by Caroline Lee
It wasn’t that she was particularly egotistical; she knew that there was nothing she could do for Wendy that the doctors weren’t doing already. And Serena would’ve made sure that her friend had the best doctors Cheyenne could provide. But Annie knew that she had to be there, to hold Wendy’s hand when the time came. She kept thinking of Maria, and holding her hand, and the tiny, still body that came from her womb, and that’s when she’d have to clench her hands tighter together and bite her lip to keep from crying.
Wendy and Nate had lost three babies already, early in the pregnancies, and they’d all been so, so joyful to know that this one had lasted. Annie was ecstatic to meet her niece or nephew in the spring, and it was heart-breaking to think that an accident would rob them all of that happiness.
And to know that Sebastian hadn’t wanted her to find out! It was… it was damned galling, that’s what it was! Annie bit her lip harder, trying to maintain the anger, so that she didn’t focus on the grief. She had four long days ahead of her, sitting here alone in this uncomfortable seat, to wonder what she’d find when she reached Cheyenne. She needed to be strong, and staying angry at Sebastian would achieve that.
How dare he? He was her mentor, her teacher, the man who’d shaped her into who she was today! She’d given up so much of who she was, inside, in order to be who he said she should be. He’d given her the world… and all she’d had to do was give up herself.
And now, and now! To discover that he still didn’t think that she was strong enough to handle this disaster? To think that she would shatter? He still didn’t respect her strength and her ability to withstand this grief, and realizing that was…
Annie breathed deeply. That was disheartening. She’d trusted Sebastian. Trusted him with her future, and then trusted him when he’d convinced her to visit New York City for Christmas. Trusted him when he’d told her of the opportunities and pleasures that awaited “a girl like her” in his hometown. Now she wondered if he’d ever thought her worthy of them.
Worthy of his family. Worthy of his brother.
Oh God she was going to cry again. Annie turned from her reflection and squeezed her eyes shut. It was particularly cruel that she’d had to leave so soon after realizing her feelings for him. Reggie was the only thing New York City had to offer that she’d enjoyed; now that she was leaving, she could admit that to herself. The Carderocks had been kind to her, in their own way, but she wouldn’t miss them or their friends or their grand amusements. She would miss Reggie, though, even if she had no right to do so.
She’d miss the way he always made sure to speak clearly to her, and the way he didn’t think anything of writing out a conversation with her. She’d miss his crooked smile and his strong hands and the way he was willing to leave a Christmas party to attend to a sick patient and the way he cared.
She’d miss him, but her place was in Cheyenne with her family, and he belonged in this icy magical world of high society that she was happy to leave behind. It had been her choice, in the moment after she’d read Sebastian’s telegraph; her family, her sister, her home… or him. Put like that, and knowing that he’d never hinted at returning her feelings, had made the decision an easy one. She’d been the one foolish enough to fall in love with a man who didn’t return her feelings. He’d been kind to her, and was the brother of the mentor she once trusted, but that was it. She might love him, but she wasn’t anything else to him, and never would be.
Sighing, Annie forced herself to open her eyes. Without sound, it was foolish to choose to stay in darkness longer than was necessary. She’d found that her dreams became more vivid if she examined her eyelids too closely…
And surely those dreams explained the vision sitting across from her. She’d dreamed of him before, with that little grin and the dimple on one cheek. But she’d never imagined him looking so at ease in evening wear, his arms crossed in front of his chest and one foot propped against the small folding table between them. Her mind—clearly befuddled from stress and exhaustion—wouldn’t have made sure to include details like the way his eyes twinkled, or the gentle whiff of sandalwood, or the mud on his pants cuff.
Reggie smiled, his crooked teeth flashing, and she knew he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Annie gasped, and glanced out the window, checking that they really were moving. He’d gotten on in New York? He’d gotten on the train before it had even left?
He’d come after her?
Chapter 10
Reggie watched her slowly blink, as if she didn’t believe he was there. And then, as those lovely blue eyes slowly cleared, a look of anger flitted across her features. She cocked her chin in his direction, and he got the impression that had she been a lady like his sister or the Singleton twins, he would’ve just received quite the snub. But not from Annie; she kept her eyes locked on his face, as if daring him to speak.
But when he opened his mouth, her eyes narrowed, and he slowly closed it again. He hadn’t been sure what to say, anyhow. Wasn’t sure if he should say anything.
“I found your telegraph.” Her voice sounded… hollow. Well, Annie’s voice always sounded hollow, because she couldn’t hear herself. But now she sounded emptier, like part of the spark that made her special was missing. It was hard to hear.
He swallowed, and reached into his jacket pocket. Pulling out the still-crumpled yellow paper, he pulled his foot from the table and leaned forward, smoothing out the telegraph on the surface between them. Then he forced himself to meet her eyes again. “It was from Sebastian.”
“I know.”
“I would have shown you tomorrow. After the ball.”
She looked away, out the window again, and for the first time, Reggie noticed the tear marks on her cheeks. She’d been sitting here grieving, and his heart gave a little lurch at the thought that he hadn’t been there for her.
She’d been grieving for her sister’s trouble, but it hadn’t helped that she thought he—her friend—had kept it from her. Determined to make her understand, Reggie knocked sharply on the table, and her dark blue eyes flashed irritably when they met his again.
“Sebastian was wrong to try to hide this from you.”
Her expression—mulish and drained—didn’t change, but her eyes softened a little. Maybe he’d imagined it? She didn’t say anything else, but nodded once before turning to the window once more, and he wondered what she was thinking about. What she thought about him, about him being here. With her.
He pulled out his notebook and began to scrawl.
I have a train car hooked up. We can travel in more comfort there.
When he passed it to her, he swore that he saw her expression melt a little at the sight of the notebook. But then she read his words, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
She’d brought her own pencil, this time.
You’re coming to Cheyenne also?
Yes. His pencil hovered over the word for several heartbeats, unsure how to express how sorry he was to hear about Wendy. I don’t know if I can help, but— He swallowed. Maybe I can. And I didn’t want you traveling alone, now.
That must’ve been the wrong thing to write. Annie bent over the notebook, scribbling, and he tried to resist the temptation to bend even closer, to find out if her hair smelled as delicious as it looked, still all done up in the intricate formal style, with the few curls falling around her ears.
Why not??? I’ve traveled alone before. I traveled here alone! I’m not helpless. I’m not an invalid! I can—
He put his hand over hers, interrupting her angry flow of words. When she looked up, he nodded gently and she didn’t pull away. “I know.”
I know you can, Annie. But you shouldn’t have to, not after getting that news. He took a deep breath, trying to find the best way to express his feelings. I didn’t want you to have to be alone, now, thinking about Wendy and the baby and your family. I wanted to help distract you. To make you feel better.
He sat back, still staring at the notebook, not wanting to meet her eyes after
that confession. Slowly, one of her tiny hands turned the notebook towards her, but it was a long moment before she began to write.
Having you here does make me feel better. But I’m not sure why. Her pencil lifted off the paper after jabbing the period, and then, carefully, went back and underlined the “does”, as if she was unsure of the emphasis.
It wasn’t a “Thank you.” It wasn’t an “I’m glad you’re here.” But it was close enough.
He finally looked at her—really looked—but she refused to meet his eyes. They sat there for several long minutes, gently rocked by the train’s motion, the few passengers around them asleep. It was soothing, comforting… but Reggie couldn’t let it go.
If she wouldn’t watch his lips, he’d write what he wanted to say. Will you travel in my the Carderock car? It would be more private. Nicer.
Maybe it was easier for her to write. Maybe she just didn’t want to look at him. Your family is
Her pencil hovered over the paper, hesitating. He didn’t. Leaning forward to be able to reach the notebook without moving it, he quickly jotted Quite wealthy?
He saw her shoulders jerk once, but wasn’t sure if she was agreeing, or laughing, or appalled. But she stopped hesitating. Yes. A private train car, Reggie?
Finally, finally, she looked up, and met his eyes. They were both leaning over the notebook, and he wasn’t more than two feet from her. As he watched, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, and he managed not to stare at it. He wanted to touch her skin, to taste that lip. But he couldn’t afford to scare her off, so he forced a grin.
She blinked, and turned her attention to the notebook once more. You’re one of them.
It wasn’t a question, and he couldn’t tell if it was an accusation. He wasn’t sure why it mattered to him, but he needed to defend himself. No. I used to be. But they’re my family, and they helped me when I asked. Tonight.
The lightest touch of her fingertips on the back of his hand; he would’ve missed it, if he hadn’t been looking. “You are one of them, but you are different.”
Swallowing, he dragged his eyes up her arm, past the dark cloak and the gorgeous pale blue gown that had twinkled so enchantingly while he’d swept her around the ballroom only a few short hours before, and met her gaze. “Thank you for seeing that.”
Another long moment, watching those lovely blue eyes sweep over his face, before she nodded. “I will travel with you in your family’s train car.”
Reggie exhaled, not even aware he’d been holding his breath. He had four days, alone with her, to distract her from her pain and grief. To remind her that this was the season of miracles. To convince her that she was right, and that he was different from his family.
To convince her that he was worthy of her friendship. Her attention. Her admiration.
Her love.
Despite being sure that she’d never be able to sleep there, in his bed, Annie woke the next morning feeling refreshed. The night before, she’d followed Reggie through the train to a sumptuous, entirely-too-ornate private car, complete with a washroom and small bedroom. He’d insisted that she take the bed, while he slept on one of the settees in the “parlor” of the car. She’d been exhausted from the events of the day—preparing for the ball, the ball itself, the telegraph, the escape, confronting him—and so she accepted his offer. But even after she carefully hung up the twinkling ice-blue satin gown that had made her feel like a princess, and pulled on her plain faded traveling dress, Annie’s mind was still racing.
How was Wendy? What if Sebastian’s telegraph left off the worst of it? What if Wendy was dying, even now? And why had Reggie followed her? Did he think he could save Wendy and the baby, or was he really just there for her, because he didn’t want her to have to be alone? Annie had to admit that the latter thought made her breathless, to imagine him caring so much about her.
He seemed to genuinely believe what he said, about wanting to help her, distract her. And it had worked; now that he was here, she had any number of things to think about besides the danger Wendy was in.
Like how clean the sheets smelled, wrapped around her, and how soothing it was to fall asleep, rocked by the train’s gentle sway. Despite the jumble her thoughts were in, Annie had felt herself drifting off. Her last thought before she finally gave in to sleep was that she wished he was there, with her.
The sun was already well up, and they were hurtling through Pennsylvania somewhere, according to George, the porter who’d brought her a tea tray. They should pass through Cincinnati that afternoon, and St. Louis tomorrow morning. In the meantime, there was nothing to do but wait.
Annie finished the tea—marveling at the clever little additions to the typical accoutrements that made it easier to partake on a moving train—and settled in on the settee with one of Wendy’s books. It was the only one her sister had written that she’d brought with her to New York, but it was her favorite; a wonderful tale of adventure and daring with a hero that was so obviously Nate no one bothered to deny it. Wendy had finished it shortly after she and Nate had married, and their long-time friendship and understanding glowed through every page. But today, it just didn’t hold Annie’s attention, and she found herself staring out the window at the snowy landscape, thinking about her family and the upcoming holidays.
Since that Christmas fifteen years ago when the Murray sisters had united with the Barker brothers, holidays had always been special. Molly—and Ash in his own way—had made sure to make the Christmas season a heart-warming time to celebrate family and friends and the year past. For the three years Wendy had been in St. Louis, their family—especially their brother-in-law Nate—hadn’t quite been the same. But then he went and brought her back, on a very special Christmas Eve five years ago, and things were good again. Each year, they gathered to laugh, love, and tease each other while they decorated and gorged themselves on Molly’s cooking. Even their neighbors joined in, and they’d often celebrated with Sebastian and Serena in Cheyenne.
But not this year. This year, Annie had left her family, her friends, to go East to be something she wasn’t. It had seemed like a wonderful opportunity—at least, that’s how Sebastian had presented it, and Serena had agreed. Molly had been less sure, but Annie dismissed her concerns, sure her oldest sister was just worried for her. She’d kissed her sisters and Serena, given Wendy’s belly a little pat, and blithely boarded the train to New York, sure she was off on an adventure of a lifetime.
She’d seen balls and musicales and some amazing sights, but it wasn’t Christmas with her family. She’d given that up for… for what? For the chance to be something she wasn’t.
Oh God, she was getting weepy again.
That’s the moment that Reggie chose to return, carrying a food basket he’d probably picked up at the last stop. He was smiling, but as soon as he saw her face, he halted, and Annie turned quickly to the window, not wanting to ruin his good mood. To her surprise, he put down the food, and sat beside her. There were many seating options in the comfortable space, and he chose to sit right beside her? Annie tried not to make anything of that.
You’re thinking about Wendy, aren’t you? Annie’s lip curved slightly at his note, wondering why his presence and his written attempts at comfort seemed to be working. I sent Sebastian a telegraph before we left, telling him we were on our way.
We? She was glad to have her own pencil and notebook nearby.
I knew I was coming with you. He sent her a slight smile—just a shade of his usual crooked grin—that made her heart lighter, somehow. I told him the schedule, and asked him to send an update to St. Louis. Annie was glad there’d be news, but didn’t move her pencil. After a minute, Reggie continued. It will be nice to have more information, won’t it?
He was asking her if everything was all right, and Annie didn’t know how to respond. This was better, with him beside her. He’d changed sometime during the night as well, and his long legs were now encased in simple dark trousers. Annie tried not to stare at them—or t
hink of his warmth where their thighs touched—while she organized her reply.
But then she made the mistake of looking at him, and all of her polite words seemed to whiz right out of her head. He hadn’t shaved; that was the first thing she noticed. She’d never seen him with little stubble around his chin, not even on the days he’d spent so long at the clinic. But here and now, in the intimacy of the train car, hurtling towards home, it seemed appropriate. Her fingers itched to touch it, to touch him, to see if the rest of him was as warm as the concerned look in his dark brown eyes.
“Annie?”
She tried to shake herself loose from his spell, but part of her didn’t want to. Honestly, none of her wanted to be free of him, of his concern. She took a deep breath, and the truth burst out of her. “It does not feel much like Christmas, does it?”
His expression melted then, from concern into sadness. But not, Annie was pleased to see, pity. He shifted, pulling the arm that was beside her up and around, until its comforting weight rested behind her on the back of the settee. It was so hard not to lean into him, into his warmth and comfort, but she forced herself to meet his eyes… because what if she was wrong?
“I know, Annie. The Christmas spirit is lacking this year.” He tried to smile, and she loved him for it.
“We will miss the chance to decorate your last tree.”
He just nodded, a little sadly, and she gave into the temptation to scoot closer to him. To her delight, he tightened his hold on her shoulders, as if trying to snuggle closer to her. Not wanting the moment to end, she picked up her sister’s book, and opened it to the beginning so that he could read too.
They sat like that for the rest of the morning, the food and frozen countryside forgotten; together on the settee, both reading the same book. They chuckled over the same passages, read at the same speed, and pointed out clever phrases. And they never once needed to speak.
