by Mercy Levy
“Thomas… what… when is Hope’s birthday?” Belinda knew the tears were spilling down her cheeks, and Thomas looked at her with questioning eyes.
“November twenty-seventh of last year. She was born at Brookside Hospital.” Thomas continued to watch her, and Belinda completely lost control of herself. Sobbing, she held Hope close to her, covering her with kisses.
“Belinda, what is going on?” Thomas asked, looking at her as though she had lost her mind.
“Thomas… Hope… she’s mine. She’s my child.” Belinda said the words through her tears, a smile spreading over her face. Thomas looked at her with utter shock and asked how it was possible.
“My mother. I was supposed to marry a young man by the name of Mr. Buckley.” Belinda suddenly couldn’t stop talking and related the entire story to him. Thomas stood for a moment in utter shock, looking first from one to the other.
“You know,” he said at last, and Belinda looked at him questioningly, “I always thought the two of you looked alike.”
She laughed, and he held out his arms, engulfing them both. Belinda couldn’t stop kissing Hope, then she looked up, and Thomas’ lips met hers. She gasped and pulled back, looking embarrassed by what had just happened.
“Belinda, I love you.” Thomas said suddenly, not waiting for her to respond. Belinda set Hope back down in her cradle, then allowed Thomas to draw her close into his arms.
Their lips met, and she kissed him passionately. Finally, their lips parted, and she laughed through her tears.
“Thomas, I love you, too.” She said, and they kissed again.
Belinda finally pulled away and enjoyed the comfort and security she felt cradled in his arms. She couldn’t believe it. She had found the love of her life, she had found her daughter, and she was happier than she had ever been.
Never had she realized life could be so good.
She looked up at him with a joyful sparkle in her eyes.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” she said, and he pulled her close.
“Merry Christmas.”
THE END
Rose’s New Year Surprise
Chapter 1
News
“Why?” Rose Watson asked her mother. Though she was sitting in a warm and cozy reading room in St. Louis surrounded by a stone fireplace with a roaring fire, she suddenly felt cold.
Betty Watson reached out and took a piece of peppermint from a crystal candy bowl. How she wished her daughter keep her dramatics to a minimum. After all, she thought putting the peppermint into her mouth, her daughter was a lovely young woman who was engaged to the son of a wealthy banker. She didn’t lack for much in life and surely didn’t have much to complain about. “Dear, push your bangs from your eyes.”
Rose raised a delicate hand and pushed her jet black hair from her eyes. Her delicate, beautiful, face glowed with sadness and confusion. She fidgeted with the buttons of the elegant blue evening gown her mother had insisted on and sighed. Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere but in this room. The walls felt like they were starting to close in on her. “Mother, why are you telling me this now?” she whined.
Betty watched her daughter rise from the white sitting chair and wander slowly toward the front window of the reading room. “Because he’s your father and he insists that you know of him,” Betty replied in a sour tone.
Brushing a wrinkle out of the dark gray dress she was wearing and then checking her curly gray hair, she waited for Rose to reply. When Rose simply walked to the window and drew quiet, Betty spoke. “You are not obligated to associate with this man, Rose.”
“He is my daddy,” Rose whispered as she listened to early winter winds howl outside. It would start snowing soon, she thought.
“Your father, not your ‘daddy’,” Betty corrected Rose. “Honestly dear, you must speak properly at all times. Howard has also corrected you on your manners if I'm not mistaken?”
Rose didn't care much for Howard Derryton. She had only agreed to the marriage because of her mother's insistence that marrying such a man would secure her future financially. What Rose desired in her heart was real love with a man who held an honest heart. “What is his name?” she asked her mother.
Betty didn't like the sound of Rose's voice. It was clear that Rose was interested in knowing her father and ignoring her mother’s wishes. “I can see now that I'm the one in error. I should not have broached this subject with you. I'm afraid I must insist that we forget about this matter altogether.”
“Why is daddy insisting you tell me about him after all these years?” Rose asked, ignoring her mother's request for formality.
Betty sighed miserably. Chewing the peppermint in her mouth, she thought back to the letter she had received from her attorney. Under the law, Rose's father had every right to know his daughter and he had given Betty a choice: Tell his daughter of him and allow her to make up her own mind, or he would come to St. Louis and personally make himself known. Betty had until the New Year to send a response to her attorney.
“Rose, dear, this man is a thorn is my side. Yes, perhaps, there was a time when I felt that love was possible. I was gravely mistaken.”
Rose could sense that her mother desired a reaction of bitterness and rejection from her daughter. Rose could not give such a reaction. Instead, she felt sadness and hurt swelling up in her chest as tears began to stream from her soft blue eyes. “What is my daddy's name, mother, please?” she asked as she began to wipe her tears away.
“No,” Betty snapped. Standing up, she began pacing around the reading room. Stopping at bookshelf lined with thick leather-bound volumes, she stared into her memory. “This man has brought a horrible burden on you at such a wonderful period in your life. Your wedding is two weeks away. I will not allow him to ruin--”
“His name!” Rose demanded. Spinning around, she looked at her mother with determination in her eyes. “Mother, I want a name, please.”
Shocked at the sudden abruptness of her daughter, Betty ran from the reading room. Rose began to give chase, but Andrew, an old butler that Rose was very fond of appeared. He put a finger to his lips and quietly closed the door to the reading room. “Ms. Betty burned them letters sent to her from your daddy,” he whispered to Rose.
Rose stared at Andrew. The old man was wearing his normal butler uniform yet appeared wise and wealthy in wisdom; a treasure money could not buy. “Over here,” Rose whispered back. Grabbing Andrew's hand, she pulled him over to the fireplace.
Andrew reached out his hands, soaking in the warmth from the fire. “I didn't think it was right, that's all,” he told Rose. “After Ms. Betty burned them letters, I hurried in here. All I saw, Ms. Rose, was an address.”
“Oh Andrew, you're wonderful,” Rose said and hugged Andrew.
“Don't go celebrating yet,” Andrew sighed. “The town I saw was a place called Snow Valley, way up there in Montana.”
Rose beamed and Andrew stared into her teary eyes. Wiping away her tears, he allowed himself to smile. “Andrew, will you come with me?”
“Oh no,” Andrew said apologetically. “Ms. Rose, I'm an old man. Winter is rushing in on my bones. My place is here. Ms. Betty may be a bitter woman, but I've been with her for over twenty years. I was with her the night you were born. I can't go off and leave her.”
Realization dawned in Rose. “When I leave, my mother will be very hurt,” she said softly.
“I have to stay to help her,” Andrew explained. Smiling into Rose's beautiful face, he turned and walked away. Stopping at the reading room door, he said: “You better leave before the guest starts arriving. I've already packed your suitcase.”
Watching Andrew walk away, Rose slowly placed her trembling hands over her heart. “I have to know who my daddy is,” she whispered and then grew still as the icy winds howled outside.
*
Rose threw her hands up to her eyes to shield herself from the screaming winds and fierce snow. “Better get to the hotel,” an old man yelled at her. Standing ou
tside the stagecoach, Rose struggled to see through the heavy snow. Everywhere she looked, she saw white.
“My luggage,” Rose called over the wind.
The old man shook his head at her. “Don't worry about your luggage. I'll bring it into the hotel shortly. I have to get these horses settled in down at the livery stable. This storm is going to be a mean one. Now go and get inside the hotel before you catch your death of cold.”
Rose didn't argue. Hurrying away, she managed to find the hotel. Unable to make out the details of the exterior, she was pleasantly shocked when she opened the front lobby door and walked into a large and warm lobby decorated with simple yet delightful furnishings. A large stone fireplace on the far back wall held an inviting fire that was chasing away the bitter cold. Closing the lobby door, she slowly brushed snow off the white coat she was wearing over her simple green dress. Happy that the white and green bonnet she was wearing had not been ripped away by the wind, Rose quickly straightened it and collected her thoughts.
“Help you?” a short, fat, man asked.
Rose glanced around the lobby as she approached the wooden front desk. A set of wooden doors leading into a dining room were open, allowing delicious aromas of scrumptious foods to drift out into the lobby. Her stomach growled hungrily.
“I need a room, please.” she said.
The short, fat, man, studied Rose. Rose could tell the man was harmless; nosey, but harmless. His face was kind and cheerful and his nearly bald head as round as a ball. “Well now,” the man said brushing crumbs off the brown jacket he was wearing, “what is a pretty young lady like yourself doing alone in a place like this?”
Rose smiled bravely. “I'm looking for my daddy,” she openly admitted without any hesitation. “I've come all the way from St. Louis.”
“St. Louis, that is a long way,” the man eyed her curiously.
“Yes, it is,” Rose agreed. She took a liking to this man. “What is your name?” she asked him.
“Jacob,” he smiled happily. “Renting rooms is my game, but preaching God's Word is my life.”
“Oh, you're a preacher,” Rose said in a delighted voice.
Jacob motioned for Rose to lean over the counter. Rose smiled and leaned in toward him. Jacob whispered in her ear. “I haven't let folks around here know I'm a preacher just yet. When God says it time, I will. Our secret.”
“Of course,” Rose continued to smile. “So, what about that room?”
“Dollar a night, but you for you-seventy-five cents,” Jacob winked at Rose.
“I don't know how long I will be staying,” Rose confessed watching Jacob turn the guest registry book around in order for her to sign.
“You're my only guest. I'm sure the need for your room will not arise any time soon,” Jacob assured her. “Now, go get settled in and I'll let my wife know to keep the kitchen open. We have a few hungry cowhands in the dining room, but I'll make sure they watch their manners.”
Rose began to thank Jacob for his kindness when a tough looking cowboy walked into the lobby from the dining room. Spotting a beautiful woman, he quickly snatched off a brown hat. “Ma’am,” he said.
“This is Steven Riley,” Jacob explained. “Steven is Simon Landon's top hand.”
“Simon Landon?” Rose asked, confused.
“Oh,” Jacob said and laughed at his own absent-mindedness. “Simon Landon is the biggest ranch owner in this part of the land. He's a fair and good man, unlike some we've had around here, isn't that right, Steve?”
Steve was lost in Rose's beauty. Staring into her deep, blue eyes, he almost felt hypnotized. “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, we've had some rough ones around.”
Rose blushed. Never in her life had a man looked at her the way Steve was looking at her. “My name is Rose Watson,” she said, forgetting all propriety.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Steve smiled. Realizing he was acting like a fish jumping around on a hook, he cleared his throat and looked at Jacob. “Most of the boys are going to head back to the ranch tonight, but I gotta stay in town and wait for the telegram. I'm going to need a room.”
“Two guests in one night,” Jacob winked at Rose. “Say, maybe Steve can help you in your search?”
Rose blushed again. “I'm looking for my daddy,” she explained bashfully. “I'm come all the way from St. Louis.”
Steve stared at Rose. Even though the woman seemed fragile and delicate to the core, he saw in her an inner strength and hope that amazed him. He began to speak but stopped when a tall, thin, man entered the lobby. Wearing a black coat over black shirt and black slacks, he appeared more of a shadow, rather than a man.
“Help you?” Jacob asked in a voice that came out less than friendly. Clearly, he was weary of the stranger also.
“I need a room for the night,” the man replied, speaking in a low, quiet voice. Looking at Steve, he studied the gun resting on the man's right hip. Steve, in return, studied the stranger with caution.
Rose couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened by the man. Perhaps it was the thin, stringy black hair or his boney face that made her uneasy. Or perhaps it was something else. Rose realized it was his eyes. The stranger had the coldest eyes she had ever seen. They were completely devoid of any emotion whatsoever.
“Three guests,” Jacob winked at Rose attempting to ease the fear in her eyes.
“I need to rest. I'll be down later to eat dinner,” Rose informed Jacob. Focusing on Steve, she offered the man a polite smile and walked upstairs. Outside, the snowstorm grew stronger.
Chapter 2
Blizzard
The roast beef was delicious. Eating alone at a back table in a dining room decorated with white and blue curtains and table cloths, Rose listened to the storm howl outside. Only Jacob and his wife, Steve, and the unsettling man in black remained at the hotel. Gratefully, that man was nowhere in sight.
Lord, please help me find my daddy,” she silently prayed. “My faith is in You alone.”
Jacob watched Rose pray from the dining room door. Smiling, he walked up to her table and asked if could sit down. “May I?”
“Please,” Rose said happily.
Jacob pulled out a chair and sat down. Listening to the storm rage outside, he shook his head. “I'm afraid this storm is going to pound us pretty good.”
Rose put down the fork in her hand and picked up her glass of water. “I arrived just in time then,” she said. “I was afraid I would be delayed by this weather.”
Jacob thought of the stranger in the hotel. “Maybe a delay would have been a blessing,” he told Rose. “Now, tell me, who is your daddy?”
Rose frowned. Taking a sip of water she shook her head. “I don't really know who my daddy is.” Rose explained about her mother and how Andrew had managed to salvage the one valuable piece of information for her.
Jacob rubbed his round chin. “I see. Now, this does present a problem, now doesn't it? Having a name would be much easier.”
“I'm afraid so,” Rose agreed.
Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Steve walking into the dining room. Approaching her table, he looked down at Jacob with a worried face. “Looks like we’ve got a mighty strange mystery on our hands here Jacob.”
“Why do you say that?” Jacob asked.
“Sheriff just found the stagecoach drivers dead in the livery stable,” Steve explained in a regretful voice. “He's telling everyone to get to their homes and stay shut in until this storm passes.” Steve glanced over his shoulder. “Where's that other guy that came in earlier?”
“In his room,” Jacob said rubbing his chin again. “I need to go tell my wife to get up to our room and stay put.”
Rose watched Jacob stand up and hurry away. Left alone with Steven, she nervously looked up at the man's rough face. He had blond hair hanging down over green eyes and a face that had seen plenty of days of hard work and sun. He didn't seem like the kind of man who backed down from a fight. His face was an honest one, full of decency and c
hivalry. It was refreshing.
“Do you think that man killed the drivers?” she asked, alarmed.
Steven looked down into Rose's beautiful face. “I couldn’t say for sure, but we haven’t had a murder here in town in years. Nobody knows who that guy is though. It’s best if you keep your distance. May I sit down?” he asked.
“Please,” Rose answered in a grateful voice. Steve’s presence made her feel more at ease.
“Sheriff Tracy will be over in a few minutes. He'll want to talk to you,” Steven explained.
“Of course,” Rose replied. “Though I don’t know what I can tell him that would be of any help.”
Steven grew silent. Unsure how to talk to such a beautiful woman, he began to fiddle with his hat. Sure, it was easy to talk to the local women who were always after him. But those women were ordinary. He could tell that Rose was incredible.
“You mentioned that you were here looking for your Pa?” he asked.
“Yes,” Rose sighed. Patiently, she explained how Andrew had managed to extract only a location instead of a name.
Steve sat his hat down in his lap. “Snow Valley ain't a large town, but there's plenty of people in this part of the land. You might be searching for a long time.”
“I have time,” Rose assured Steven even though her heart began to feel doubtful. Perhaps, she thought, beginning the search when spring arrived instead of rushing into a blizzard might have been wiser. But of course, she would have been married when spring arrived. “All I know about my daddy is that he left when I three years old. We were living in Savannah, Georgia.”
“I hear rumors of a war between the south and north stirring,” Steven told Rose.
“Sadly, those rumors are true,” Rose confirmed. “My father is a Southern man. Do you know any men that might fit that category?”