“Please sit.” He added a plate of freshly-sliced bread, accompanied by butter, to the table. Once Olivia was seated, he took his place across from her and they consumed their meal in silence. Olivia wondered if this was how their life together was destined to be.
Once his plate was empty, Robert pushed back his chair and stretched out his long legs. “You told me earlier you need protection. Would you care to elaborate?”
Olivia sighed. Anything she said was likely to sound disrespectful toward Harry, not that she owed him anything. But he’d been Robert’s friend.
“As you know, Harry dropped out of school.”
“Good time Harry. He never did apply himself to much.”
Or to his family commitments, Olivia thought.
“Some of his choices were . . . questionable.”
“He always did seek the easy way,” Robert said.
Olivia couldn’t argue with that. “I recently learned he amassed a fair amount of gambling debt. Two ruffians came looking to me for payment.”
Robert stiffened. She saw a muscle work in his jaw. Was he angry with her? It was hardly her fault.
“Do you know how much?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t matter how much or how little. I didn’t have it.”
“Typical, irresponsible Harry to leave his wife and daughter in a mess for someone else to clean up.”
Is that how Robert saw her? As a mess to be cleaned up?
Impulsively she reached across the table for his hand.
He flinched as if burned.
“I wish I had received your letters.”
“I wish I hadn’t received yours.”
She blinked up at him in confusion. “I never wrote you. I thought—I believed you were dead.”
Robert rose without a word, only to return minutes later. He pulled a single sheet of paper from a dog-eared envelope and passed it to her.
Olivia’s hands trembled as she unfolded it and stared down at handwriting that bore a close resemblance to hers.
Dear Robert,
Please don’t contact me again. I am married to Harry and expecting our first child. Olivia
“Do you deny writing that?” Robert said.
Olivia refolded it and passed it back. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“It’s your handwriting.”
“It’s similar to my handwriting,” she corrected. “But I’ve never once signed anything I wrote to you as Olivia. It was always Livie.”
“Do you expect me to believe someone mimicked your script?”
“Not someone. Harry.” As she spoke, Olivia rose and carried her plate to the kitchen. Robert followed.
“He must have intercepted your letters to me, as well,” she added.
“Why would he do that?”
Olivia turned to face him. “Harry always wanted what you had. Including me, it would appear.”
“Well, he got what he wanted. You had no faith I would return for you.”
“I was informed you were dead!”
“Thus, you fell into Harry’s conveniently waiting arms. Tell me. How long after my supposed demise before you and Harry exchanged vows?”
“What does that matter?”
“How long to forget about me and start a family with another man? Did you even mourn?”
Olivia pushed past him. “I’m going to bed.”
There was no way to tell Robert she still mourned every day for the loss of everything she believed they’d had between them.
Robert piled the rest of their dinner dishes in the sink for his housekeeper. The house felt different since Olivia’s arrival. Behind him, in the spare bedroom, he heard her moving around. In front of him, lying on the table where she left it, was the letter she’d been adamant she had never seen before.
Could what she said be true? Could Harry have written it?
Robert blew out a breath. If his father had interfered to the point where Hicks sent a telegram informing Olivia that Robert was dead, anything was possible.
Not only had his father’s affairs been complicated, he arrived to learn the only doctor had left town the month before. He had rolled up his sleeves and done what was needed, immersing himself in work and a legal nightmare that almost ended in front of the magistrate. Once things were finally sorted, the town had accepted him as their new doctor. The only thing missing was Olivia by his side.
Funny the way things worked out, for Olivia by his side was exactly what he had now, but the picture was totally different from what he had envisioned.
When he first received the letter, he’d felt so betrayed at the thought of Olivia and Harry together, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else for months. Bitterness had tainted the many good memories of their happy moments together. Their love.
Suddenly, he had a nurse, a roommate, and a toddler in the house. Perhaps, in time, he and Olivia could, if not recapture what they once had, create something new from the ashes. Maybe he could even learn to love Harry’s child as if she was his own. That is, if Olivia would let him.
Robert lit a fire under the furniture maker and in a matter of days, Chloe was getting used to her new home, her new high chair and bed, and her new papa. If only it was that easy for Olivia.
At the clinic they kept things strictly professional, doctor and nurse. Robert still had that special bedside manner with his patients that had first won her heart. If the locals were surprised to learn that Robert had suddenly acquired a wife and a daughter, they kept their curiosity to themselves.
Olivia enjoyed feeling useful again, and getting to know some of the locals. It had been love at first sight between Chloe and the housekeeper, Mrs. Franklin, whose own grandchildren were scattered around the territories, and Olivia rested easy knowing her daughter was well cared for and well-loved during the time she spent helping Robert in the clinic.
It was the after-work-hours that proved challenging. After a couple of days of making strange, Chloe had taken a sudden shine to Robert. She would toddle up to him on unsteady legs, her dimpled arms reaching out to “papa.”
Olivia all but held her breath the first time Robert picked up his daughter and settled her on his knee. Her vision blurred with sudden, happy tears and she couldn’t have forced a word past the lump in her throat. She longed for the day when they were all truly together as a family.
As if aware of her gaze on the two of them, Robert gave her a cold look. “I’m not doing this for you or for Harry. I’m doing it for her. She’s the innocent one in all this.”
Olivia’s sudden bubble of happiness burst. Robert was a civil man. Naturally he would treat her politely as a roommate and coworker. In her heart, she feared he would never treat her as a wife.
Evenings were the most difficult. After a meal shared mostly in silence, she retired well before Robert. Alone in her bed, she would lie awake listening to Chloe’s soft breathing, her ears tuned to the slightest sounds Robert made. The walls were thin enough that she could hear him make his last visit to the outhouse, lock the doors, turn out the lamps. She even heard the springs of his bed when he finally settled in for the night. If the night sounds she heard were anything to go by, Robert spent many a restless night, the same as her.
The front door to the clinic burst open abruptly. A smartly dressed middle-aged woman with sharp features strode across the reception area, followed by two surly-looking teenagers, a boy and a girl.
“Where’s Robert?” the woman demanded.
Olivia kept her tone even. “The doctor is with a patient. May I help you?’
The woman gave Olivia a haughty look. “Who are you?”
“I’m Robert’s wife.”
The woman barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Is that a fact? Shame we weren’t invited to the service,” she said, nastily. “Seeing as how we’re his family.”
“His . . . his family?” Olivia wondered if she looked as pale as she felt.
Just then the inner office door opened. Robert appeared, stari
ng at a file in his hand.
“Olivia, I’ve just—” He glanced at the trio in the waiting room. “Marianne. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“And I wasn’t expecting to meet your wife. We need to talk.” Imperiously the woman swept past him, trailed by the two young people.
Without a word to Olivia, Robert followed the trio inside and closed the door behind him.
Olivia didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the woman’s shrill voice cut through the thin wall behind her desk. Rustling papers did nothing to drown out the other woman’s demands for more money. Robert’s voice was deep, his response too low for Olivia to make out the individual words.
She jumped when the inner office door opened, but it was only old Mrs. Hobbs, from the second examination room, beaming away.
“Doc is such a wonderful man,” she said. “You’re a very lucky woman, Mrs. Fulsom.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said. “Do you require a follow-up appointment?”
The patient shook her head. “Doc cleaned some wax out of my ears and my earache went away like it never happened. He said I should be able to hear better now, as well.” She winked broadly. “I kind of think I liked not hearing my Bert snore at night.”
The front door had barely closed behind her, before Robert’s three visitors reappeared. The woman stopped at Olivia’s desk as if she had something to say, then seemed to think better of it and turned on her heel, her charges trailing behind.
Minutes later, Robert was back, tugging on his jacket. “I need to close the clinic for the afternoon. Feel free to leave as well.”
“I’ll stay,” Olivia said. “I’m here to help.” She hoped he might read the full message behind her words, but he seemed distracted.
“Thank you, Olivia. I appreciate that.”
The clinic remained busy the rest of the day, with Olivia treating a variety of scrapes, cuts and one broken nose.
“You need to stay out of the way of the baseball,” she told the young man with the broken nose, as she fixed him an ice pack.
“Is it broke?” he asked.
“It appears that way. On the bright side, the ladies will like it when you’re older. It’ll make you look tough. Now, remember what I said, apply ice every hour for the rest of the day to help reduce the swelling.” She tilted his head toward the light. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not also sporting a black eye tomorrow.”
“Neat,” he said, as he hopped down from the examination table and ran out the door, eager to share his war wounds with his buddies.
Olivia was tired by the time she’d cleaned up and locked the clinic. All afternoon she’d been expecting Robert to return, but apparently whatever matter required his attention also required his presence.
“You look tuckered, missus,” Mrs. Franklin said, upon Olivia’s return. “Where’s the doctor?”
“He had some family business that required his attention.”
“Herself is napping,” Mrs. Franklin said, as she pulled on her hat and her gloves. “We went on a nice outing to the park earlier, and all that fresh air tuckered her out.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, as Mrs. Franklin brought her a cup of tea before she left. “A woman came to the clinic today, with two older children in tow. She claimed to be Robert’s family.”
“That piece of business,” Mrs. Franklin said. “The town would be well quit without her, but the doc, he’s got a soft heart. Too soft if you ask me.”
Chapter 3
Robert paused when he came around the corner. Up ahead, his house looked warm and welcoming. Livie must be still up, for a golden light glowed from the parlor window, guiding his way.
He’d had a long, emotion filled meeting with his father’s solicitor, who told him the same thing he had at their very first meeting. Since Robert’s father had made no arrangements for Marianne and her children, Robert had been more than generous by giving her, not only the family home, but a monthly allowance.
“I told you, once you give that woman a dime, she’ll be like a vulture smelling blood. Always circling around demanding more. If your father had wanted to marry her, he’d have done so once your ma passed on. And if he wanted to provide for her and her brats, he’d have made arrangements through the proper legal channels. He and I discussed this when he drew up his will. I think he deeply regretted ever getting tangled up with her in the first place.”
“If what she says is true, those children are my half-brother and sister.”
The solicitor let out a sniff of disapproval. “Don’t know who’s to believe anything she says. She bewitched your father. Right before she turned into a witch.”
Robert nodded tiredly. They’d been over this before. No matter what kind of scoundrel his father had been, Robert could not, in good conscience, resign any blood of his to the poor house, or worse.
“I told you not to give her the house,” the solicitor continued.
“I didn’t want the place,” Robert said. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“You always did have a strong sense of honor and duty, unlike your old man. I hear you got yourself a wife. The widow of a friend of yours from back east.” The man shot Robert a searching glance. “Another duty call?”
“It’s not like that,” Robert said.
Or was it?
Granted, no one put a gun to his head and forced him to marry Livie when she showed up out of the blue. “I knew Olivia . . . before.”
“Before she up and married your friend?” the solicitor asked slyly.
Robert didn’t bother to ask where the other man had heard that. The details of his marriage were probably all over town.
He’d had Livie first. If only it didn’t hurt so damn much every time he thought of her with Harry …
She was with him now, he reminded himself as he opened the front door. Just a damn shame he felt like second choice.
Olivia looked up from her needlework at the sound of the door opening, and relief washed through her. She’d spent all afternoon worrying Robert might not come back. She knew her worries were silly, but she couldn’t forget that day in Philadelphia when he stepped jauntily on board the train, blowing her kisses and promising he’d be back before she knew it. Instead, she’d received a telegram informing her the love of her life was dead.
“I . . . I kept your supper warm,” she said.
“I hope you didn’t wait,” he said curtly.
“Chloe and I ate earlier. I think she missed you. She kept crawling over to the door, then sat there pointing.”
Robert’s mouth tightened, and she wondered if she could ever say anything right.
She watched him retreat into the kitchen. Back in Philadelphia, the two of them had been soulmates, knowing each other’s thoughts and finishing each other’s sentences. She sighed and put down her stitching. Would anything ever be the way it used to be?
Resolutely she rose, laid her stitching on the side table, and walked into the dining room. Robert sat at the table eating his meal and reading the newspaper.
“Do you want an annulment?” she asked quietly.
She clasped her hands together in front of her to stop their trembling. What if he said yes? She and Chloe would have no place to go and—
“Do you?” he asked.
Vigorously, Olivia shook her head, unable to speak past the huge lump in her throat.
“Good. That’s settled.” Robert returned to his paper.
“Not quite,” Olivia said.
Robert set his paper aside and looked up, waiting for her to continue.
“I want a husband,” she said. “Not one in name only. I want more children. You and I are both only children and we always wanted a big family, remember? At least six.”
A muscle worked in Robert’s jaw. “I remember.”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” Olivia said.
Robert rose and carried his empty plate to the kitchen. “I have.”
Olivia wrapped her arms over her chest. “Why?”
“I tend enough children in my work. Children whose parents—”
“Whose parents never wanted them in the first place?”
Olivia crossed the room to his side. She laid her hand on his forearm, felt the tense pull of muscles beneath her fingertips. “I want your children, Robert. Lots and lots of them.”
He expelled his breath in a jerky sigh. “I’m sorry. I— I’ll always feel like Harry is there between us.”
“I pray you. Don’t let thoughts of Harry stop us from being happy.”
Gently he removed her hand. “Even before I left Philadelphia, Harry began to change. He wasn’t the same man.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Olivia agreed softly. “He was chronically unhappy.”
She stared down at the floor. She couldn’t tell Robert she believed Harry turned to drink because she was unable to love him the way she loved Robert. Harry had known he was a poor substitute for the man who would always have her heart, even after she believed him dead.
At first, Harry took his feelings of inadequacy out on her, but when he started to take them out on Chloe—rejecting the little one’s efforts to engage with him— Olivia had been relieved when Harry spent less and less time at home.
“Were you happy with him, Livie? I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Olivia raised her face toward his. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” she said. “And no, I was not happy. For Chloe’s sake, I made the best of a rapidly deteriorating situation.”
“And came running back to me for comfort,” Robert said bitterly. “After two years, I have no magic cure.”
It was twenty-two months. A fact Olivia knew, because she had crossed off each day of every single month on the calendar, hoping that somehow, given enough time, Robert would fade to the back of her consciousness and she could get on with her life.
“Is it possible to start over?” she asked quietly. “Pretend we just met?”
MAIL ORDER OLIVIA (Widows, Brides and Secret Babies Book 16) Page 2