There he found Mrs. Guntherson spooning a glutinous concoction that he very much feared was his supper into bowls. Had her duties with Addy so thoroughly distracted her that she had been unable to cook again?
Trent lowered his voice, “Did you help with dinner, too?”
Addy nodded and Trent’s heart sank. The beef was chewy and the cream sauce lumpy. She seemed to have made dumplings instead of noodles and they were doughy and bland.
He needed to address this failing and be certain his housekeeper knew that this was unacceptable. This…glue could not be borne. She had written that she was a competent cook. Had she lied about this, as well? That thought brought him back to brooding. He could not abide a deceitful woman. He’d not have it. Not under his roof.
As he tentatively chewed his meal, he glanced at Addy, who seemed oblivious to the food’s shortcomings. When he glanced at Viola, he discovered her head bowed and her lower lip quivering. He knew enough about women to know this was a sign that forecasted imminent tears.
“Tasty,” he lied.
Her shoulders shook and she lifted her napkin to her face.
Apparently, she could tell when he was lying. He wished to hell he could do the same with her.
Somehow he choked down his portion and then rejected seconds. Mrs. Guntherson removed the dishes and began washing as he sipped his coffee and listened to Addy explain the steps required to create Penelope’s new wardrobe.
“I’ll bet you could make yourself a dress, Addy, if Mrs. Guntherson would help you.”
Addy was off her chair and at Viola’s side a moment later, tugging at her skirts in excitement. The joyful laugh that escaped Viola was musical.
Trent paused, holding his coffee halfway to his mouth as he watched his housekeeper set aside her dishrag and kneel before Addy. The small act brought her eye to eye with his girl and showed a kind of respect not often afforded to a child. The warming of his insides had nothing to do with the coffee. He lowered his cup back to the saucer, watching the exchange.
His earlier notion roused again. The woman had a natural affinity to Addy. He had enough sense to recognize the rarity of the relationship the two had forged so effortlessly. And it could all vanish if she left them, or if some randy pup lured her away.
He thought of his deputy’s words and found himself now clutching the saucer. He sure as hell didn’t want another man to have her.
There was a pop and the china cup gave way, exploding into three jagged pieces.
“Oh, Mr. Foerster! What happened?”
He’d been picturing her with another man, was what, but he’d be whipped before he’d admit that.
“Just gave way,” he lied.
She mopped up the coffee and quickly replaced the cup and saucer. A moment later she had the coffee poured and had rested a lovely flat cake before him. The top of the confection glittered with sugar and reminded him of snowflakes in the sun. The top had been scored to delineate eight pie-shaped wedges and each slice, while still connected to the whole, formed a flower pattern that might have been created with a fork or spoon. It seemed too pretty to eat.
“What’s this?”
“Just a simple shortbread. You might like it with your coffee.”
Bread? It sure hadn’t risen any. He peered from the pan back to Viola to find her standing before him, hands folded, head still hanging. He wondered if this might be just as disappointing as his meal, but he was willing to eat sandpaper if it allowed Viola to lift her head up. So he cut a piece. The tip broke off and he worried over the pastry’s lack of stability, but he shoveled it onto his plate, seeing it more resembled a cookie than a cake. He lifted the wedge and took a small, tentative bite.
The shortbread dissolved instantly and filled his mouth with a buttery sugary taste laced with vanilla and cinnamon. A smile spread across his face. He glanced at her and saw her sweet smile and twinkling eyes. Was that pride he saw shining in their blue depths? Suddenly he could not seem to swallow.
“Good!” he said.
She turned away and continued cleaning up. Addy polished off a piece of shortbread and then went to the window box near the stove to play with Penelope. He recalled his sisters playing together in that same spot. Addy, however, played her make-believe games alone. Trent pressed his lips together. Addy would make a wonderful big sister. A shame she’d never get the chance.
He glanced at Viola, noting her wide, flaring hips and narrow waist. She was young and healthy and looked in every way capable of being a wife and mother. Except for her cooking, he reminded himself.
She finished drying the dishes and then her hands, replaced the rag and went about returning the dried dishes to their places. There was a rightness to this moment that touched him on a bone-deep level. A tranquility and sense of peace on earth that had been long missing from his life. What a miracle that she should come so close to Christmas, an unexpected gift to his daughter and to himself.
It was something he’d never felt with Helen. She’d always kept him on tenterhooks, poised between ecstasy and despair. Her unpredictability and volatility had given him trouble like he would never have believed possible.
He felt none of that with Viola. Quite the opposite…in fact, she brought him calm, peace and a profound feeling of satisfaction with life. Except when he looked at how her hips swayed when she moved. Now that sight heated his blood.
Should he consider making her a permanent member of his family? Or was he poised on the brink of another colossal mistake? He’d only known her a few short days, but already the desire to hold her consumed him. Her skin looked so soft. Tendrils of hair kissed her neck.
Trent thumped his coffee down. He knew he’d be unable to defend that which was not his. Why would she want to cook and clean for him when she could be a wife, with a home of her own?
Viola closed the last cabinet, but did not return to him. Instead, she gripped the sink, head hung for a moment as if bracing for battle. He straightened in his seat, his senses now on alert.
She’d been uncharacteristically quiet during dinner, he realized, and had eaten little.
He’d been too harsh on her last night. That was it. Now she didn’t feel comfortable or was she getting ready to quit on him? That thought flooded him with a cold panic.
She turned, revealing an anxious expression that set him on edge. “Mr. Foerster, I’d like a word.”
“Would you join me?” he asked, and then stood to hold her chair.
She gave him a cautious look and then sat. He retrieved a cup and saucer and poured her some coffee. Before seating himself, he glanced at Addy, her eyes now drooping as she curled with Penelope in the window box by the stove. He turned back to Viola.
“I know what this is about.” Trent took over the conversation. “And I’d like to apologize for my harsh words yesterday. I just…well, I’ve had some troubles and they make me hasty. So before you tell me this isn’t working out, let me tell you that I’ve never seen my girl so happy, and as for me, well, truth is, after my ma’s passing, I didn’t want to come home. Now I do.”
He met and held her gaze, watching her color rise. Was she embarrassed or did she feel some tenderness toward him, as well? He tried for a smile and then thought to take her hand. Reaching halfway across the table he wondered if he was being too forward and retreated, clutching his knees under the table.
She looked away first and his heart squeezed in worry. Don’t let her quit on me, too.
“I’m sorry about dinner.”
He wanted to ask her what had happened, but he resisted. Was that all she wanted to say? Relief made his smile genuine and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Forget that for now. Are you…well, that is, I’d like to know you a little better. Would you tell me something about yourself?” He’d almost asked her if she was happy, but fear had choked his words. What if she said no?
She looked startled. “Oh, well. What would you like to know?”
“What about your family? Do you have any?”
> “Yes, my parents are still living.”
“Siblings?”
Her face fell. “No, actually, I’m an only child. I was a late arrival, you see. My parents were unprepared for a baby at their stage of life. I think it quite embarrassed them.” A trial were the words that her mother often used when referring to her.
Eliza felt sick thinking of her mother. She glanced up into Trent’s frowning face. “Embarrassed?”
Was he angry at her for her choice of words or her parents? Eliza hurried on.
“They are missionaries in Venezuela, you see.”
“What does that have to do with loving a baby?”
“Well, they needed to set a certain example. They were quite strict.”
“There’s no sin in the love between a husband and wife.” His frown deepened. “Weren’t they married?”
“Oh, of course!” She flushed. “For years and years before I came along. Perhaps they were just set in their ways. They’d already been to Tahiti and the Appalachian Mountains.”
“They have been. What about you?”
“Well, it’s hard, you see, to follow such a calling with a child in tow.”
He frowned and Eliza shifted uncomfortably before her un touched coffee. She clasped her hands around the lip of the saucer as if protecting it from all sides.
“Didn’t they raise you?”
She shook her head. “No. I attended a boarding school. But they visited when they were back in America. And of course I had their letters.”
Filled with fire and brimstone and the threat of eternal damnation should she veer from the righteous path. The correspondence came less and less frequently over the years. Eliza could not recall how she had gotten in so deep and glanced about for some rescue from this topic.
Trent leaned forward, his hand now covering hers. The warmth and strength made her yearn for him in a way she had never experienced. “How old were you?”
She glanced at Addy and then back to him, in time to watch his face fall.
“Five?” he whispered.
“Four.”
His gasp was audible. Why had she told him this? Why would she let him know that her own parents did not want her? Such a failing could only serve to draw attention to her many deficiencies. A child that was not wanted in her own home could not be wanted by others.
He leaned close. She closed her eyes so she would not have to witness the pity there.
“I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes flew open. “Oh, no. They provided for my education and all my needs. They saw me raised up…” She was going to say properly until she realized how furious they would be to see what had become of her. They would not abide lies or the shadow of impropriety. If they discovered her circumstances, they would have nothing more to do with her. She had no doubt of that, for she knew they prided themselves on their sterling characters above all things. “You see, they had a calling.”
Trent met her gaze with a steady stare.
“They abandoned you,” he said.
Chapter Nine
Eliza glanced toward Addy now, seeing that she sat in the window box by the stove, cuddling Penelope against her as she curled on her side, half-asleep. It was easier to watch the child than face the pity in Trent’s voice. But there was nothing she could do to block out his words.
“Your parents were right about one thing. A man should take a wife before he…”
She turned back in time to see him clamp his lips together. Then he lifted his coffee and took a long swallow, frowning deeply.
His words, of course, caused Eliza to begin wild conjecture as to the circumstances of Adeline’s birth.
His voice turned low and intimate. “You’re on track now, with what you’re thinking. I tried to marry Addy’s mother, but she’d have none of it or me.” He lowered his voice again, so she had to strain to hear his words. “She left our child behind and took off after another man the minute he was released from prison. They were partners, gambling partners, which is another way of saying card cheats. But I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t see anything past my own…”
Trent stood, walked to the sink and dumped out the dregs. He kept his back to her as he gripped the counter and his head dropped.
She glanced back at Addy, who was sound asleep. Eliza found herself standing behind Trent, without recalling crossing the room. She already had a hand resting on his broad shoulder. He glanced around and turned. She drew back and found him staring at her. The sadness reflected in his eyes pressed down upon her.
“She left her own child?” whispered Eliza.
His eyes narrowed as he dipped his chin in slow affirmation.
“Not a backward glance,” he said.
Eliza could not prevent the sharp exhale of breath.
“So I brought her home to my mother. She was fifty-eight, thought she was through raising up babies, I imagine. But she took us in and never held her mother against Addy. She’s the only one that knew…until now.”
Eliza bit her lower lip, thinking she should move away, but the connection between them held her and she opened her heart, speaking when a wise woman would keep silent. “You haven’t told anyone else?”
He shook his head.
“Good, for it cannot help but cause your daughter heartache.”
“Don’t know why I told you.”
He sounded so dumbfounded she managed a slow smile.
“Well, I am no gossip. I think her mother made a grievous mistake.” For how could any woman leave such a man or her own baby girl? She was rather glad she didn’t say this aloud and took a moment to swallow back her first thought. “Addy is a wonderful child—a credit to you and to your mother.” Eliza glanced back to see the little girl in question. “She’d make any woman proud.”
“Not any. Helen was a coldhearted bitch.”
Eliza drew a quick breath for she could not quite contain her shock at his harsh words. Trent pressed his lips together, but did not apologize or recant his severe condemnation.
He dropped his gaze. “It’s not something a man gets over, being made a fool, but I was a fool for that woman, damn her lying heart. And I believed each word.”
He glanced at her, his eyes beseeching, and Eliza knew she was about to do something foolish but could not seem to stop herself. She reached across the few inches that separated them and took his hand in hers. His skin was warm and his fingers callused. He clasped her so quickly it caused her to stiffen. But his troubled eyes held her and she forced herself to relax. He had been ill-used. That much was certain.
He placed his other hand at the small of her back and drew her closer. Her breath caught at the rightness of the intimate embrace that had her heart racing like storm clouds across the moon.
“I’m glad you’ve come, Viola.”
Viola? Had she been on the verge of assuring him that not all women were callous or deceitful?
His utterance of the name he thought was hers brought her up short and she stiffened again. Now, she was the liar, taking advantage of him just as surely as Addy’s mother once had. The fear returned, creeping over her like ice crystals on a windowpane. The intimacy they had shared was a lie and now she was the one making a fool of him. What would the town say when they found out the Texas Ranger had a fugitive living under his own roof?
She pulled back, breaking away and halting a step from him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have taken liberties.”
She lifted a hand, but did not touch him this time. “It isn’t that.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Addy, then. I know what you are thinking. How does he know she’s his? Well, I don’t, not for certain. Helen was with me long enough. But for all I know…”
Didn’t he have eyes? “Oh, Trent, she’s yours. Certainly. You have only to look at her. She’s like you in every way.”
“Blonde,” he said. “Like her. I hope to Christ that’s all of her that my girl’s got. She can’t be like her mom. I won’t allow it.
” He seemed to mentally shake himself, dragging his fingers through his thick hair. He sighed. “Shouldn’t have told you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
She was about to say, “Because it shows you trust me,” but she couldn’t. She was not who he thought her to be. She blinked up at him, wanting to confess, but understanding now how very much it would hurt him if she did. Eliza felt her face heat as indecision turned her this way and that.
“Never mind.” He pushed off the sink. “Best get you back.” He retrieved his jacket, but paused, holding his hat. “Did you have anything else you wanted to tell me?”
She shook her head.
He waited a moment longer, but when she said nothing, he drew on his hat, gathered his sleeping child against his chest and folded his sheepskin jacket about her. Addy never roused as he buttoned the coat, cocooning her in the wooly hide and the warmth of his body.
The tenderness with which he treated his girl made Eliza’s chest ache. She’d give anything in this world to have the protection of such a man. But she didn’t deserve it, had earned it under false pretenses.
Eliza felt her throat burn and hurriedly slipped into her coat. In the darkness, her tears would not betray her. She followed him out into the frigid night. They walked in an uneasy silence to the hotel. The stars twinkled above them and oil lamps flickered in the windows. Her boots squeaked in the snow like the runners of a rocker.
He saw her to the door, tipped his hat, spun and retraced his steps. Eliza watched him go, wondering how a woman could ever leave such a man.
Trent marched home, holding Addy close to his chest. On returning to his house, he found Kelly Milward on her front porch loading firewood into her son’s arms. She glanced at Trent then pushed her son toward the door.
“Go on inside, Tommy.”
The last thing he needed was Kelly meddling in his affairs. The woman had tried on more than one occasion to get him to attend church socials and never failed to mention when a girl was of marrying age. He ducked his head and hurried up the steps. He was inches from his front door when she called out.
Western Winter Wedding Bells Page 16
