Lone Star Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Me, too!” Carmen hopped up. As she and Ismelda cleared the table, Carmen seriously questioned her own sanity. Mercy had accidentally thickened the apple cider instead of the beef broth and drippings to make “gravy.” In order to salvage the situation, Ismelda turned the broth to gravy and Carmen “fixed” the cider.

  “What’s for dessert, Mercy?” Chris sounded hopeful. “You said you had something special planned.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve never had this before,” Ismelda murmured.

  “That’s right. It’s a new recipe.” Carmen slapped the fried, sweetened mashed potato slabs onto plates, added diced apples, spooned blobs of flan atop them, and then topped the whole affair off with a mulled, spicy apple “glaze.”

  Mercy attacked hers with gusto.

  Chris gave his serving a dubious look. “What is it?”

  “Happenstance,” Carmen blurted out as she picked up her fork.

  “Probably another Texas dish,” Duncan said. “There’s not been one yet I haven’t liked.”

  Duncan’s fork practically created sparks on the plate, he ate so fast. Chris matched him bite for bite.

  Carmen exchanged a look with her sister. “Ismelda, why don’t we share mine? I made a plate for Robert, but if Connant comes back with him, we wouldn’t want him to go without.”

  “Connant could have Rob’s, and Rob could go hungry,” Chris growled. “ ’Twould serve him right for leaving his kin in a time of great need.”

  Duncan nodded as he pushed to his feet. “Food was good. Filling. You ladies worked hard cooking it, so Chris and I’ll do the cleanup.”

  “Yeah.” Chris rose. “And since nothing’s keeping you here, Mercy, Carmen and Ismelda can take you over and settle you in the clinic now.”

  “I can’t go to the clinic!”

  Chris scowled at Mercy. “And suppose you give me a good reason why not?”

  “She’s not in her nightdress,” Ismelda replied.

  “You can jolly well change once you’re there.” By now, Duncan and Chris bracketed Mercy like a pair of menacing gargoyles.

  Suspecting they were about to pick up Mercy’s chair once again, Carmen tapped her fork on the edge of her dessert plate. “Once Ismelda and I finish our … uhh … happenstance, we’ll be happy to help Mercy change. Won’t we, Sister?”

  Ismelda looked at the dish, and Carmen had the sinking feeling her sister was going to either use this as an excuse to get out of eating the mess or offer to help Mercy and allow Carmen to eat it all by herself. Alarmed at either possibility, Carmen gave her little sister a behave-yourself look.

  “You take a bite, then I’ll take one.”

  Relief flooded her. Carmen assessed the dessert and decided the safest thing to do would be to isolate and eat each item independently. She speared an apple and popped the slice into her mouth.

  It seemed Ismelda came to the same conclusion. She took a miniscule dab of flan.

  “You’ll be here until the Second Coming, eating that slowly.” Chris drummed his fingers on the back of Mercy’s chair.

  “My friends are ladies, not field hands.” Mercy’s voice went up in volume, then petered out on the last word.

  “Another one? She’s having another one.” Distress tainted Duncan’s voice. “I’m not liking this one bit.”

  “What aren’t you liking?” a voice asked from the door. “And why are the lamps on over in my clinic?”

  Duncan bellowed at his brother, “ ’tis far past time you showed up!”

  Robert set down his medical satchel. “I’m sorry I’m late for supper. It couldna be helped.”

  “You should have had your sorry hide home hours ago,” Chris grated.

  Maddeningly casual, Rob crossed the room, pressed a kiss on Mercy’s temple, and said, “Aida and Stuart had a wee little boy tonight. Mother and child are right as rain.”

  “What were you doing there?” Chris bristled. “You were supposed to be at the Stukys’. I sent Connant there to fetch you.”

  “I said I was going to Stu Key’s.” Rob hadn’t straightened up. He stayed down close to Mercy and said softly, “I take it you’re planning to make me a father tonight?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “Now then, that’s a fine piece of news. And ’tis plain to see you’re faring well. Since the day we knew you to be with child, I’ve prayed ’twould go easy on you. God is faithful.”

  Duncan stared at his brother. Clearly, he didn’t understand just how serious this was—either that or he was demented. “Mercy’s been having pangs for hours now,” Duncan intoned, trying to get Rob to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

  Rob crooked a brow. “Have you, now?”

  “Only since noon.” Mercy’s smile faltered, then disappeared entirely.

  “Noon!” Chris roared. “And you didn’t tell us then?”

  Rob wheeled around and stood nose to nose with his oldest brother. “Dinna raise your voice at my wife!”

  “ ’Tis you I’ll yell at. She needed you, and you were off with another woman!”

  “Stop this!” Mercy’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Now look what the both of you did.” Duncan swiped the napkin from Mercy’s lap and blotted her face. “Upsettin’ a wee mother-to-be. Shame on ye.”

  Carmen rose. “I’m sure you gentlemen will excuse us.”

  Now that Rob was home, Duncan’s nerves settled. Asking Carmen to come had been a move of desperation. It wasn’t right to ask an unmarried woman to play midwife. Carmen hadn’t confessed to being worried, but Duncan knew she’d calmed tremendously since Rob arrived. He could tell because her accent grew thicker when she was upset. Suddenly, her tongue’s rich-sounding roll when she pronounced R’s and the softening of the T sounds weren’t as strong.

  “You can’t go!” Chris went right back to yelling.

  Clearly not intimidated, Carmen glared at Chris. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving her tonight. The only place I’m going is upstairs to help Mercy change into her nightdress.”

  “That’s a fine plan.” Rob’s voice took on his everything’s-under-control flavor. He wound Mercy’s arm about his neck and scooped her out of her seat.

  She turned her face into his neck and started to cry.

  “There, now. There you are. Aye, lass. You needn’t worry a bit now.” Rob kept a steady stream of reassurances as he carried her up to their bedchamber. Even after they were out of sight, Mercy’s weeping drifted down the stairs.

  “I’m thinkin’ you’re right. Mercy might want a woman’s help,” Duncan said quietly to Carmen.

  Carmen nodded. Compassion shimmered in her deep brown eyes. He admired the woman. Others in the community hadn’t known how to react to Mercy since her child was conceived by an act of violence. They’d kept their distance; Carmen hadn’t wavered in the least. She’d been a stalwart friend.

  He decided to repay her kindness. “Whilst you’re up there with her, I’ll dump out your happenstance. No use in all of us sufferin’ indigestion.”

  Carmen’s eyes grew huge.

  “Did you think we didna see Mercy put sugar in the mashed potatoes?”

  Ismelda squeaked, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

  “I couldna bear to rattle the lass.” He pulled out Carmen’s chair. Duncan fought the urge to carry her up the stairs. He’d already dented her pride by carrying her across the street earlier in the day. She did her best to get around and ignore the pitying glances folks gave her. Indeed, she managed life quite nicely. But if he offered her assistance, she’d likely take it the wrong way.

  Carmen mounted the stairs methodically. Soon after she disappeared from sight, Rob appeared. Rubbing his hands together, he announced, “I’m hungry as a draft horse.”

  “Eat dessert first,” Chris advised as he shoved some of the disastrous dish at Rob.

  Duncan swiped the plate right out of Rob’s hand. “We canna have him gettin’ sick. He’s got to deliver the babe.”

  “Mercy’
s never made anything that didn’t taste grand.” Rob reached for the happenstance again.

  Ismelda giggled. “But Mercy’s never been in labor before.”

  “How far along is she?” Chris dumped chunks of meat onto a plate. “How much longer?”

  “I can’t say for certain.”

  “You’re usually able to give a fair estimate,” Duncan said.

  “Aye.” Rob shot a look at Ismelda, who’d taken the dessert plates to the back door to rid them of the monstrous concoction. Rob’s voice dropped to a confidential whisper, “But those women have been long married.” He paused a moment to choose his words carefully. “And they dinna suffer crippling modesty.”

  Duncan grimaced. He rested his hand on Rob’s shoulder and gave him a powerful squeeze as a sign of his support. Rob told Mercy he’d been praying for her to have an easy delivery. I never gave much thought to how hard this will be for her—and for him, too. Lord, You hae the power to calm them and ease things. Please grant them that.

  “You’re in your kilts.” Rob accepted the plate of roast and rice from Chris.

  “At your wife’s request.” Chris grinned. “We may well be in Texas, but she’s showing promise. With time, she’ll understand the honor of marrying a Highlander.”

  Rob ate quickly and cast a look at the stairs.

  “You need to get her o’er to the clinic,” Duncan urged.

  “She’s wanting to hae the bairn in our own bed.”

  “Make her see reason.” Chris started pacing. He practically mowed over Ismelda. “It’s 1892. Modern women should avail themselves of the best medicine has to offer. Your clinic is the finest there is.”

  “I promised my old-fashioned bride a solid half hour of privacy so she could wash up, change, and have Carmen help her with her hair. After that, we’ll see how she is.”

  “Half an hour?” Duncan shook his head in disbelief.

  “She’s rattled. Carmen has a knack for making Mercy feel better. Just you wait. I’d estimate that right about now, my wee wife’s calming down.”

  “I will not!” Mercy shouted from upstairs.

  Rob winced.

  “No, no, no, no.” Mercy’s voice went from a shout to a strangled moan.

  “That doesna sound like a woman who’s finding her serenity. Go help her, man!” Chris shoved at him, and he raced upstairs.

  Less than a minute later, Mercy’s voice held a shrill edge. “You promised thirty minutes!”

  Rob came back downstairs, grinning like a fool. “Things are progressing well.”

  “If that’s ‘well,’ you’d best stuff cotton in your ears once you hae her at the clinic. The lass is liable to scream you deaf once she’s in the thick of it.”

  “Bein’ a mite temperamental is a fine sign. It indicates a woman’s toward the end.”

  “Toward the end of her rope, I’d say,” Chris muttered.

  Someone knocked once while opening the front door. Connant stuck his head into the house. “I’m relieved to see Rob’s horse. I’ve ridden all over and couldn’t find him. How’s Mercy?”

  They all looked toward the ceiling. As if she’d heard Connant’s question, her stricken voice echoed down the stairs. “No one needs to know!”

  Connant’s eyes widened. “I’ll go now.”

  “She didna hear you. She’s talking with Carmen.” Rob motioned him in. “Come. Eat.”

  The sheriff looked appalled at the notion. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Is that so?” Rob asked. His tone sounded entirely too entertained.

  “I’ll help.” Chris rushed toward the door, to freedom.

  “No. No. Everything’s under control. Happy New Year.” The sheriff shut the door with obvious alacrity. Chris looked like a man about to be stuffed into a cannibal’s pot.

  Half an hour later, Carmen descended the stairs. “Mercy’s asking to go to the washroom.”

  Rob shot to his feet.

  “Before you go up there,” Carmen’s voice carried a vaguely amused flavor, “I’ve been ordered to warn you men that if you try to take her to the clinic, she’ll avenge herself.”

  Chris snorted. “Mercy wouldn’t swat a fly. Her threat’s all bluster.”

  Rob scowled over his shoulder. “Don’t vex my wife, Chris.” He went up the stairs and came back down with Mercy in his arms. She was bundled in a heavy flannel nightgown. Instead of wearing her hair up in its usual style, Mercy now had a single, fat braid swinging back and forth with each step Rob took.

  From the way Mercy clung to Rob, buried her face against his chest, and moaned, she was embarrassed for them to see her in such a state. Duncan figured the least he could do was be casual about it. As they went past him toward the washroom, Duncan proclaimed, “The lass is whiter than her bedgown, Rob. Talk sense into her.”

  Ismelda shoved a soapy dish into the rinse water. “Shhh.”

  “Here you are,” Rob said as he turned sideways to carry his wife through the doorway to their modern washroom. Duncan silently gave his brother credit for sounding so calm and remembering to turn so he didn’t knock Mercy’s head or feet against the door frame.

  “Out!” Mercy’s voice took on a shrill edge. “Out this minute, Robert.”

  Rob stepped out of the washroom, shut the door, and finally had the good sense to look concerned.

  Chris kicked the chair Duncan leaned against. “Don’t just stand there. ’Tis cold out. Rob’ll be wanting to wrap Mercy in a blanket whilst he totes her to the clinic.”

  “I hhhheee–aaarred thaaaaat!” Mercy shouted.

  “Now, Mercy,” Rob wheedled.

  Silence hung in the air. Rob shifted his weight from one foot to the other a few times, wiped his hands down his thighs, and cleared his throat. “Mercy?”

  “Leeeeve meee aaa–looonne!”

  Duncan decided it was a good thing Rob told them Mercy might be getting a wee bit testy. She seemed to be embracing the role with zeal.

  A mere breath later, Mercy’s voice changed to a bewildered, “Rob?”

  “Aye, my sweet?”

  She sounded so uncertain, so lost. “I don’t know what to do.”

  A tiny wail rent the air. Rob yanked the washroom door straight off the hinges. Duncan collapsed into the chair. Having a baby was far more taxing than he’d expected.

  Chapter 3

  How’s little Elspeth today?” Carmen called across the street to Duncan. He sat in the open doorway of his cobbler’s workshop, stitching something.

  “Fat and sassy.” He grinned at her. “That garden of yours surely takes a lot of attention.”

  Carmen caressed a narcissus. “I hope these and the fern-leaf lavender bloom for the wedding.”

  Duncan nodded. “Those pinkish-red things behind you are a sight.”

  “The azaleas? I love them, but they’re not easy to put in a wedding arrangement. Same with my crocus. Ismelda didn’t want to wait until March when the whole countryside will be abloom.”

  “That tree Mercy calls a redbud is blossoming. Could you use a few branches?”

  His offer pleased her. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He nodded and went back to work. All day long, every day, he’d sit out on the porch attached to his workshop. An eye-popping array of spindles, fans, turnings, and trim should have made the outside of his shop look tacky or garish; instead, it seemed whimsical. Folks would walk down the street, drop in and chat with Duncan, then meander off.

  “What are you doing?” Ismelda asked from the corner of their yard.

  “Checking on the flowers.” Carmen turned around. “I need to water some of them a little more.”

  “Otto’s mother offered to come help me pin up the hem of my gown, but I told her you would.” Ismelda clasped Carmen’s hand as she went up the four steps to their veranda. “I wanted to talk with you about something.”

  “Sure.”

  “You won’t move into the Kunstlers’ with me?”

  “No, I won’t.”
Carmen shot her sister a stern look. “You and Otto need to be husband and wife. I’d be underfoot and in the way.”

  “His mother is there.”

  “I know.” Carmen stopped. “You and she get along well, and I know in my heart that it’ll be a happy arrangement. But Mrs. Kunstler and I wouldn’t be happy under the same roof. Besides, I love our home here.”

  “But I was wondering about something else.”

  Carmen waited for her sister to speak. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite get past the hurt of everyone else finding mates and having babies. Her own sister didn’t even hold out hope that some man might come along and develop affectionate feelings for Carmen. The reality that she was trying to make arrangements for Carmen’s spinster years stung.

  “Mr. Stein and Peter—they’re faring decently, but with Mercy in town now, I think he’d be delighted to have a housekeeper. Why don’t you talk with him about it? We’d be neighbors!”

  Carmen merely shook her head.

  “You already take a dish over there once or twice a week.”

  “If that is a reason for me to become someone’s housekeeper, half of our neighbors would already employ me.”

  “But maybe it’s time for you to get something in return for all the good deeds you do.”

  “I don’t want anything, Ismelda. I’m content. I have a home and friends. Papa left us enough money that I needn’t worry about finances.” Carmen shook her head. “I’d be lying if I told you I would think about it. Go put on your gown. I’ll wash my hands so I don’t smudge it.”

  The heavy white satin felt smooth and cool in Carmen’s hands as she pinned the hem. She forced a laugh. “I was just picturing Otto standing at the altar waiting for you.”

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “I imagined him in one of the Gregors’ kilts.”

  Merry laughter bubbled out of Ismelda. “Never. After church on Sunday, Otto told me if I have any plans to make him wear odd costumes, I’d better forget them.”

  “They’re not odd costumes. The Gregors are proud of their heritage. I thought they looked … unified at church on Sunday.” The pastor had called Mercy and Rob to the altar on Sunday to present Elspeth to the congregation and say a blessing over her. Duncan and Chris stood on either side of them. All of the Gregor men wore kilts, and the length of tartan Rob had draped over Mercy’s shoulder for their wedding now served as the infant’s blanket. “And I also think it was very touching how Duncan mentioned they’d named Elspeth after their own mother.”