The familiar scent of hearty stew filled the air. His mouth watered instantly. Buck avoided looking at Annika as he closed the door, but even with the one quick glance he had spared her, he became aware of the new way she'd combed her hair and the jaunty black bow holding back her shining hair.
He forced himself to think when she began walking toward him, her radiant smile beaming.
“Let me take your coat.”
Before he knew it, he'd slipped his arms out of the sleeves and had handed his heavy jacket to her. She stood on tiptoe as she hung it on the peg beside the door. Her own chocolate wool jacket was open revealing the stark white front of her fitted blouse. He was all too aware of the way the crisp fabric hugged her full breasts.
When Buck realized his hands were shaking, he shoved them into his pockets. “Smells good in here,” he managed to say.
She turned to him and gave him that smile again. “Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled secretively.
Wondering what she was up to, he forced himself to stop staring and took in the room instead. The table was already set for all of them and at one end, Baby sat playing with some bits of paper. He stared, long and hard, at the shining black dress she wore.
“Do you like it?”
He nearly came out of his skin, starting visibly when Annika spoke. She was still standing beside him. He paced around the table until he stood beside Baby. “Where'd she get it?” Buck reached out and gingerly felt the silky material between his rough fingers.
Annika swelled with pride. “I made it.”
Knowing how ill at ease she was with a needle, he appreciated her efforts all the more.
“Stand up and show Uncle Buck your new dress,” Annika said to Baby.
The child held out her arms to Annika and Buck watched as the woman picked up Baby and stood her on the floor. Baby twirled and preened and then flew to Buck, hugging him about the knees and burying her face against him. He reached down and scooped her up, then held her against him while he admired the satin dress. He touched the row of buttons and looked over at Annika.
“These are yours,” he reminded her unnecessarily, wondering at her use of them.
Her sky blue eyes shadowed. “Baby loves them so; I thought she should have a few. If you save them, you can use them for a dowry when she grows up.”
He felt a stab of pain at the mention of Baby growing up, swift but cutting, for he knew she would not be around for him to watch her grow. He set the little girl on the floor again.
Annika turned back to the hearth. It was a moment before she said, “I have some stew all made and some biscuits, and you won’t believe it, but I even tried to bake some apples. It’s not a pie, but...” She shrugged.
He watched her as she hovered over the fire, stirring, sniffing, sampling.
“Why?” The word was out before he realized he’d said it.
“Why what?” She turned to face him again. Her cheeks were red, but he wasn’t certain if the color was from the fire or embarrassment.
“Why are you doing this?”
She planted her hands at her waist and frowned. “Can’t I help out if I want to?”
He pointed to Baby. “But the dress, the dinner. Why all of a sudden?”
She stepped away from the fire and came to stand before him. Buck felt himself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He took a step back.
Her voice was low, warm as melted butter. It played up and down his spine. “I just wanted to do something for you because you’ve been working so hard lately, and I thought we should celebrate Baby’s recovery. I decided to save the dress for a surprise and I planned this little dinner party.”
He knew he was frowning, but he couldn’t help it. She was standing so damn close, smelling so clean, so womanly, and looking so pleased that it was all he could do to keep himself from reaching out for her.
Then he heard her whisper, “Please don’t ruin it.”
Shaking off his dark feelings, Buck tried to smile. “Give me a minute to wash up.”
“Go ahead. I’ll dish up.”
Walking to the basin he was thankful for the reprieve. As he poured water from an earthenware jug into the enamel washbowl, Buck tried to corral his racing thoughts. There was no way he could turn tail and run outside as he had for the past two weeks, not with Annika waiting for him to acknowledge her efforts and join the celebration. He closed his eyes as he splashed water over his face and neck and called on all the strength of will he possessed to see him through the next few hours.
ANNIKA cleared away the last of the dishes and stacked them on the kitchen bench. She left Buck dwelling over a cup of coffee with Baby happily ensconced on his lap as she showed him the paper dolls and the many articles of clothing the pages of Sears and Roebuck had so generously provided them. She had sensed Buck’s unease throughout the first few minutes of the meal, but the longer Baby was her endearing self, preening and tossing her curls as she admired her new dress, and the more Annika ignored his discomfort, the sooner he forgot himself and began to relax with them.
He had even complimented her on the meal. The stew, which he had taught her to make step-by-step, had been delicious. The biscuits, although she thought she had done everything she had observed over the past weeks, were as hard as bullets. And the dessert—she poured hot water in the washbasin and then slipped the dishes in one by one—well, the baked apples had only been half baked but edible.
Unwilling to let the mood slide back to what it had been before they sat down to eat, Annika turned away from the soaking dishes, dried her hands on the dish towel, and then joined Buck and Baby at the table.
“Now for the festivities.”
He looked at her skeptically, one of his golden brows arched in question. “Festivities?”
She nodded. “At home whenever we have a dinner party we all gather in the parlor after dinner and sing songs, tell stories, and pop popcorn. I thought the least we could do was tell stories.”
The life she described sounded idyllic, like a scene out of a storybook. As Buck watched the golden girl sitting across from him speak of home with such a glow in her eyes, the more he became determined to see that Baby would have just such a chance at that kind of life.
“What do you think?” She was watching him closely.
“I don’t know any stories.”
“Oh, pooh.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Pooh? Pretty strong language, Miss Storm.”
“You must know one or two stories. Didn’t your mother ever tell you any?”
“Not that I can remember. She was a midwife who traveled all over the hills from house to house whenever she was called. When she was home there was the three of us to care for and my father to wait on. She never had time.”
Uncertain how to react to his statement, she changed the subject. “Then let’s sing.”
“I don’t know any songs.”
“You’re lying.”
“What if I am?”
“Don’t you know how to have fun?”
“What for?”
Frustrated, she put her arms on the table and leaned toward him. “Life isn’t all drudgery, Buck Scott.”
“You can’t prove it by me.”
Annika sighed and tried to keep her spirits up. Just when she was about to give up, Buck stood up. He put Baby down on his chair and began to walk away from the table.
Surely he wouldn’t just walk out tonight as he had every night for the past two weeks? Annika couldn’t believe that even he could be so unfeeling. “Are you going out?”
He heard the disappointment in her voice and shook his head to reassure her. “Just lookin’ for something.” He stepped up on the hearth and began to shuffle the tins and crocks that lined the mantel. Finally, he took one from the back row and shook it, opened it, and peered inside.
He walked back to Annika and presented the tin to her.
She peered inside and then smiled up at him. “Popcorn!”
“There’s not muc
h, but the bugs never found it, so we might as well have it.”
“Oh, Buck! This is a wonderful addition to the party.”
She held the tin of popcorn to her breast as if he had given her the greatest of treasures.
He was beginning to think that the isolation and the four walls of the cabin were beginning to get to her mind. How else could so humble an offering make anyone so happy?
Annika hurried to pour oil in the Dutch oven and then sprinkled in some popcorn, thankful that Buck was beginning to come around. A moment ago she thought he’d been ready to walk out the door, but now he was holding Baby on his lap again as he talked to the child about each of the cutout figures on the table before them.
He looked up and smiled at her over Baby’s head and Annika felt her heart sing with joy.
It was a beginning.
“BABY and I have been talking lately,” Annika began, watching Buck intently, “and I think that our celebration tonight is the perfect time for her to choose a real name.” She tried to hold back her enthusiasm, but felt it bubbling over as she tried to explain her thoughts of the past few days. “It’s as if she’s starting her life over again the way she came back to us after the accident, so I think it would be appropriate for her to choose a real name. What do you think?”
Buck offered her the last handful of popcorn in the bowl, but she shook her head. He munched on it noisily as he considered what she’d said. “A name, huh?”
“A real name. I’ve been telling her about all kinds of names lately and we’ve even named her dolls, so I think she knows what I’ve been talking about,” Annika said.
“And she gets to choose?”
Annika nodded. Baby was sitting on her lap now, cradled against the crook of her arm, her mouth surrounded by popcorn crumbs and bits of hull. “What do you think, Baby? Remember when we named your dolls and how we talked about you choosing a new name for yourself?”
Buck crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in the chair, and stretched out his long legs. “What kind of names have you talked about?”
“Girls’ names of course, like Mary, Susie, Catherine, Olivia, Elizabeth, Caroline... all kinds of names. Do you have any ideas?”
He was staring intently at the child, then his eyes met Annika’s. “I guess she’ll need a real name.”
Suddenly Annika regretted her own interference. Here she was trying to reconcile Buck to the fact that he loved and needed his niece and that to give her up was unthinkable, and now she had made it sound as if Baby were starting a whole new life, a life Buck would have no part in, a life so different that Baby would need a brand-new name to go with it.
“Maybe it’s a bad idea,” Annika said, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.
“No, I think she should have a real name. Something decent.”
Annika sighed. By the resigned look Buck wore on his face she knew things were not going as she had planned. She had no recourse. “What name do you want, Baby? What should we call you?”
The little girl looked up at Annika with trust in her eyes. She smiled across the table at Buck.
“Remember the names we talked about? You said you liked the names Caroline and Susan. Would you like us to call you one of those?”
Baby shook her head emphatically. “Buttons,” she said.
Annika shook her head. “We’re not playing with the buttons now; it’s almost time for you to go to bed.”
“Buttons,” Baby said again.
Annika looked up at Buck. “On second thought, I think this was a bad idea. Maybe she’s too young to choose.”
“Buttons,” Baby insisted.
“I’ve confused her,” Annika admitted.
“Buttons!” Baby said louder because no one seemed to be paying her any mind.
“I think she’s just chosen,” Buck said with a smug smile.
Annika looked doubtful. “What?”
Baby tugged on Annika’s jacket to get her attention. “Buttons. Me name me Buttons now.”
Annika groaned. “Not Buttons. That’s not a name.”
“Me name me Buttons.”
“You told her she could choose,” he reminded her.
“I wasn’t counting on Buttons. The point of all this was to give her a real name. Whoever heard of anyone called Buttons?”
“Whoever heard of the name Annika?” he wanted to know.
Baby chimed in again. “Me name—”
“I know, I know,” Annika groaned. “Why don’t you let your uncle put you to bed and we’ll talk about it tomorrow?”
“Buck put Buttons to bed.” She held out her arms to Buck.
He walked around the table and took the child out of Annika’s arms, trying hard to hide a smile.
Annika couldn’t help but notice the glimpse of good humor. “Maybe it’s not such a bad name at that,” she mused softly.
“It’s different,” he said.
“So is Annika,” she said.
“Night, Ankah,” Baby called out.
She watched as Buck pulled the satin dress over Baby’s head and put the old one on before he tucked her in.
“Night, Buttons,” Annika said as she started to wash the dishes.
Baby Buttons was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Annika sensed Buck moving restlessly about the room and hurried through her task, anxious to stop him should he decide to leave her alone as usual. She quickly washed and stacked the wet dishes, gave them a cursory toweling, and nearly threw them on the shelf. When she heard him move toward the door, she spun around and blurted out, “Have some more coffee.”
He glanced quickly in her direction, then away, and shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Buck put his hand on his jacket, determined to get outside. He needed to be free of the sight of her standing there with her hands clasped at her waist, her eyes searching him for the answers to questions he would rather not have to answer.
“Please don’t go outside tonight.”
The plea was issued in a tone barely above a whisper. He wished he could oblige her, but he needed to get out into the crisp night air, to breathe in the freedom of the valley, and see the stars. He had to get away from her and try to drive the longing from his soul. Annika Storm made him think thoughts he hadn’t the right to think, to want things he had no right dreaming of.
Buck faced her again and drew upon all the courage he possessed. “I think you know why I can’t stay here.”
She let out a pent-up sigh. It was in the open now, this thing that hung on the air between them like a dark secret. It was now that she must act. “We have to talk, Buck. You can’t keep running outside and hiding from the truth.”
He shoved his splayed fingers through his hair, turned away from the door, and walked over to the fire. He stared down at the flames for a long while, then finally he spoke again. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”
“I know it is. You stay outside day and night just to keep from being with Baby. You’re trying to divorce yourself from that child, but you can’t fool me, Buck Scott.” Annika crossed the room until she stood not a foot away. She forced him to look at her, not down at the fire. He was tall, taller than any man she’d ever known, but she was no slight maid and could nearly meet him eye to eye. “You love Baby, Buck, love her as if she were your own flesh and blood, and if you intend to give her up, don’t try to enlist my help. I won’t take her from you, no matter how much I’ve come to care about her.”
“If you really cared about her, you’d take her. You’d make sure she had a good home, a decent home, one where she’d grow up safe and have everything I can’t give her.”
“You love her too much to let her go.” Annika studied him intently, afraid of becoming swallowed up by his burning blue gaze. “I think she’s probably the only thing you’ve ever loved in your life.”
She’d come too close to the truth. He watched her speak, his eyes intent on her lips. He lifted his gaze to her hair, noticed the stray wisps that had escaped the s
atin ribbon to p lay around her face. He ached to touch her. It would be so easy to reach out and run his fingers down her soft cheek. So easy.
But it would be his downfall. And hers.
I think she’s the only thing you’ve ever loved in your life.
Her words echoed in his mind. “You might be surprised,” he whispered, thinking aloud.
Then surprise me. She wanted to shout it when she heard his soft reply, but she held her silence. Annika tensed, certain he was going to reach out and pull her into his arms, uncertain of what she would do if he did, but knowing she would welcome the opportunity to find out. The firelight played upon the walls around them, the soft glow of the lamp on the mantel cast the interior of the cabin in a golden light. It was a magic moment, one she knew she would never forget no matter what came to pass in the next few weeks or for the rest of her life, for that matter.
Buck stepped forward, paused as if he were debating his next move, then stepped around her. He grabbed his jacket and slammed out the door.
Annika felt as if her knees were about to give way as she watched his swift departure with fleeting hope coupled with disappointment. Her plan to confront him had failed. Not only had he held fast to his decision to give up Baby, but also he had walked out before he would admit to any feelings he might have for her.
Still, she knew there was no denying the look on his face just before he had stormed out. He had wanted to kiss her as much as she had hoped he would. Armed with that knowledge, she was certain that he couldn’t hold out much longer.
If he did she just might have to take matters into her own hands. After all, how else was she to know if kissing Buck Scott would be any different than kissing Richard Thexton? Maybe her response to all men was the same. Maybe there was something wrong with her.
She knew that somehow she had to find out.
15
THE evening having ended in failure, Annika decided to change into her nightclothes and make up the pallet she had not slept on for days. It was time to put things back to normal, or at least as normal as they had been before, given the situation. Buck had looked exhausted for far too long and deserved a night in his own bed.
Come Spring Page 21
