Twice a Bride

by Mona Hodgson

  “Thank you, kind sir.” Smiling, Miss Hattie straightened her floral straw hat.

  “You’re most welcome, ma’am.”

  They may not realize it yet, but there was an undeniable attraction between her landlady and Ida’s father.

  Willow helped Cherise down from the surrey, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, it was the older woman’s hand that Cherise snagged. A broad smile filled Mr. Sinclair’s face as he captured the child’s other hand.

  Perhaps Ida wouldn’t need to make a decision about taking in the child.

  Willow followed them to the church steps. Mr. Sinclair steadied Miss Hattie’s large umbrella over their heads while Miss Hattie held the small one until the two umbrellas collided. Their laughter stirred Willow’s heart. She and her father liked to walk in the rain. He called the raindrops angel kisses.

  Watching the older couple climb the stairs together with Cherise made her question her certainty that Sam had been her only chance for love. For the first time, she found herself hoping he wasn’t.

  At the door, Miss Hattie glanced over her shoulder. “Dear, you said Tucker invited Mr. Van Der Veer to church. Are you expecting he might attend this morning?”

  “Tucker did say he extended an invitation, but Mr. Van Der Veer and I haven’t talked about his church attendance.”

  What made Miss Hattie think of the photographer in this moment? Ah, the matchmaker in her must have decided Mr. Van Der Veer was a candidate.

  Was that such a bad notion? He certainly had some noble attributes. Not the least of which was his commitment to hire an employee based upon his or her qualifications for the job. His appreciation for her work certainly counted. And for some reason the pecan fudge he’d bought for her tasted even better than that she’d purchased for herself the day before.

  At the back of the sanctuary, she found herself inspecting the congregation for a man with broad shoulders and hair parted down the middle.

  Trenton leaned back in his porch chair, watching a steady rain spit into the pools of mud forming across the road. Before five o’clock that morning, big drops had pounded his roof and woken him.

  Sundays were his toughest day of the week. His one consistent day off work, and he didn’t know what to do with his time. He’d already scrubbed the kitchen counter and washed out the icebox, changed the sheets on his bed, unpacked a box of books, and written his mother a letter. And it wasn’t even ten o’clock. He lifted his second mug of coffee to his mouth.

  He’d thought about seeing if Jesse wanted to ride to Dome Rock with him. He’d heard talk about the landmark and wanted to photograph the monumental rock. But it was Sunday. His friend would be in church.

  And so would Willow Peterson. Seeing how her brother was the pastor, church attendance was probably a family requirement. He took a long swig of hot coffee, then felt a smile spread across his face. What was he thinking? His employee wouldn’t attend church just because a man told her to, even if the man happened to be her brother. No, she was a woman of faith in her own right. He couldn’t say why he knew that, but something about her told him she’d relied on God when her husband died. And her ongoing confidence in God drew him to her.

  Sitting beside her on the bench in front of the post office on Thursday had felt right. He thought better of himself when she was around. He didn’t feel judged or condemned. When he thought he’d chased her off and lost her as an employee … well, he didn’t want to think about it. She’d forgiven him for the flea imbroglio. Even if it was something neither of them was likely to forget.

  “I could be persuaded. I like the pecan fudge.” Her green-eyed smile had weakened his knees, like to have knocked him on his backside.

  Straightening, Trenton set his coffee cup on the side table. After locking the front door, he pulled the collar up on his coat and took quick steps around the mud puddles toward the First Congregational Church.

  The white steeple reminded him of the little cabin-church his family had attended in Maryland. His pulse quickened. He couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would have been … would be, if he’d been able to put that experience behind him. If he hadn’t lumped all pastors and believers together. If he hadn’t blamed God.

  Trenton noted the matching brick parsonage set behind the church, then made his way up the steps. Singing drew him through the outer doors. Wiping his shoes on an entry rug, he listened to the voices blending on the refrain: “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!” Assurance—a feeling he’d never experienced.

  He wiped rainwater from his face and glanced at the closed door leading into the sanctuary. This was his first church service since that December day right before his tenth birthday. The pastor’s condemning pronouncements and hellish cries still echoed in his memory.

  The foyer here was close enough.

  Ida hadn’t seated her father beside Hattie at the supper table, but that’s where they belonged—together. Even though the two of them had talked through their foibles, they had yet to figure out they were a good match. Her father sat at the end of the table. Cherise sat between him and Hattie, who was quite attentive to the child’s needs. As a mother might be.

  Father hadn’t said any more to Ida or her sisters about taking in Cherise as their own. He seemed more comfortable caring for her. Perhaps he—

  “Miss Ida.”

  Ida looked across the table at Cherise. The little girl’s dark hair, topped with a bright pink ribbon, cascaded over her shoulders. Probably Hattie’s doing. “Yes?”

  “I will.…” She glanced up at Father.

  Stilling his fork midair, Father smiled at her. “Attend?”

  “Yes, attend.” Cherise copied his pronunciation to the letter. “I will attend school.” Excitement and apprehension etched her brow.

  Ida’s heart ached again for the fatherless child. How could she have been so petty to have entertained jealous thoughts toward Cherise? “Going to school will be wonderful.”

  “Yes, I liked school very much.” Kat sipped her water.

  “Monsieur Sinclair is a wise man.” Miss Hattie leaned forward and gave Father a warm smile before returning her attention to Cherise. “School will be good for you, dear. You’ll meet girls and boys your own age and learn more about America.” She repeated it in French, stumbling over only a couple of words.

  Ida met the little girl’s timid gaze. “You’ll do fine.”

  Cherise smiled, taking Ida back in time to her days as the big sister to little Vivian, now swollen with a child of her own.

  Ida blinked back a tear for the baby she’d lost and scooped a spoonful of chilled pea salad. Cherise felt more like a little sister to her than a daughter.

  An hour later, Ida carried a stack of dirty dishes to the kitchen. They’d finished their supper, and the men had retired to the parlor. Vivian remained in the dining room with Cherise, Hope, and William while Willow, Kat, and Nell helped Ida clean up. Hattie had taken a tray of coffee to the men.

  Kat lifted her hands out of the dishwater and looked at Willow. “It may be wishful thinking, but it looks to me like your landlady may be smitten with my father.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Willow added a bowl she’d just dried to a stack on the countertop.

  Ida slid a plate with two slices of leftover roast beef into the icebox. “You live with her. Has she said anything about him?”

  “Only that they’d been talking and she thought much better of him.” Willow cleared her throat. “But actions can speak louder than words.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to hope.” Kat dipped her hands back into the water.

  Nell set the stack of bowls in the cupboard. “What about you, Willow?” She pinned Willow with the look of a desperate romantic.

  Willow gave Nell a shy smile. “Your father is nice enough, but not my sort.”

  Nell didn’t miss a beat. “And how about Mr. Van Der Veer? A man who buys pecan fudge for a woman seems like a good sort.”

  Willow shot
Ida a look that could melt a block of ice.

  “I might have mentioned something about it,” Ida said. “I thought it was awfully sweet of him and didn’t think you would mind my sharing it.”

  A loud gasp pulled Ida and the others back to the dining room. Vivian stood beside the table. Her face bright red, she stared at the floor. “I’m wet.”

  Liquid tinged a light pink had formed a puddle on the wooden floor.

  “Your baby is ready.” Kat stepped forward and wrapped her arm around Vivian’s shoulders.

  Vivian glanced at the children. “I can’t have the baby here! I need to go home.”

  Carter rushed into the room and stared at the puddle. “Is it safe to move her?”

  “Your floor. I’m so sorry.” Vivian’s forehead glistened with perspiration.

  “I can mop it.” Ida brushed Vivian’s arm. “I’ll do anything for my new niece or nephew.”

  Kat laid her hand on Vivian’s swollen abdomen. “Are you having any pain?”

  “Yes. My back aches, and I feel tight.”

  Her hand still on Vivian, Kat looked at Ida. “We’ll use your bed.”

  Where she’d lost her baby just weeks ago. “Yes.”

  Morgan ducked into the room. “I’ll go to the house and get the rubber sheet.”

  Ida’s heart pounded. Women did this all the time without doctors, but this was her baby sister they were talking about. “You should stay. I’ll go.”

  Morgan raised his hand, signalling a stop, and glanced at his wife. “Kat’s done this before.”

  “With you.” The coloring in Kat’s face was a shade lighter. “You’ll be back soon?”

  He nodded and darted toward the kitchen door.

  “Oh dear.” Father came to an abrupt halt in the doorway, his eyebrows arched.

  Hattie nearly collided with him from behind. She peeked around the blockage. “Are we having a baby?”

  Father paled. “Not me. I’ll be in the parlor. Better yet, telephone me at the boardinghouse as soon as my grandchild arrives.”

  Kat walked beside Vivian, their arms intertwined, as she and Carter guided her sister toward the bedroom. No more false starts. The contractions had come on fast and strong. When another one hit, Vivian stopped midstep and doubled over just outside Ida and Tucker’s bedchamber. Kat glanced toward the front door, ready for her husband to return. Thankfully, they lived only a few blocks from the parsonage, and Morgan should be back any minute with the rubber sheet. If not, they may be delivering a baby on the bed without it.

  Vivian latched onto the doorframe, her breath ragged and her brow damp.

  Carter looked at Kat, concern etched in his brown eyes. “What do we do?”

  “We’re doing it—getting her to the bed.” The sooner, the better.

  Kat breathed a prayer for all of them. She’d helped Morgan deliver Iris’s baby at the hospital two years ago and she gave birth to Hope last year, but those two experiences scarcely prepared her to be a midwife. She’d feel better if Morgan was here. But he wasn’t, and there was no time to be concerned with how she felt. Her sister and Carter needed her to remain calm, at least in appearances.

  Viv arched. “My back feels like it’s on fire.”

  “It’s not.” Kat rubbed her sister’s lower back. “I thought Hope would never come, but Viv, it seems you may be one of the lucky and deliver your baby fast.”

  “But Ida’s bed.” Viv’s breath was ragged. “I can’t—”

  “Don’t concern yourself with that, sis.” Ida slipped past them and into the bedroom, carrying the rubber sheet, which meant Morgan had returned.

  “Where’s Morgan?” Kat asked.

  “He said he’d be in the parlor with the husbands, that Vivian and the baby were in good hands with her sisters.”

  “My sisters.” Vivian worked to draw in a deep breath and resume a snail’s pace toward the bedroom. “Nell?”

  “Nell went to the kitchen. She’ll be along with water and towels soon.” With each step Kat felt her own baby’s kicks and wondered if she could deliver Vivian’s baby from a sitting position.

  They’d crossed the threshold and made it as far as the dressing table when Viv cupped her abdomen with both hands, pulling Kat’s arm with her. “All that practice has made our baby impatient … and I feel like I need the chamber—” She grabbed the dressing table and grunted.

  “You’re pushing!” Kat hadn’t meant to shout.

  Vivian nodded, her breath shallow and her face tight.

  In one swift move, Carter scooped Vivian into his arms and rushed to the bed. Ida had just tucked in the last corner of the sheet, a dressing gown draped over her shoulder. Carter laid Vivian on the bed.

  Kat regarded her older sister. “There’s no time to change her clothes.”

  “The baby’s coming already?”

  Nell rushed in, huffing and puffing. A curl of steam swirled above the pot she carried to the washstand.

  “Now that you’re settled … I’ll do my waiting in the parlor.” Carter leaned over and kissed Vivian’s forehead before leaving the room. Vivian groaned again as Carter closed the door behind him.

  “We need to get her ready,” Kat said. With Ida and Nell’s help, she raised Vivian’s skirt, pulled off her pantaloons, and laid a cotton sheet over her lower extremities. “I need to see how close we are.”

  Vivian nodded, her belly tightening, the strain coloring her face. Nell set a short stack of towels on a bedside table, and Ida brushed Vivian’s hair back from her face.

  Kat settled into position at Vivian’s knees and lifted the sheet. A tiny head slid toward her. “Woo-wee, this little guy is in a hurry!” Kat looked at Ida. “Throw me a towel.” Her heart raced as she caught two dry towels and bent to catch the baby.

  Vivian curled toward her, pushing and groaning.

  Kat’s eyes watered as a wiggling, slippery new life landed in her arms and screamed. “I have a niece.”

  A sweet smile replaced the pained scowl on Vivian’s face. “I have a daughter?”

  “You surely do. She’s on the tiny side, and beautiful.”

  A sob escaped Vivian as she plopped back onto the pillow.

  “Let me clean her up a little.” Kat quickly patted the little one dry, then swaddled her and laid her on Vivian’s chest. “Morgan will come cut the cord.”

  “That certainly went quickly.” Nell leaned over the bed beside Ida for a peek at their new niece. “She is beautiful.”

  “I’ll go get Carter and Morgan.” Ida left the door open behind her.

  Breathing a prayer of thanksgiving, Kat washed her hands at the washstand. She was watching the new mother nuzzle her newborn daughter when Vivian suddenly groaned and pulled her knees up.

  Kat returned to the bed and lifted the sheet. “Oh my!”

  Hattie pressed a puzzle piece into the lower right corner of the jigsaw. Harlan sat across from her at the parlor table. He’d driven her and Cherise back to the boardinghouse in an attempt to escape the certain drama of the impending birth.

  Cherise was content playing on the sofa with a couple of dolls Hattie kept on hand, alternating English with French as she entertained her captive audience.

  Harlan grunted, trying to push the same puzzle piece into the same spot for the third time. “I can’t believe my baby girl is having a baby.”

  “I know.” Hattie lifted her teacup from the saucer. “Feels like Vivian arrived in Cripple Creek just a few months ago.” She drained her cup of the tepid tea. “But it also feels like time has been flying by. Soon Kat will have another child.”

  Hattie couldn’t help but wonder how many grandbabies her baby might have given her by now if the Good Lord had chosen to leave her here on earth.

  “Time didn’t stand still then like it is now.” Harlan ran his hand through his silver-tinted auburn hair. “It’s been hours since we left the parsonage.”

  Hattie glanced at the mantel clock. “Two hours and twenty-five minutes to be exact.”


  “Feels like it all started yesterday.” He looked at the puzzle, then up at her. “They promised to telephone us, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, Ida said she’d telephone with the news. I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon.”

  At least she hoped so. If not for Harlan’s sake, for hers. They were both as jumpy as crickets and needed something else to occupy their minds. The puzzle was no longer an adequate distraction.

  “Have you gone to the school to register Cherise yet?” Hattie asked.

  “I took her to meet the principal on Friday.” Harlan looked across the room at Cherise. “It won’t be an easy adjustment, but she needs to be around children. Cherise enjoys Hope and William, but it’s not the same. She needs time with children her own age.”

  Had his eyes been that blue when they’d first met just weeks ago? How could she not have liked this man?

  Harlan laid the troublesome puzzle piece on the table and met her gaze. “May I ask you something?”

  She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “If it’s presumptuous of me, just say so.”

  Presumptuous? Whatever did he intend to ask her? She moistened her lips.

  He glanced at the child. “Cherise needs new clothes. Will you go shopping with us?”

  She stilled in surprise. “That was your bold question?”

  “I don’t wish to take advantage of the fact that you love my daughters or that Cherise and I are renting rooms in your home.”

  “Oh, fiddle-faddle. I count you as a friend, and shopping for a little girl? I’d love to.” Harlan had four grown daughters, but he’d asked her to go with him and Cherise. Hattie’s heart did a little dance. It felt so good to be included in this family.

  Needing to get a grip on her emotions, she looked away and focused on the red flames flickering in the fireplace. She’d do well to remember that being included in a few of the Sinclair family goings-on didn’t give her a permanent place in Harlan Sinclair’s life, lest she start grasping at any crazy romantic notions. At her age?

  “I expected one of my daughters to take Cherise in,” Harlan said, his voice lowered.