Cheryl St. John

by The Mistaken Widow

  “All babies cry, you know.” The doctor looked him over, listened to his heart, looked into his eyes. “He looks perfectly healthy. I don’t see anything wrong with him. He may be getting a tooth.”

  “He has two teeth already, and he didn’t behave like this.”

  “Most of us get a little cranky in this heat.”

  “I don’t think so…”

  “Is he hungry?”

  She blinked up at him. “Well, he nurses regularly.”

  “And your milk supply is sufficient?”

  She blushed profusely, but considered his question. “I—I don’t seem to have as much fullness as I did before. Is there something wrong with me?”

  “Let’s have a look.”

  Sarah overcame her embarrassment to allow the doctor to examine her. “You’re not feverish, and there’s no infection. Your breasts don’t hurt?”

  She buttoned up her black dress. “No.”

  “What about your diet? Have you been eating properly? Drinking milk? Plenty of water?”

  Reluctant to admit she’d been scrimping on food, she hesitated, but confessed, “I eat supper each day. That’s about it.”

  “Well, that’s the problem. If you want to produce milk for your baby, you have to eat regular meals and drink plenty of liquids. You young mothers are so concerned over your hourglass figures that you hinder nature’s way of providing.”

  Tears formed in Sarah’s eyes and she blinked them away. She’d been making her own baby go hungry!

  “If you insist on starving yourself, you will have to give him canned milk or find a wet nurse.”

  Sarah picked up William. “I didn’t realize,” she said shamefacedly. “Of course I’ll eat better.”

  The tantalizing smell of brewing coffee wafted from the other room. Her stomach growled. “How much do I owe you?”

  He told her and she dropped the coin into his hand, feeling more foolish and incompetent than ever.

  “Help yourself to a cup of coffee,” he offered.

  “Thank you, but I saw a small restaurant on my way here, and I think I’ll have something there.”

  “Excellent plan,” he said. “Your William will stop being cranky in a day or so.”

  Sarah kissed her son’s head and whispered apologies against his temple all the way along the street. She would not let William down. She would not. She swiped at the tears of mortification that streamed down her cheeks when she thought of his hunger.

  With only seconds to spare, she gulped a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of milk. Trying not to begrudge the additional cost, she purchased a sandwich for her noon meal, and ran most of the way to the Hotel Gold.

  Hannah, Mattie and a few other girls stood in the laundry room. “You look like you’ve already worked a full day.”

  “I feel like it, too.” Sarah slipped William into the sling Hannah had helped her make and adjusted him on her back.

  Hannah tapped William’s nose, and he gurgled happily at her. “Sarah, why don’t you let me carry him this morning?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Sarah objected.

  “Just for a few hours. I would really like to. I carried my baby until he was over a year old, so it won’t be a burden for me. Please let me.”

  William was not a burden to her, either, but a morning without his weight would be welcome. “All right,” she agreed.

  They transferred the sling from Sarah’s shoulders to Hannah’s. She kissed William’s cheek and touched her nose to his.

  “Whoever gets fourteen today, let me have the room,” Hannah said.

  “A handsome guest?” Mattie asked.

  “As sin,” Hannah replied.

  “And we know he’s rich as sin if he’s staying here,” one of the others said.

  They all laughingly agreed.

  “Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of him,” Mattie said hopefully. “Do you suppose he’s married?”

  “Most of the good ones are,” Hannah replied.

  Sarah listened to their lighthearted banter until Mrs. Hargrove came with the day’s assignments.

  “You’re looking a little peaked, Sarah,” the woman said as the girls scattered to their chores. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, ma’am. No problem.”

  “That baby getting too heavy for you?”

  “No. He’s not heavy at all. Hannah wanted to carry him for a while.”

  “I miss my baby,” Hannah said in support.

  The woman surveyed Sarah’s appearance at length. Sarah had taken care with her dress and hair and cap that morning, but she’d been outdoors in the breeze. She resisted feeling her hair for errant curls. She took no chances with Mrs. Hargrove finding fault.

  Finally the woman moved aside so she could pass.

  Relieved, Sarah hurried to the linen racks.

  The heat and the wait had done nothing to improve Nicholas’s disposition. He rang for water, and answered the door at the light tap.

  “Your water, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  A slender young girl carried a pail to the gold-trimmed pitcher and bowl on the washstand and poured the water into the pitcher. She carried a baby on her back. “Will there be anything else?” she asked.

  He still had towels. “I don’t believe so.”

  He handed her a coin. She accepted it with a blush, and gave him a wide smile that revealed a tooth that overlapped charmingly. “Enjoy your visit in Fort Wayne, sir.”

  He nodded, his head clouded with thoughts of Sarah.

  She turned to leave and reached for the doorknob, placing the baby plainly in front of Nicholas.

  The fair-haired child blinked at him with wide blue eyes. Sarah’s eyes. William’s eyes. Nicholas stared at the baby for several startled seconds. This baby was slightly bigger than William. But it had been weeks since he’d seen him.

  He had the same wide blue eyes. The same chin. And though this baby’s hair seemed longer than he remembered William’s being, it curled on his forehead and over his ears.

  The infant grinned at him, whisking the air from his lungs. Sarah’s smile.

  Nicholas forced himself to breathe. What did he know about babies? They’d all looked the same to him until William. He’d thought of nothing else for weeks; had he begun to see what he wanted to see?

  She reached the hall, getting away from him.

  “Miss,” he said, stopping her with the word.

  She turned back. “Yes, sir?”

  “Your baby…your baby has the prettiest blue eyes.”

  She grinned. “He does, doesn’t he? But he’s not my baby.”

  Nicholas’s heart stopped. “Oh?”

  “No. He belongs to one of the other girls.”

  It started again with a violent chug. “Well, he’s a handsome one. What’s his name?”

  She turned so that he could see the baby. “William,” she replied.

  At noon, Sarah joined the others at the back entrance where they sat on the stairs and ate. She had thirty minutes to allow William some freedom, rest her back and leg, and feed both of them.

  “I saw him again,” Hannah reported.

  “Fourteen?” Mattie asked.

  “Yup. William came in real handy.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Seems he likes children.”

  Mattie pumped water from the kitchen’s indoor pump and carried metal pitchers out to them. Sarah drank as much as she could hold.

  Hannah played with William, and when their dinnertime was over, helped Sarah slip his sling on.

  The afternoon grew stifling hot, and before dinner all the guests asked for water to bathe. Sarah adjusted William’s weight. He was napping and seemed to weigh so much more when he wasn’t holding his head up.

  She hadn’t been able to find Hannah after the desk clerk gave her the instructions to carry water to room fourteen. Hannah would have her hide if Sarah actually got to see the fellow. She paused on the stairs, shifted the buckets and hurried on. She
tapped on the door.

  “Enter,” a muffled voice called.

  “Your water.” She carried the buckets through the suite and poured the water into the copper tub behind a screen in the dressing room. She went back to the linen closet in the hall and returned with towels. Squatting to keep William balanced, she picked up the empty pails.

  “His hair is getting as curly as yours.”

  That soul-stirring voice sent a tremor through her body. Sarah spun on her heel and faced him.

  The buckets dropped from her fingers with a clang.

  Nicholas!

  Her heart hammered, and her breath caught in her chest She tried to run past him, but he was too fast and too strong.

  He halted her with a hand on her arm. “Sarah.”

  Her gaze flew to his, but she couldn’t read his expression. She turned her face away in shame.

  “Please, Sarah,” he said. Her name on his lips alarmed and thrilled her at the same time. His touch warmed her skin through her sleeve. She hadn’t wanted to face him once he knew the truth. She’d never planned on seeing his reaction to what she’d done. She was a coward.

  “I don’t know how to say the things I need to say to you,” he said, his voice too gentle for someone who’d been betrayed.

  She shook her head, swallowing fear and apprehension. “You hate me for lying to you. I don’t blame you.” She gathered her composure. “You don’t have to hold me. I won’t run.”

  He released her arm.

  “How did you find me?”

  “The Pinkerton agent traced you here to Fort Wayne. I came as soon as I heard. And then I saw William this morning.”

  She remained standing where he’d stopped her.

  “Let’s sit,” he offered.

  Hesitantly, she followed him into the other room. The offer to rest for a few minutes appealed, but she couldn’t afford the luxury. “I’m expected back at the laundry room.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re not.”

  She looked at him then, tried to read his purpose in his dark, dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I spoke with Mrs. Hargrove. I asked her to send you up here, and I told her you would no longer be in her employ.”

  Panic stole over her entire being. She’d guarded her position so carefully. She’d never made a mistake to earn her a chance of losing this work. She’d put up with the woman’s tyrannical orders and worked endless arduous days. And now, in a matter of minutes, he’d lost it for her? “You what? You can’t do that! This is the only job that I can bring William to.”

  “This is no life for William. This is no life for you.”

  Tears blurred her vision. After her morning, this news was almost too much tribulation to bear. “But it’s our life, and you have no right to ruin it.”

  “I have every right.”

  He did. He had every right to do anything he could to make her life miserable. Listlessly, she sank to the edge of the bed, wondering where she could go from here. “Yes. You do,” she whispered, tired of being vulnerable.

  “Lay him down and rest your back,” he said gently. He eased the sling from her shoulders and rested William on the coverlet. With long strong fingers he brushed William’s damp hair away from his temples. Seeing him touching her baby so tenderly did something painful to her heart. “He’s grown.”

  Her gaze traveled from his capable hands to his shirt-sleeves, and up to his face. He studied her child with a softhearted expression. He truly cared for him.

  A terrifying thought crept into her mind. “Why have you come?” she asked, surprised at her flat tone.

  He looked up.

  “I won’t let you take him from me.” Her voice sounded a little hysterical now. Sure she’d made mistakes and she’d grown discouraged, but she still had some fight left. “He’s not Stephen’s baby, you know that now.”

  “Sarah, no.” He covered her hand with his. “No. I didn’t come to take William from you.”

  She took even breaths and tried to calm herself. “Swear it.”

  “I swear it. I thought you would want to know that Claire has been buried beside Stephen.”

  Relief flooded her heart. “You found her body?”

  He nodded. “The Pinkerton agent you hired found her. She had been identified as Sarah Thornton.”

  That possibility had crossed her thoughts. Her father had been contacted. “So…”

  “Your father buried her beside your mother.”

  She nodded, blinking back tears. “He thought I was dead.”

  Nicholas affirmed that with a nod.

  “And now?”

  “He allowed me to move her body.”

  The words he didn’t say were as clear as the ones he did. “You wrote him?”

  “I met him.”

  She closed her eyes against the vision. He’d met Morris Thornton. And now he knew just how disposable she’d been to her own father. “I’m sure that was enlightening.”

  “Yes. I saw something important while I was there.”

  “What did you see?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer, but more afraid not to ask.

  “I saw the man I was turning into.”

  She opened her eyes and studied him curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “Your father. I’ve been just like him. I just pray it’s not too late to change.”

  The comparison was ridiculous. “You’re nothing like my father. He’s mean and self-serving and bitter.”

  “And I’m not?”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “All I cared about was Halliday Iron. It took over everything in my life until I had nothing and no one else.”

  “You had a responsibility to your father. And to your mother. You took that seriously.”

  “I took it seriously, all right. I took it so seriously, I couldn’t see past it to what my preoccupation was doing to Stephen. I wanted him to be just like me. I drove him away.”

  Seeing the earnestness in his eyes, hearing his tone of voice, she recognized that they were discussing him—discussing his mistakes. Not once had he mentioned what she had done. No, he was not like her father.

  “You were young, Nicholas,” she said, hoping to relieve his burden. “You weren’t his father. You were a young man trying to fill a father’s shoes. You did what you thought was best for him—for your entire family.”

  “But it wasn’t best. If I’d done things differently—”

  “We all find out the hard way that what we thought was for the best at the time, really wasn’t,” she interrupted. “You could have done things differently, and he still would have gone his own way. He was Stephen. You’re not responsible for his death. What is it you’re blaming yourself for? For being young when your father died? For taking over the foundry and making investments and treating employees decently?”

  “No. I know it wasn’t my fault that my father died.” Nicholas stood and paced a few steps away and back. “I did what I had to do. I made wise decisions.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  “But?”

  “But I resented Stephen for not helping me do all that,” he admitted. “I carried all of it—the burden of the foundry, all the details, for years so that he could finish his education. And I expected him to appreciate that and repay some of the sacrifice. When he didn’t, I got angry with him. The anger just grew and grew.”

  “Well, just forgive him now,” she said simply.

  He studied her. Beside them William made a soft sound in his sleep. “Just forgive him now,” he repeated after her.

  She nodded.

  It seemed then as though all the starch went out of his spine. He lowered himself to sit on the bed’s edge again. “All right” He drew a shaky breath. “I forgive him.”

  In all the months she’d known him, she’d never seen this vulnerable side. He’d never permitted it. And she loved him more for letting down his guard. “Now forgive yourself for being human,” she said.

  “Nicholas, you’re nothi
ng like my father. You could never be. I’ve been in this room with you all this time and you have yet to mention my character flaws. You haven’t even mentioned what I did to you.”

  “Somehow it doesn’t seem too important right now.”

  “How can you say that? Aren’t you angry with me? Disappointed?”

  “Not anymore. Not after I had a chance to think about it, to remember exactly what happened and how it happened and why you might have had trouble telling me the truth.”

  “I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I planned to tell you the truth from the first. But I couldn’t. And the longer I waited, the more difficult it became.”

  “I remember looking at you that first day in the carriage,” he said as if not listening to her explanation. “From that minute forward I wanted to touch your hair. The feelings I had for you evoked so much guilt. I thought you were Stephen’s wife. And I wanted you.”

  Her cheeks warmed.

  “You had on a pair of dangling pearl earrings. Where are they?”

  “I sold them.”

  A sorrowful look crossed his features before he got up and moved into the dressing room, returning and taking her hand.

  The object he placed in her palm felt cool and hard. She opened her fingers and saw her mother’s emerald bracelet She stared at the glittering green gems. “Why did you do this?”

  “I knew how much it meant to you.”

  “But I can’t pay you back.”

  He closed her fingers over the bracelet and held her hand within his. “The only thing I would like from you is the truth…about why you left. Why that day? Why like that?”

  Even the woman’s name sickened her. “Judith,” she admitted.

  Anger flickered in the depths of his brown eyes.

  “She wanted me to give her this bracelet or get money from you to keep her from telling that she knew the real Claire.”

  “That’s why you left?”

  “No. I left because I didn’t belong there. I never should have been there in the first place. I promise to pay back every penny for the food and clothing.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? I don’t want anything.”

  “But I owe you.”