A Borrowed Dream

by Amanda Cabot

When she’d turned the previously empty building into a confectionary, Lydia had realized that the sun would melt anything she placed in the front window and had converted that part of the shop into a tasting area, creating the window seat and pairing it with a small table and two chairs. The location had become a popular spot for the ladies of Cimarron Creek to gather and was one of the reasons the shop was so successful.

  A minute later, Lydia emerged from the back room bearing a tray with two coffee cups and a plate of candy. She pointed toward the cream-colored piece. “Taste this first. Then you can tell me about Hannah.”

  Catherine paused, her hand halfway to her mouth. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

  “Only to someone who knows you as well as I do. You get a distant look when you’re trying to find a solution to some problem. I doubt anyone else would see that.”

  Reassured that she wasn’t telegraphing her distress to the entire town, Catherine took a bite of the penuche, letting the flavors swirl along her tongue before she swallowed it. “It’s very good,” she told Lydia a few seconds later, “but . . .”

  “But what?” Her friend leaned her arms on the table, concern etching furrows between her eyes. “I knew something must be wrong, because only one customer bought any, even though half a dozen sampled it. The problem was, no one said anything.”

  Catherine took another small bite, wanting to confirm her initial impression. “This will probably sound strange coming from me when you know how I like sweets, but this seems too sweet. I didn’t think that was possible with candy.”

  Lydia’s worries vanished, replaced by a wide grin. “I knew I could count on you. I’ll put a pinch more salt in the next batch and increase the vanilla by a tablespoon or two.” She took a sip of coffee, then laid the cup back on its saucer. “It tasted fine to me, but . . .” With a quick shake of her head, she said, “Never mind about that. Now that you’ve helped me, tell me about Hannah.”

  “It’s not just Hannah. There’s Seth too. They both need help, but I don’t know what to do.”

  Lydia’s expression sobered. “Is Boone Dalton hitting Seth again?”

  The sweetness of the penuche disappeared, replaced by the sour taste that thoughts of Seth’s father always aroused. “Seth won’t say anything, but I saw the way he was holding his ribs today. I’m afraid one is cracked. I asked Austin, but he hadn’t noticed anything different when he drove him to school this morning.”

  Lydia closed her eyes for a second, and Catherine suspected she was praying for the boy. “I’ve talked to Travis about Seth, but there’s nothing he can do as sheriff. Boone has the right to discipline his son any way he sees fit.”

  Though Lydia’s words did not surprise Catherine, they saddened her. “That may be what the law says, but that doesn’t make it right. From everything I can see, Boone treats Seth like a slave, beating him for the slightest infraction or maybe for no reason at all. Hasn’t he heard that Mr. Lincoln freed the slaves almost twenty years ago?”

  Lydia shook her head. “Be careful, Catherine. You’re starting to sound like a Yankee, and I can tell you from personal experience that Yankees aren’t particularly welcome here.”

  “I know.” Catherine remembered the prejudice Lydia had had to overcome when she’d first arrived in Cimarron Creek, her Northern accent leaving no doubt that she was what one resident referred to as the Cursed Enemy. “It’s just that I wish there were some way to get Seth away from Boone. I know it’s wrong to listen to gossip, but I can’t help remembering that when Martha Dalton died, there was speculation that Boone had killed her.”

  “Was Martha Boone’s wife?”

  Catherine took a deep breath as she nodded. The delicious aromas that filled the confectionary normally soothed her worries, but they were having little effect today. “Martha was a gentle woman. I think she tried to stand up to Boone, but she was no match for him, just as Seth isn’t.

  A moment of silence followed Catherine’s words. Then Lydia gave a quick nod. “I’ll ask Travis again, even though I doubt he’ll have any ideas. He says Boone’s tighter with money than anyone in town. No one thinks he loves his son, but having Seth work on the farm keeps Boone from having to hire someone. From what I’ve heard, you aren’t far off with your assessment that Seth’s little more than a slave.”

  Lydia pushed the plate toward Catherine and pointed toward a piece of candy. “Try this. I won’t claim that fudge can resolve anything, but chocolate always makes me feel better.”

  Catherine popped a piece in her mouth, recognizing that although she wished the situation were different, there was probably nothing she could do for Seth. “This is wonderful.” She tipped her head to one side as she considered the mélange of flavors coating her tongue. “Did you put coffee in this?”

  Lydia nodded. “I knew not everyone would like it, but women who enjoy coffee as much as you do seem to think it’s a good flavor.”

  “It is. It’s perfect!” Catherine reached for another piece, then stopped herself.

  “Go ahead,” Lydia encouraged her. When Catherine shook her head, Lydia’s expression turned somber again. “All right. Let’s talk about Hannah. What’s changed?”

  “Nothing, and that’s the problem. I’ve tried everything I know and everything you’ve suggested. I talked to Austin, but nothing is helping. I thought there had been a breakthrough one day when she spent some time with the globe, but the next day she was back to silence.” Catherine took a sip of coffee. “It’s the strangest thing. I feel as if she’s afraid to talk, as if she’s hiding a secret and doesn’t want to risk letting it out.”

  “What kind of secret could a six-year-old have?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know that she was born in Paris.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened. “Paris, France?”

  “That’s the place. Home of the Seine, the Louvre, and Notre Dame.” The city that figured in so many of Catherine’s dreams. “I don’t know why, but Austin and his wife were living there when Hannah was born.”

  Laying down her cup, Lydia stared at Catherine. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask. I’ve told Travis more than once that you’re a born interrogator. You’re subtle about it, but you get people to tell you things they’d never say to Travis or me.”

  Though it was a compliment, it brought Catherine no pleasure. Her heart clenched as it always did when she remembered the day Austin had spoken of Paris. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ask him.” Catherine kept her gaze fixed on Lydia, willing her to understand. “You didn’t see his face, Lydia. It was filled with pain. I’d almost say agony. There was no way I would do anything that might increase that pain.”

  She took another deep breath, although she doubted it would soothe her. “I feel so helpless. Hannah’s the unhappiest child I’ve ever seen. I want to help her and Austin, but all I can do is pray that I’ll find a way to reach her.”

  Lydia’s expression turned stern. “Never underestimate the power of prayer.”

  It was a good reminder. “I don’t. It’s simply that I have trouble waiting for an answer.” Catherine forced her lips to curve in a smile. Even though nothing had changed, she felt a bit better simply because she had shared her worries with Lydia.

  “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. You looked especially happy when I came in today, and I know it’s not the customers’ reaction to the penuche.”

  Lydia shook her head, her blue eyes once again reflecting happiness. “No, it’s something much better. I’m going to have a baby.”

  A baby! That was indeed good news. Catherine reached across the table and hugged her friend. It hadn’t been her imagination that Lydia had worn a secretive smile the day they’d talked about children needing both parents.

  Catherine smiled, and this time her smile was genuine. “How wonderful! I’m so happy for you.” Catherine had seen the longing in Lydia’s eyes every time she held someone else’s baby and knew that she was praying for children of her own. Her prayers were being
answered.

  “When is the blessed event going to happen?” As she pronounced the words, Catherine’s mind shifted to the memory of a Cimarron Creek resident for whom the birth of a child had not been a blessed event. Poor Joan. Catherine’s heart ached for the young girl who’d been ostracized by her own parents. Fortunately, Lydia’s story would have a happier ending than Joan’s had.

  Oblivious to the direction Catherine’s thoughts had taken, Lydia smiled again. “Mrs. Steele says it’ll be late September. I was relieved when she said she doesn’t know of any other babies due at that time and that she’ll be able to attend me.”

  Catherine nodded, remembering what had happened when the town’s midwife had been called to deliver a rancher’s wife’s baby. While she was on the ranch, a woman in town had gone into labor, and her panicky husband had called Doc Harrington. Neither the baby nor the mother had survived. But Mrs. Steele would be here for Lydia, and if she was somehow called away, Catherine would do everything she could, including delivering the baby herself, to ensure that the doctor did not come near Lydia. The man waved at her every time he saw her and—compelled by common courtesy—she responded with a wave, but that did not mean Catherine would trust him with anyone’s life.

  As the church bell chimed the hour, she blinked at the realization that she had been here longer than usual. Normally her visits lasted only a few minutes, and, more often than not, they were interrupted by customers entering the store. Today Catherine was the only person at Cimarron Sweets besides Lydia. The timing couldn’t have been better for the discussion they’d had.

  Her face glowing with happiness, Lydia helped herself to a piece of fudge. “Travis and I are so excited that it’s practically all we can talk about when we’re alone. We haven’t chosen names, but one thing is definite: we want you to be the baby’s godmother. Will you do that for us?”

  “I’d be honored.” Catherine had no trouble picturing an infant with Lydia’s blonde hair and Travis’s square chin. Would it be a boy or a girl? Only God knew that. What Catherine knew was that this child would have two loving parents. This baby would not suffer the way Hannah and Seth did. “Thank you, Lydia. I can’t wait to hold your baby.”

  Her friend’s smile widened. “Before you know it, it’ll be your turn to choose godparents.”

  The conversation that had been so positive had taken a wrong turn. Catherine sipped her coffee as she tried to compose her thoughts. Though she would have liked to ignore Lydia’s comment, she knew her friend would not let her off that easily.

  “A year ago, I would have agreed with you. Now I wonder if I’ll ever marry.” And that thought brought more pain than Catherine had expected, especially when she witnessed Lydia’s happiness.

  “Nate hasn’t given up.”

  Neither had Rachel, but the problem wasn’t Rachel. It was Nate himself. “I always knew that man was stubborn. Now I think he must also be deaf, because he refuses to listen when I tell him I’m not interested in marrying him.”

  Lydia raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Are you certain?”

  “I am. I told you that last summer, and I haven’t changed my mind.”

  This time silence followed Catherine’s declaration. When Lydia spoke, her question surprised Catherine. “What about Austin? From everything I’ve heard, he’s a fine man. Marrying him could be good for everyone. You’d have a husband, and Austin would be able to go to church without Henrietta Brooks and the other mamas parading their daughters in front of him. Besides, maybe a stepmother would solve Hannah’s problems. We both know it’s better for a child to be raised by both a mother and a father.”

  That was true, but marriage ought to be more than a convenient arrangement. “I care for Hannah—there’s no doubt about that—and Austin has become a friend, but those are not good enough reasons to marry.”

  Lydia’s eyes narrowed, and she looked at Catherine as if trying to read her thoughts. “Are you sure Austin is just a friend? You get a gleam in your eye when you speak of him.”

  Once again, her friend was seeing more than Catherine had realized. She chose her words carefully. “Austin is the most intriguing man I’ve ever met. I can talk to him about anything.” Except his wife and their life in the city of Catherine’s dreams.

  “Last week he asked me what I thought about President-Elect Garfield and whether he was really involved in the Crédit Mobilier scandal. We argued about whether that should have disqualified him from becoming president and whether the country would be better served by General Hancock.” Though the Southern states, including Texas, had voted in favor of the general, he’d lost the election. What concerned many in the South was that the defeat had been by only a few thousand votes.

  “Austin listens to me,” Catherine continued. “Really listens. I know you said Travis does that for you, but my experience has been that males over the age of sixteen rarely admit that a woman has a brain.”

  Lydia chuckled, as if she had had the same experience, then turned serious again. “So, tell me, if you’re attracted to Austin—and you seem to be—and if he treats you like an equal, why wouldn’t you consider him as a potential suitor?”

  They’d reached the heart of the matter. “Because he’d never love me the way he did Geraldine. I saw the way Austin looked when he spoke of her. It’s been close to six years, but his grief is still raw. If he even considered marrying me, it would only be for Hannah’s sake. I’d be his second choice.” Just as she would have been Nate’s second choice once he met Lydia. That had hurt Catherine’s pride, but this would be worse, much worse.

  Catherine swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that had settled in her throat at the realization that Austin could never love her the way he had Geraldine. A love like that came only once in a lifetime, or so Mama claimed. “It may sound foolish, Lydia, but I want to be my husband’s first and only love. That’s why I refused to let Nate court me last summer.”

  Her friend looked dubious. “I won’t argue with you about Nate. He probably isn’t the right man for you, but Austin is different. Yes, he’s been married before, and that means you would be his second love, but it seems to me that being his last love is more important than being the first.” Lydia’s gaze shifted to the window, her expression leading Catherine to believe she was recalling a memory.

  “There are many kinds of love,” she said softly. “Sometimes what we call first love is nothing more than infatuation. That was certainly true for me. Last love is what endures. That’s what everyone deserves.”

  Catherine considered her statement. “You make a good argument, Lydia. It’s almost as good as your fudge, but . . .”

  “There are no buts. I’m right.”

  “So you say.”

  He’d put it off long enough. As much as he hated revealing his past to anyone, Austin had no alternative. The only way he’d know if he and Hannah were safe was to enlist Travis’s aid, and so he headed toward the sheriff’s office after taking Hannah to school.

  He pushed open the door and paused to let his eyes adjust to the relative darkness. As he’d expected, this building bore little resemblance to the Philadelphia police department’s headquarters. There was no bustle of activity, no uniformed officer to greet him, just one man sitting behind a desk.

  Austin felt his tension begin to subside at the realization that Travis was alone. Though he had no reason to mistrust the deputy sheriff, he’d lived with the need for secrecy long enough to be reluctant to involve anyone else in his problems.

  Travis rose and extended a hand. “What can I do for you, Austin?”

  One of the things Austin had noticed about the sheriff when he’d met him at church was that he didn’t waste time on social niceties. That was fine with Austin. He had no need for those.

  “I’m hoping you can help me, but before I say anything more, I need to be sure that you won’t repeat what I’m going to tell you to anyone. That includes your deputy and your wife.”

  Though Travis’s gray eyes nar
rowed, he simply nodded and pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. When Austin was seated in one, he said, “You’ve probably heard that I’m the town’s attorney as well as the sheriff. I practice client confidentiality, but if there’s a crime involved, that’s a different story. I can’t ignore my duties as a peace officer.”

  If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Austin might have laughed. “Oh, there were crimes involved, but I wasn’t the perpetrator.”

  “I didn’t think you were,” Travis assured him. “In my profession, you get to be a fairly good judge of people. I figured you for a law-abiding citizen who was hiding something.”

  Austin blinked, surprised by the man’s perceptiveness. Travis was indeed a good judge of people. “You’re right. I am hiding some things.”

  “Including your name?”

  “Not that.” Austin had considered changing his name but dismissed the idea, fearing that would be too difficult for Hannah. “I had a different life in Philadelphia.” There was no point in dissembling. If the sheriff was going to help him, he needed the full story. “I was a doctor there, but when one of the city’s worst criminals threatened Hannah, I had no choice. I fled.”

  He clenched his fists, remembering the fear that had accompanied him. “Before I left the city, I told the police where he’d be the next day so that they’d have a chance to apprehend him, but Sherman Enright—that’s his name—is wily. Although I alerted the police, I’m not sure Enright’s behind bars, and even if he is, I’m afraid he’s got people looking for me and my daughter.”

  There was a moment of silence as Travis absorbed Austin’s story. “You want me to find out what happened.” He made it a statement.

  Austin nodded. “Yes. I won’t feel safe until I know that Enright’s either been executed for his crimes or has left Philadelphia. His plan was to dissolve the Philadelphia operation and start over in New York City.” Austin took a deep breath, inhaling the aromas of overcooked coffee and chocolate. It appeared that Travis and his deputy were as fond of Lydia’s candies as the rest of the town.