The Heirloom Brides Collection

by Tracey V. Bateman

  She struggled to hide her stunned reaction to his suggestion but somehow managed to retain her composure and don her mantle.

  Julia dashed to her side. “Do you work tomorrow?”

  “I don’t work Saturday.” She shifted her attention to Mr. Zanzucchi. “Thank you for the invitation, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to come.”

  She was, after all, a professional. Or had her patient forgotten that? She could understand the girls’ enthusiasm. His was puzzling. Unless he, too, could be developing feelings outside their nurse-and-patient relationship.

  Nicolas lay in his bed. The position was the same—on his stomach—but the room was different. Quiet darkness had settled over the house on this Thursday night. All three girls had drifted off to sleep, leaving him alone to wrestle with his thoughts. Miss Taggart’s attentiveness to his girls the past three weeks. The confident way she consistently tended to his wounds. The tender conversations they’d had about fresh starts—for Cripple Creek following the fires in ‘96 and for its people. And today… the memory of the personal statements he’d made to his poor nurse.

  “I can’t have you taking their side. I have enough pretty girls giving me grief.”

  Nicolas scrubbed the whiskers on his jaw. In essence, he’d called her pretty. She was, but whatever had come over him that he would make such a personal and public statement to a young woman who was simply trying to perform her job?

  She was right to dismiss his slip of the tongue. She’d busied herself drying her hands. Having trained at St. Luke’s, a big university, she no doubt had plenty of experience brushing off the careless remarks of forlorn patients.

  And what of his invitation that she return to play checkers sometime when she wasn’t working? Whatever happened to his concern that it wouldn’t be proper to have a young single woman in the house? Yes, she was especially attentive to his daughters and personable with him, but she was there to accomplish medical tasks. The bewildered look she gave him in response to his invitation said he best not expect her to pay a visit during her off hours.

  He’d made the suggestion because his girls enjoyed her company. Nicolas let out a deep sigh. The truth was, he enjoyed her company, too. Who wouldn’t? Miss Taggart wasn’t just pleasant to look at, but she was also intelligent and good-natured.

  Still, it wasn’t like him to be so forward. No doubt it was due to the fact that he’d been confined for five weeks. First in the hospital, then in his home. And Miss Taggart had been the first woman to pay him any mind, let alone touch him, since Maria passed. Even the admission that her attention came in the execution of her job as his nurse didn’t diminish the fact that it had awakened his need for companionship.

  Nicolas lifted his head and squashed his pillow into a ball.

  If he couldn’t peel potatoes or do any wood carving, he would at least figure out a way to play checkers with his girls. They could play on the floor next to the cot. Or he could sit in the chair with a pillow at his back for a game, two or three times a day.

  He needed something else to occupy his mind. Anything to keep him from thinking of Miss Taggart.

  Chapter Six

  Darla clicked the boardinghouse door shut behind her and stepped out onto a sunbathed porch. Saturday was the perfect day for clear weather—her day off. After breakfast, she’d written letters to Mother and Aunt Cora and polished her white booties. Her clean uniform hung on the clothesline out back.

  She descended the steps and picked her way down the slushy gravel walk to the street. As she passed the neighboring houses on Golden Avenue, snow from Monday’s storm still huddled in shady pockets here and there, but sunshine reigned and warmed her back.

  At the corner, Darla turned right and down the steep street toward company housing. It was a good day to play checkers with the three Zanzucchi girls.

  Or was it? As their father’s nurse, she would be mixing her job with pleasure. But it hadn’t been her idea; it was Mr. Zanzucchi’s invitation.

  Although Cripple Creek had definitely grown in her absence, it still wasn’t such a thriving metropolis that she would never treat friends and acquaintances at the hospital or in their homes. It would be nigh to impossible and quite isolating to never socialize at church and community functions with people who were also her patients at one time or another. Was she not to have any friends or social engagements?

  Besides, it was only a game or two of checkers with three girls who didn’t have a mother and were suffering the trauma of seeing their father severely injured and rendered helpless for a season. It was the neighborly thing to do, to befriend Jocelyn, Jaya, and Julia and offer the girls a little diversion. That was all she was doing.

  At least, that was what she told herself.

  On Galena Avenue, Darla walked to the fourth house on the right. Big brown eyes peered out the front window. “Ith her!” The announcement breezed out through the gap between Julia’s baby teeth.

  Before Darla could knock, the youngest Zanzucchi sister flung the door open, beaming a heartwarming smile. The savory scent of oregano and garlic and the mouthwatering aroma of yeast bread rewarded Darla’s senses and made her stomach growl.

  “Good afternoon, Julia.”

  “You did come. Jaya said you would, but Jocelyn didn’t think so. And Papa—”

  “I did.” Darla wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Mr. Zanzucchi had to say about it. Stepping inside, she looked at Jocelyn, who stood at the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand. “Is this a good time?”

  “It’s the best time, Miss Darla,” Jaya said.

  “Jaya’s right. This is the best time.” Jocelyn set the wooden spoon in a bowl on the countertop. “We’re ready for a break from our chores.” She glanced at the table where the other two girls stood. All three of them looked down at the checkerboard, then up at Darla.

  Surely they didn’t expect her to decide who would challenge her first. She couldn’t. Darla glanced at the cot and the man propped up on his elbows. Wavy hair, a mass of dark-roasted coffee richness, dusted the back of his neck just above the blanket. On his forehead, one curl turned up just above his thick eyebrows, and a crooked smile lit his whiskered face.

  “Hello, Miss Darla.” He’d obviously been listening.

  And she’d been focusing on his physical appearance. “Hello.”

  He seemed to be doing the same thing, though, studying her from the navy-blue shoes to the straw cloche hat on her head. “No medical bag today, I see.”

  Darla shook her head. “I’m not here in an official capacity. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Yes.” The crooked smile returned. “I rather like the day dress.”

  “It’s like the blue sky. And the lace on her neck is like one of those puffy clouds.” Jaya spoke with her hands shaping pictures. “Blue is my favorite color.”

  “Mine, too.” Mr. Zanzucchi drew in a deep breath, the expansion of his chest forming a muscled silhouette under the thin blanket. “I’m the one who invited you to return… to play checkers with the girls.” He hadn’t taken his brown-eyed gaze from her. “I didn’t think you’d come, but we’re glad you proved me wrong.”

  “Mr. Zanzucchi—”

  “Nicolas, please.”

  “Nicolas, then, and please call me Darla.” She glanced at the checkerboard. “I was hoping you could help us decide which of the girls gets to play the first game.”

  “The oldest,” Jocelyn said.

  “Th-h baby girl.”

  Jaya groaned. “I’m none of that. The best player should go first.”

  Nicolas cleared this throat and looked at Jocelyn. “I think this would be a good time to draw sticks.”

  Nodding, Jocelyn took a cloth sack from a basket on the sideboard, then pulled the drawstring tight and shook it.

  Jaya shook her finger at her big sister. “Don’t cheat.”

  “Miss Darla.” Nicolas had laid his head on his arms. “I usually roll the sticks and hold the sack for the drawing. Would you mind do
ing the honors?”

  Darla nodded, then took the sack from Jocelyn, pressed it between her hands, and commenced rolling what felt like three twigs. She loosened the drawstring enough that the girls could reach in and held the sack out to Julia first.

  “It’s the number two.” Darla held the sack in front of Jaya. “You draw next.”

  Jaya squeezed her eyes shut and pulled out a stick with One written on it. She squealed.

  “You get to play first.” Darla said, and returned the sack to the sideboard where a long loaf of crusty bread cooled, so fresh that steam still rose from it. Seating herself, she drew in a deep breath, sweetened with its aroma. She loved this place. She loved this family. Not in the least surprised by her internal admissions, she focused her gaze on the light and dark game pieces.

  “You’re our guest, Miss Darla.” Jaya motioned to the board, her little hand outstretched, palm up. “So you get to make the first move.”

  Not just their father’s nurse, but a guest.

  Happier than she’d felt in a long time, she smiled at her miniature opponent and reached for her first game piece.

  Nicolas leaned over the table, taking care to keep his back straight. Darla held the bread basket out to him, her green eyes sparkling.

  He took the basket from her. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling since the moment she’d arrived. “Thank you.” For the basket, but mostly for showing up when he was certain she wouldn’t.

  “You’re welcome.” She wrapped a noodle around her fork like he’d shown her. “You seem to be doing well. Your back?”

  “I feel good, but I know my time at the table is limited.”

  Darla and the girls nodded in unison, and she rewarded him with a smile he would’ve thought could heal all his wounds right then and there. Her time with them the past few weeks had gone a long way toward taking his girls’ minds off his condition and the necessity to make up for his helplessness.

  The girls had each played three games of checkers with her, Jaya coming out the champion. It hadn’t been easy convincing Jaya and Julia to clear the table of the checkers game. Until Julia invited their guest to stay for supper, and Darla agreed. It hadn’t required any persuasion. His off-duty nurse appeared eager to take part in the activity. In his family’s activities.

  Spinning another bite of sauce-drenched noodles onto his fork, he looked at the clock on a shelf above the trunk. Darla had been at the house for nearly three hours. Three of his best hours in… he couldn’t say how long it’d been since his girls had giggled with such abandon. But he could say it had been a long time since he’d smiled this much. And had he ever had to concentrate so hard on not staring?

  The ruffled lace at the collar and sleeves of Darla’s dress made for quite the departure from her starched uniform. Frankly, she looked more angelic to him today. Where the uniform gave her the professional appearance she needed as his nurse, the summer sky–blue dress—

  “That carving!” Darla pointed to the bas relief above the door. “I admire it every time I’m here.”

  He followed her gaze, a swirl of emotion revisiting him.

  “It’s exquisite!”

  “Thank you.” Nicolas raised his porcelain coffee mug. “It’s my favorite.”

  “Papa made it,” Jocelyn said, tearing off another piece from the crusty loaf of bread.

  “You did that?”

  “I whittle, yes.” He took another gulp of coffee. “I’m hoping that someday I can rise up from my ashes.”

  Her green eyes shimmered with a tenderness that almost made him believe he could be the phoenix in his carving.

  “That trunk in the corner,” Jaya said, and Darla followed her gaze and nodded. “It’s full of things Papa has made.” Jaya used her hands for emphasis. “My favorite is the horse.”

  “I’d love to see them sometime.” When he nodded, Darla filled her fork and looked across the table at Jocelyn. “Jocelyn, I’m quite certain this sauce and noodles are the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Thank you.” His eldest daughter beamed with pride. “I like cooking with my grandmother’s recipes. But I have a French girl in my class at school.”

  “Cherise Sinclair?”

  “Yes.” Jocelyn nodded. “She always talks about the food back in Paris. I’d really like to learn to cook French style.”

  “It’s one of my favorites.”

  “It is? Do you think you could teach me?”

  “I’m not sure how good of a cooking student or teacher I’d make, but I’d bet we could have fun trying.”

  The squawk of stressed wagon wheels seemed to impel Julia from her chair to dash to the window. “Mr. Zachary is here, Papa!”

  Darla’s fork clanged against her plate. “Zachary Pfeiffer?”

  “Yes. Zach owns Pfeiffer Coal Operations and sometimes delivers our coal.” He set his mug on the table. “And today’s the day.”

  Her brow furrowed, and she ran her tongue over her lips.

  “You know Zach?” he asked.

  “I did.”

  As Nicolas watched Darla stand and smooth the embroidered flowers on her bodice, an uneasiness tightened his gut. There was more to this story, and he was certain he didn’t want to hear it.

  Zachary was here… now?

  Darla excused herself from the supper table and joined Julia at the door. She didn’t plan to go outside, but she did wish to see him. And it was too late to hide the fact that she and Zachary shared a history. Her abrupt response to his name, dropping her fork and practically jumping to her feet, had given at least that much away.

  “You know Zach?” Nicolas had referred to him as Zach. The two men were apparently friends, a fact that did nothing to settle her nervous stomach.

  Zachary had a coal business? Why wasn’t he working at the haberdashery? Did it have something to do with why Emily Updike had married an accountant from out of town? Darla shook her hands at her sides, hoping to release some of her nervous energy. She had so many questions. None of which she wished to ask in front of Nicolas or his girls.

  Julia flung the door open. “Mr. Zachary always brings us candy.” She’d practically sung the announcement.

  He liked children. Or at least he enjoyed treating these three. A sweet gesture that bode well for him, because she favored Nicolas’s girls, too.

  Ready or not, her reunion with Zachary was going to happen, here and now. Her heart pounding, Darla stood in the open doorway and watched the wagon roll to a stop at the side of the house. The driver wore bib-and-brace overalls. Not the tailored suit she’d been used to seeing Zachary in when he worked for his father. But it was him, all right. Sandy-blond hair stuck out from beneath a canvas cap. When he climbed down the opposite side of the wagon, a yellow broadcloth shirt stretched tight against his thickset shoulders.

  Her mouth suddenly dry, she moistened her lips again. What if seeing Zachary and letting him know she was back in town was one mistake on top of another?

  Zachary rounded the back of the wagon, crouching down at girl level and holding up four Tootsie Rolls. Looking up, he straightened and lowered the treats. “Darla?”

  When she nodded, he practically bolted up the steps and stopped just short of an embrace. She likely had the smudges on his hands and overalls to thank.

  “It really is you.”

  “Yes. Hello, Zachary.”

  He plucked his cap off and dropped it on a porch chair. “What are you doing here?”

  “She’s Papa’s nur-th.” Julia smiled up at them, a new tooth starting to fill in the gap in her teeth.

  Zachary cleared his throat, studying Darla from hair to shoe. “His nurse?” His incredulous tone only tightened the knots in her stomach. “With a dinner napkin tucked into your waistband?”

  “Yes.” She yanked the napkin free and let it hang at her side. “Just not today.” She was friends with Nicolas and his girls, and she’d made a social call. But for some strange reason, she didn’t seem able to say as much.

  “I
didn’t know you were in town. When did you come back?”

  “It’s been a few weeks.”

  “Weeks?” His blue eyes widened. “I’m not that hard to find.”

  “My new job at the hospital and doing home visits has kept me busy.”

  Jaya sidled up to her. “Today she came to play checkers.”

  “I see.” Zachary raked his hair, leaving a blond weed sticking up.

  “Do you want to play checkers, Mr. Zachary? We can play it on the floor.”

  He shook his head. “Not today, Jaya. I have lots of work to do, and you all have supper to finish.”

  Darla glanced at the candy in his hand, and he quickly distributed it to the three grateful girls who flocked to him.

  “I brought the fourth one for Nic. Figured he’d earned one after what he’s been through.” He glanced inside to where Nicolas leaned on a chair in front of the table, then looked back at her. “I would’ve brought you one if I’d known you were here.”

  Was that disappointment or accusation in his voice?

  “Hey, Zach.” Nicolas walked toward them, his back straight and his brown eyes averted from her. “Buddy, if you brought me candy, I say you need to stop the dilly-dallying and bring it inside.”

  Darla stepped out of the doorway to let Zachary pass. He shook Nicolas’s hand, then gave him the candy.

  Nicolas dropped it into his shirt pocket. A pained expression tightening his features, he gripped the edge of a side table and drew in a deep breath. “I’d introduce the two of you, but it seems you already know each other.”

  “You could say that.” The smile on Zachary’s face was a little too smug for her comfort. “Yes. Since she was in high school.”

  “That’s when I first met her, too.” Nicolas let go of the table. “She’s changed some since then.”

  A sudden flush heated the tips of her ears. Nicolas had no doubt figured out the nature of their past relationship, and they were speaking of her as if she were invisible.

  “I wouldn’t know about that.” Zachary turned and took a slow step toward her. “If you don’t have plans for tomorrow evening, Darla, I’d like to take you out to supper.”