Wistful in Wisconsin

by Marisa Masterson

  A checked tablecloth landed on the leather seat. Lilah’s head appeared outside the buggy as she climbed the wheel and plopped next to him, petticoats flying upward. He couldn’t resist looking at the shapely calves she revealed to him. The woman did have lovely legs.

  “This should work as a blanket.” Satisfaction oozed in her voice. In her normal voice, he noticed with relief. The one he remembered from that warm day last June when she’d first arrived in Idyll Wood. One look at her and he’d invited her to lunch at the café.

  If only he’d asked her why she was in town. He should have pried. Since she’d only just arrived, he’d been sure they would have time to get to know one another.

  The woman climbing up the buggy wheel didn’t resemble that vision in light blue he saw in his mind’s eye from that lost June day. She was more capable. That made no sense. He knew her to be a silly woman. Why would he think of her as capable?

  She snorted, bringing him out of his reverie. The baby whimpered as Lilah reached into his coat and lifted Little Blossom from his hands. She swaddled the tablecloth around the thin body and held her close innately, having removed her gloves. Perhaps she was only imitating him.

  Lilah’s hands had felt warm through the much-washed fabric of his shirt. A ripple of awareness at her touch went through him. Why this woman?

  “Aren’t we going to continue on to your brother’s home?”

  Her voice held a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. He glanced to his side and saw her pursed lips. Annoyance definitely seemed to be the dominate feeling, if her expression was anything to go by.

  Not answering her, he unwound the buggy ribbons and set the horses into motion—both the one pulling the buggy and the one tied behind. Beside him, Lilah sang a lullaby to the whimpering baby. Her soft voice rang out in the stillness, clear and lovely. It reminded him of water bubbling in a brook, and he smiled.

  The music lulled him. For a moment, he forgot about the election. Fred didn’t even think about the reason he wanted this woman to spend time with Myra.

  No, he simply soaked in the contentment of this purely domestic moment. Why, it was almost like having a wife and child of his own. A sweet, beautiful wife who loved—

  Wait a minute! Was this another part of her plan to wear him down? Lilah made no secret of her desire to marry him. Here she was, putting him in the hero position again as he helped her save this little tyke.

  Without hiding his suspicion, he asked, “Why do you have this baby?”

  The lullaby stopped abruptly. “Didn’t I tell you? I found her.”

  That made no sense. “Found her? You should have reported that.” He shook his head at her oversight.

  Tsk. She made a tsking sound, at him!

  “What do you expect? She’d arrived not long before you did. And, after all, you are the sheriff, and you know about her.”

  When she stopped speaking, he took his eyes away from the road in front of them, to glance at her. Her mouth thinned mutinously. He saw the ridiculousness of his complaint.

  “You’re right, of course. Sorry to attack you.” At her nod, he faced forward again as he spoke. “But, tell me exactly how you found the baby.”

  Soft words, kept sweet now for the infant, sounded to his right. “A knock on my backdoor drew me. I was in the kitchen, so I caught sight of a woman running off as I opened the door.”

  Using his sheriff voice, he broke into her story to ask a question. “Did you recognize the woman?”

  A low sob startled him. Fred gazed down into stormy brown eyes. “She was there, with me. Marta.”

  Immediately, he knew where there was. The brothel. This poor baby came out of violence. Such a lovely creation to have that as her beginning. It suddenly ran through his mind that, while he’d saved Lilah from a fate worse than death, other women in that brothel weren’t there by choice and had suffered through terrible acts.

  A shudder shook him. He felt so strongly about the intimacy of sex that he’d determined early on to wait for his bride. How many women had wanted that same thing only to be tricked into applying for jobs before men like Halderson delivered them to the brothel.

  At least Halderson was in prison. He’d refused to name the person behind the scheme to sell women. For a while, Fred had been suspicious of the mercantile owners. That woman, Mrs. Olsen, was also in prison, for murder. She’d freely confessed her crimes and white slaving hadn’t been one of them.

  Forcing his mind to focus on the issue with the baby, Fred buried his frustration over not catching the leader. He peaked at Lilah and saw her tightly cradle the bundle in her arms. Tears dripped from her nose and landed on the tablecloth. Even so, she smiled sweetly down at the small, sleeping face.

  Clearing his throat, Fred worked to maintain a neutral voice, the one he considered to be professional. “About the note you mentioned. What did it say?”

  Sniffling, Lilah inhaled before gulping audibly. When she did speak, her voice was sweet and chirpy. She was stalking him again. He felt it and inwardly shied away, though he didn’t so much as shift from her side.

  “The writing was poorly done. I understood it well enough to know that Marta wanted me to have her baby so she could start a new life.”

  A sigh came up from her toes and whooshed out with force. “She must be desperate. In the note, she wrote that I was kind so she thought I would be a good mother.”

  He quirked a brow and pulled back to study her. Really looking at her, he tried to put aside her silly stalking and consider her as a mother. Her lips curved upward, the smile spreading all the way to her pansy-brown eyes. Goodness and tenderness radiated from her. She did look, well, right holding the baby.

  Marta was right. She had chosen someone who wouldn’t cheat this baby out of love and the care a little one needed. Even if Lilah didn’t know the first thing about caring for one, she would learn to provide what Little Blossom needed.

  “Blossom.” The word slipped out of his mouth, and Lilah’s eyes rounded. He explained quickly.

  “Just a nickname. When I look at the baby’s mouth, she reminds me of a rosebud so I’ve been thinking of her as Blossom.”

  Excitement brought a glow to Lilah’s face. “Rose! I love that for her name. And you can go on calling her Blossom as her nickname.”

  Chapter 5

  The Accusation

  By the time the buggy pulled up to the farmhouse, Blossom had started rooting against Lilah’s chest. It disturbed Fred that the towel he’d tied around her wasn’t wet. At least, Lilah hadn’t complained of it being so. He knew Blossom definitely needed to eat.

  While it was a terribly intimate act to ask of Myra, Fred determined to get immediate milk for the little one. His sister-in-law would be the best source of that. With Lilah on his right arm and Blossom cradled in the left, he stood at the front door and knocked.

  His oldest niece, Johanna, answered with a welcoming smile. “Uncle Fred, you finally got here!” Her beckoning hand waved them inside. “Hurry! We want to meet your friend.”

  Lilah’s hand gripped his arm. He looked down, expecting to see fear or shyness on her face. She might be a ball of worry on the inside, yet a friendly, smile curved her lips.

  Inside, Lilah removed her hand from his arm. He moved his right hand to Blossom, pulling back the cloth that protected her face from the strong March breezes. At the baby’s cry, girls rushed from all directions to stare at the tiny infant.

  Questions rushed at him from four excited blondes as the twins pulled on his arm, trying to get a look at the baby. Each asked where and who the baby was. Their mother stood back and looked from Fred to Lilah and then to the baby.

  Myra sighed before suggesting, “I expect it’s time to feed your baby. I’ll take you to a private room.”

  Fred held up his right hand to stop her. “No, Lilah can’t feed the baby. It’s a lot to ask, but could—”

  He broke off before finishing. There was no way he could ask it of her. He’d said enough for Myra to
volunteer if she was willing.

  At a particularly desperate wail from Blossom, moisture stained the front of Myra’s dress. She snatched the baby from him, as if she thought he’d keep Blossom from her. Moving quickly with the baby held over the wet patches, Myra headed into his mother’s bedroom, now the spare room, at the back of the house. Soft, assuring words floated back to him as Myra crooned to the baby. Then a door quietly clicked shut.

  The girls were now hanging on Lilah. Dora and Darlene had wrapped their chubby, little girl arms around her legs while Johanna and Berta each hugged one of her arms. They welcomed her in the way they knew best. He appreciated that acceptance as he saw the smile of joy glowing on Lilah’s face. She definitely needed family of some sort in her life.

  By the time he’d retrieved the baskets from the buggy, the girls had Lilah settled onto the sofa in the front room. Myra returned to the front room soon after Fred seated himself next to Lilah.

  Holding up eager hands, Lilah took the contented and diapered baby from Myra. Little Blossom even wore a clean sleeping gown. His sister-in-law was nothing short of amazing.

  With her hands free of the baby, Myra placed them on her hips. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Fred. When she finally spoke, her voice was surprisingly mild.

  “Well, where did my littlest visitor come from if this lady isn’t her mother?”

  When Myra didn’t use Lilah’s name, Fred realized he hadn’t introduced them yet. Growing up with city manners, Myra would wait for that courtesy.

  Slapping a hand across his forehead, Fred gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry. I was too worried about the baby to remember my manners.”

  Smiling first at Lilah then Myra, he went through the ritual. “Myra Sittig, meet Lilah Levitt. She grew up in a large city, like yourself. I’m sure Idyll Wood is as much a shock to her as it was for you.”

  Looking at Fred with a raised eyebrow, Myra dryly said, “I’m not sure the town was as much a shock as the four children.”

  Clearing his throat, Fred looked down at his hands for a moment. He’d forgotten that Myra didn’t know about the girls before she married Holder. Things had been so good in the family that he tried not to remember that awful year before his sister-in-law’s arrival.

  Awkward tension hung like a fog. A change of topic definitely was called for right about now. Turning on the sofa, he smiled sweetly at Lilah. She, in turn, seemed to melt into his side. Nearby, one of the girls giggled.

  “Lilah, tell her about the baby,” Fred prompted gently.

  Rocking the little one in her arms, Lilah began her story. Myra showed very little emotion until she learned that the mother, Marta, had been a victim of the brothel owner and his customers. Tears flowed, then. Her girls ran to stand by her, each touching or patting her arm.

  Sniffling, she reached into a pocket of her apron, pulling out a square of clean linen. “Your little Rose certainly needs you. Both of you, I think.” She placed a hand on first Dora’s cheek and then Darlene’s. Fred wondered if she was remembering the toddlers with no names she’d met the day Myra married Holder.

  Myra’s tone, when she spoke, left no room for argument. They were the words of a mother who expected to be obeyed. “For a few days, you will stay here with us, Lilah. Between Johanna, Berta, and me, we’ll teach you about babies.”

  Lilah wiggled closer to Fred, almost like she wanted to crawl behind him to hide. Her eyes lowered, and when she did look at Myra, she smiled shyly. “I am most grateful, Mrs. Sittig.”

  Tut-tutting, Myra shook her head. “Now, none of that. This baby will tie us together as good friends. I feel that already, so you must call me Myra.”

  She gave the other woman a once-over glance. “You look to be about my size, so clothing for your stay will be no problem.”

  Fred watched Lilah’s face relax, the wrinkles in her forehead smoothing out. Silently, he thanked God for the unseen blessing. This unwanted baby seemed to be changing Lilah’s life for the good. Maybe it would be the thing that helped her move past the trauma she refused to face.

  Reaching for her right hand, where it cradled the sleeping baby, he squeezed it as best as he could. Feeling her gaze, he looked at his sister-in-law. She wore a knowing smile. Smug would be a good way to describe it.

  “What are you thinking over there?”

  Myra shook her head, still smiling. “I’m just making a mental prediction. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  Fred snorted, quietly so he didn’t wake Blossom. “You must drive Holder crazy.”

  Flashing white teeth, Myra didn’t bother to answer him. She gave him, instead, a long, considering look. When she finally smiled, he found the expression disturbing. Out of reflex only, the excuse he gave in his mind, Fred wrapped his arm around Lilah and the baby.

  For a reason he couldn’t understand, his nieces began to giggle at his action. Lilah’s face glowed with contentment—and something else he couldn’t name—as she looked up at him. He struggled to pull his eyes from her and pay attention to what Myra was saying.

  “She will do much better with a family.”

  He caught Myra’s last sentence, and his arm tightened around the two. “No, the woman trusted her baby to Lilah. She needs to keep her.” Then he fixed his attention on the woman cuddled to his side. “That is, if she wants to raise the baby.”

  At that, it was Lilah’s turn to tighten her arms. She clasped the sleeping baby close to her and nodded, as if speech were impossible. Tender, moist brown eyes looked first at her charge and then up at him. He’d spent so much time running from her. For some strange reason, he couldn’t remember why as they sat close on the sofa. It was an odd feeling, like a rabbit happy to be caught in the snare.

  Myra had said something he missed. It brought a happy chorus from the girls, who jumped around the room like they had on Christmas morning. Something surely got them excited.

  His sister-in-law looked at him, obviously waiting for an answer. When his blank face gave away his inattention, she sighed and started again.

  “There’s only one thing to do then. The smartest thing, if you think about it.”

  Tapping a finger to her lips during a dramatic pause, Myra pointed that finger at him when she finally continued speaking. “You will need to marry her.”

  He glanced down at Lilah after Myra said that. The delicate woman wore a pleading look. Her face pinched as the ends of her eyes tilted downward. A movement in her arms pulled his gaze away. Blossom gave a long sigh, though still asleep. Her rosebud lips made sucking sounds then, pulling a smile from him in this tense moment.

  Like the embodiment of reason sent to convince him, Myra continued. “You have a loving woman here. A beautiful daughter, if you want her. Marriage will set aside any gossip because of the baby.”

  From upstairs, Samuel cried. Myra jumped to her feet. Johanna watched her mother leave before explaining, “He takes a while to calm down if we don’t get to him right when he wakes up.”

  With Myra gone, this was a good moment to slip away. Fred unbent himself from the low sofa. Standing over the women in the room, he nodded to each and silently left. As he reached the front door, Myra looked at him from the stairs, the baby in her arms. She shook her head in disappointment and said only, “Running!”

  With that one, accusing word, she moved into the front room with her whimpering son. Frozen at the front door, Lilah’s comment floated to him. “Does he always leave with no goodbyes?”

  Myra’s words were what stayed in his mind during the ride back to town as he mulled over whether they were true. “Fred doesn’t like goodbyes,” she’d quipped with a bite to her voice. “They’re too emotional.”

  Erik Hansen’s accusation echoed through Fred’s brain. He stood, mouth open, and stared at the deputy who’d met him outside the sheriff’s office.

  “Me? A father? Where did this idea come from, Hansen?”

  Hansen inclined his head. Turning in that same direction, Fred noticed a small knot of pe
ople gathered outside the bank. Even from a distance, he easily recognized Mr. Strong in the center.

  “Well, you gonna own up to what you done?”

  Ignoring the gibe, Fred stomped off. His boots sounded loudly on the boardwalk in front of the first few stores he passed. The angry sound reminded him to regain the grip on his emotions. He would speak to those people as the sheriff, not as an enraged man.

  As he neared the bank, one of the men in the group happened to look up. He paled at seeing Fred approach. Saying something to the person next to him, more of the group looked his way.

  The livery owner, the hotel owner, the depot master. The banker certainly managed to assemble the more influential people of this small town.

  The gathering parted as if a key had opened a door, giving Fred a clear view of James Strong with Mayor Ledbetter at his side. Something odd had his sheriff’s sense on alert. What was it, though?

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

  Fred’s words were met with frowns. The livery owner, Mr. Stinson, even sneered at him. That didn’t surprise him. The man had been angry with Fred’s family ever since his boy was murdered while out carousing with Fred’s brother Carl. Stinson’s continued anger did flummox Fred. Even though, as the sheriff, he’d served justice to the murderers, the livery owner didn’t seem appeased or grateful.

  When no one returned his greeting, Fred fixed his stare on the banker. With thinned lips, he arched an eyebrow at the man and waited.

  Strong didn’t disappoint. At Fred’s silent stare, the man spouted his accusation.

  Spit flew along with Hiram Strong’s vile accusation. “Got that woman and her baby hidden quick enough. Didn’t want anyone in town to see your bastard, Sittig?”

  Without answering, Fred moved his gaze so that he made eye contact with each person in the group. While the hotel owner lowered his eyes, the others glared. After the tough year Fred had experienced with kidnappings, murder, and illegal alcohol being sneaked to the Potawatomi tribe, he’d hoped that this group would see him as a capable sheriff.