it that the maids left the dusting and care of his “savage museum pieces” to her, for his room was a storehouse of Sioux artifacts. Its walls were lined with an assortment of beaded and feathered reminders of his Indian heritage. Powder horns, spoons, and ladles fashioned from buffalo horns, a hide painted with images that told the story of Caleb’s ancestry, a quill-decorated breastplate and horse mask, a quiver of painted arrows, and a bow fashioned by Caleb himself—these were but a few of the pieces stored in the room that had been his refuge during the lonely years when he’d walked a thin line between the white world and that of the Indian.
“You look wonderful, Caleb. Your mysterious mission must have agreed with you!” She took in his tall figure, his neatly trimmed hair, and the fine arched eyebrows. Dressed in a well-tailored suit of wool tweed’, he looked quite polished and sophisticated, from his starched white shirt collar to the somewhat muddied but obviously new shoes. “Come in now, and tell me all about it.”
He looped his saddlebag around the newel post, tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, and walked her down the long, narrow hallway. They separated to enter the small informal parlor at the end of the hallway. A deep armchair and ottoman stood near the fireplace. Caleb, like his father before him, always chose to sit there, so Ruth moved to sit on the floral-print straight-backed settee.
“I hope you’re here to stay for a while, Caleb. It seems so long since you’ve been home. Are you planning to spend Christmas with me?”
Caleb eased himself into the chair before he answered. “I’m not sure yet, Ruth. I do intend to stay at least a week, but General Parker wants me to go back out west as soon as I can.”
“You have an important decision to make in the next few days.”
Ruth’s comment was a statement of fact, not a question. Caleb wondered again at her uncanny knack for knowing what was in his mind. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of learning she was right just yet. It was disturbing enough to think she knew what preoccupied him.
“I’m not reading your mind, Caleb, so don’t look so concerned.” She ignored his startled expression as she made herself comfortable. “Your chart shows you have some strange energy around you. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you didn’t have some sort of major decision to make. Why, with Mars in conjunction with your moon, as it was in late August, anything could have happened.” She watched him closely as she added, “It might have been a good time for romance. Did you meet anyone interesting last August?”
Caleb wondered how Ruth would react to the news of his sudden marriage to Analisa? And how could he explain the reason for the marriage? If he knew Ruth, and he felt he knew her well, she had already spread his astrological charts over the library floor. He pictured her trying to determine by the position of the stars exactly which day would be right for him to meet the woman who would fulfill his destiny. But Caleb sensed there was more to Ruth’s insight than her ability to read the charts. It was as if her hazel eyes could see through him.
He knew that he would eventually seek his stepmother’s advice. Not that he’d follow it, he told himself, but he valued her opinion. One thing he knew for certain: He would return to the sunflower house. What would happen after that, even Ruth’s stars might not foretell.
“We’ll get to all that in due time, Ruth!” Caleb laughed, feeling at ease with himself for the first time in months. It was good to see that his stepmother hadn’t changed at all. He still couldn’t fathom half of what she rambled on about. Mars in his moon? “How does a thirsty man get something to drink around here?”
“Oh, Caleb! I’m so sorry. I don’t know where my manners are. I was so excited to see you that I totally forgot to ask if you’ve had any supper. I’m sure Mrs. Oats can put together a meal for you if you’d like.”
“No, thanks, Ruth. She’s already stuffed me with a piece of apple pie, but I would like a brandy and a chance to relax before I tell you all about the last few months.”
Ruth moved to a gleaming cherry wood sideboard opposite the fireplace. A crystal decanter of amber brandy surrounded by a collection of mismatched stemmed goblets and snifters rested on a silver tray. She poured a liberal portion into a tulip-shaped snifter and carried it to her stepson.
They sat in silence for a time, content in their reunion and comfortable in the warm atmosphere of the room. Caleb stared into the fire, his thoughts far away.
“You look tired, Caleb.”
His attention was drawn to his stepmother. She was amazing. Ruth was close to forty-eight now, but she looked ten years younger. Ruth hadn’t aged a day since she’d married his father. He knew it was her zest for life that kept her young.
“You’re right, I am tired. Rattling up here on the train was exhausting. I haven’t had any real exercise since I returned to the East, and that usually makes me sluggish.”
Ruth stood as the clock on the mantelpiece chimed half past one. “It’s long past my bedtime, too. We’ll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow.” She gave Caleb a long, hard stare before she added, “Then you can tell me what’s really on your mind.” She leaned down to plant a kiss on his shining hair. “I’m so glad you’re home for a while, Caleb!” She smiled down at him warmly before she turned away to leave him alone in the quiet room.
“Good night, Ruth,” he called after her, and as his gaze returned to the fire he shook his head and smiled to himself. It was comforting to know that some things never changed.
As the wind howled, driving a freezing winter storm down upon the eastern seaboard, Ruth and Caleb sat closeted in Clinton Storm’s library. Caleb’s law books filled nearly two-thirds of the shelves along one wall; beside the worn classics his father had collected stood Ruth’s favorites. The usually tidy desk was littered with sheets of paper covered with circles, each of which had been divided into wedges, like a pie. Jotted on these wheels were Ruth’s astrological forecasts for her friends and relations—many of whom were convinced she was quietly going insane. Astrology was a passion she had inherited from her mother, who had learned the skill from a great-grandmother. Ruth loved to tell Caleb her version of her ancestors’ life story; she was thrilled to have a Gypsy on her family tree.
Caleb slouched deep in an armchair before the fire, a book of poetry open on his lap but forgotten as he sat lost in thought, watching the flames play, around the glowing embers. Had it really been three months since he stared into the dying fire on the open prairie behind Analisa’s house?
“Caleb?” Ruth called to him softly from the far side of the room, drawing him back through time. “Where have you gone?” she asked as she watched him shrug off his thoughtful mood.
“I was in Iowa.” He smiled at her. Something in his eyes told her he was concerned with matters of the heart.
“Did you finally meet a woman you couldn’t manage to escape?”
Closing the book carefully and unfolding his tall form, Caleb stood and stretched his long arms above his head before he turned to answer Ruth. Moving with calm, sure strides, he crossed the room and joined her where she sat on the thick Oriental carpet, her full plaid skirt settled about her in deep folds, her kid-slippered feet tucked beneath her. Caleb sat cross-legged before her.
“Do you think I’m going daft, believing in all of this?”
He smiled. “Not really. The Sioux have always believed that visions and dreams can forecast the future. Why not the stars? You do realize that two hundred years ago you might have been burned on the commons, don’t you?”
“Of course, but times ha
ven’t changed all that much, Caleb. I try to keep my work a secret, except that all my family and friends know about it, so I guess you could say it’s not much of a secret after all. This could get me into a lot of trouble if the wrong people found out about it.” She toyed with the cover of the book for a moment before she spoke. “Caleb, I hope you’re ready to talk about what’s bothering you.”
“Are you so sure I really do have something nagging at me?”
“Yes, so don’t try to hide it from me. I know you, Caleb, and I know you aren’t one to sit and brood unless something is eating at you. You’ve always been a man of action.”
“It’s quite a long story.”
She looked toward the frosted windows and the gray skies outside. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Omitting no detail, Caleb related the story of how he’d come upon the soddie and literally fallen at Analisa’s feet. She laughed as he described their first real meeting when he had sat nude on her bed and demanded she bring him his clothes. Kase, Opa, and the Iowa countryside all came alive for Ruth. Clara Heusinkveld and even the minister, Mr. Wierstra, were vividly portrayed as Caleb’s Indian inheritance, a natural gift for storytelling, took over.
As Ruth watched Caleb and listened to the tale, she knew without a doubt that his feelings for this young woman ran deep. That was apparent in the words he chose to describe Analisa, as if by creating a vivid image for Ruth, he could bring her memory back to life for himself as well. Frustration and anger clouded his handsome features as he told her of the scene before the minister on the day when he had finally learned the details of Analisa’s past. By the time he fell silent and looked to her for advice, and perhaps even approval, Ruth was more than convinced that he was deeply in love with Analisa, even though he had married under such unusual circumstances.
“Does she return your feelings, Caleb?”
His brows knit in thought, casting his clear blue eyes in shadow. He replied honestly, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t leave her under the best of circumstances. I’ve gone over our last few hours together countless times, and I realize I’m seeing this whole affair only from my point of view. I took offense at her letting me go so easily.”
Ruth waited in silence for him to explain his last remark.
“She seemed so ... well, blasé after what to me was such an overwhelming act of love.” Caleb’s deep color darkened with embarrassment, but he continued talking in the hope that another woman could perhaps explain Analisa’s actions. “Analisa said that if I wanted to return to her, that would be fine, and if I decided never to return, that would be just fine, too.”
“Would you rather she had begged you not to leave at all?”
“No, of course not.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes ... No ... Hell, Ruth, I don’t know.” Frustrated, he glanced away and watched the heavy snow falling outside the window. “Yes. I guess my male pride wanted to hear her say she wouldn’t be able to live without me. I think in a way I wanted her to beg me to stay, but at the same time I knew I had to leave. I guess I expected too much.”
Ruth gathered her thoughts before she answered his unspoken question. “From all you’ve told me, I get a picture of a woman who has learned to stand up and face all kinds of hurt and humiliation. I would guess that she expects very little in the way of lasting joy or pleasure. Am I right?”
He shrugged, unable or unwilling to answer until he’d heard more.
“Think, Caleb,” Ruth admonished him. “If Analisa had begged you to stay, she would have been letting down her last defense, turning herself into the helpless, dependent creature she’s fought so long and hard not to let herself become. She must feel that she and her boy would be a burden to you, or to any man, I’m sure that by letting you go she only meant to release you from that burden, no matter how much pain she must have suffered in doing so.”
“Do you think so?” The unguarded, hopeful look in Caleb’s eyes pulled Ruth’s heart into her throat. She hoped she wasn’t wrong about what his Analisa was feeling.
“From all that you’ve told me, yes, I do think so.” She took his hands in her own. “Caleb, a woman who has faced all that she has, and who has fought so hard to keep what she has, isn’t going to lower her standards and give herself to the first man who comes along—unless she does love him.” Ruth gave his hands a squeeze before reaching up to place one palm on his shoulder. “I’m sure she loves you.”
As Caleb sat weighing all she’d just said, Ruth began to stack the books scattered around her on the floor. Then she stood, shaking out her skirt, and extended a hand to Caleb.
“Now,” she began, once he stood facing her, “let’s get moving.” A woman with a mission, Ruth glanced up at Caleb as she moved toward the desk. “When is her birthday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Never mind, then, but as soon as you get back there, be sure to write and let me know when and where she was born, so that I can get to work on her astrological chart.” She turned when he failed to follow her to the door. “Don’t just stand there, Caleb. If you hurry, we’ll be able to get some decent gifts for that new family of yours, and you will be back in Iowa in time for Christmas!”
Chapter Seven
“I’m going to burst my buttons if I have one more bite!”
Jon Allen flashed a knowing smile first at Analisa and then to Sophie, who chose to ignore his exaggeration. As Analisa watched them exchange smiles, she envied Sophie her happiness with Jon. Although the man was not exceedingly handsome, he was confident and always smiling, and very obviously in love with his charming wife. Analisa wondered if Caleb would ever look at her that way, then pushed the thought to the back of her mind. Caleb was not here and might never return. There was no sense in thinking about things that might not be.
Her attention was drawn to Jon’s face again as she watched him tease Kase. The man was tall and slender, almost gangly, with light brown hair that was already thinning in places. His eyes, like those of most of the Dutch, were blue—not as vivid a blue as hers, or even Caleb’s, but a lighter blue, as if the coloring was not as strong.
“What of you, Kase?” the man asked. “Are you near to burstin’, too?”
Kase shook his head and smiled at his friend. “Not yet. I still have room left inside.”
“Would you like some more of that fine goose, then?” Sophie asked, pretending to rise to serve the boy more of the leftover bird.
“No! I mean, no, thank you, ma’am. I am saving room for the appelflappen. Can we have it now, Mama?”
The adults all knew that Kase could hardly wait to taste the deep-fried batter-coated apple rings. He’d waited for them all afternoon as the scent of cinnamon permeated the air inside the soddie, tempting them all. Analisa laughed and ruffled his hair before she stood up and collected the dishes.
Sophie joined Analisa, and as the two women began working, Analisa said, “First, Kase, you and Jon must wait until we have cleared the table and made some coffee. Maybe he’ll play a tune for us?”
She looked at Jon, knowing he would enjoy entertaining the boy while she and Sophie scraped the plates and cleared the table. Jon nodded his assent before he and Kase moved across the room. The man lifted a case from the bed and, with quiet ceremony, carefully took out a fiddle and a bow. Kase eagerly hopped up on the bed while Jon tuned his instrument.
Analisa watched them for a moment before turning back to join Sophie as she removed the remains of the goose dinner from the table. The young couple had arrived at the soddie early in the day with a fat Christmas goose and all the trimmings, surprising Analisa and her son, infecting them both with their high spirits.
“Sophie, I really don’t mind cleaning up. Why don’t you join Jon and Kase?” Analisa said.
“Nonsense.” Sophie tossed her chestnut curls and continued scraping food into the bucket under the kitchen cabinet. “Two pairs of hands make the work go faster.”
Analisa laughed. Her fr
iend seemed to have a proverb handy for every occasion, and as usual, she was right, for the work did go quickly.
“Sophie?” Analisa stopped the other woman as she turned away from the stove. “I want to thank you again for everything. You have done so much for Kase, and for me, too—especially by helping me learn to read English so much better. Your friendship is the greatest gift I could have received this Christmas.”
The slight figure in wine-red watered silk did not try to brush aside her words. Instead, Sophie took Analisa’s hands in her own and looked up at her friend. “You needn’t worry about repaying me, Analisa. I am so happy to have finally found a friend that anything I can do for you in return is little in comparison.”
Sophie’s gaze traveled across the room to where her husband was entertaining the small dark-haired boy. “Just look at them.” She nodded toward the man and boy. “Jon loves children. He’s had such fun with Kase.” Sophie’s eyes took on a wistful look that Analisa knew stemmed from her longing to give Jon the child he desired. So far she had been unable to conceive. Sophie reached out and hugged her friend. “Oh, Analisa, I hope that the coming year brings you the happiness you deserve.”
“Thank you, Sophie. And you, too.” Hearing the wish and seeing her friend’s secret smile, Analisa knew she was referring to Caleb. A few weeks before, feeling the need to explain her hasty marriage, Analisa had told Sophie why she’d entered into a union with a man she barely knew.
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