He knelt beside her. “You’re exhausted and the babe can sense it. You’re not eating, thus probably not producing enough—”
“Stop! Why would you talk to me about such—”
“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just you, me, and this baby in this hole in the side of the hill. And none of us are sleeping.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I know about such things. I was the oldest of a whole passel of brothers and sisters.” He reached for the babe. “Please, at least let me try. I promise to stay right here. She’ll not be out of your sight.” He knew he sounded harsh, but something had to be done.
“You can’t feed her. I don’t know what good you think it will do, but whatever I’m doing isn’t working.” She loosened her grip and allowed him to take the babe from her.
A wave of emotion he’d not expected swept through him when he cradled the babe. “What is it, little one? Why are you so angry? Shh, shh. You’re safe.” He jiggled her, and she opened her eyes. “Look at you, pretty girl. You know, you don’t have to cry to get our attention.” She stiffened her legs and one tiny foot poked from the flannel blanket. “Already kicking against your boundaries, aren’t you?”
He cupped the warm little foot in his hand and swallowed against tightness in his throat. He’d cradled his tiny son like this, but he’d never seen the color of his eyes or felt the warmth of his tiny body against his.
He refolded the blanket around her and traced one finger along her pink cheek. “You know you’ve kept your mama awake, don’t you?”
A tiny wrinkle settled between the baby’s eyes, and her bottom lip puckered.
He chuckled. “No, no, you can’t use that pouty face on me, little miss.” He shifted her to his shoulder, pressed her head against the side of his face and began to rock to and fro. She gave a little hiccup. “I know. Crying is hard work isn’t it? Shh… All is well, baby Lydia.”
The baby relaxed against him, and little puffs of air against his cheek suggested she might be sleeping. He’d not stop moving—not yet, anyway. It was a small price to pay for a measure of quiet.
“How did you do that?” Charlotte whispered.
He winked at her. He mouthed, “My charm.”
She gave a small chuckle, and it was like music to his ears.
Charlotte lay against her pillows and observed Robert with Lydia. She had no idea the sight of a grown man sleeping with a babe nestled against his shoulder could evoke such a mix of emotions. Her heart still ached for Lafe, and she longed to see his face again, to feel his heart beat against her cheek, to reach across the bed and touch him. Yet, there were times when anger ruled. He’d left her without saying goodbye. He knew the danger. Otherwise he wouldn’t have left her in a hole in the side of a hill. He chose to leave. Oh, maybe he hadn’t meant to leave her forever, but he knew how it could end, and he left anyway.
Th en along came Sergeant Robert Stallings, the enemy. The enemy who managed to quiet hers and Lafe’s screaming child. How could she ever forget Robert’s quiet words of encouragement while she was in the throes of labor, or the tender hands that swabbed her face with cool cloths, and allowed her to dig her fingernails into his palms, never pulling away? How gentle he’d been when he handed her newborn Lydia. How discreet he’d been in his care for her since giving birth.
“Robert?”
He turned sleepy eyes toward her “Hmm?”
“I think she’s sleeping. You want me to take her?”
He kissed Lydia’s head. “No, she’s fine. You try to sleep if you can.” “What about you? You need sleep, too. I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn.” “Not stubborn, Charlotte.” He smiled. “Well, maybe a little bit stubborn.
But I understand. I do. You sleep. I can sleep right here. This little one will let us know when it’s time to wake up again.” Did he understand? Could he know the reason she’d not released her hold on Lydia was that she was afraid of this very thing—that Lafe’s child would be quieted in another man’s arms?
Lafe had penned that he wanted her to love again—to promise that she’d not raise their child alone. But could Robert know that?
“Charlotte? You still awake?”
Oh, if he only knew. “Yes. Is something wrong?”
He stood and brought the baby to her. “Nothing wrong with me. But— well, I think you might need to show me how to change a diaper.”
She reached for Lydia. “I thought you had a whole passel of experience.”
He shrugged, and a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I reckon I have a lot to learn. In case you wondering, I’m a fast learner.” He kissed his fingertips and touched Lydia’s cheek. “I’m also…more than willing.”
She busied herself with the task at hand. Was this his way of letting her know he’d read Lafe’s letter?
Late October, 1863 Robert stacked another layer of deadfall branches against the rock wall just inside the mouth of the cave. The nights were cooler, and he didn’t want to be caught with no dry wood once winter weather set in. As much as he hated the thought of spending the winter in this place, it was still much too early to try to get to his ranch. If he were alone, he might risk it, but not with Charlotte and baby Lydia. And he couldn’t leave them behind.
Against his training, he’d read the letter Lafe penned to Charlotte. How hard it must have been for the man to know he’d never again hold his wife, or see his babe. Had it not been for his plea for her to love again—and to promise she’d not raise their child alone—he’d have risked anything to get her somewhere other than a hole in the side of a hill, somewhere among people she knew.
He’d never told her he knew what the letter contained, and she’d never offered to share the contents. Yet their existence together had become more comfortable. Maybe it was because he no longer felt the terrible guilt he’d experienced before he knew Lafe would never return. He was free to love her, although not yet free to tell her. He was not at all sure how much longer he could keep up the ruse. Discretion said he should wait until he came up with a plan to get them safely to Kansas before he revealed his love for her. But his heart said it was foolish to keep pretending he had no feelings other than a desire to keep her safe.
He stopped before entering the inner chamber. “Charlotte, may I come in?”
“Of course. I think you need to work your so-called charm on this little girl. She’s fussed ever since you left this morning.” She met him with the squawking baby. He was always amused how much noise one so small could produce. But it pleased him that Lydia quieted in his arms. He had no explanation but always answered Charlotte’s pleading looks with the same teasing, My charm.
“What’s the matter, Lydie-punkin?” He lifted her from Charlotte’s arms. “Did you miss your—your Uncle Robert?” Heat flooded his face. How close he’d come to calling himself her papa. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I—”
She gripped his arm. “It’s fine. Really, it is. Uh…did you check the rabbit traps?”
“What?” He laughed above Lydia’s cries. “You have competition, Mama, you’d better speak a bit louder.”
She stood on tiptoe. “The rabbit traps. Did you check them?”
He snuggled Lydia against his cheek, which seemed to be her favorite spot, and patted her bottom. She burrowed her little head against him and soon quieted.
“Don’t you dare say it, Robert Stallings.”
He laughed. “Ah-ha! You don’t want to hear it’s my charm, do you? You have a better explanation?”
She plunked her hands on her hips. “Hmmph. I think you put some kind of potion on your face that puts her right so sleep.”
He bent toward her and turned his other cheek. “Want to sniff for yourself?”
She slapped his arm. “Stop it! You’re mean. Now, did you check the rabbit traps?”
“I did, and we have one rather scrawny looking rabbit, but it will add a bit of meat to the pot.”
Charlotte turned away, but not before he saw tears puddle in
her eyes.
He moved in front of her and tipped her chin. “What’s the matter?”
She tilted her head. “Do you really want to know?”
“Of course I do. Was it something I said? Was it because I teased about my charm?”
She shook her head. “Could you lay Lydia down, please?”
“You can’t talk with me holding Lydia?”
“No. No, I can’t, as a matter of fact.”
He gave the babe a gentle squeeze and laid her on the bed. She stretched and opened one eye, but quickly settled back into sleep. He turned to Charlotte. “All right. I’m listening.”
She took his hand and led him to the table. “I don’t know how to start.”
His heart dropped. This was obviously something very important, and he feared she was going to ask him to leave.
She reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew Lafe’s letter. “I guess you should read this first.”
He took her hand. “I don’t need to read it. I read it the night Lydia was born. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“You read it? You know what it says about—about, you know.”
“About you loving again? About Lafe not wanting you to raise Lydia by yourself? Yes, I know.”
She jumped to her feet. “Then what is stopping you?”
“Stopping me?”
“Yes, stopping you. Robert Stallings, the day you went down that hill to check on our cabin, I watched you until I couldn’t see you any longer. I thought sure you could hear my heart beat and I was ashamed. Ashamed that I was a married woman and had such feelings for—”
He got to his feet. “For me? Charlotte, are you telling me you have feelings for me?”
“Then you held me and let me scream and cry after I read Lafe’s letter, and you stayed with me while Lydia was born. After all this time you, you act like there’s— And I felt so guilty, and I was sure God punished me for…for—”
“Come here.” He pulled her to him. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to not tell you how I feel? I love you, Charlotte Mae Teasdale. But until I read Lafe’s letter to you, I was not free to say one word.”
She pounded her fists on his chest. “But you read it a long time ago, and you didn’t say a word. Where’s your so-called charm?”
“What would you have said had I admitted my love for you before this very moment?”
“I would have said I love you, too. And for someone who can quiet a babe in no time at all, you’re mighty slow with—”
He held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, her eyes, her chin, and finally, at last, her lips. To think he’d wondered how and when he should tell her.
With baby Lydia cradled in one arm, Robert pulled Charlotte close to his side as they stood at the mouth of their hideaway and gazed across the timber. He kissed the top of her head. “You do know we can’t leave here until spring, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“And you know that we can’t—”
She smiled up at him and giggled. “Sergeant Robert Stallings, you’re
blushing.”
He winked at her. “You do that to me, woman.”
“It’s my charm.” She giggled again and lay her head against his shoulder. How could she ever have known back when Lafe insisted that she hide in
a cave that it would one day shelter an unlikely love in this oh, so weary land?
COTTON CANDY SKIES
K. Marie Libel
CHAPTER 1
Th e stale scent of pretzels wafted under Danica Stewart’s nose, and she turned her head toward the window in a feeble attempt to escape it. Her stomach rolled as she tried to focus on anything but the nausea threatening to overtake her. She would not throw up in front of strangers. She firmly chanted the command to herself for the umpteenth time.
Danica closed her eyes and tried to let the sounds around her distract from her queasy stomach. Wrappers crinkled, a baby several rows back fussed while its mother made frantic shushing sounds, someone’s high-pitched giggle painfully pierced the air, and the oversized gentleman sitting next to her hummed off-key. Plenty of sounds to divert her attention, and yet her nausea still overpowered. Ugh. How she hated flying.
Just as she was sure she wouldn’t make it much longer, a perky voice echoed over the speakers. “We’re about twenty minutes from our destination and your pilot is preparing to land. Please find your seats and buckle your safety belts. We will arrive shortly; thank you for flying with Express Airlines. Enjoy your stay in sunny Jamaica.”
“Thank you, Lord, the end is in sight,” Danica mumbled. “You say something?” The gentleman beside her turned his head her direction, his jowls jiggling with the movement.
Danica forced her lips to lift in what she hoped was less of a grimace and more of a polite smile. “I’m glad the flight’s almost over. I’m not a very good flyer.”
“Hmm. Yeah, come to think of it, you do look a little green. You’re not going to, you know . . .” His eyes drifted toward the air sickness bag.
“I’m trying very hard not to, sir,” Danica replied through gritted teeth and turned to gaze out the window.
Below her, the ocean spread out in an endless carpet of sparkling turquoise with patches of deep blue woven in. The colors alone blew her away. She’d never seen any color in nature like what she was seeing now. Her nausea temporarily forgotten, she gasped at the beauty of her first glimpse of the ocean. No wonder people spent their hard earned money to see this . . . it was stunning.
Before she’d had her fill of her from-above ocean view, the plane lowered its altitude over palm trees and rundown buildings. The abrupt change in altitude reminded her stomach why she hated flying, and she felt herself break into a cold sweat. No, not now. She’d almost made it. She could hang on a little longer.
She closed her eyes tightly and sang her favorite praise song in her mind until she felt the bumpy landing and the rapid slowing of movement. With slow, controlled breaths she waited until the plane came to a stop and the attendant instructed everyone to remove their safety belts and exit the plane in an orderly manner. When someone finally allowed her seat partner to exit into the aisle, Danica stood slowly and reached for her carry-on. Her shaking hands couldn’t keep their grip, and her bag repeatedly slipped from her grasp. With a frustrated grunt, she reached again but a tanned pair of hands snaked in front of hers and grabbed the handle on her bag.
“Hey!” Danica tried to bat the stranger’s hand away. “That’s my bag.” “Yeah, I figured since I’ve watched you try to grab it four times now. In the interest of the rest of us getting off this plane, may I please help you get it down?”
She turned toward the smooth, deep voice and her gaze collided with a pair of chocolate brown eyes. Her knees quivered slightly—curse her, she’d always had a thing for deep brown eyes—and she shakily leaned against the nearest seat.
The stranger raised an eyebrow in question, his lips turned up in an amused grin, and he jerked his head toward her bag. “So . . .?”
She nodded mutely and then immediately wished she hadn’t as her stomach rolled with the motion. She felt herself break out into another cold sweat and dizziness made her vision swim. Oh, no…
“Whoa, there.”
Her knees gave out. Strong arms wrapped around her and held her in place. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but even she heard the weakness in her voice. “Uh-huh, sure you are. You’re white as a sheet, you’re shaking, and—”
Panic flashed through her and her hands blindly searched the back of the seat. “Bag! I need a bag!”
With lightning reflexes, the stranger held her up with one arm and plucked an air sickness bag with the other, shook it open, and held it in front of her in time for her to lose what little breakfast she’d managed to choke down before her flight. The stranger muttered soothing words to her as he— bless him—held the bag steady until she finished being sick. Without a word, he handed the bag to the flight attendant
who, Danica noticed, was standing just outside of the danger zone.
“This is not happening,” Danica moaned, humiliation crawling up her spine.
“You okay to walk now?”
Danica’s senses grew acutely aware of the fact that she was being held against a solid form, which smelled amazing, by the way. Her skin tingled with goosebumps. She nodded, too embarrassed to speak, and attempted to right herself.
She smoothed her hand over her hair, subtly checking to make sure it hadn’t gotten in the way during her episode, and attempted to regain some of her dignity. “Sorry for the holdup, everyone,” she told the remaining line of passengers, unable to look her rescuer in the eye.
With what little poise she had left, she lifted her chin and spun around to march confidently off the plane. Or, at least that’s what she would have done if her spin hadn’t brought back the dizziness. She felt herself wobble, and again those strong arms came to her rescue.
“Ooookay, I think I’d better help you all the way off the plane.” He spoke so close to her ear that her scalp tingled and the hairs on the back of her neck raised with the soft rush of air accompanying his voice.
He half-led, half-carried her off the plane, and it wasn’t until they were halfway through the terminal that she remembered her carry-on. “My bag, I left my bag,” she rasped, her voice not wanting to cooperate with the sensory overload.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it. Let’s just get you to a chair.” He led her out of the terminal and then abruptly stopped and let out a groan.
“What’s wrong?” Danica looked around and immediately realized the problem.
In front of them was a long walkway, followed by a wide set of stairs which led down into a large, open room where lines and lines of people waited for their turn to go through customs.
“I’m afraid we’ve got a long wait ahead of us before I can get you to that chair.”
Danica tried to gently extract herself from his arms, even though a small part of her didn’t really want to. Which was silly, of course. She didn’t even know this man. But he was being so nice to her, and it had been so long since a man had held her like this . . .
Destination: Romance: Five Inspirational Love Stories Spanning the Globe Page 24