Singing Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 7)

by Debra Holland

  Straightening, she walked to the stream and took deep breaths, going inside herself for the support she’d need for her voice, the discipline familiar and easy. Although she hadn’t been able to sing, Sophia had practiced her breathing exercises every day, knowing how proper breathing was the foundation for singing. She hadn’t wanted to lose her lung capacity and the strength in her body.

  She started simply with hums and lip rolls up and down the five notes of the major scale. Then she went to vvvs, zzzs, jjjs, alternating with staccato belly bouncing. Finally, she felt ready to sing vowels.

  Her hands trembled, and she clasped them together in front of her before bringing them to her sides. Inhaling deeply, supporting her breath, she opened her mouth and sang a single C note. “Ahh.”

  I did it!

  “Ahhhh.” She held the note longer. Joy filled her.

  “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.” Sophia went up and down the first five notes of the major scale. The quality of her sound was terrible, but she didn’t care. She could work with terrible. The important part was the ability to sing again.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord!

  Sophia sipped tea from the Mason jar, then repeated the scale, rising through two octaves, making sure she had perfect breath control. Is it my imagination, or do I sound slightly better? She varied with mi, ha, na, un, using scales and triads.

  Although Sophia wanted to sing her heart out and serenade the sky, she allowed herself only fifteen minutes of vocal exercises, not daring to push too far and risk a setback. Once finished, she tottered toward a nearby boulder. Until she’d stopped singing, she hadn’t realized how much her legs trembled.

  Sophia wanted to yell and dance around. She wanted to drop to her knees in a loud prayer of praise and thanksgiving. She wanted to weep. But she did none of those things.

  Instead, she lowered herself to a boulder near the one where she’d placed the food, drew up her knees, wrapped her arms around them, and allowed herself to be still. Blinking back moisture, she looked into the sky, sending her deepest gratitude to the heavens. Then, she closed her eyes, savoring the sudden freedom from the fear gripping her for weeks.

  To the left, a twig snapped, and Sophia opened her eyes.

  Kael stood there watching her, a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand. He’d obviously heard her for his dark eyes held moisture, but a huge grin split his face.

  At the sight of him, her heart lifted and, like the swan, took flight.

  * * *

  As Kael walked to the Dunn ranch, he kept his eyes and ears peeled for a trace of Sophia, even while he searched for wildflowers to gather for a bouquet. Today was when his Songbird planned to test her voice, and he sensed she wouldn’t just stand on the porch and sing. But figuring out where Sophia would go was another thing entirely.

  He saw Aaron and Billy repairing a barbed-wire fence and knew that direction was unlikely. His gaze swept the grassland and lighted on the trees growing alongside the stream. In addition to the cottonwood and birch already growing there, Tyler’s mother, Addie Dunn, had planted Babylon weeping willows, along with various colorful wildflowers that she’d transplanted or seeded from other areas.

  Sadness stabbed him. Sometimes, he still expected to arrive at the ranch and find Addie and Harrison Dunn alive and happy to greet him. Kael didn’t know how Tyler could bear living among their memories every day. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that his parents were still alive and reminded himself to cherish his time with them.

  Upstream, Kael guessed a direction to search for Sophia, if only because he’d find more flowers for his bouquet. Sure enough, soon he was bent over, busy snapping off purple lupine stems with his free hand and adding them to the clump he held in the other. His cast allowed for restricted movement of his fingers, and he could awkwardly grasp an arrangement. When he’d stuffed as many flowers into the bouquet as he could carry, Kael moved on.

  An “ahh” floated on the breeze. “Ahhhh!”

  She’s singing! Kael’s heart gave a joyful thump, and his shoulders felt relieved of a huge weight. “Thank you, God!”

  “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”

  Sudden moisture blurred his vision. He straightened, blinked to clear his eyes and, as quietly as possible, moved toward the trilling sounds of ah, ah, and stopped near a tree, just out of Sophia’s line of sight so he wouldn’t disturb her.

  She wore a simple blue dress and, from the depth of her inhales and the movement of her sides and belly, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a corset. Her eyebrows pulled together in an expression of fierce concentration, and she would visibly force herself to relax before singing a scale—sometimes starting and stopping. Then, when a repeated note sounded better, she’d break into a jubilant smile and relax.

  In comparing what he knew of Sophia’s voice to what he now heard, she sounded rusty. But the more she worked her exercises, the purer her tone became. Still not quite the same as before, but not far off. He had no doubt she’d soon regain her superb vocal quality.

  Then she’ll leave for Chicago, taking my heart with her. The pain of that knowledge mingled with his overwhelming relief about her voice and his joy in her happiness. Just listening to her was a precious gift.

  I can’t let the thought of her leaving hurt me right now. I just can’t, he told himself in a fierce mental voice. I must rejoice with her.

  When she stopped practicing, Sophia made her way unsteadily to a seat on the rock and turned her face to the sun. Seeing her shut her eyes, he moved closer.

  Sophia apparently heard him approach, for she opened her eyes and looked at Kael. Her eyes brightened, and a smile illuminated her face.

  Her glowing smile made his soul sing. If Sophia hadn’t already possessed his heart, in that moment, she would have won it completely.

  Laughing, she sprang from the rock and took light steps toward him, her hands outstretched and her countenance glowing.

  Kael handed her the bouquet. “I believe flowers are customary after a successful performance.”

  Still smiling, she buried her face in the blooms. “What a special arrangement. I’ll have to press some, so when I look at them, I’ll always remember this monumentous day.”

  “Oh, I doubt you’ll need a reminder.”

  “That’s true.” Her eyes shone. “I’ll always carry this day in my memory.”

  He touched her cheek. “I love seeing you happy.”

  Sophia laughed. “I love feeling happy.”

  “‘Laughter is sunshine, it chases winter from the human face,’” Kael quoted Victor Hugo and cupped her face.

  She placed her hand over his and snuggled her cheek into his palm. “I hope my winter is over.”

  Kael tilted up her chin and bent to briefly kiss her. “Winter is a season,” he said matter-of-factly. “Happens every year. But so do spring and summer and fall.” He lifted her hands to press a kiss on her palm.

  Sophia leaned into him. “I guess you’re right.” She raised the flowers to sniff the fragrance again. Winter is part of life. I suffered winter when Lily had her accident. When my mother died. And lately….” She looked up at him. Her slight smile and the seductive sweep of her eyelashes went right into his gut.

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  She glanced down and fingered the edge of his sling. “Guess you’re having winter, too.”

  “I was. Then sunshine arrived in the form of a Songbird from Chicago, bringing beautiful spring into my life.” In a way I never dreamed possible.

  Her lips curved wider. “Really?”

  “You already know the answer to that. Come.” Kael led her down the stream aways to stand near the trunk of a towering cedar—one that was ancient when Tyler’s grandparents had settled this land. He pointed upward. “See the cloud.” He didn’t look up but kept his gaze on her face, watching those beautiful violet eyes search the vivid blue sky.

  She wrinkled her nose. “There are no clouds today.”

  “You
can see the clouds in this tree.” He laid a palm against the moss-covered bark of the trunk. “Clouds brought the rain that sprouted a seedling, which grew into this magnificant cedar.”

  Sophia smiled. “I’ve already learned so much from the storm that shook my life. Perhaps, someday, I’ll have to grow my own….” She spread her arms high and wide, mimicking the tree branches.

  Kael grinned at Sophia and patted the tree trunk. “Sure am glad not to have to cut this one down. I’m sure the cedar’s seen a lot of things over the years.”

  Sophia took Kael’s hand and pulled him back downstream. “I didn’t eat breakfast, and now I’m starving. I have Mrs. Pendell’s pancakes with blueberry jam, and I’m willing to share.”

  “Well, I’m willing to eat anything Mrs. P makes, so lead on.”

  When they reached the boulder with the food, Sophia scooped up a bundle bound with a napkin, took a seat on a nearby flat rock, and patted the place next to her. She untied the outer napkin to reveal another layer around a packet wrapped in waxed paper. Pulling back the waxed paper, she exposed the rolled up flapjacks.

  “Six,” Sophia counted. “Mrs. Pendell must have guessed I’d be meeting up with you.”

  “Nah,” Kael teased. “If Mrs. P knew, she’d have packed ten. And that’s just for me. Probably would have thrown in one or two extra for you.”

  Sophia chuckled. “I think Mrs. Pendell suspected but ran out of batter before she could make twelve. After all, she’d already fed everyone else.” She pulled out the extra napkin and held it in the air. “Why else would she include this?”

  Kael swiped the napkin and spread the cloth over his lap.

  Sophia tore the waxed paper in half, used one to pick up a single flapjack for herself, and handed five of the rolled ones to him.

  Frowning, he returned one. “You are the one who’s starving and needs fattening up.”

  Laughing, she kept the flapjack.

  They made quick work of the food, sharing sips of tea from the Mason jar. In spite of the honey in the tea, the sweetness of the blueberry jam made the lemon taste sour. He relished every sip, every bite, every smile Sophia gave him, and every moment in her company.

  They finished eating at almost the same time and then washed in the stream, drying their hands with the napkins before returning to sit on the rock.

  Sophia tilted her head in askance. “Do you like working as a lumberjack?”

  “No.” The answer came from his gut and out his mouth, surprising Kael, especially given how desperately he’d worried about his men and wanted to return to the job. The summer break had provided a welcome respite, but all too soon, he’d be healed, autumn would arrive, the snow would fall, and he’d head back to the logging camp. At the thought, his stomach tightened in dread.

  “Why not?”

  “Foremost, I miss my parents and my friends.”

  “Sounds like an isolated life.”

  “Yes, in that we are cut off from civilization. No, in that men are always about. I find myself craving solitude.” Kael let out a slow breath. “Even in the middle of a group, you can still feel lonely.” He shrugged. “Many of the others seem content. Some don’t even go home or to town when they can.”

  “I think I understand, at least in a way.” Her smile was wry. “Most would expect a diva to only be concerned with herself. But, with my absence, I have similar concerns for the fate of the opera company. Not just the singers, but the conductor, the costume designer and the seamstresses, the set designer and the painters and builders. The men in charge of lighting. The people who play the non-singing bit parts. Even the cleaning crew. Of course, singing opera is not the same as being in the physical danger that you and your men deal with.”

  Kael looked down at her, feeling their connection deepening. “But still a heavy burden for you to carry.”

  “Yes.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I like how you’re so easy to talk to.”

  There was so much about her lifestyle he didn’t know—couldn’t understand or even imagine. “For a country man,” he murmured.

  Sophia raised her head and frowned. “Why did you say that?” she snapped. Without waiting for an answer, her eyebrows drew together, and she shot him a glance of reproof. “Stop acting like you’re a bumpkin, Kael Kelley. When I said you’re easy to talk to, I meant it, period. You listen. You understand. Do you think men are like that in Chicago? No.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “There probably are a few. I just don’t know them.” She patted his arm. “I’m not saying you’re not a man. Because you most definitely are. Quite a manly man. However, you understand me like Blythe does. And like my sisters.” She nestled her cheek against his shoulder. “But I don’t want to do this with them.”

  Hearing an invitation, Kael slipped an arm around her waist, feeling the softness of her body.

  She let out a sigh that sounded like contentment. “This moment is perfect.”

  He kissed the top of her head. The shortness of her hair tickled his lips. Perfection, indeed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The hot days of summer passed almost as quickly as a dream. In spite of how Sophia tried to grasp and hold each moment, her time at Green Valley Ranch slid all-too-quickly into autumn.

  During that span of time, Adeline learned to sit up on her own. Sophia ordered a pair of bloomers for herself and Lily from her dressmaker in Chicago. Oliver became more adept with his arithmetic problems. The kittens grew enough to leave their mother for an hour or so at a time. The Walker baby was born, and as Lily had predicted, turned out to be a boy—name as yet undetermined because Gid and Darcy were still debating between various philosophers. Lily painted a portrait of Sophia holding Adeline, with Oliver leaning against her. Sophia chronicled her story in a journal given to her by Darcy Walker. Blythe and Peter often visited, both glowing with newlywedded bliss. Warwick sent a letter to Sophia, which she ignored, begging her to return to perform in his next opera.

  Sophia’s hair grew two inches, moving from the shorn-sheep stage, past the porcupine stage, and into a mop of tight curls, which she didn’t bother to confine with a ribbon. No one, thank goodness, seemed to mind her appearance. Except for a visit to Dr. Cameron—who pronounced her perfectly fine—Sophia avoided town, spending her time almost exclusively at the ranch, except for visiting the Walkers. She’d become strong enough to walk for several hours without being overcome by exhaustion.

  Shamelessly, she often rode out to where Kael worked cutting railroad ties.

  His arm had healed enough for him to remove the sling, although he still sported a cast. Now, at least, he could give her two-armed hugs, even if he had to be careful not to press the cast against her back.

  Kael still had to chop wood one-handed, working at the edge of the forest until Sophia appeared. Then he’d lay down his axe, wash off in a stream, take her hand, and they’d walk through the forest, leading her horse. They liked the seclusion, talking or remaining silent, enjoying each other’s company and the beauty of nature. Sometimes, they shared a meal.

  A grotto filled with ferns surrounding a bubbling spring and shaded by trees became a favorite haunt after they’d discovered the magical place together. When the heat was the worst, they sat and talked in the shade of the trees, their bare feet soaking in the cool water.

  Sometimes, they’d trek all the way to his house so Sophia could call upon the Kelleys, with whom she grew closer with each visit. Leith’s rapidly failing health and stubborn refusal to see the doctor was the only blight on their happiness.

  The more time Sophia spent with Kael, the more she craved being with him. She didn’t care that soon she’d have to leave for Chicago, and he’d return to the logging camp. She refused to even think about the future, for doing so only made her heart ache. Instead of focusing on their vastly different circumstances, she only enjoyed their similiarities. He brought out her playful side, and Sophia liked to think she did the same thing for Kael. Almost
every day, she learned something new from him—about life, about nature, about herself, about love.

  He showed her dewdrops, glittering like diamonds in the grass or the leaves of a bush. He hushed her to listen to the chirping of a bird, and then coaxed her into imitating the sound. He’d show her a sight and ply her with quotations about nature.

  After several weeks of Sophia doing only vocal exercises, she began to sing songs. Often Kael joined in. He taught her folksongs from the old country. She returned the favor with teaching him some baritone parts from her favorite operas. They laughed over his mispronunciation of the Italian or German lyrics.

  Another full moon blossomed in the night sky. Sophia joined the Kelleys—again in the daytime—when they celebrated their monthly ritual.

  Today, as the summer waned, the hot temperatures cooled, and the leaves started to change, Kael and Sophia strolled along the path leading toward the Kelley homestead. Lily had driven the buggy and dropped off Sophia where Kael was working, with the expectation that later, he’d walk her home.

  Earlier, they’d done some vocal exercises, intending to sing, but they’d fallen silent to savor nature.

  A mother deer with her fawn crossed the path.

  Kael and Sophia froze, not wanting to disturb the pair.

  The deer had reddish brown coats, a white patch on their throats and white bellies. White sprinkled like snowflakes over the back and withers of the leggy fawn. When the doe saw them, her tail lifted, showing the white underside. Nostrils flaring, she pawed the ground.

  With a sweep of his arm, Kael pushed Sophia behind him, grabbed a branch from the ground, and brandished it like a sword.

  The doe wheeled and leapt over a low bush, white tail waving. With a flick of his tail, the fawn scurried around the bush and followed his mother.