Singing Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 7)

by Debra Holland

  Sophia gasped. “Oh, Kael!” She lifted one of the lemons to her nose and sniffed, inhaling the tart fragrance. “Thank you! This makes my happiness complete.” Her smile was full of joy.

  He settled back against the seat with an air of obvious satisfaction.

  Still holding the lemon, she hugged the basket to her chest, touched by his thoughtful gift—both because he’d somehow known she’d need lemons and because the exotic fruit was expensive. On his income, this gift might compare in value to Fritz giving me a piece of jewelry, and may come at great personal sacrifice.

  At the thought of her friend, grief stabbed her. Oh, Fritz, how I wish I could share this exciting news with you!

  Then she remembered his last letter to her. Perhaps you already know and had a spiritual hand in my healing. Thank you, dear friend!

  “Want me to set the basket in the back?” Kael asked in a playful tone. “Or will you hold it the whole way home?”

  “Hmm…a difficult decision,” she teased. “In the back, please.” She touched his leg, looked into his eyes, and tried to project her gratitude into the limited amount of words she could utter. “This means so much, Kael.”

  Kael’s smile lit his whole face. He lifted the basket over her head. The straw in the wagon bed rustled as he positioned the gift.

  Sophia felt a brush of calloused fingertips across the nape of her neck and shivered. Kael’s hand rested on her shoulder as if he meant to keep his arm around her, and she wondered if he’d be so daring in public and in front of Tyler. A moment later, he lifted his arm over her head and rested his hand on his knee. She still felt the echo of his touch.

  They rode in silence for a while.

  Sophia used the time to examine Kael’s hand, a study in manly strength—the tanned skin, broad fingers, and thick knuckles, the bones and tendons, a thin, white scar bisecting the back. She wanted to place her own, pale and smooth, on top of his to compare size and texture. The dissimilarity, she supposed, illustrated their very differences—male and female, hearty lumberjack and pampered singer. So why do I wish to link hands, to feel a connection?

  “I almost forgot.” Tyler interrupted her reverie. He reached under the seat. A letter arrived for you from Chicago.” He handed her an envelope.

  Sophia glanced down, not recognizing the handwriting, a childlike cursive. How odd. She often received letters from unknown admirers, male and female. But only a handful of people knew where she was. She hadn’t even arranged for her mail to be forwarded.

  “Anything wrong?” Kael asked.

  Sophia looked up, realizing she must have been wrinkling her forehead, and immediately relaxed her brow. I’m developing bad habits, and before you know it, I’ll have lines on my face. “I don’t know who this is from.”

  She started to slide a fingernail under the flap.

  “No sense getting a paper cut,” Kael said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Let me open that for you.” He pulled out a pocketknife and opened the blade. He poked the tip into the top of the envelope, sliced across, and handed it back.

  Sophia pulled out a single piece of stationary, and a hair bracelet dropped into her lap. What is this? A gift from Emma? She picked up the piece and studied the dark brown braid. The workmanship wasn’t as fine as the one her sister had made for her birthday, and the ends were tied together with a little crocheted bow instead of the gold clasp Emma used.

  She opened the letter, liberally besmirched with inkblots, and began to read.

  Dear Miss Maxwell,

  This is Fanny Prete. Remember me? You paid for me to go to school.

  Sophia laughed and looked up. “From a young friend of mine.”

  I wanted to write you and thank you in writing for your generosity, because Ma says it’s proper to do so, even though I’d already thanked you in person. I had to look up the spelling of generosity in the dictionary, but I knew how to spell almost all the other words. I had my teacher read this letter just in case I made a mistake. She said I didn’t make any! I also copied out a new version, even though Ma scolded me for wasting paper and ink. Sorry about the blots. I was trying so hard to write in beautiful copperplate that my pen would stop and, wouldn’t you know it, ink would drip off the tip. Doesn’t seem right for that to happen, does it?

  I also wanted to give you the bracelet I made of your hair for a thank you that’s even bigger than saying or writing the words. I hope when you wear it, you think of me and how much I love and admire you.

  I’m happy in school and learning a great deal, even arithmetic, which I used to wrestle terribly with. Miss Johnson is far better at explaining sums than Pa was. She says I’m advanced in reading and possess an extensive vocabulary, which is a credit to my pa. (I looked up the spelling of both extensive and vocabulary.)

  I pray every night for you, Miss Maxwell, before I pray for Ma and Kent, even though I love them just as much as I love you. I think you need my prayers more because losing your voice when you’re a famous opera singer is worse than being poor.

  A lump lodged in Sophia’s throat, and tears pricked her eyes. Dear, dear Fanny. She suspected the child was wrong. Often times being poor was worse, for poverty made for a hard life. The poor died easily from lack of food or adequate shelter, from injury or illness because they couldn’t afford to see a doctor.

  Ma says not to expect an answer to this letter because, “Miss Maxwell can’t be bothered to waste her time on the likes of you.” But I know you think differently than my ma, and I thank God for that. If you wouldn’t mind, please send me back a note and tell me how you are. I worry about you. Just a sentence will do.

  “I certainly shall!” Sophia looked up and saw the amused expressions on the men’s faces. “Such a quaint letter.” She read on.

  I have a question for you. I have a choice of which language to study. Should I learn German or Latin? Ma says German because it will be more practical. Miss Johnson says Latin because once I know the language, even though it’s dead—believe me, that took some explaining on her part—I can more easily learn French, Italian, and Spanish. The thought of knowing all those languages dazzles my mind.

  Sophia glanced at her companions. “Gentlemen, which language should Fanny learn, Latin or German?”

  Both gave her blank looks. Kael was the first to recover. “Latin.” He leaned forward to glance at Tyler. “Remember when we used it as a secret language?”

  Tyler laughed. “I’d forgotten that. Half real words and half-made up ones. Confused the heck out of everyone.”

  Sophia could imagine the two as mischievous boys. She smiled, shook her head, and returned to the letter.

  Miss Johnson assures me that you know Italian and French and German because she’s seen your performances. She saved her money and sat in the cheapest seat each time. She says those nights were the most sublime of her life. Miss Johnson was quite in awe when she learned I knew you, and that you were paying for my education. (I wanted to put schooling, but Miss Johnson says education is a more appropriate word. I had to look up the spelling for appropriate.)

  She directed her attention to the men. “Fanny’s teacher is an admirer. I shall see she’s given tickets to my next opera.”

  Kael’s quick grin made Sophia realize she’d just stated she’d have another performance, as if it really would happen. The comment slipped out with such assurance, as if her inner being knew the truth. Please, Dear Lord, make it so.

  “Everyone who loves you will rejoice that you are once again where you belong,” Kael said quietly.

  Something in his tone made her wonder if he would miss her if, no when, she left Sweetwater Springs. Then again, Kael Kelley didn’t love her. He’s just dazzled. Not wanting to ponder the sad little skip her heart gave at the thought, Sophia hurried to finish reading the letter.

  Once again, dear Miss Maxwell, I wanted to assure you of my undying love and devotion. Please, please, I beg of you, write me back to say you are well.

  Sincerely,

  Fann
y Prete

  “What a sweet girl.” Amused and touched, Sophia folded the paper and returned the letter to the envelope. I’ll have to write her my good news. I’ll order her stationary and ink so she and I can continue corresponding.

  She glanced from one man to the other with a coquettish smile. “Any more presents for me that you two have hidden?”

  With a mock scowl, Kael asked, “Are you supposed to be talking this much?”

  Sophia gave him a joyful smile. “No.”

  Kael shook his head and placed a gentle finger on her mouth. “Stop.” He lowered his hand.

  I don’t care! She pouted but knew her happiness showed in her eyes.

  His gaze lingered on her lips.

  He’s remembering our kisses. Heat rose in her cheeks. Sophia lowered her eyes and peeked up at him through her eyelashes.

  Kael leaned close to her ear. “Minx,” he whispered.

  Although Sophia gave him a flirtatious smile and flutter of eyelashes, she decided he was right. She should be quiet. I don’t need to strain my voice in the first hour of using it again.

  As if to keep her from talking, yet still amused, the two men competed by telling tales of their boyhoods, with each storyteller choosing stories that showed the other in the worst light.

  Sophia couldn’t ever remember feeling so lighthearted and laughing so much. Just to let out an audible laugh felt wonderful.

  Before she knew it, they’d reached the outskirts of Green Valley Ranch.

  Tyler leaned forward. “Kael, you’d better spend the night. You’ll not make it home before dark, although the moon’s almost full.”

  “Figured that might happen.” Kael gave Sophia a wink and flashed her a wicked grin. “Think we should teach the opera star how to play poker?”

  Although not immune to his rough-hewn charm, she elbowed him in the side.

  He chuckled in response but didn’t say anything.

  As they drove across Tyler’s land, the sun was setting in a blaze of vibrant yellow and pink, tinting the sky an extraordinary translucent aquamarine that deepened to sapphire near the distant purple-gray mountains and cast rosy shadows and gilded coppery streaks on the undersides of heavy-looking clouds.

  The house, barn, bunkhouse, and outbuildings stood amidst a shimmering sea of golden grass. An ancient, solitary oak in the meadow near the house spread thick limbs to shelter a picnic table, the olive-green leaves looking black against the colors of the sky.

  Tyler had told her his ranch was only a small spread compared to others in the area. Yet to Sophia, the Dunn place, as seen from this approach, seemed just about perfect.

  Free from the burden of care that had weighed her down and consumed almost her every thought, Sophia breathed in the beauty of nature, gratitude suffusing her whole being. Tears pricked her eyes, and she gave fervent thanks to the Creator.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The wagon rolled to a stop in front of the house. An extra pony in a golden shade was among the horses milling about the corral, and several people sat on the porch. But Sophia ignored them, too eager to share her news with Lily. As soon as Kael helped her down, Sophia caught up her skirts and ran to her sister.

  The swiftness must have worried Lily, for she stood and rushed down the porch steps to meet Sophia, her limp apparent, her face full of concern. “What did Dr. Cameron say?”

  Sophia grabbed Lily in an ecstatic hug. “I can talk!”

  Lily let out a shriek, and her arms tightened around Sophia. “Wonderful news!” She burst into tears.

  Sophia’s eyes grew misty, and soon tears of relief and joy rolled down her cheeks. The two held each other, rocking side to side.

  “Two watering pots,” Tyler grumbled.

  Sophia could tell by his tone, her brother-in-law was happy and teasing them. She squeezed Lily and pulled back a bit, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

  “But can you sing?” her sister asked, her fingers tightening on Sophia’s arm.

  “Not yet. Dr. Cameron says I can try vocal exercises in a week.” Sophia made sure to keep her voice soft—something hard to do when she was so happy and wanted to carol to the sky.

  Lily released Sophia and clapped her hands together. “A week will go by quickly, you’ll see. Now—” she lowered her voice. “The Walkers are here with their daughter Julia, who’s Oliver’s age. The two are off playing with the kittens. Do you want to sneak around the back and go to your room or visit with Gid and Darcy?”

  Sophia had a flash of momentary concern about them seeing her hair and realized at this happy moment, she didn’t care who knew her secret. I’m on the road to recovery, and that’s all that matters. With a finger, she hastily dabbed any lingering dampness from under her eyes. “We can have an impromptu party.”

  “Perfect,” Lily said with a smile. “Mrs. Pendell has been baking up a storm. And she’s tending a huge pot of stew simmering on the stove since we didn’t know when you’d return from town. We can even have Billy play the fiddle.”

  Sophia thought of the young man who always seemed so awkward in her presence. “Billy plays the violin?”

  “Badly.” Lily giggled, sounding like a girl. “But it’s the spirit that counts, right?”

  Her highly-trained sense of tune made her balk. “I don’t think my spirit can extend that far.”

  “All right. No fiddle.” Lily linked arms with Sophia and pulled her toward the porch, practically bouncing with each step.

  The crunch of wagon wheels moving over the ground made Sophia glanced over her shoulder to see Tyler and Kael driving toward the barn, no doubt to take care of the horses. She was confident Kael would remember to bring in her basket of lemons and reticule.

  “Mrs. Pendell can serve her elderberry wine for your party.”

  Sophia spared a thought for her well-stocked wine cellar and wished for champagne. “I’d almost rather have Billy’s fiddling.”

  Lily chuckled. “But Mrs. Pendell will insist on plying you with more elderberry wine.”

  As they neared the porch, Sophia saw the baby sleeping on a blanket on the floor, her toys scattered around her.

  Another couple sipped tall drinks and chatted near the child.

  When she and Lily walked up the steps, her sister called out, “Darcy, Gid, you remember my sister Sophia?”

  She recalled briefly meeting the unusual-looking pair, who stood to greet her.

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Lily explained to the couple. “Sophia’s illness caused her to lose her voice, and her doctor forbade her to speak. But Dr. Cameron has given her a different prognosis, so you can imagine how we’re over the moon!”

  Gid Walker had pale, almost white, hair. He wasn’t a handsome man, but an interesting one. “‘Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.’”

  “Victor Hugo,” his wife explained. “From Les Misérables. My husband has a penchant for speaking in quotes,” she said to Sophia.

  Lily laughed. “And you don’t?”

  Darcy chuckled and exchanged a loving glance with her husband. “Oh, I do. We’re a perfect match in that way. I’ve learned to preface the quotes, though. Not smack someone with them from out of the blue.”

  Pregnancy had filled out Mrs. Walker’s bony-featured face. She waddled over to take Sophia’s hand, giving her a glance of compassion from intelligent gray eyes. “Miss Maxwell, I’m delighted to see you are well.” She spoke with an educated Boston accent. “Do you make an extended visit?”

  “Several months, yes.”

  “I hope to see you often, then. Although with the baby coming, I won’t be out and about much.” She folded her hands over the mound of her stomach. “The midwife we hired for Julia’s birth will arrive in a few days to stay, but she’ll leave a week after the birth.”

  “I love babies.” Sophia spoke from her new-found experience with Adeline. “After his or her arrival, Lily and I can visit you, Mrs. Walker. That is, if you wish for callers.”

  “Please ca
ll me Darcy. I love the relaxed manners of the West, and my husband prefers a lack of formality.”

  “Then I’m Sophia,” she said with a smile.

  Mrs. Walker cast a droll glance at her husband. “If this time is anything like the weeks following Julia’s birth, my husband will just about drive me insane with his hovering.”

  Gid shook his head. “Julia and I will both hover,” he corrected.

  “Then, Sophia, you and Lily must come to visit and relieve them.” Darcy patted her belly. “Knowing I’ll be housebound for a while, today I felt the need for a long walk. And of course, Gideon wasn’t about to let me come alone. So, we strolled over here and met Julia when the children returned from school.”

  Gid leaned forward. With his finger, he circled the air near Sophia. “‘Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.’”

  “Also from Victor Hugo,” Darcy murmured.

  “Gid’s right, Sophia,” Kael said from behind them.

  She hadn’t heard him approach and turned with a smile.

  Kael set the basket of lemons and her reticule next to the porch post. “The music lives within you. I believe the Good Lord doesn’t intend for your singing voice to remain silent forever. Have faith.”

  Sophia let out a long slow breath. In looking up into his handsome face, seeing the confidence in his eyes, she couldn’t help but believe in a better future. “Thank you, Kael,” she said softly, bouyed by his support.

  “The pleasure is mine.”

  His tone was so gentle, his gaze so intimate, that for a moment, Sophia felt held as if by a magical embrace.

  * * *

  Kael couldn’t remember a more convivial evening. Knowing the moon would give them light, the Walkers ignored the purple shadows of dusk and lingered long after supper, sitting on the porch with the Dunns, Sophia, and Kael. The adults talked and laughed, while Oliver and Julia played with the baby.