Grace returned a moment later, followed by an older woman who must have been the midwife. Elizabeth came in with them.
“Giselle, Grace, take Baby Rose and go in the house. Give her to Adam, then get ready for the next meal service. I have Polly, Susan, Hattie, and Georgia lined up. Camille, I’m not sending you back inside—from what I remember of my labor with Rose, Harriet needs you exactly where you are.”
The girls immediately did as Elizabeth told them to do, and within seconds, only Elizabeth, Mrs. Dupree, and Camille were left to assist the midwife.
“There now,” Goody Smith said, smoothing back the red locks from Harriet’s face. “First thing is to stop being quite so frantic. We can all take a deep breath now and find out what’s really going on.”
She lifted the blanket and did a quick examination. “I see. Your little person has decided to enter the world upside down. It’s a good thing I have quite a lot of experience with that.”
“Upside down? Doesn’t that mean the baby will suffocate?” Harriet asked, her voice tired, but panicked.
“Only once in a while, my dear. I’ve done this more times than I can count, and I’m not worried in the slightest.” She folded her hands across her plump middle. “You’re so healthy, I bet you wouldn’t have even needed me if it weren’t for this.”
“Elizabeth and I have each attended births before and planned to help Harriet, but we’ve never assisted with a breach birth,” Mrs. Dupree said. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“It’s my pleasure entirely. I often think the Good Lord knows when I’m going to be needed—I had the feeling I should have a bit of a lie-down after breakfast, and now I’m as fresh as a daisy. Now, what we need to do is turn the baby over.”
“What?”
The stunned surprise in Harriet’s voice exactly mirrored how Camille felt.
“We’re going to turn that little person around. He—well, we don’t know for sure that it’s a he, but I’d sure rather say ‘he’ than ‘it’—hasn’t descended too far into the birth canal, so we’re just going to show him who’s in charge here. That would be me, by the way.” Goody laughed at her own joke.
“And how are you going to do that?” Harriet asked.
Goody placed her hands on Harriet’s abdomen. “First of all, we’re going to nudge him back up, like this.”
Harriet let out a gasp as Goody’s strong hands moved her stomach upward.
“There we go. He’s still got enough fluid in there that he’s easy to move. And now we’ll just flip him over.”
Camille glanced up at Mrs. Dupree. The woman’s lips were pressed together in a tight line, and she was concentrating on everything Goody said with such intensity, it was almost as though she was commanding Harriet to be all right by the force of her will alone.
Suddenly it came rushing back. Mrs. Dupree said she knew Mr. Johnson. She’d been lying to Camille too. Was there anyone in this hotel who wasn’t utterly deceitful?
Even as she thought the words, Camille knew she was being unfair. There had to be an explanation, and she was sure that there were many good, kind people here who didn’t want to hurt her. Mr. Johnson might even be one of them, but she couldn’t let her mind continue any farther down that path. She had a much more important task in front of her right now—she could nurse her wounds later.
Goody put her hands on Harriet’s stomach again, but this time, she dug in her fingers. Harriet cried out again, arching her back, and Camille wanted to cry for her. Just what was happening?
The midwife seemed to be pushing and pulling the skin of Harriet’s stomach to the ripping point. Tears streamed down Harriet’s face, and while she was trying so hard to remain strong, Camille could see that the young woman was in absolute agony.
“Well, I believe we’ve flipped him over,” Goody said after several minutes had gone by. “I apologize, my dear. That’s one of the least pleasant things to experience, but if he was a good boy and did what he was supposed to, he’s in the right position now, and things should progress from here on out.”
Harriet couldn’t reply, but nodded weakly.
The next few hours seemed to take years. Camille did everything she could to ease Harriet’s suffering, but when all was said and done, there was so very little that would actually help. At long last, when Harriet seemed near to fading away from exhaustion, a tiny little boy entered the world, and Goody held him up with a triumphant look on her face.
“There we are,” she said. “What a fine young man. Mrs. Dupree, would you mind stepping outside and telling the father that he has a son? I believe he’s about to wear a trough right into the ground with all the pacing he’s been doing out there.”
Mrs. Dupree went outside, and a moment later, Camille heard Tom give a giant shout. It made her smile—this baby had been long awaited, and would be very loved.
Several minutes later, after everything had been put to rights and Harriet had run a brush through her hair—it wasn’t all that necessary, but she insisted—Tom entered the cabin, his hat in his hands, walking toward the bed as though he was entering a shrine. Camille supposed that in a way, he was—something very holy, very sacred had taken place, the ushering of a new life into the world, the beginning of someone else’s journey on the earth. He crept up to the bed and looked down into the eyes of his wife, and then at his son. The joy and awe on his face was palpable, and Camille slipped outside, not wanting to intrude on this new family’s precious moment.
Mrs. Dupree followed her, and the two inhaled deeply of the early evening air.
“That was the most difficult and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Camille said, wrapping her arms around herself. She hadn’t thought to bring her coat out to the cottage, and the air was getting nippy again.
“Very often, the most difficult things are the most beautiful,” Mrs. Dupree replied. She didn’t say anything else for a moment, but then she turned and caught Camille’s gaze full on. “Something’s troubling you.”
“Yes. And now that Harriet is well, I suppose we can talk about it.” Camille hated to ruin the feeling of peace that had descended on her during the birth, but she knew that if she didn’t ask Mrs. Dupree her questions, they would fester inside her and ruin her peace anyway. “Mr. Johnson and I had a little talk.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Dupree looked out to the horizon again. “I’m glad. It was time.”
“I don’t understand how you could support his little charade. What good came of it? Is lying such a natural thing around here that you do it without thinking a single thing about it?”
Mrs. Dupree shook her head. “I know it must seem like that, but I assure you, that’s the furthest thing from what actually happened.” She glanced around. “Let’s step into the barn. I’m sure it’s much warmer in there.”
Camille agreed—the hotel, of course, would be even warmer, but she didn’t want to be in a position where other people could hear this conversation.
Once they were inside the barn, Mrs. Dupree continued. “You need to understand something about David Johnson—there’s not an unkind bone in his body. He often doesn’t know what to say or the right way to go about things, but his heart is true and good. He and my husband have been friends for several years—since David and his parents moved to Wichita, actually. He’d go down to the station and watch the train come in, and he’d even help the baggage handlers unload. He thought he might even go into the railroad business, but he loved ranching more than he loved trains.
“When I married Wallace and moved to Wichita, I saw a young man who was solid, sturdy, and good, but lonely. He comes over for dinner about twice a month, and I’ve witnessed his search for someone he could love. When he told us he’d placed an ad, we were startled, but we understood his need for someone in his life.”
Camille looked down at the floor, at the straw that was scattered here and there. That was the only mess, however—Tom kept the barn immaculate. Her father would have hired him in an instant. “How did t
he whole lie come about?”
“What did he tell you?”
Camille thought back, trying to recall the actual words he’d used. “He said he just wanted to make sure I was all right, and that I was happy. And when he saw me, he thought the best thing would be to go by a different name.”
“Yes. Jem Baxter.” Mrs. Dupree’s lips twitched. “Did he tell you how he came up with that particular name?”
Camille shook her head.
“Well, Jem and Baxter are his two favorite horses.”
Camille blinked, but then laughed. “He named himself after his horses?”
Mrs. Dupree smiled. “Yes. You can see that he’s not skilled at lying. You really have no idea how much he’s agonized over this, Camille. He knew it was a mistake immediately, and he knows he should have told you the truth. His goal this whole time has been your happiness, your wellbeing, your safety. Please know that he never meant to hurt you.”
Camille nodded. Even though the situation still stung, she could hear the truth in Mrs. Dupree’s words, and she couldn’t deny that although sometimes misguided, Mr. Johnson had always been very kind to her. “And you became involved . . .”
“When I arrived to help with Harriet. I knew he was here because he discussed it with me and my husband before he left, but I had no idea that he was pretending to be someone else. That surprised me quite a bit. I told him I’d keep his secret, but only because it was his lie to fix.”
Camille nodded again. She supposed it made sense. That didn’t mean that she had to like it.
Mrs. Dupree reached out and caught her hand. “Talk to him, Camille. Give him a chance to explain it further in his own words. Keep an open mind and an open heart. He loves you—I’ve never seen him this way before. You’ve touched a spot within him that has been lonely for so long. Please don’t send him away before you’ve heard him out.”
“I will talk to him. Right now, I’m just utterly exhausted, and I can’t even think.”
“I understand.” Mrs. Dupree gave her hand a squeeze and then dropped it. “Get some rest. Talk to him tomorrow. Promise me you’ll think about what I said.”
“I will. I promise.”
Camille remained where she was until Mrs. Dupree left the barn. She was so tired, she couldn’t even form thoughts in her brain, but there was one thing she needed, and she needed it badly. She grabbed a blanket from a rack near the door and began to saddle a horse.
Chapter Twelve
There was a feeling of worry and yet anticipation in the dining room for the evening meal. Perhaps David was only aware of it because he knew what was taking place in the small cottage outside the hotel, but it was definitely there, and he watched the emotions play out on the faces of the waitresses as they bustled back and forth from the kitchen. He knew when word had reached the main house that all was well, as each girl now wore a grin as they carried their trays. Apple pie, while tasty, had never made so many people that happy, so there had to be another cause.
He finished his meal and wandered into the parlor. He’d already read the newspaper sitting on the small table in the corner, and there was no one to challenge to a game of chess, even though a board sat there ready to be used. He didn’t know what to do with himself—until he had a chance to work everything out with Camille, he would be on edge. There was no escaping that.
He glanced up and through the window just in time to see Camille cantering off on a horse, taking the main road past the hotel. He didn’t give it a second thought. He ran out to the barn, saddled the other horse, and followed after her. He had no way of knowing where she had gone or if he’d be able to catch up with her—even moving as quickly as he could, it had taken over five minutes to get the horse saddled, and she could be anywhere by then.
It didn’t occur to him until several minutes had passed that he should have asked permission to take the horse. He shook his head—would he never learn to think before he acted?
He rode onward, trying to decide where he would go if he were Camille. He didn’t know this area at all, but then again, Camille hadn’t lived here very long either, and he doubted she’d had much time to explore. He’d just follow his instincts and see where they led. He had to say, though, that this was a rotten time for a young woman to take off on her own—it would be full dark soon.
Within a few more moments, David found himself at the river, and up ahead, he saw Camille sitting on a fallen log on the bank. Thank goodness. Searching for her in the dark would have been dangerous for them both.
He dismounted and looped the reins over a tree branch, then called out as he approached. He didn’t want to frighten her—well, any more than he already had. She turned and looked at him, but then she shifted her gaze back to the river. He didn’t say anything, but sat on the other end of the log. It was getting much colder, and he realized that she wasn’t wearing a coat. He shrugged out of his and wrapped it around her.
“Mrs. Dupree corroborated your story, so I suppose I can’t hate you forever,” she said after a long moment.
“That’s good. I don’t want to be hated forever,” he replied.
“But that doesn’t mean I can love you,” she went on.
The words hung heavy in the evening air. He closed his eyes against the pain of them. “You must care at least a little or you wouldn’t have gone riding at sunset in the late winter with no coat.”
“You’re probably right, but I’m so tired, I don’t know how I feel. Watching Harriet give birth—it was the most magical, most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me. It was as though life and death both touched the earth at the same time—for a moment, she was so exhausted that I thought we might lose her. Then she rallied, and the strength of her spirit . . . it was incredible.”
David didn’t reply. He’d always considered childbirth to be outside his realm—he was a man, after all—but listening to this description, he was almost jealous. He wondered what he’d missed by not being a father yet. Perhaps he’d find out for himself someday, but then he remembered her words about not being able to love him, and his heart sank. She was the only woman he wanted to have children with.
“I’m told you’re a good man, and I believe that. I believe that you wanted what was best for me, and I appreciate that you came to check on me. Honestly, the more I think about it, the sweeter it is. You could have been angry, you could have turned on me, but instead, you wanted to make sure I was all right. That shows me a great deal about your character. But the lie . . . I don’t know, Mr. Johnson. I really don’t know.”
“Do you suppose you could call me David?” he asked, his throat constricting. He wanted to swallow, but didn’t know if he’d be able to.
“You’ve had so many names, I’m not sure I can keep them all straight.” She glanced at him and smiled. “I understand you named yourself after your horses.”
“I hoped that would never come out.” He ducked his head, hoping that in the gathering dusk, she wouldn’t be able to see how red his face had suddenly become.
“Mrs. Dupree couldn’t hold it back.” She looked out over the water again. “I’m confused, Mr. Johnson. I believe I was very close to falling in love with you on Saturday, but now . . . I’m confused. Can you give me some time to sort out my feelings?”
“Of course. I’ll give you whatever time you need.” He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he knew that he hadn’t earned that right.
“What if we continue as we began—writing letters? We got along rather well that way, didn’t we?”
“We did. And if you’d like to write a while longer, I understand.” He didn’t want a delay. He wanted a resolution to this immediately—he wanted to take her back to Wichita with him. But he couldn’t rush this. He couldn’t force a decision.
“I think that would be best.”
He nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do. For right now, though, we need to get back to the hotel. It’s only getting colder out here.”
“You’re right, and I hav
e your coat.” She blinked and looked around as if only just then becoming aware of the situation. “I’m sorry—you must be freezing.”
“A bit,” he admitted.
They each mounted their horses and rode back to the hotel. The breeze caused by the horse’s movement only made David colder, but he wasn’t about to ask for his coat back. They unsaddled their horses without speaking and then went into the hotel, finding their rooms. David undressed and climbed into bed, knowing he needed to leave the next morning, hating that decision, but so grateful that Camille was willing to write him. That was a step in the right direction.
***
Camille’s hands shook as she placed David’s eggs and ham on the table in front of him. She’d fallen asleep immediately the night before, but she’d dreamed about him all night, and her memories of those dreams had left her troubled and confused. One moment, he was a kind, gentle suitor, and the next, his face changed into something frightening. She now had a dull headache, the kind she always got when she hadn’t slept well enough.
When the train whistle blew to call the passengers back to the platform, David rose and sought her out with his eyes. She walked over to him, and he took her by the elbow and guided her into the corner.
“I’m taking this train back home,” he said, his voice low. “I won’t come back until you ask me to—I’m not going to force this relationship on you, even though you know how I feel. But I will be waiting for your letters, and if you should decide that you want to see me, I’ll be on the next train. My feelings aren’t going to change, Camille.”
“Believe me, I understand what an honor that is,” she replied. “When someone falls in love with you, that’s special. Thank you for giving me this space.”
He nodded once, and then he was gone. For just a few moments, she wanted to go after him, but she knew if she did, she wouldn’t be giving herself the time she needed to sort through her feelings, and that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. So she let him leave, and when the train left the station with him on board, she knew it was the right thing.
A Begrudging Bride (Kansas Crossroads Book 11) Page 9
