He could trust the church lady. She'd said she wouldn't tell Hayes. Angels didn't lie.
* * *
Thea kept her word. She didn't tell Mr. Hayes. Day after day, she cooked and laundered and cared for Zoe. Night after night, she baked, ironed and kept her father's household running before dropping into fitful, dream-filled slumber. The hard work and long hours took their toll.
Early one afternoon, intending to be beside Zoe for only a few minutes while the child napped, Thea fell into exhausted sleep. Much later, sensing someone's presence, she opened her eyes.
Booker stood beside the cot. She started to sit up, but he stopped her with a raised palm. "No," he said softly. "Rest."
Her eyes followed his hand as it traveled to Zoe's head, smoothed her glossy curls and drew one finger across the sleeping child's cheek and lips. "She looks so much like Julia," he whispered.
Thea heard his sorrow and knew how much it would hurt to lose a sister. "She must have been beautiful," she replied.
"Yes. Yes, she was. She was fair like Zoe... and delicate. Too delicate." He drew his hand away, and his dark gaze came back to her. "The house is almost finished. After everything's moved in, you deserve a few days of rest."
An apprehensive flutter rose in her breast. "That's not necessary."
"I think it is. You're exhausted."
"But-Zoe..."
"I can take care of her for a few days. Wouldn't you like to take some time for yourself? Go shopping or something?"
"I can do my shopping in an hour in town."
"How about a trip to St. Louis? Did I hear you say you have a sister there?"
Thea'd taken her share of trips to St. Louis, thank you very much. Originally, Trudy and Thea's half sisters had done their best to try to make her one of them. They'd clucked over her hair and her coloring and tried to teach her feminine wiles to appeal to a man. Most of their advice had begun with "a girl of your size," until Thea had wanted to disappear.
And in a sense, she had. She'd chosen dark colors so as not to draw attention to herself. She rolled her unruly hair back into a love knot. Being inconspicuous was easy when she devoted herself to caring for others. St. Louis held no attraction for an ungainly woman such as herself. "I have no need to go to St. Louis."
"You spend all your energy on Zoe, on this place and your family. What about you?"
"That's my life. I'm satisfied with it."
He shrugged. "All right. But I will see to it that you get some rest."
Thea watched him leave the soddy, another ounce of unease added to the growing weight in her chest. She was happy with things the way they were. Why wasn't he?
* * *
"Oh, Zoe, isn't it beautiful?" Holding Zoe's hand, Thea stepped into the small foyer. The smell of fresh wood and varnish lent an expectant atmosphere. A polished oak banister drew her attention to the stairway, and she ran a hand over the smooth wood. "It looks so different than the last time, doesn't it?"
Their feet echoed on the smooth hardwood floors. Plastered walls and tall windows gave the house an open, airy, solid feel. To the right of the foyer, a carpeted den with a wall of shelves awaited books and furniture. An enormous stone fireplace dominated one entire wall, and immediately, Zoe perched on the low hearth. Thea immediately thought of winter nights in front of a cozy fire.
The room to the left of the foyer could not be called a parlor by any stretch of the imagination. It was too big, too comfortable, too—Thea smiled—masculine. Thea circled the spacious, well-lit kitchen, running her palm over the excessive work space, the new wood-burning stove with a reservoir for water, and the smooth varnished cupboards.
Again today, as it had more and more often, the question occurred to Thea: how could he afford all this?
Zoe ran ahead of her up the stairs where five bedrooms boasted walk-in storage closets. A set of eastern windows dominated the largest room, offering a magnificent view. Thea stood before the glass panes. This would be Booker's room. He would watch the sun rise from this spot, and could easily see his mill once it was built. From here he could keep an eye on his property and his investments, and hear the train as it approached the stream trestle.
As if in reply to her thoughts, the train's whistle pierced the afternoon stillness. Below, Booker and Red Horse each led a springboard in the direction of the tracks. "They're going to get the furniture from the railcar, Zoe."
Thea turned back to the room. Zoe sat on the floor, staring at the acorn in her palm. The practice had begun to worry Thea. "Whatever are you doing, darling?" she asked, and knelt beside the little girl.
Zoe looked up at her with puzzled blue eyes.
"I wish you could talk to me."
Zoe raised her palm.
Thea nodded with a sigh. "Yes. It's an acorn."
Zoe curled her fingers and tucked the acorn back into her pocket.
Standing, Thea held out her hand. "Let's put away the food. We'll be eating supper here. And you'll be sleeping here tonight."
Alarm crossed Zoe's features. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed Thea's hand.
"Just like always," Thea assured her. "Just like at the soddy. This is simply a bigger house. You'll go to bed, and in the morning I'll be back."
Zoe's mute face plainly stated they would have a problem on their hands come evening.
After several trips back and forth from the railcar, the men had what furniture there was moved in. They stacked crates and barrels in the ‘parlor,’ to be sorted through as time permitted. Nothing was labeled, and by evening, most parcels had been opened just to find a few needed items, creating a state of havoc. Giving up on finding anything that night, Thea used the dishes and pans from the soddy.
As she'd suspected, Zoe balked at bedtime. Thea had stayed well past her usual time. It was nearly dark when she finished bathing and dressing Zoe.
"Ready for bed, pumpkin?" Booker asked from the kitchen doorway.
Zoe slid off the stool beside Lucas where they'd been sipping hot cocoa, and limped barefoot to Thea's side.
"Come on, love," Thea coaxed. "Let your uncle take you to bed."
Zoe shook her head and clung to Thea's skirt.
Booker tucked his fingers in his back pockets. "How about we take you together?"
Thea set down the skillet she'd been scrubbing and dried her hands on a towel. Giving Lucas a wink, she and Zoe followed Booker up the stairs. He led them down the hall.
"This is the room I offered Red Horse. I've never seen him sleep indoors, so I don't know if he'll use it." The next room he pointed out as Lucas's. With a sweep of his arm, he gestured them through the open doorway closest to his room. Thea stepped in. She'd been so busy preparing and cleaning up supper amidst the chaos that she hadn't realized what Booker had spent his time doing.
Inside the room, a single-sized bed with simple mahogany head and footboards stood to the left. Beside it, the toys Thea had made for Zoe lined a small bookshelf. Across the room sat a matching chest of drawers. Above the chest on the wall hung an oval-framed daguerreotype of a young couple.
Thea watched Zoe's face. Zoe studied the bed and toys, then gazed upon the framed likeness Thea knew must be the child's parents. Recognition flared in her expression and, before Thea's eyes, she seemed to relax. She glanced up, and Thea had to blink back tears and force a smile.
Booker sat on the edge of the bed. "There are more things, Zoe. Handkerchiefs, photographs. You can have whatever you'd like. I'll keep the jewelry for you until you're older."
"Is this her own bed?" Thea asked through the thick tears in her throat.
Booker nodded. "I didn't know which spread was hers, so I guessed."
Thea studied the pastel quilt, its fabric pieces of rosebuds and pink checks forming delicate fans. "Looks like a pretty good guess."
He’d gone to all this work to please his young niece, to make her feel at home here, to give her comfort and a sense of familiarity. Thea blinked back hot tears of appreciation—and admiration.
With her breath held, she studied Zoe’s reaction.
Zoe limped to the bed and laid her tiny band on the quilt. She peered up at her uncle through golden lashes. Then, hesitantly, as though she'd bolt if he made the slightest move, she reached up and placed her palm against his cheek, darkened with the evening shadow Thea'd come to expect.
The gaze he cast on the child was nothing short of adoration. The only muscle that moved was one in his jaw.
Thea swallowed tears.
What seemed like an eternity later, Zoe pulled her hand away, selected her doll from the shelf and waited expectantly beside the bed.
Thea came to life and pulled back the quilt. Zoe climbed into the bed and snuggled against the sheets. "Good night, darlin'," Thea whispered, and kissed Zoe's forehead.
Booker turned down the lantern on the wall inside the door, and together they stepped into the hallway.
The temptation to turn and peer back into the room was too great to resist. Visible in the dim light from the lamp on the hallway wall, Zoe's fingers caressed the doll's dress. She snuggled her chin against her chest, and moments later, her fingers stilled.
She was so little, so young and impressionable, and she'd been through so much. Her pleasure over her own possessions had been obvious. Zoe's anxiety had diminished as soon as she'd seen the room. Inspired by his obvious love, Booker had discovered a way to comfort her.
Appreciation glowed inside Thea.
She turned to find Booker's chin inches from her face. His warm gaze fell to her smile. Suddenly, their shared love for the child seemed a rare intimacy. The lantern light clearly defined Booker's straight nose and lean jaw. Thea remembered Zoe's tiny hand against his skin, and her own palm itched to see exactly what that evening stubble felt like.
She remembered, too, how hard and impassive she'd thought his face the first time she'd seen it. But she'd witnessed warmth and obvious love soften those same features. The more she glimpsed of the real man inside the granite facade, the more she had to guard her own emotions.
Self-consciously, he took a step back and cleared his throat. "It's late. I'll get the horses."
Recognizing they'd been standing outside Zoe's room like doting parents, Thea turned away. "I'll dry the last pans and get my things."
She met him in front of the house. The moon, a friendly presence, cast dappled shadows. She mounted the mare and nudged her forward. Booker fell in beside her. They rode in silence for several minutes.
"Zoe's a lucky little girl," she said at last.
He adjusted his hat's brim. "To lose her parents and get thrown into that god-awful place?"
"No." She observed hundreds of fireflies turning a bean field into a reflection of the heavens. "To have you to care about her. All of the children in the orphanages lost their parents, but none of them have someone to make their life better—to care what happens to them, and see that they're happy and loved... like you do for Zoe."
After a moment he said, "And you."
A soft breeze ruffled the loose hair on her neck.
"Maybe she'll feel safer now that she has her own things," he said, and she felt his hope.
"I'm sure of it," Thea replied. "She thanked you, you know. When she touched you."
He only cleared his throat.
Thea smiled into the darkness. How could she have ever doubted this man's sincerity, his integrity? Everything he did, he did for Zoe. Her smile faded. Her own motivations were unscrupulous compared to his. In the first place, she'd needed Zoe to fill an empty spot in her life. Selfishness led her to agree to care for her. She didn't want to be lonely. She didn't want to be an old maid with no one of her own.
Zoe would learn to love Booker, she could see that plainly now. Who wouldn't? Patiently, lovingly, he would earn her trust, embed himself in her life and in her heart. And then—though the night was sultry, a shiver of dread passed through Thea's heart—where would that leave her?
* * *
The following morning, Thea arrived earlier than usual, the familiar basket on her arm. But this time, instead of food, the basket held a gift. She placed it on the kitchen floor.
A rustling sound followed by a faint mewl caught Zoe's interest. She hobbled over and sat, her face mere inches from the basket. The sound came again, louder this time.
"Go ahead. Open it," Thea urged.
Zoe raised the wooden lid. Furry gray ears and green eyes met her amazed discovery.
Thea laughed. "She's for you. Remember the kittens under my back porch? They're big enough to leave their mama. They've been running all over our yard. I thought she'd like it here. Every house needs a mouser."
Zoe scooped the kitten into her arms with a smile. She rubbed the animal's head and touched her whiskers with one finger. She raised the kitten to her face, and a tiny pink tongue flicked out to lick her cheek.
Zoe actually laughed out loud.
Thea stared in surprise.
The little cat continued to stroke Zoe's cheek with its tongue. Zoe's giggles brought more warmth to the room than the morning sunshine. Thea laughed in pleasure at the sound.
Booker paused in the doorway and listened to their combined laughter. It wrapped around his bones and started to thaw his well-seasoned armor. Experience had convinced him he didn't need a woman in his life. His dalliances with army wives had taught him women were unfaithful. The daughters had proven females were unscrupulous. He'd quickly learned to become inured, and he'd grown too cynical to let a woman get to him.
This woman was beyond his experience. The rules she played by followed no game he was aware of. She wasn't looking for anyone to take care of her. Competent, hardworking, honest, Thea possessed qualities he'd never expected to find and admire. She was accepting, even vulnerable.
And she loved Zoe.
Without being noticed, Booker basked in the unaccustomed goodness of their laughter, memorized the exact shades of their two bright heads bent together in the mellow morning sunlight—one so blond it was nearly silver like his sister's, the other, warm marmalade, like nothing he'd ever seen before—and he allowed a smile to touch his lips and his heart's core. A man could do a lot worse than a woman like Thea Coulson. Why hadn't she ever married?
Soundlessly, he turned and left through the front door.
* * *
At her father's suggestion, Thea invited Booker and Zoe for Sunday dinner. Jim thought a meal together would cut Thea's Sunday chores in half. Though she agreed, she'd hesitated to ask until Red Horse offered to take Lucas fishing for the day. She couldn't have asked Lucas, knowing he wouldn't come for fear of being recognized.
Booker accepted readily. He and Zoe met the family at church. After the service, Thea stood on the lawn, greeting friends. Agnes Birch approached, the ample bosom beneath her azure dress like that of a puffed-up hen. "Did you know Zeb Barnett is sickly, Thea? Do you think we should organize meals?"
"I think that would be nice," Thea replied, knowing what Agnes really meant was "aren't you going to do it?"
Her husband, Edgar, a thin, friendly-faced gentleman, joined them and greeted Thea. "Morning, Thea. That sure is a pretty little girl you have with you."
Thea smiled and glanced down at Zoe, her pigtails only slightly off kilter. "Thank you, Mr. Birch. I think so, too."
Malvina Beck, another of the members of the mission circle, stepped beside Agnes. "Did you see that Edwards woman came to church again. Look how the menfolk crowd around her!"
"It’s disgraceful," Penelope Dodd said, maneuvering herself into the group.
Thea glanced over at Lorraine Edwards, her dark hair hidden beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. A fashionable green satin dress hugged her slender curves, the hem daintily brushing the stops of her tiny black shoes.
"Calls herself a seamstress," Agnes said with a disgusted harrumph. "But everyone knows she has men callers of an evening."
Thea turned and glanced between Agnes and her husband. Edgar gave her a shrug, like he knew enough to stay well out of the
conversation.
"Thea, we're leaving," MaryRuth called.
Zoe clung to Thea's skirt when Booker came for her, so her uncle acquiesced and followed the Coulsons home on his own.
Immediately, Jim, Denzel and Uncle Adler—Jim always called him ‘Snake’—took Booker away. From the kitchen, Thea could hear the clank of horseshoes across the door-yard. MaryRuth, her aunt and Lexie helped with the food while Trudy and Madeline set an elegant dining table.
"It would have been easier—and a lot more fun—to simply set up the tables in the yard," MaryRuth said in an aside.
"At least we'd get a breeze to cool us off," Aunt Odessa agreed.
Thea shrugged and cast them a ‘you know Trudy’ look. Thea had awakened at dawn to bake pies and bread before church and to give the kitchen time to cool down. Now, with potatoes boiling on the stove, the kitchen once again filled with unbearable humidity.
MaryRuth looked as hot and tired as Thea herself felt. David had begun to creep on his hands and knees, so she couldn't let him out of her sight for a second. He sat in the wooden high chair banging a spoon against the tray with an earsplitting racket. Thea caught his attention with a wide smile and traded the spoon for a pot holder.
Making one last check on the food, Thea stepped onto the back porch and rang the dinner bell. The men appeared around the corner of the barn. She waved.
"I've been lookin' forward to this," Snake Woodridge said, and slapped his brother-in-law on the back.
Jim Coulson grinned. "Nobody puts on a spread like my Thea-girl."
Bringing up the rear, Denzel agreed. In turn, Booker washed at a basin near the back door and followed the men into the house. They still wore shirts and ties from church that morning, but their sleeves were rolled to their elbows in deference to the heat. They trooped into the dining room and seated themselves.
Thea stood behind a chair next to her father's place at the head of the table. She gave Booker an encouraging smile and gestured for him to take the seat. He slid into the chair, feeling her behind him. The chair beside him remained empty. Jim Coulson said a brief prayer, and the bowls and platters were passed.
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