“As opposed to wild oats.”
Mercy’s jaw dropped. Her aunt had made this remark nicely, but there was no mistaking her insinuation.
Michael kept walking toward the carriage as though it were an everyday thing to discuss his personal pleasures with a spinster headmistress.
“Wild oats grow like weeds, Miss Vanderbilt,” he replied in a philosophical tone. “I’m no saint, mind you. But I’d rather plow a furrow that belongs to me than use a . . . hoe, someplace else. If you see my meaning.”
“Quite clearly, Mr. Malloy.”
Aunt Agatha paused as he lowered the steps of the carriage. Then she gripped his hand for more than mere assistance. “Thank you for your candor, Michael. Mercedes needs—and deserves—a man of courage and conviction. You’ll do.”
Malloy was chuckling as his matched grays trotted out of Abilene.
“What’s so funny?” Mercy demanded. He’d invited her to share the driver’s seat, suggesting that Christine keep Solace inside the carriage, out of the wind. But now being alone with this man seemed more difficult than having the others watch them. Questions whirled in her mind, and she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers.
“Aunt Agatha. She didn’t want to like me,” he explained. “Wanted to believe I was taking advantage of her bereaved niece, like a fox slipping into a hen’s nest—”
“Thank you so much for comparing me to a chicken, Michael.”
“—but I won her over,” he finished with a boyish grin. “And now I have you all to myself, with no one to protect you from my sly, beguiling ways.”
“Sounds like a melodrama. But I own my land, so roping me to the railroad tracks for nonpayment doesn’t fit.”
“‘Nope. And I have no use for desperate, clingy women.” Mike let his gaze linger on her. He knew nothing about fabrics, but Mercy’s new suit, the color of the springtime sky, followed curves she hadn’t displayed in loose calico. “For me, only a woman of substance and independent means will do.”
She pretended to study the hills on her side of the road. How could he say this, when he’d given Lucinda money? “So you’ve noticed I now wear a larger size, and you have designs on my land because it adjoins yours. Not very flattering, Michael.”
Why wasn’t this going the way he’d imagined? Where was the Mercy whose brown eyes sparkled during word play like this?
He understood her tears during Solace’s christening, and her exasperation with her sanctimonious maiden aunt. But she was with him now! She had to know he loved her, or he wouldn’t be taking her to the house he was building—for her. That, after helping her survive the winter and the birthing of her baby.
Mercedes Monroe was nobody’s fool, and it wasn’t as if he’d kept his intentions a secret. She’d been married, after all: she knew how a man valued a well-kept home and good cooking. Not to mention how males responded to inviting smiles, which led to laughter and love and kisses.
He stopped the carriage. Right there in the middle of the road.
“Mercy.”
She looked at him with doelike eyes that made him melt. And in those eyes he saw not affection or confidence, but confusion. Uncertainty. Fear. Of him, mostly. Was he moving too fast, even after all this time?
He slipped his hand over hers. “I’ve never seen you look so pretty, Mercy. I was a proud man standing beside you in that church. Pleased that you wanted me there, at such an important but difficult time.”
“Thank you for driving us in your new carriage—”
“No! I’m not just a means for you to get from one place to another,” he insisted in a lower voice. “You’d find a way without me. Just as you survived being snowed in this winter. It’s humbling, to meet a woman every bit as strong as I am, in her way.”
Her eyes widened at that, so he pressed on.
“Humbling without being humiliating. I couldn’t tolerate a woman who drove a man to do her bidding with the whip of her tongue. Or who became her man’s doormat, and had no opinions of her own.”
He wrapped the reins around the hook in front of him, giving himself another moment to think. “I saw a lot of marriages on display during my stage driving days, and the only man I ever envied was Judd Monroe,” he said softly. “And though I know I can never love you more than he did, I love you completely, Mercy. Everything I do is already for you.”
She trembled. Looked as skittish as a filly ready to bolt. So he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her, rekindling the oneness they’d felt when she initiated the kiss that had kept him warm and hopeful all winter.
Her soft sigh encouraged him. Mike moved closer, still kissing her tenderly—aware that these stolen moments couldn’t last long. He released her so his heart could whisper what she needed to hear.
“Please tell me I have a chance,” he pleaded. “I love you so much, Mercy. If I could know you might someday love me, too, I—”
The baby wailed in the carriage below them, drowning him out. The woman he’d held captive with a blissful kiss broke away then. The wife he wanted became a mother again, attuned to a more immediate need.
As she tended a wet, soiled Solace at the side of the road, Mercy knew just how her howling baby felt: helpless, without the words to express herself. It wasn’t a seemly thing to do, but she couldn’t worry about what her aunt and Christine might think, and when Michael helped her back into the driver’s seat, she fed Solace as discreetly as she could. He had, after all, seen her in a more exposed state. And he deserved an answer.
But what could she say, now that she’d seen Lucinda? Where was the sense of rejuvenation she’d felt when Christine finished this new dress?
She felt like a woman again, ready to be seen. Ready to rejoin the living. Michael Malloy’s plea came as no surprise, just as his intentions were as respectable as the babe she cradled at her breast—or at least she’d assumed so, until Joel exposed him. She wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, yet her pulse was pounding so frantically she couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“I—I wish I could give you a resounding yes, Michael—”
“And that’s the only answer I’ll accept.”
She nodded mutely, focusing on Solace so she wouldn’t see his disappointment. The sway of the carriage lulled her little girl into a dreamy-eyed state, and as she fastened her jacket, Mercy longed for that same sense of contentment.
Why couldn’t she decide? Was her independent nature rearing its head, now that she’d regained her strength? Or was her heart telling her Michael Malloy simply wasn’t the right man, and this wasn’t the right time? If only she had the nerve to ask him—
“There it is,” he said, halting the horses. “Thanks to the neighbors, I got it enclosed before the first snowfall. Worked inside all winter.”
Mercy looked over at a white frame house she’d admired on the way into town. It rose two stories above mud that was sprouting grass, and behind that the skeletons of a large barn and a stable awaited completion. Beyond these buildings, bright green wheat fields rolled as far as she could see.
“I built it on enough of a rise to catch the breeze and see the river,” Michael went on, pointing past her. “We’ll have a porch there on the front, and that window has beveled glass that makes a rainbow on the parlor walls when the sunrise hits it. A picket fence will keep the livestock out of the yard, and give the kids a place to play. We can go inside, if you want.”
We’ll have a porch . . . beveled glass that makes a rainbow . . . a picket fence will give the kids a place to play.
Mercy hung on his words, hugging Solace. What woman on these plains wouldn’t jump at the chance for such a house—such a home? Yet she closed her eyes and shook her head.
Michael sighed. “Well, it’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”
For the rest of the ride she chided herself. How long would he tolerate her ambivalence? How long before that other woman made herself welcome in that house—and in his heart?
Mercy noticed how small and plain
the log house looked as they pulled into the yard. Though she’d never forget how Judd had told her to take care of herself and his family, she wasn’t ready to leave this place: a simple home, yet sacred because they’d made it together. Just beyond the corrals, a little iron fence enclosed two large stones from the riverbank that marked where Judd and Nathaniel would rest forever.
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Michael placed his hand over hers. “I know how much you loved him, Mercy,” he murmured. “And it’s your loyalty and devotion that makes me wait. I hope it won’t be for much longer, though.”
Mercy nodded, aware that the door had opened below them and everyone was getting out. There was Easter dinner to prepare, and chores awaited them—valid activities, yet surely he felt she was hiding behind them. She looked into hazel eyes shining in a face that was handsome in its own right—smooth and youthful, with a hint of mischief in that slender mustache.
“Michael, I—”
“Mercy! Mercy, we got somethin’ on the stoop! Looky here!”
Billy’s excited cry drew their attention to the kitchen door. Asa, Christine, and Aunt Agatha were hurrying over to where Spot and Snowy sat like sentinels, guarding a large basket.
From her high seat, Mercy saw a big pink ribbon tied on its handle. “What on earth can that be? Someone must’ve stopped while we were—”
“It’s a baby!” Christine exclaimed. “She’s dressed all in pink, and she’s beautiful!”
Chapter Thirty-one
“There’s a note! What’s it say?”
Aunt Agatha was taking the single sheet of vellum from its envelope as Mercy approached the doorway, where Christine was already holding a child with features as fine as a china doll’s. Her blond hair framed a face of velvet cream, with pale brows and lips like tiny, dew-kissed petals. Dressed in pink, from her gown of ribbons and lace to her miniature kid slippers, this little visitor realized she was holding court—as though it were her rightful role to be the Queen of Easter.
“ ‘My name is Lily, and I am eight months old,’ ” Aunt Agatha read. “ ‘My mama has died, and my papa can’t take me where he needs to go. He has visited you before, and he believes you are an angel of mercy who will care for me until he can return. He’s a man of great wealth and influence, and will repay you a thousandfold for your kindness. God bless you for opening your heart and home to me.’ ”
“Well, what do you think of that?” Asa sang out. He tenderly touched one rosebud cheek, grinning as the baby looked up at him. “An Easter lily, indeed! Even Solomon in all his glory wasn’t arrayed like this little angel.”
“Do you s’pose it’s true, what the note says?” Billy asked as he gazed at her. “I mean, if he’s so rich, why don’t he hire somebody to travel with him and take care of his little girl?”
“An excellent point,” Mercy replied. “And he could be any one of hundreds who’ve stopped in during their stagecoach trip west. Impossible to recall, and—”
“And how could anyone just leave such a perfect little princess?” Christine said. “If she were deformed, or sick, or—”
“Maybe he’s still around, watching.” Michael surveyed the yard and corrals. “Mighty strange that he happened by on the first day Mercy’s been away from home since last September.”
She frowned. “Do you think it’s a trap?”
“I think you ladies should wait here while I check the house, and then go on inside while Asa, Billy, and I check the barn and the riverbank. More than one thing about that note just doesn’t add up.”
Holding Solace closer, Mercy nodded, gazing around the yard but noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Billy was already sprinting off toward the river, with the two dogs scampering alongside him, while Asa headed for the barn. Inside, she heard the trapdoor thumping shut, but when Michael returned he was shrugging.
“Nothing so far. No sign that anyone’s been inside, but I’ll go upstairs. Just to be safe.”
Mercy went in first, instinctively glancing around her kitchen, the front room, and her bedroom. Solace was drowsy from the ride, so she laid the baby in her cradle—the beautiful cradle Judd had begun making out in the barn, and which Michael had finished during the winter. It was getting harder to tell where one man left off and the other began, they were alike in so many ways. Almost as though Judd was gradually slipping away, taking the pain of his passing with him, to allow Michael Malloy a chance to win her.
Or so she’d thought, until Lucinda Greene burst her bubble.
A little howl from the front room brought her out of such thoughts. As she closed the calico curtain, she watched Christine stroll the parameters of the front parlor, with Lily slung on her hip as though she’d done this a hundred times.
“You certainly have a way with babies,” Mercy said quietly. “At times, I still wonder if I’m holding Solace wrong, or perhaps dressing her too warmly. And more than once, I’ve reached my wit’s end, trying to stop her crying.”
Christine looked up with such a striking smile that Mercy was taken aback: The slender redhead was only sixteen, yet poised and pretty. Mature in a most attractive way.
“When I started spending time at the orphanage, the littlest children just took to me,” she said in a soothing voice. She was cheek to cheek with Lily, obviously smitten. “My mission project for this semester has been sewing clothes for them. I can’t help noticing that Lily’s dress is very well made, from expensive watered silk and lace that looks imported.”
“She’s a mystery in many ways,” Mercy agreed, stepping up for a closer look at the little girl. “I hope this isn’t just one of many times her father has dropped her someplace, to retrieve her when it suits his schedule—”
“Just when the family has come to love her.”
Mercy smiled, caressing one of the golden curls that framed Lily’s face. “We’ll take her, of course. But I’m tucking that note away for safekeeping. When her father shows up, I certainly have some questions for him!”
Christine’s complexion took on the glow of a sun-ripened peach as she swayed from side to side, gazing at the little princess in her arms. “What if I . . . well, how will you manage this place and take care of two babies?” she asked in a rush. “Instead of going back tomorrow, I’ll stay here and help you!”
Christine might as well have slapped her. Who would have dreamed she would want to stay here, for any reason at all?
“Why, thank you, dear! But after two more months at the academy, you can graduate—or continue your studies,” Mercy reminded her. “I’d never want you to give up—”
“Oh, it would be no sacrifice,” she replied, her green eyes alight with the idea. “Abilene’s a bustling town now. I can take in sewing and dressmaking.”
“What about your apprenticeship with Madame Deveraux?” Aunt Agatha asked pointedly. She’d come from the kitchen with a stack of plates, to set the table. “While it’s admirable to offer your assistance, Mercy’s right. In only two months, you’ll complete your studies, and you’ll then be working with the most sought-after couturiere in St. Louis.”
“Well, congratulations!” Mercy hugged the girl, and they both laughed when Lily gleefully clapped her little hands. “You’d be silly to pass up such a chance, Christine. It could open doors to some very lucrative work, when the most I can give you here is a room—and a double bunch of dirty diapers!”
The subject wasn’t closed, however: When Christine held Lily closer, the little cherub snuggled as contentedly as if she’d found her long-lost mama.
Yet as she put potatoes on to boil, Mercy realized the young woman had a point: How would she handle two babies? Lily would be learning to walk soon—and she had nothing for this little newcomer to wear. Billy would be planting crops with Asa, in addition to tending the horses for Wells Fargo. She’d considered preparing meals again, because she could certainly use that income until they sold the corn crop they hadn’t yet planted. But with a second little mouth to feed, and another bottom to wipe—
>
“Best we can tell, Miss Lily’s father left her basket and went on his way. Probably so we couldn’t corner him,” Michael said as he stepped inside. “Everything looks fine out there.”
And everything in here’s looking very, very complicated.
So he wouldn’t notice the strain on her face, Mercy leaned down to toss cow chips into the oven’s fire box. “He must’ve stopped here before Judd’s death,” she remarked tersely, “or he’d realize how many irons I already have in my fire! That little girl’s going to be—”
“A blessing, just as Solace is,” Michael reminded her quietly. “Just as the Bristols have become. It’s not as if you have to assume this added responsibility alone, you know.”
There it was again: his talent for turning her own words—every little circumstance—into another reason she should marry him. She should have seen it coming.
“Billy’s bringing in cream and butter, and Asa’s cutting down a ham in the smokehouse,” he continued. “What may I do to help you, Mercy?”
You can stop being so damn helpful! she wanted to scream. You can show me a side that isn’t so patient, and—and you can tell me about Lucinda Greene and that boy who resembles you!
His kiss made her sigh in a way that sounded far too needful. The silk of his inner lips felt warm and moist as he slipped his arm around her waist. She tried to pull away when her aunt entered the kitchen, but Michael held her head.
So Mercy had no choice but to endure—no, to enjoy—the way his mouth moved over hers. And the way that silky-soft mustache tickled her, in spite of her anxieties.
“We—we would be honored if you gave the devotional reading after dinner,” she suggested when he let her up for air.
That should make him think twice about being the solution to her every problem! And it would encourage any honorable suitor to clarify his other relationships, too. While Michael Malloy was a decent, hardworking man, she’d never once seen him with a Bible at their gatherings with Reverend Larsen, nor had he ever led them in prayer or the evening’s devotional.
“I’d be happy to,” Michael said with a nod. “I know a passage that speaks perfectly to this day we’ve had.”
A Patchwork Family Page 28