Whispering Pines

by Scarlett Dunn

  “What have you been eating that you don’t like?” Morgan asked. He hadn’t seen a change in her eating habits.

  “The crust on my bread,” Rose said. “I’ve never eaten it before.”

  “Why haven’t you told me you weren’t feeling well?”

  She smiled at him. “It’s nothing serious, just a little nausea some mornings.”

  He gently placed her on her feet. “Have you told Granny?”

  “No. I think I know what it is.”

  Morgan stared at her. “Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, but I believe I am.”

  He pulled her in his arms. “Are you sure it’s possible?”

  She gave him a mischievous smile. “I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve done everything right.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “I’d say we’ve done everything more than right. If you are with child, it will be the second best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “What was the first?”

  Morgan cupped her face tenderly as he looked into her beautiful green eyes. “The day you married me.”

  Rose started unbuttoning his shirt. “Why don’t we see if we can do it better?”

  The lady didn’t have to ask him twice. “I’ve always heard practice makes perfect.”

  When she finished unbuttoning his shirt, he stripped out of it, and kissed her as she ran her hands over his shoulders.

  “Would you unbutton my dress?”

  Morgan arched his brow at her. He thought of their wedding night. “It’d be my pleasure.” When he saw the long row of buttons down her back, he said, “But I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the buttons on your dresses. Why are there always so many?”

  Rose turned to look at him. “To torment you.”

  Morgan wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “It works. I thought I’d never get you out of your wedding dress.”

  Rose remembered how she trembled under his touch that night, and nothing had changed. She knew she would tremble under his touch fifty years from now. “Hurry up, husband, I want to go to bed.”

  He liked the sound of that. “Yes, ma’am.” As soon as he unfastened the last button on her dress, he started yanking off his boots and finished stripping out of his clothes. He hurried to open the window, and when he turned around, Rose was already in the center of the large bed waiting for him, watching his every move. He slowly approached the bed, lowered the flame on the bedside table lamp so it cast a soft light over the room. He wanted to see his beautiful wife. He pulled the covers back, and smiled. His eyes conveying his every thought as he crawled in beside her.

  * * *

  Much later, Morgan was lying on his back, with Rose’s head resting on his chest. They were listening to the wind rustling through the pines, and an owl hooting in the distance.

  “I’ve never asked what you hear when you go through the pines,” Rose said.

  Morgan had never told anyone other than Joseph what he heard in the pines. “To me, it always sounds like angels singing. What do you hear?”

  Rose looked up and smiled at him. Over five years ago she’d told Joseph Longbow when she met a boy who heard the same sounds in the pines that she heard, she’d marry him when she grew up. She’d done exactly that. “I hear angels singing.”

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  For He will command His angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.

  —Psalms 91:11 (NIV)

  1876

  It was only the second day of September, but the air was crisp and falling leaves were floating on a gentle breeze, a sure indication summer would soon be saying good-bye. Adelaide was thankful the journey home to Whispering Pines had been much more pleasant than the trek East five years prior. She, along with her two sisters, had left Whispering Pines on a hot July day, and the entire trip had been one laden with dust, unbearable heat, and cranky, smelly passengers wedged elbow to elbow inside the coach. She couldn’t imagine a more miserable experience, and she’d nearly jumped for joy when she’d learned there would be no additional passengers on the last leg of this trip. Actually, it was a godsend; the three children she was taking home were able to stretch out and sleep, as they were at this moment.

  After the children had worn her out with their many questions, she’d suggested they settle on the coach’s bench seats while she read the story of David and Goliath. It was their favorite Bible story, and she’d read it to them so many times she knew it by heart. The children were quiet, listening intently, waiting for their favorite part, David slaying the tormenting giant. Addie didn’t make it that far this time; the rhythmic motion of the stagecoach lulled the children to sleep in minutes.

  Addie’s eyes flickered over their innocent faces as they slept. She smiled, thinking of their many questions about their new home and cowboys. Davey, who was twelve years old, going on twenty, wanted to be a cowboy, and to his utter dismay he had yet to see what he thought was an honest-to-goodness cowboy. Addie had all but promised him that a cowboy or two would be traveling with them, but it was not to be, and Davey was sorely disappointed.

  In truth, Addie was as excited as the children to reach Whispering Pines. She couldn’t wait to see her grandmother. She’d longed to return home for over a year, but she had promised to work for a period of time at the orphanage, and she had to see it through. It was always her plan to return home to teach, but when she became involved with the orphanage back East, she’d found her true purpose. Once she’d shared her desire to open an orphanage in Whispering Pines with the superintendent of the orphanage, he’d lent his full support and plans quickly came together. Everything had fallen into place so perfectly, Addie’s inner voice told her the orphanage was her destiny. She knew that as surely as she knew her name.

  It wasn’t without some regret that she was leaving some close friends behind, but Whispering Pines called to her. Her thoughts drifted to Prescott. Prescott Adler III and his parents were benefactors of the orphanage in Boston. They had also donated the Colonial Revival–style house in Boston where the orphanage was located. She’d met Prescott the day she’d interviewed for a teaching position with the superintendent, and not long after their initial meeting, Prescott invited her to dine. He’d been her escort to every social function for the past year. He’d often hinted that one day he might make an offer of marriage, but it never materialized. She wondered if he missed her now that she was gone.

  No doubt, Prescott’s mother was overjoyed that she’d left Boston. His mother never failed to remind her how fortunate she was to have caught her son’s eye. Mrs. Adler had a way of looking down her patrician nose when she discussed Addie’s inferior background, as though she had a choice in the matter of the family or circumstances into which she’d been born. The Adlers were one of Boston’s wealthier families; old money, as Mrs. Adler would quietly discern when introducing her to Boston’s elite. Frankly, Adelaide found it difficult to appreciate the difference between old money and new money. As Granny always said, Money doesn’t determine a person’s character.

  Pulling her thoughts off Prescott, and what might have been, Addie decided it was the perfect time to check her appearance while the children were sleeping. She opened her reticule to retrieve the elegant tortoiseshell compact that had been a Christmas gift from Prescott last year, and peeked at her reflection. She fiddled with her hair until she was satisfied her unruly curls were under control, then turned her attention on her pale face. As she pinched her cheeks to add a little color, she wondered what it was like for her sister Rose when she looked in a mirror. What would it be like to see the image of an uncommonly beautiful woman instead of an average face? She would never know; she had long ago accepted she would never have a face that would launch a thousand ships. Checking the mirror one last time, she mutt
ered, “Not bad for an old maid.”

  She snapped the compact closed and glanced out over the passing landscape. No matter her accomplishments during the last five years, she worried her marital status would be the first thing everyone would mention when she arrived home. She’d told herself that twenty-six wasn’t such an advanced age, yet she was well aware most women her age were married with children. Even her younger sister had recently wed the most handsome man in Whispering Pines, so Addie thought folks were bound to pity her all the more. It was generally considered unseemly for the younger sister to marry before the eldest married. Perhaps she wouldn’t be subjected to as much salacious gossip since her eldest sister, Emma, had never married.

  She’d thought Prescott might ask her to marry once she told him she was leaving. But she hadn’t made her decision to leave Boston to force Prescott to propose. Even if he had asked her to marry, it wouldn’t have made a difference in her decision to go home—at least that’s what she told herself when he didn’t profess his undying affection. She was fond of Prescott, but she’d always dreamed of marrying a man who took her breath away. Like her sister’s husband, Morgan LeMasters. Not only was Morgan considered the most handsome man in the territory, he was also the most eligible, and there wasn’t a woman in Whispering Pines who wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to marry him. It came as no surprise Morgan had been smitten by Rose, and Addie couldn’t wait to hear how he’d won her hand. Rose had had her choice of suitors in Boston, but she’d always kept them at arm’s length, not encouraging their attentions. Addie sighed. If she were as comely as Rose, she wouldn’t worry about being an old maid. Everyone would think she was just waiting for the right man. Sometimes the truth was more difficult to face.

  She told herself not to waste time worrying about what people might think. She was happy with her choices. Nothing would be as rewarding as opening an orphanage and providing children a home until they were adopted. Like the three children traveling with her now; they were literally starved for love and attention. Addie wanted to fulfill their emotional needs, and provide them with some stability in their lives. Faith, hope, love. Isn’t that what Granny taught were the most important things in life? What could be more important than loving children? She might die having never experienced the love of a man, but that didn’t mean her life would have been meaningless.

  Prescott often reminded her she shouldn’t become so attached to the children since they would leave the orphanage one day. He’d said he couldn’t imagine living on the premises of an orphanage as if the children were his own. Prescott was financially generous, giving the orphanage more support than she could imagine, but that was where his commitment ended. After spending a year with these three children in particular, she almost dreaded the day they would be adopted. If Prescott had asked her to marry and agreed to adopt the children, she might have been tempted to stay in Boston.

  She gave herself a mental shake. One couldn’t live their life with what-ifs, one had to go forward. She glanced out the window once more, and realized they were close to town. “Children, wake up. We are almost there.”

  Davey’s eyes snapped open, and he slid across the bench to stick his head out the opening. “Really?”

  Adelaide shook her head at his question. Davey reminded her of a doubting Thomas; he had to see everything with his own eyes to believe. “Yes, really.” She leaned over and gently shook the girls. “Girls, time to get ready.”

  “Ready for what?” Jane asked as she slowly moved to a sitting position.

  “Time to straighten your dresses. We are almost there.” Adelaide watched as Jane’s eyes moved to her younger sister, Claire. Jane was the middle child, and at ten years old, she’d taken on the responsibility of looking after her baby sister.

  Jane stood and ran her hands over her blue dress, smoothing out the wrinkles before she squeezed beside her brother to look out the window.

  Claire was only four years old, but she understood they were going to a new place where they might find people who wanted to adopt them. She climbed in Adelaide’s lap, and looked up at her with large, pale blue eyes. “Are we going to find my papa now?”

  Adelaide ran her fingers through Claire’s blond curls and kissed her cheek. The question was asked with such yearning that Addie knew it was one Claire had long considered. “We are going to our new home. Right now that is what is important. You will get to meet my grandmother, my sister, and her new husband. They will be part of your family too.”

  Claire scooted off of her lap and tugged at her pink dress with her chubby little dimpled fingers. “Does it look good?”

  Adelaide smiled at the beautiful child. “Perfect.” She glanced at Davey and Jane as they craned their necks out the window. “Do you see anything yet?”

  “No, ma’am, not yet,” Jane said. “Do you think your grandmother will like us?”

  Hearing that question brought a lump to Adelaide’s throat. Sometimes the children would ask such questions so unexpectedly that it would catch her unaware. It never failed to sadden her that they thought no one would love them, or want them. “I know Granny will love you, just as my sister Rose, and her husband, Morgan, will love you.”

  “Are they as nice as you, Miss Adelaide?” Davey asked.

  “I think they are, but you will see for yourself.”

  “Will we really learn to ride a horse?”

  “You most certainly will. To live out here, riding is a necessity.” Adelaide had wanted to teach them to ride in Boston, but the superintendent at the orphanage wouldn’t hear of it.

  “I think I see something,” Jane said. “There aren’t very many buildings. Are you sure this is the right place?”

  Adelaide felt the coach slowing, and she leaned to look out over Jane’s head. “It’s a much smaller town than Boston.”

  “I want to see,” Claire said, worming her way to the window.

  The coach pulled to a halt in front of the hotel. Davey made a move to open the door, but Adelaide cautioned, “Wait for the driver.”

  The stagecoach driver, George, opened the door to see the two older children ready to jump to the ground. “I bet you children are happy to be here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Davey said, leaping from the stagecoach. He looked around, and his eyes landed on two very large men and two women walking toward the stagecoach.

  Jane jumped to the ground next, and Adelaide was holding on to Claire’s hand to help her out, but Claire pulled away and vaulted out the door.

  “Claire!” Addie exclaimed in horror.

  Jack Roper had been talking with Granny, Rose and Morgan when the stagecoach arrived, so he walked with them to greet Rose’s sister. He was saying hello to George when he saw the little girl out of the corner of his eye. She was holding her arms out as though she expected someone would be waiting to catch her when she jumped. Reacting quickly, Jack took one step closer to the coach and scooped the child up before she hit the ground. His heart was in his throat when he looked down at the curly blond bundle in his hands. Her eyes were fixated on his face, and she didn’t seem the least bit rattled by the incident. He couldn’t help but smile at her trusting, impish face. He’d never seen such an adorable child. “Well, hello.”

  “Hello,” Claire said, her eyes boring into his with more intensity than any outlaw Jack had ever faced.

  “Claire! Don’t you ever . . .” Addie stopped. Claire was safe and secure in the arms of a tall man who had his back to her. Seeing Claire was not injured from her jump, Addie’s heart rate settled.

  “Addie!” Rose exclaimed when Addie appeared at the coach’s door.

  Jack turned, positioned Claire on his hip, and extended his hand to assist Addie to the ground. She didn’t look a thing like Rose. Addie had auburn hair and blue eyes, and she was taller than her younger sister, not to mention she had a much fuller figure. She wasn’t a heart-stopping beauty like Rose, but she had a sweet, innocent look about her, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

  As
soon as the man holding Claire turned, Adelaide recognized Sheriff Roper. What she didn’t remember, or perhaps she’d never noticed, was his ruggedly appealing face. His features were not as perfectly formed as Morgan LeMasters’s, not handsome in the usual definition. More like strikingly dangerous looking. The slash of a thin scar running along the top of his cheekbone, along with his severely square jaw and penetrating silver eyes, lent him a formidable appearance. “Sheriff,” she said, placing her hand in his. As soon as her feet were on the ground, Rose and Granny converged on her and wrapped their arms around her.

  “I’m so glad you’re home,” Granny choked out on a sob.

  “I’m happy to be home.” Addie was so overcome with emotion seeing her grandmother that she could barely speak. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Granny pulled back, and seeing Addie’s tears, she pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and started dabbing at her cheeks. “Now, no crying. You’re home and this is a happy day.”

  Addie wiped her tears away. “Of course it is. These are happy tears.” She turned to the children. “Let me introduce you to the children.” She placed her arm around Davey’s shoulders. “This is Davey, the eldest, and our protector on our journey.” Jane was standing behind her, so Addie reached for her hand and urged her forward. “This is Jane, and I don’t know what I would have done without her help.” Addie’s eyes moved to the sheriff, and she pointed to the young child in his arms. “Claire is the youngest, and as you can see, a real handful.” She gave Claire a stern look. “Claire, you shouldn’t jump from the coach. You could have hurt yourself. Thank the sheriff for catching you.”

  Claire scanned the group before she turned her serious, wide eyes on Jack again. “Thank you for catchin’ me.”

  “Any time,” Jack replied.

  Running her tiny fingers over the scar on Jack’s cheek, Claire frowned. “Hurt?”

  Jack looked at her sweet little face filled with concern. He smiled at her, flashing a row of perfectly aligned white teeth. “Not any longer, honey.”