by April London
Clare. She’d been their surprise. Smaller than her sister she’d been born alert, and simply watched the people bustled around her. Both girls were delivered by their grandmother. Betsy Hart calmly coached her screaming daughter through every wave of pain.
He’d refused to leave her. The fear in her eyes when the first strong pain rolled over her body made up his mind. He wouldn’t leave her side.
Lavinia’s brother showed up minutes after the delivery was over. He settled Clare into the cradle next to her sister. Davis found the half completed cradle in the barn.
James hadn’t heeded Mrs. Hart’s advice. An early snowstorm forced him to miss the train. He spent the next month working diligently on the cradle. Davis helped him with the finer points of woodworking, and he learned Davis or his father had carved most of the furniture in local homes.
Outside, large wet snowflakes fell. James thought about his parents in Boston. He had sent word months before of the situation. His mother’s letter, along with the blanket arrived just before Christmas. She informed him George and Abigail’s wedding had been beautiful and everyone was sorry he missed it. She also hinted there might be news of another wedding soon.
Robert and Suzette have officially declared their intentions for each other. They are a good match. And I dare say it is about time they accepted what everyone else knew months ago.
Recalling his mother’s words brought a smile to his face. Abigail had tucked a note inside as well.
Since you failed to return for the wedding I am forced to relate this to you in a letter. Frances Amory made a brief appearance. I know you will be horribly saddened to hear you have been replaced. He is much older and has bad teeth. Tell my newest sister-in-law that Boston is not the same without her.
Love, Abby
He’d asked Tamsyn to marry him twice more. Each time she told him “not yet.” He spent many nights on the uncomfortable sofa in the parlor.
Tamsyn smiled each night before retiring to her own room. “Now you know how I feel.” She’d placed a kiss on his cheek and climbed the stairs.
****
Just after delivery, while the doctor checked the babies, he once again whispered into her ear, “Tamsyn, I love you. Will you marry me?”
She turned to look up at him, tears streaked her face. “Yes.”
His grip tightened around her in shock. “Why not before?”
“Because I didn’t want to waddle at my own wedding.”
“You should have told me. I would have understood.”
She laughed. “No, you would have begged me to waddle at my own wedding.” She slipped her hand into his. “When the wisteria blooms in the front yard. Under the big oak tree.”
“You won’t go back to Boston?” he asked one last time.
“No.”
“Then I need to send my parents a telegram.”
Heavy flakes fell. He would never make it into town and back before the road was impassable. His telegram would have to wait.
The slamming of the front door echoed through the house. “James Steele!”
James cringed. His gaze landed on his twin daughters. They didn’t move from their sleep. Tamsyn groaned and rolled onto her stomach but continued to sleep. He rushed out of the room.
A sharp “shh” was followed by an even sharper reprimand from Lavinia. He hurried down the stairs, a wide smile spread across his face. George stood with his head low while Lavinia instructed him in proper manners.
“George. What a surprise, my friend.”
“Do you know how hard it is to get here in the winter, James?”
Abigail appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a thick wool cloak.
“Abby, I’m told we arrived just in time,” George whispered. “Seems James and Tamsyn have a surprise.”
James stepped forward and pulled the cloak from his sister’s shoulders.
“What is it?” Abigail demanded.
He placed a kiss on her cheek. “Tamsyn agreed to marry me this morning.” He tossed a smile over Abigail’s head to Lavinia. “She said when the wisteria blooms.” He scratched his head. “Lavinia will have to tell you when that is because…I’m not sure what wisteria is.”
Lavinia laughed. “Spring, James. Wisteria blooms in early spring.” She shook her head and left them at the bottom of the steps.
“Now, if you promise to be very quiet…” He pressed his fingers to his lips. “We can go upstairs to visit.”
A word about the author...
A native Carolinian, April holds a bachelor’s degree in history. She has written a few historical articles for a local magazine, published two short stories within a genealogical collection, and one short vignette titled “The Box” in Erotic Treats by Rhonda Plumhoff.
She currently resides in South Carolina with her husband and three children.
April can be reached at:
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