Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection

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Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection Page 22

by Amanda Barratt


  Annie handed the baby to the beaming Rachel. As she turned to Travis, he glimpsed sorrow flash across her tired face. Of course. What person, having witnessed this moment, could not help but wish it for themselves? And not only Annie. He wanted to be in Bill’s place. The anxious father, bursting into the bedroom, hearing his child’s cries for the first time.

  He wanted to experience these defining moments. As a man with something at stake, instead of the shadowy figure of attending physician.

  Shared with no other but her.

  After the baby was washed and wrapped, the couple cooed over their new addition, while Annie sat, watching with an absent expression.

  He couldn’t take her silence any longer, and once she moved to clean her instruments, he stepped behind her. “Do you like apple pie?” Thunder in Texas, how inane could he be?

  Surprise lit her eyes. “Apple pie? I guess so. Why?”

  “Good. You see, I had some amazing apple pie last night at the Hartville Hotel. And I think we owe it to ourselves, after the night we’ve been through, to have some again … say, tomorrow evening?” Not exactly a sweep-the-gal-off-her-feet kind of proposal, but it would do for now.

  For the longest moment, he anticipated her “no.” Could hear it ringing in his ears, even. Yet a small smile found purchase on her lips, and she gave a little laugh. “I’ve heard of celebratory drinks before, but never apple pie. Might be fun.”

  Fun? Spending an hour in her company? Letting himself look his fill upon a face that held so much sway over his jumbled emotions? Fun was being seven years old, sneaking ice cream on the back porch with Houston. Apple pie with Annie?

  Pleasurable torment.

  Chapter Seven

  So that was that. A little boy. Bill and Rachel overjoyed. And, I might venture to say, a bit more grown-up after the experience.” Annie cupped her hands around the mug of coffee, the comfort of Mrs. Miller’s parlor wrapping around her like a well-loved blanket.

  The longtime midwife nodded, a smile creasing her wrinkled cheeks. “Becoming a parent has a way of turning flighty girls into careful women. And fancy-free boys into hardworking men.” Her chair creaked as she rocked back and forth, knitting needles keeping time. “Of course, you know that from experience, my dear.”

  Annie looked down, steam clouding up into her face. She took a sip of the warm beverage before speaking. “Yes. I never thought I could love anyone as much as I do Robbie. He’s become my whole life. He and my patients, that is.”

  “Careful, Annie. The moment we say something has overtaken our lives, is usually the moment the Almighty decides to give us more. And doesn’t He always know best?”

  “What if I don’t want more?” The words had slipped out before she’d fully contemplated them. Although, if she’d been totally honest with herself, she would’ve admitted her true reason for riding over to Mrs. Miller’s. Not to discuss patients, midwife to fellow midwife. But to gain the comfort she always received when in the woman’s presence.

  “Why? Don’t you think the Lord has anything else in store for you? Contentment is one thing, child. Complacency another. You have such a giving heart. Do you think the Lord intends for you to love only Robbie for the rest of your life?”

  “Would that be so bad?” A sigh whooshed from her lips. She was a Benedict Arnold to her own determination. Why had she agreed to Travis’s invitation? It must’ve been fatigue. A chill from the rain.

  Or a girlish desire to stay caught up in her own emotions.

  It was tonight. And her thoughts shifted from backing out to keeping her promise with as much variance as the Galveston tide.

  “I don’t think I’m the person to answer that. I don’t even think you are.” Mrs. Miller laid aside her knitting.

  “I’m only being realistic. I’m twenty-seven. A widow. And in my current profession, I doubt I’ll be meeting throngs of eligible men. Nor do I wish to.” Because there was only one man she could ever have. She’d already married him. And he’d already died.

  “I don’t think realistic expectations are holding much sway with you.” Mrs. Miller’s clear brown eyes seemed to delve deep inside Annie’s mind. “I think you believe you don’t deserve any more happiness than what you’ve already been given. Am I right?”

  Annie didn’t answer.

  “The thing about God giving out blessings, is that we don’t deserve a lick of them. Life isn’t about getting what we deserve. It’s about getting what He, in His love, chooses to give us. Sometimes what He chooses isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s full of so much pain that it leaves us aching. And other times, God smiles down and throws so much joy into our laps that we cannot help but rejoice at the beauty of it. I’m not going to make any attempts to grasp His path for you. But I will say this. Don’t let guilt over something that happened years ago determine the way you face your tomorrows. God isn’t like that, Annie. If He were, think of all those people in the Good Book who wouldn’t have made a thimbleful out of their lives. I know you married your husband because it was what your father wanted. Whether that was right or wrong, well, there’s no going back. But you don’t have to let that decision affect the ones you make now.”

  Tears pricked Annie’s eyes. She wanted to believe her friend’s words. Wanted to trust that they held the truth she’d sought for so long. Still … “Isn’t there such a thing as being punished for our wrongs?”

  Mrs. Miller nodded. “If Robbie were to disobey, you’d give him consequences, right? God does the same. But it is not up to His children to choose those consequences. Doing so is putting ourselves in the Lord’s place. And we humans surely don’t belong there. Just keep that in mind as you go through the rest of your life.” Mrs. Miller smiled, a look of total peace giving her features a glow that not even Galveston’s most celebrated beauty could surpass.

  “I’ll try.” Annie picked up the discarded knitting. The cranberry-colored wool was in the process of becoming … something. She couldn’t tell what. “What are you working on?”

  “A blanket.” She gestured to a box in a corner of the room. “There are more in there. Just because I can no longer be the first one to hold those babies, doesn’t mean I can’t make lovely things to wrap them in. It’s a fine thing I did all those years, but that doesn’t make what I’m doing now any less fine. It’s all in how you look at the world. And I aim to do so through His eyes.

  “Now, if you’ll step on out into the kitchen, there’s a plate of cookies just begging to be sampled. Nothing better this side of heaven than a cookie and a cup of coffee. Long as you’re sharing them with the right people, that is.”

  Annie stood. But instead of moving toward the kitchen, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around the frail old woman. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you while I’ve been away,” she whispered.

  “And I, you. God’s got a fine purpose for you, Annie child. I can’t wait to see how He’s going to work it all out.”

  New beginnings could be made under these stars, the endless skies of Texas brimful with them tonight, crystals against black velvet.

  Travis ran his hand down the front of his suit jacket. Thankfully, the Hartville Hotel was nearly empty tonight. He’d already chosen seats in the most secluded corner to be found. All that remained was for Annie to arrive.

  The fresh, balmy scent of the night air wafted over him as he stood on the hotel steps. He drew in a long breath, accepting the calm it offered, as well as the fragrance.

  Give me strength tonight, Lord. Help me to sort things out between us. I care for her so much. Let this not be a mistake.

  As if in a glorious vision, he watched as she rode down the street—sidesaddle tonight. She stopped in front of the hotel and dismounted, tying her horse to a hitching post.

  Sweet Texas thunder…

  He’d thought her beautiful when she was younger, with those pretty eyes and that long, often unruly hair. She’d been a girl then. Was a woman now. A woman wearing a dark green dress that hugg
ed her waist, revealing curves in all the right places. A woman with the faintest touch of sunburn on her nose and the smallest of smiles dancing across her cherry-hued lips.

  How could he help but love her?

  “I haven’t dined out since before the war, so I wasn’t sure what to wear.” She climbed the steps, skirts held daintily just above her ankles.

  “You look perfect.” The words came easy. “Shall we go in?” He let her walk in front of him. The hand-on-arm gesture used by courting couples would only make her uneasy.

  The elegance of the Hartville Hotel seemed a perfect backdrop for the evening of his dreams. The walls boasted walnut wainscoting and dark blue wallpaper. Linen and china adorned the circular tables.

  Since he’d already made arrangements with the waiter, Travis led the way to his chosen table. He pulled out Annie’s chair. As she sank into it, he caught the scent of violets lingering in her hair. It was heady stuff, a fragrance he would have gladly inhaled the whole night long, until he became as unaware of the world as a man under the effects of ether.

  “I don’t know how you did it, but ever since last night I’ve been dreaming about apple pie. Robbie got mad at me. Said I was starving him with all my talk.” She laughed.

  “Where is Robbie tonight?”

  “Playing with Josie. Apparently there was some grand plan to make a batch of fudge and eat it all before I returned.”

  The waiter came and took their orders. Coffee for Travis. Tea for Annie. Apple pie for both.

  Another couple took the table nearest. Travis scarcely noticed who they were. “You never used to be one for sweets. After school, when all the children ran to the store to splurge on penny candy, you and Josie always went straight home.”

  “Father only occasionally gave us money for treats. He said it was a waste of hard-earned cash and would ruin our digestion. Considering how much some of those children consumed, he was probably right.” She rested her hand on the tablecloth, fingers toying with the folded napkin.

  “Do you follow that principle with Robbie?”

  She shook her head with another laugh. “No. Robbie has a sweet tooth the size of Texas. But I only let him eat Rhode Island quantities.”

  Travis chuckled. “You’ve done a fine job raising your son.” His tone turned serious. “He’s a blessed young man to have a mother who cares so much.”

  A sigh escaped her lips. “Father accuses me of not caring enough. Says I spend too much time traipsing the countryside. He’s never understood my passions. Any of them.”

  Travis’s heart sped up. Did she mean him, the passion they had shared? If her father had not interfered, he could be Annie’s husband this very moment. Permitted to hold her in his arms. Love her, with a license to make it legal.

  It went against everything the Lord taught, but at this moment, Travis loathed Brock Parker.

  “Well, he can’t stop you now. You belong to no one.” Conviction filled his tone. It was true. She could give herself to whomever she pleased. He hoped it might be him.

  The time passed in minutes all too fleeting. He could’ve sat with her for hours, studied her smile as diligently and as often as he had old anatomy textbooks.

  But he’d kept her long enough as it was. So after he paid the bill, they made their way outside, past the hotel, and toward the secluded road heading away from town.

  “Thank you.” A chill stole over the night, and she wrapped her arms around herself with a slight shiver. “I needed that. It comforts me to know that we can remain friends. We can still work together and enjoy each other’s company. You don’t know how glad that makes me.”

  He could only smile. And wrap his coat around her shoulders, his fingers skimming her collarbone, the warmth and softness of her skin almost more than he could bear. His gaze fell to her lips, to the gentle pulse beating in her throat. She looked up at him with the wide eyes of the girl he’d fallen for first.

  What was a man to do? A man who had waited, wanted for so long?

  He pulled her to himself, like the day when she’d cried in his arms. This time, he let himself press his lips against hers. She jolted in his arms, but like a particle of ice laid upon a scorching fire, melted quickly, molding against him like this kiss was their thousandth, instead of their first. Her lips tasted of sweet apple pie, of desperation and regret. Losing himself in their sweetness was the easiest and at the same time the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

  A soft moan escaped her lips as she tunneled her fingers in his hair. Then she stilled, became a statue in his arms. Before jerking away and putting a foot of space between them, eyes wide with shock.

  His heart pounded in his ears. This time, he would speak first. This time, he would make his feelings known. Come what may. He sucked in a breath.

  “That kiss was an accident. But I’ve dreamed of a moment like this for so long … I may not be as decisive or as reckless as some men, but this I know. I love you, Annie Parker-Lawrence. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you in that barn, that kitten in your lap. All throughout the war, I loved you still, even though you were married to somebody else. But that somebody else is gone now, so there’s nothing to stop me.”

  In a single stride, he had his hands on her shoulders, gaze meeting gaze, though hers shone with tears. Her breath came in jagged gasps, her body trembling like a frightened colt. “Nothing to stop me from loving you. From wanting you. From fighting for you. And even if the man I’m fighting with is dead, I’m not quitting. So get used to it, Annie Lawrence. Get used to knowing there’s a man who loves you. One who is very much alive and well and longing to cherish your heart till the end of our days.”

  Chapter Eight

  Get used to knowing there’s a man who loves you. One who is very much alive and well and longing to cherish your heart till the end of our days.”

  The sun beat down upon Annie’s head, her gloved hands expertly holding the reins as she steered her mount in the right direction. By all outward appearances, she was collected, calm. Inwardly, her heart cried out in answer to Travis’s words.

  Get used to it, Travis Hart. I love you, too. But that’s as far as it will ever go.

  When their lips had met, every thread of her being soared skyward. Every beat of her heart sang out with the pure sweetness of holding and being held.

  At least, she could hold tight to that memory, though guilt would always nip at its heels.

  Once again, she’d been a failure to Stuart. Broken the promise she’d made before God during her wedding vows, and to God when she’d returned to Hartville, determined to start afresh.

  Perhaps it would be best to flee from this temptation and return to Galveston. Never mind that she’d be running away like a pup with its tail between its legs. Never mind that Robbie thrived in the wide-open spaces of Texas. Never mind that she loved her patients, bringing their children into the world.

  Travis would never leave Hartville.

  And she must leave Travis.

  She pulled her horse to a stop in front of the ramshackle cabin belonging to Abe and Karen Sandler. She’d never made a house call this far out of town, but she needed the excuse today. A long ride, even in the name of professionalism, had done wonders for her peace of mind. And Karen Sandler needed to be checked on.

  After tying her horse to a forlorn pine tree, she wound her way through tall, unkempt grass, and rapped on the splintered wooden door. No answer, either by footsteps or voice.

  “Mrs. Sandler. It’s the midwife. I’m just calling to check on you. May I come in, please?”

  Creak. Groan.

  The door opened. Karen stood inside, ragged blue shawl around her shoulders, graying brown hair in straggles around her face.

  “How are you today, Mrs. Sandler?” Annie gave a professional smile. “I’m just here to see how you’re doing. Make sure you’re feeling all right and so forth.”

  The woman smiled, the upward turn of her lips accentuating the hollowness in her cheeks and lack of lus
ter in her eyes. “I’ve been having twinges all day. ’Spect that’s just me gettin’ old. A forty-five-year-old woman ain’t got no business havin’ a baby. Abe’s so excited, though. Guess that makes it all worth it.”

  “Of course it does.”

  Karen stepped aside, and Annie entered the one-room cabin. Her stomach gave a momentary lurch. Of course, she’d seen women bear children in less-than-pristine living conditions before, but this … Dirt floor. Rumpled bedlinens atop a cornhusk mattress. Food-encrusted dishes lying scattered on a crude log table. Something scurried toward the corner of the room. Mercy, was that a rat?

  “How have you been feeling? Anything I should be aware of?”

  Karen’s only answer was to pale and clutch the edge of the table. Concern welled through Annie.

  “Why don’t I help you lie down, and we’ll listen to the baby’s heart?” Supporting Karen’s arm, Annie helped her onto the sagging mattress.

  It only took a simple examination for fear to rise hot in Annie’s throat. She swallowed hard. “How long have you been like this?”

  Karen pulled down her threadbare dress. “A day. Abe went out hunting a few hours ago, and I was glad for him to be away. He doesn’t like to see me hurting. ’Spect it reminds him of the war. Why?” Her faded eyes searched Annie’s. “Is something wrong?”

  “My examination shows me … I mean, it appears that … you’re in the early stages of labor.” Three months too early, she didn’t add.

  “That’s bad.” Karen’s eyes took on a frantic gleam. “I ain’t ever had a baby before. Will it be all right?” The woman placed a protective hand over her abdomen, as if to hold back the child from entering the world. Another pain seized her, and she ground her teeth.

  “Let’s concentrate on getting you settled.” Annie pressed her fingers to the woman’s pulse. High. Too high. And her skin … Feverish.

  Help. She needed help. A first-time birth three months early meant almost certain death for the child. All she could do was save the mother. A forceps delivery would be best. But Annie wasn’t a doctor.

 

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