Bears dropped her arm and stood in front of her, studying her closely. He recognized panic, shame, and a defiance that he knew she’d need to tap into so that she survived whatever heartache she’d just suffered. “I’d never take you there, miss. My wife, Fidelia, used to work there. I’ve always considered the day she was freed from that place as one of the best days of my life. For that is when I knew I was not foolish to hope.”
He waited a long moment, his brown eyes verging on black, meeting her gaze with one of deep understanding. He stood, tall and relaxed, with his long black hair tied back in a braid. “You have no reason to trust me, but I am a friend of the MacKinnons and the Tompkinses.”
“I remember you from the day you almost ran me over. You’re Bears,” she whispered. “The man who charms horses.”
He chuckled. “No. I simply prefer horses to most people. If you’d like, I’ll take you to my home. We have a spare room, and you can sleep there. For now.” He paused, waiting, as she listed forward and back again. “The decision is yours.”
“I have nowhere else to go,” she murmured.
“You know that is a lie,” he said. “There are those who would take you in. I suspect you need time to decide what you want.”
She jerked her head. “Please, may I go with you to your home? I’m a decent cook. I can help your wife.”
His smile broadened. “She’ll enjoy the company, as much as any help you can provide.” He motioned for her to walk beside him, leading her across the street and down the row of houses behind the main buildings of town. He stopped in front of a well-made home, with a small front porch.
Bears called out, as he opened the door, “Stitch, I’ve brought someone home with me.” He motioned for Philomena to enter.
Fidelia, a beautiful woman with chestnut brown hair and blue eyes, turned to face them. “Oh?” she asked, her smile faltering, as she beheld the preacher’s sister. “Miss Fitch.”
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Philomena said, her hands clutching at her bag. “I … Bears said …”
Fidelia looked to her husband, waiting, with a patient expression.
“She’s in distress, Stitch, and needs a place to bide some time. I worried the Madam would find a way to tempt her.”
Fidelia blanched at the mention of the Madam, the woman who ran the town’s house of ill repute, Betty’s Boudoir. “Of course. You are most welcome here,” she said, as she opened her arms and pulled Philomena close. She backed away, gazing deeply at Philomena, frowning at what she saw in her expression. “All will be well again. I promise.” She cast a worried glance in Bears’s direction.
“Aye,” he said, with a hint of a smile. “Now that the town knows she is one of us, they’ll leave her alone.” He winked at his wife, as he slipped from the house to return to work.
Philomena watched Bears leave, confounded by his last sentence. As a long silence dragged on between her and Fidelia, she blurted out, “What did he mean? How am I one of you now? What does that even mean?” She flushed at the torrent of questions bursting from her.
Fidelia motioned for her to place her bag down and to join her in the small dining room area. After Philomena sat, Fidelia set out a chipped pair of mugs and a few plates, along with treats from the bakery. “Please, eat. Have some tea.”
Philomena sat in stony silence, her hands clenched together, as she suddenly fought shivering and an onslaught of panic. Her eyes widened when Fidelia placed a palm over her hands.
“Everything will be all right. I promise.” She waited. “I know you have no reason to trust me or to believe in me, but I have suffered something similar to you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m only thankful Bears could help you and could prevent you from suffering a fate similar to mine.”
Philomena relaxed incrementally into her chair, as she sensed she was safe. She had no idea how long she’d be here, but she came to realize all she could count on was right now. Not the future. “What happened to you?” She flushed. “I beg your pardon. I don’t mean to pry. To gossip.”
Fidelia gave her a reassuring smile. “It isn’t gossip when I wish to share my story with you. Nor is it prying.” She settled into her chair. “I was thrown out of my father’s house for loving a man he disapproved of. As it turns out, he was correct in his assessment of my … lover’s character, so, in the end, I was alone, desperate, and without a penny to my name. That’s when the Madam found me.”
Philomena gasped, as her eyes rounded. “You really did work at the Boudoir?” she whispered. “I always thought those murmurings had to be false. You’re close with your family.”
Fidelia nodded. “They are accepting and kind. They know the true meaning of Christian charity.” She paused. “I thought myself unworthy of love. Thankfully I’ve been proven wrong.” She sobered. “Ewan won me in a card game. The Madam bet me and lost. After I was free, I began to work with my sister, Annabelle, to rebuild my relationship with her and finally allowed myself to be loved by Bears.” She looked around her house. “And now I have all I ever dreamed of.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Philomena said, grimacing at the envy and the hint of bitterness in her voice.
Laughing, Fidelia rose. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But also the most worthwhile.” She slipped into a small room, where she made a cooing noise. After a few minutes, she emerged with a boy not yet one year old on her hip, who stared at Philomena with wide-eyed curiosity, as he rested his head on his mother’s shoulder. “Meet Jack,” Fidelia murmured, as she kissed his black hair. “He’ll be one in September, but he’s a bit shy when he first wakes up.”
“Hello,” Philomena murmured. “He’s beautiful.”
Fidelia laughed and smiled with pride. “Yes, he is. But I’m his mother, so I’d believe that.” She frowned when she saw Philomena fidget. “Are you well?”
“You worked at the Boudoir? You know about …” she whispered, glancing away from the perfect family scene of a mother holding her child. “It’s blasphemous.” Her eyes closed, and she fought an intrinsic shaking.
Fidelia made a soothing sound, patting Jack on his back, as she stared with concern at the older woman. “Blasphemous.” Her eyes rounded. “You want a potion.”
Gasping, Philomena stared at her in horror. “Is it that obvious?” She held a hand to her belly. “I tried to speak with the healer. The one everyone raves about. But I couldn’t. Not when she’s to have a baby too.” Her eyes filled. “It seems everyone in this town is to have a baby.”
Fidelia made a soothing sound for both Jack and Philomena, her hand covering Philomena’s again. “You don’t want a potion. It’s too late anyway.” When the older woman stared at her in confusion, Fidelia added, “You have to be more than three months along.”
Flushing, she nodded. “Yes. Just before … just before our ruined wedding. I never thought our wedding wouldn’t happen. That he would fail to show. I loved him so much.” She scrubbed at her cheeks. “I’m such a simpleton. I should never have allowed sentiment. Emotion.” She tried to swallow a sob and failed. “Feelings … rule me.” Her head landed on her arms, now crossed on the table in front of her, as she sobbed.
She paid little attention to the door opening and closing, the soft patter of footsteps running away. All she focused on was her folly and the price she was paying for her ongoing attraction to a man she feared would continue to be fickle. “He won’t want me when he knows.”
“How can you say that?” Fidelia asked, reproof in her voice. “He’s a good man. He’s Frederick’s brother.”
The door opened again, and a strong warm hand caressed Philomena’s back. “Darling,” Peter whispered.
She shrieked, arching up and bashing their heads together. “Ow!” she cried, holding her head, while she glared at him and then looked at Fidelia in betrayal. “How could you?”
“Did I do something wrong, Mama?” asked a bright young girl. Philomena turned to see Bears’s daughter, Mildred, peering at her with concern
. She recalled meeting her at a recent dance.
Peter glanced from Philomena to Fidelia in confusion. “Why are you crying? Why are you here? What’s going on?”
“Bright Fawn, you and I have a project in the back room,” Fidelia said. “And we must sing.” She raised her voice in a lilting song, which her stepdaughter joined in, and left Peter and Philomena alone. The beautiful sound of two voices in harmony seeped through the walls, giving them a sense of privacy.
Tugging a chair to sit beside her, Peter gazed at her with concern. “Did Morris throw you out when you told him that we were to wed?” At her nod, he groaned and reached for her, stilling when she stiffened and backed away from him. “Mena? Don’t punish me. I promise I’ll never leave you alone again.” He bit back a swear. “I’ll speak to Jessamine about ceasing her articles about me, calling me the Runaway Groom.”
“No,” she whispered, reaching out a shaking hand to trace fingers over his arm and then down to his strong wrist and hand. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Mena?” he whispered. “Why would I leave you?” He waited for her to speak, flushing when she remained quiet. “Please trust me.”
She swallowed, her eyes huge and filled with trepidation, as she quivered in front of him. “Do you … Do you remember what happened two nights before you left?”
He let out a deep breath, sighing with relief. “Of course I do. How would you ever believe I’d forget?” He reached out, waiting to see how she’d react. When she only stared at him in wide-eyed wonder, he traced a finger down her cheek. “It was the best night of my life.”
“Everything changed that night.”
He paled. “Tell me that you enjoyed it, Mena. I can’t bear the thought that you didn’t.” He waited, finally whispering, “You didn’t?”
“No. Yes,” she gasped, reaching out to grip his hand, as tears coursed down her cheek. “You know I did.” She paused, taking gulping breaths, before blurting out, “I’m to have a baby.”
“What?” Peter stared from her face to her belly and back at her face again. “How is that possible?”
She snatched her hand back from him, covering her face with it. “I’m sorry. I thought my courses were late due to stress. The move. The new town. Losing you.” She seemed incapable of ceasing her rambling. “I’ve never been particularly regular. But I realized recently … and then …” Her voice broke off on a sob. “I never meant to trap you. To …” She gasped as he leaned forward, brushing her hands aside to cup her cheeks and to kiss her into silence.
“Oh, you silly beautiful woman,” he whispered. “We’re to have a baby? Truly?” At her nod, he let out a shaky breath and tugged her to him, not content until she rested on his lap. “I’ve never dared allow myself to dream I’d be a father.”
She curled into him, taking comfort where she could. “Is it because you never wanted to be one?”
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “No,” he whispered. “Give me a moment,” he whispered. “I want to revel in this news.”
“Revel?” She kissed his chest. “I feared you’d mourn.”
His arms tightened around her. “Only an idiot wouldn’t rejoice at such news.” He kissed the top of her head, his hands stroking down her back. “I’ve finally realized I have no desire to be a fool.”
“Oh, Peter,” she wailed. “I’ve been so afraid. I thought to find a potion, but …”
“Stop right there,” he hissed. “Never say such horrible things again.” He held her cheeks in his hands. “This is our baby. Our baby,” he said reverently, as he rocked them side to side, his breath tickling the side of her neck. He stilled as he whispered, “Or don’t you want it?”
She sobbed, wrapping her arms around him. “Of course I want our baby,” she cried out. “I thought …I thought it better if you never knew. If you weren’t saddled with a woman and child you didn’t want.”
“Didn’t want?” he parroted, easing her away so he could gaze at her in wonder and disbelief. “How can you still believe I don’t want you?” He swiped at loose tendrils of hair that clung to her cheek, as he gazed deeply into her stormy eyes. “Believe in me. Believe in what I say and do.” His jaw clenched. “Not in that one moment I will always regret. I will work my entire life to earn your forgiveness for failing to arrive at the church.”
“No,” she whispered, her fingers rubbing along his cheek. “I forgive you. I understand.” Her breath hitched.
“Then believe in me,” he repeated. “Not the malicious lies my mother spouts or the doubting half-truths your brother has fed you. But me.” He gazed at her adoringly. “For I love you, Philomena. I will do everything I can to fill your life with joy.”
“Peter,” she whispered, falling forward, as she pulled him close. “Never let me go.”
“I won’t, my love. I won’t.”
A few hours later, Peter looked to the door to see Bears enter. He paused at the sight of Peter and Philomena cuddled on his sofa, half smiling, as he nodded in their direction. “Wanderer,” he murmured. “Good to see you’re finding your stopping place.” He entered the kitchen, where Fidelia and Mildred cooked, talked, and sang.
“We should leave them in peace,” Philomena murmured, “although I am staying here.”
Peter kissed her head, as his hold on her remained firm. Glancing at the bag near the door, he murmured, “Is that all you took from your brother’s home?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I didn’t have much more, but I couldn’t have carried anything else.” She smiled as she heard Mildred giggle at something Bears said. “I never thought I’d be here.” A tear trickled out. “Oh, I hate these emotions. One moment I’m smiling, the next I’m crying.”
Peter made a soothing noise. “I don’t hate them. I’m grateful for them. For it means our babe is making herself known.” He kissed Philomena’s head, as he let out a contented sigh. “Will you marry me?”
She reared back, gaping at him. “Of course I will. That’s how this all started.” She paled. “Unless you’re having second thoughts.”
He smiled at her with adoration and tenderness. “Never. But I want to ensure you don’t either. Marry me because you want to. Not because you feel you have to.” He bit his lip. “When I asked you in the meadow, it seemed you were relieved rather than excited.”
She flushed, as her eyes widened and shone with embarrassment and guilt. “I was relieved. To have found the man I thought only lived in my dreams.” She paused, as though gathering her courage. “You don’t know what it means that I won’t have to raise my baby alone.”
“Our baby,” he said in a passionate, possessive tone.
“Ours,” she whispered, ducking her head, only lifting it when he settled two fingers beneath her chin, so she would meet his gaze. “I want to marry you. You know I do. I was at the church in April.”
He took a deep breath, as he gazed deeply into her eyes, as though attempting to ferret out any half-truths or lies. “You want me as much as you want the protection my name will give you and our babe?”
“Of course,” she whispered. “If I could never have a child, I’d want you, Peter.” She looked down at her belly, resting a hand over it. “I never thought to be a mother.”
He placed his forehead against hers, taking a deep breath. “Why not? You’ll be a marvelous mother.” He kissed her nose, earning a girlish giggle.
“I’m old, Peter. Older than you.” She flushed. “Until I met you, I thought my chance at happiness had passed me by.”
Adjusting his hold on her, he buried his face in her neck. “You’re not old, love, barely a year older than I am.” He kissed her neck. “Thirty-seven doesn’t make you old.”
“It’s old for a first-time mother,” she whispered, unable to hide the panic in her voice.
“Shh, love, Helen will be with you. So will the women of the family. They will keep you safe and well, and then we’ll hold our baby in our arms and rejoice at all we’ve been blessed w
ith. A family of our own.”
“A second chance,” she whispered, holding him close.
“Yes, my darling.” He paused a long moment. “For you, I’d give a hundred chances.”
Peter knocked on the rectory door, waiting for any sound of the pastor inside. He knew the man would avoid him if possible, but Peter refused to be ignored for Philomena’s sake. When the door burst open, an irritated Morris in front of him, Peter chuckled. “Good to see you’re not always delighted to see members of your flock.” Rather than wait for an invitation inside, he sidestepped the man and entered the small front living area.
“What do you want, Tompkins?” Morris asked, running a hand through his hair. “I’m in the middle of my sermon.”
“Is it about forgiveness?” Peter asked, with a raised eyebrow. “You need it as much as anyone.” He waited, as Morris clenched his fists and took a deep breath.
After a long moment, the pastor visibly relaxed, speaking in a condescending tone. “You can say whatever you like, but I will never agree to perform the ceremony between you and my sister. It would be a blasphemy.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Peter stared at the man, who would soon be family, whether Peter—or Morris—liked it or not. “No, it will be a blessing that two people who love each other will finally be married.” He stared for a long moment at Morris. “You’re the one who will have to find a way to earn your sister’s forgiveness if you remain steadfast in your determination to deny her your support.”
Morris strode to him until he was toe-to-toe. “I will never sanction such a union. You’re a liar and a cheat, and I know you’ll leave her alone and destitute. You have no idea what it was like after you left the first time.” At the interested gleam in Peter’s eye, Morris nodded. “Oh, I’m certain Phil has attempted to conceal the agony of living in that town after your desertion. It was horrible.”
Peter flinched at the word.
“Men thought she was fair game, after you proved her to be wholly undesirable. She could go nowhere, not even the grocer’s, without my escort. Women crossed to the other side of the street and prevented their daughters from speaking with her, lest her misfortune rub off on them.”
Runaway Montana Groom: Bear Grass Springs Book 12 Page 12