by Merry Farmer
Josephine held back, reaching for Freddy’s hand as Pete carried Muriel inside. Freddy shot a sullen look up at her, then grudgingly took her hand and let himself be escorted through the doorway. Luke shuffled after them.
Mrs. Fielding paused by the door, looking out with a slight frown. Curious, Josephine turned to see if she could figure out what had made Mrs. Fielding look so suspicious, but there was nothing outside but the same maid who had been sweeping the porch of the house across the cove earlier that day. The maid was weeding the garden now, not even looking at Mrs. Fielding’s house.
Before Mrs. Fielding could step all the way inside and close the door, Luke said, “You should know, ma’am, that I intend to get a job as soon as I can, and then I plan to find my own place where the kids can come live.”
He spoke with the edge of challenge in his voice, but Mrs. Fielding merely smiled, clasped her hands in front of her, and nodded. “Whatever you wish, young man.”
“Now hold on,” Pete growled, like an engine just getting started after being silent for a long time. “This young man needs to be in school, not out working just so his family can squeak by.”
“Well, someone has to pay for Freddy and Muriel to live here,” Luke grumbled right back.
“For you to live here as well,” Josephine added. “And Pete and I have pooled our resources to pay the admission fee.”
Luke’s brow flew up. “You did?”
“We did,” Pete confirmed.
Again, Luke scowled. “Then how come you didn’t use that money to buy us a house to live in. All of us.”
Josephine swallowed. The boy had a point. She cast a guilty glance to Pete. He met it with guilt of his own. Guilt and the same sort of look he’d worn every time they discussed that people their age were too old to make a new start and a good home for young children.
Besides, Mrs. Fielding’s house was nicer than anything they would have been able to come up with on their own. Her late husband’s business, whatever it was, must have been prosperous indeed.
“Why don’t I show you the playroom?” Josephine suggested, trying her best to smile at Freddy’s miserable face. “If I remember rightly, it’s just through here.”
She started down the hall. Mrs. Fielding slipped in front of her to stop them. “I’m afraid that once children are handed into our care, we are strict about the level of interaction they have with non-family members.”
“But… I…” As much as she wanted to, Josephine couldn’t very well argue that she was family.
“Many children come from less than savory backgrounds,” Mrs. Fielding went on to explain. “It’s safer for them if a clean break is made.”
So that was it. The moment was upon them. Josephine took a long, shaky breath and let go of Freddy’s hand.
“Well then.” She blinked fast in an attempt to clear away the stinging in her eyes. “You behave for Mrs. Fielding now.”
“No.” Freddy stomped and crossed his arms, brow furrowed to a scowl. “I won’t behave because I don’t want to be here.”
“Me neither.” Muriel gripped Pete’s neck tight enough to choke him. “I want to go with you. I want to live with you.”
“Come on now.” Pete pried Muriel’s arms from around his neck, but there was no joy in his effort. “Easy now, sweetheart.”
Muriel fought to stay glued to him, but she was no match for Pete’s strength. In a few seconds, he’d extracted her from his neck and set her down. Tears flowing, Muriel ran to hug Josephine’s waist, burying her face in Josephine’s skirts.
“Please don’t leave us, please,” she sobbed.
Josephine burst into tears. “It’ll be all right, Muriel, you’ll see.” Pretty words, but her heart screamed that they weren’t true. “I’m not heading on to Denver City just yet.”
“And I could stay in Oregon City until you kids are adjusted,” Pete added.
Freddy and Muriel glanced hopefully up at them, and Luke’s furious scowl softened.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Mrs. Fielding said, tension plain in her face. “It really isn’t advised to maintain contact with the children any longer than necessary.”
“But they know us,” Josephine argued. “They’ve come to rely on us. Surely we could visit.”
Mrs. Fielding shook her head. “It would only prolong the pain of separation.”
“But…” There didn’t seem to be a way to argue with the woman’s logic. It was true, the quicker they got things over with, the less traumatic it would be for everyone.
Except that the trauma had already reached deep.
Josephine pried Muriel away from her skirts and crouched to the girl’s level. “I’m so sorry.” She smoothed a hand over Muriel’s hair. “If there was any way two old coots like me and Pete could keep you, we would. But this is better for you.”
“It’s not, it’s not!” Muriel protested.
“It’s really not,” Luke grumbled behind them, although the fight had gone out of his protest.
“We won’t be far away, no matter what,” Josephine went on. “And Libby said she’d come check on you first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Libby?” Mrs. Fielding’s lips twitched.
“Our sister,” Luke snapped. “She’s eighteen and getting married, so she has every right to visit.”
“I…I see.” Mrs. Fielding clasped her hands in front of her so firmly her knuckles turned white. “I was not aware there was a sister.”
“She’s our sister,” Freddy shouted. “And she’ll come and take us home as soon as she can.”
No one answered Freddy’s pronouncement for a moment. Then Mrs. Fielding cleared her throat, smoothed her hands along the front of her stylish gown, then smiled. “I see. Well, we shall welcome your sister Libby with open arms when she comes to visit tomorrow. But in order to do that, we must get you settled and have our supper and put you to bed, hmm?”
Freddy and Muriel glanced to the door as if they might bolt. In the end, they looked to Luke.
“Food won’t hurt nothing,” Luke muttered. “And if you decide you hate it here, I’ll take you away myself.”
Josephine glanced sideways to Mrs. Fielding to see what she thought of the pronouncement, but the woman did nothing but smile her brittle smile.
“I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow too,” Pete declared, daring Mrs. Fielding to disagree with him. “You’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you’ll be fine,” Josephine agreed. “Tomorrow.”
They had to endure one more round of tears and pleas, hugging and weeping before Freddy and Muriel agreed to go with Mrs. Fielding to the playroom. Luke followed with them, keeping an eagle eye on his siblings. As they rounded the corner, he shot one final, resentful look at Pete and Josephine.
“We deserved that,” Josephine sighed, pressing a hand to her stomach.
Pete’s only response was, “Yep.”
When Mrs. Fielding didn’t return, they showed themselves out. Walking away, the tidy white house with its perfect garden and spotless windows seemed as brittle as Mrs. Fielding’s smile and far less welcoming than Josephine’s first impression.
“It’s natural to feel guilty,” Josephine sighed as they headed slowly up the road toward the hotel. “Those children have been through so much, and we’re only causing more turmoil for them.”
“Would’ve happened anyhow,” Pete said.
“This truly is for the best.” The words felt stale and weak to her. “And…and we’ll stay close for a few weeks, at least. I’m sure Callie doesn’t expect me immediately.”
“Nope.”
“And we’ve got Libby’s wedding to think about. I’m certain she’ll want her family with her and we count as—”
She snapped her lips shut around the word. At the moment, she didn’t feel as though she deserved to call herself family to the Chance children. She’d let them down. Her heart knew it, her soul knew it. It was only her rebellious mind that was causing trouble now. And she wou
ld never forgive herself for that.
They continued to the hotel in silence. There just weren’t any words. Tears, yes, but not words. If there was just some way to make two people past their prime young again. If there was some way to turn back the clock and start over.
As they neared the hotel, Josephine heaved a sigh, letting her tangle of hopeless thoughts go. “I should be getting back to Myrtle’s. The sun’s going down, and supper has probably already been served and put away.” Truth be told, she deserved to be sent to bed without supper.
Pete stopped, hesitated, rubbed the back of his neck, then muttered, “Yep.”
All at once, Josephine scowled. She wanted to smack him for his callous lack of emotion. No, he wasn’t emotionless, not at all. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and reassure him, tell them they had to do it, they had to let the kids go. She wanted to…she wanted to…
“Pete, Josephine, you’re back.” Estelle appeared at the porch railing. She wore a sympathetic smile that threatened to leave Josephine bursting over with tears.
“It’s done,” she said, her voice cracking. “The kids seemed happy enough…once they saw what was best for them.” She wanted it to be true more than she believed it to be true.
Estelle saw right through her. “You can go back tomorrow and visit…or take them home.”
“This is better,” Pete grumbled, the thought sounding half-finished.
Estelle merely stared at them. “Well.” She took in a breath. “I’ve had the hotel restaurant set aside a table just for the two of you tonight. Graham and I will pay the bill.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Josephine and Pete answered at the same time, then glanced at each other with hurt, mournful eyes.
“I insist.” Estelle came around the edge of the porch, urging the two of them on. “You both look like you’ve been put through the ringer, and the least Graham and I can do is treat you to a worry-free meal. Who knows? You may find you have a lot to discuss once you’re sitting down across a table, just the two of you.” She had a mischievous glint in her dark eyes as she gestured for them to come into the hotel.
The last thing Josephine felt like doing was indulging in hotel food when her stomach was in knots and her heart had bled out, but Estelle had been a good friend to her and she wasn’t about to let the woman down. She plodded up the stairs, feeling every year of her age down to the core of her bones.
“We’ll eat quick, then I’m turning in for the night,” Pete said, tired and defeated, as they crossed the lobby to the restaurant.
“Yes, I think I agree with you there.” Josephine wanted to take his arm for comfort and support, but kept her hands to herself.
The hotel manager had indeed saved a table for them. The restaurant wasn’t half as grand as any of the ones Josephine had frequented in Philadelphia. It was little more than a communal dining room with eight small tables, unlike the one large one at Myrtle’s house. The staff was quick and efficient, though, and before Josephine and Pete could do more than mumble a few words of small talk, dinner was on the table in front of them. Josephine tried to eat, tried to appreciate the delights of a meal well-cooked, but the whole while she kept expecting Muriel to ask to have her meat cut or Freddy to play with his food.
“It’s just not going to be the same without them,” she lamented, pushing her potatoes around the plate.
“Those rascals do grow on a person, don’t they?” Pete agreed.
“And…and we did well enough looking out for them on the trail.” Josephine lifted her brow, gazing into Pete’s eyes, hoping to see approval there.
He grinned, slow and warm. A jolt of heat swirled through Josephine’s stomach.
“You remember the time Luke stole that brooch and Charlie cheated at cards to get it back?” he asked.
Josephine chuckled. “Poor Luke. He didn’t know what hit him.”
“It taught him a thing or two about honesty, though.” Pete nodded.
Josephine speared a few beans on her fork. “Remember when dysentery hit those children and Muriel offered to let little Rose have her doll if it would make her feel better?”
Pete laughed. “She sure is a generous soul, our Muriel.”
Our. There is was again. Josephine swallowed. “Freddy too. He’s so bright and inquisitive. I just bet he’ll make a name for himself in this world.”
“As long as he sticks to his schooling he will,” Pete agreed.
“Are the schools here in Oregon City good?” Josephine asked. “I hear the ones in Denver City are exceptional.” She peeked across the table to Pete.
Pete shrugged. “I hear that it’s not the school that matters so much as the teachers.” He cut another slice off his steak. “You know who’d make a good teacher?”
“Who?”
“Gideon Faraday.”
“Oh yes, he’d be a remarkable man to learn from.”
“Too bad he’s in Wyoming.” This time it was Pete who glanced carefully across the table.
“I’m…I’m sure that Gideon and Lucy’s invitation to…to those of us who became their friends on the trail extends to the Chance family too,” Josephine said.
“More’n likely,” Pete agreed. “It’s just a shame the only folks who could take them there are two dried up old goats whose lives have already been half lived.”
Josephine put down her fork. “Who are you calling a dried up old goat, Peter Evans?”
Pete’s lips twitched. “All right, one dried up goat and another feisty she-goat who still has some spring in her step in spite of a few grey hairs.”
Josephine grinned. “That’s more like it. And just because a goat is a little older doesn’t mean he’s ready to be put out to pasture.”
“Horses get put out to pasture, not goats.”
“See.” Josephine brightened even more. “Why, I’ve heard tell that old goats still lock horns just the same as the young ones.”
Pete finished chewing his steak, then pointed his fork at her. “Josephine Lewis, are you calling me a horny goat?”
“I…” She swallowed. Not because of the naughty impropriety of the comparison, but because the sudden, teasing light that came to Pete’s face and tilted the corners of his mouth up was the most tempting sight she’d seen in all her forty years. Yes, at that moment Pete did look like a…certain type of goat. He looked as though he could show her a thing or two.
But no, weren’t they supposed to be in mourning? Weren’t they supposed to be lamenting the loss of the dearest, sweetest children that had ever swept unexpectedly into someone’s life?
Possibly, but it occurred to Josephine that this was the first time that she and Pete had actually been alone, and certainly the first time they’d had a chance to speak about grown-up things.
“Pete,” Josephine began, fiddling with the hem of her napkin. She took her time dragging her eyes up to meet his. “Has it ever occurred to you that we might be fooling ourselves out of something very delightful indeed?”
“Delightful?” That impish, titillating fire in Pete’s eyes sparked.
Josephine could feel her face heat…and her insides swirl. “Has it occurred to you that we might be mistaking the end of the trail for the end of our lives?”
“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, if that’s what you’re asking.” He put his fork down and leaned his elbows on the table, inching closer to her.
“No, not dying. But perhaps that’s my point.”
“That we’re not dying?”
“That we’re nowhere close to dying.” She leaned toward him. “In fact, old though we are, one could argue that we’ve embraced life more than most people.”
“One could argue that.” The teasing light came back to his eyes. Josephine felt her gaze pull down to study his lips. She’d never really noticed his lips before. She’d been too busy admiring his strength and command, enjoying the way he could organize and lead an entire wagon
train. She’d certainly noticed the warmth and friendliness of his smile, even the surprising health of his teeth. But not once had she noticed his lips. They were welcoming, inviting. They were the kind of lips that could kiss a girl and leave her breathless.
“Excuse me, folks.” One of the hotel staff cleared his throat as he stood beside Josephine and Pete’s table. “I hate to interrupt what looks like a nice conversation, but we need to clean up and shut the restaurant down.”
“Oh.” Josephine flinched back, face, neck, and parts lower than that alive with heat. “Oh, yes. We’re terribly sorry.”
“We’ll get out of your hair.” Pete stood. He circled around the table and held Josephine’s chair for her. The gesture was surprisingly romantic for a man who had been guiding rafts full of wagons down a river just weeks before.
“I should get back to the boarding house,” Josephine said as they wound their way through the hotel staff as they tidied up the restaurant.
“Myrtle doesn’t have strict rules about what time you need to be there,” Pete said.
“Yes, but I should be there when Libby returns from her day with Teddy’s friends.”
“If she does return.”
“Peter Evans! What are you suggesting?” Josephine gaped at him.
The mirth in Pete’s eyes was mingled with something far more potent…and tempting. “I was suggesting that perhaps Teddy’s friends would want her to spend the night with them. Ladies stay up all night talking sometimes, don’t they?”
“Oh. Yes, I suppose they do.” And Libby was a good girl, Josephine thought as she mounted the stairs to the hotel’s second floor. She would never do something as daring as spend the night with Freddy before they were married.
“So we’ve established that neither of us are planning on dying anytime soon,” Pete said when they reached the top of the stairs and started down the hall.
“Certainly not,” Josephine agreed.
“And we’ve discussed that we’ve both embraced life more than most.”
“Quite a feat for people our age.” Something excited and quivery was forming at the base of Josephine’s spine—an idea, a hope, a dare waiting to be spoken.
