She held her breath.
“Sweet dreams,” he called out as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
She released her breath and scrambled beneath the cool sheets. Maybe when she awoke, she’d discover everything was just a dream.
***
Cecile opened her eyes, disoriented and wondering where she was until she replayed things in her mind. She remembered. This was Walt’s room. How long had she slept?
She stretched her arms over her head and yawned, surveying a room lit only by the pink and orange flow of the setting sun. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she spied Walt sitting on the small sofa.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes. Much. Thanks for letting me sleep. I needed it.” She sat and cocked her head. “Did you sit there and watch me sleep the entire time?”
He reached over and lit the lamp, then handed her a bundle. “No, I ran some errands and did some shopping. I hope you still like my taste.”
She tore into the paper wrapping, pleasantly surprised to see a new outfit, complete with all the necessary undergarments he'd once referred to as female trappings. Folded underneath the dress, she discovered a modest cotton nightdress. She crushed the garments to her chest. “Thank you. You seem to have thought of everything.” Chuckling, she added, “I suppose you noticed I need them.”
“It’s nice to hear you laugh again, Cece. I missed hearing that.”
There was a knock on the door. Outside, Mrs. Riley held a bucket of hot water which Walt quickly took. “You shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy up the stairs.”
“Oh pshaw, I’ve carried youngins’ who weighed more. There’s another pail downstairs, ready and waiting.”
From the curtained closet, Walt pulled out a sculpted tin bathtub and dumped the bucket of steaming hot water into it.
“Goodness, I’ve never seen such a contraption.” Cecile stared at the round bottom resembling a washtub, but noted the one side raised and shaped into a backrest of sorts. “What will they think of next?”
“I ordered it from a catalog and had it shipped cross country.” Mrs. Riley rested clutched hands on her belly, pride showing on her face.
“I thought you might appreciate trying it out,” Walt added.
“Boy, would I! Besides my sore and aching muscles, my hair has a week’s worth of dust in it.”
Walt followed Mrs. Riley downstairs to fetch the second bucket while Cecile sat in bed, clutching his shirt around her.
He returned and added more water, then pulled a tiny vial from his pocket, poured it into the bathtub and swished it around. Bubbles formed and the fragrant scent of honeysuckle filled the air. “I picked this up at the mercantile while I was there. That sweet smell always reminds me of our first kiss on your front porch.”
Cecile melted at the memory. That kiss seemed like a lifetime ago.
Walt left her to bathe. She heaved a sigh, since she wasn’t comfortable disrobing in front of him and she didn’t want to have to ask him to go. Things had sure changed. She remembered when she couldn’t wait to undress for him. Why did she feel so awkward?
Cecile got out of bed and stripped off Walt’s shirt, and then slipped into the bubbly warmth, sliding as far down as she could to let the hot water soothe her body. She rested her head on the back of the tub and wiggled her toes to pop the bubbles that formed on top of the water. She wanted to relax, but kept thinking Walt might waltz back into the room at any moment.
She inhaled and slid her entire body beneath the surface. When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she came up for air. Rivulets of water ran down her face as she twisted the ends of her auburn tresses to wring out the excess. She scrubbed her body all over, letting the sweet smell of honeysuckle seep into every pore and strand of hair.
Finished, she stepped out of the tub onto a small latch-hooked rug, grabbed the towel Walt had left on the bed, and dried thoroughly. Her stomach growled in response to the delicious aroma seeping beneath the bedroom door. She hadn’t eaten in hours.
She surveyed the undergarments that were once a familiar part of her daily attire. A long time had passed since she wore anything similar. As she put on the stiff petticoat, she was reminded of its discomfort. She missed her soft doeskin dress.
Cecile pulled the emerald green dress over her head and dropped it over her petticoat. Standing back, she surveyed as much of herself as she could in the small mirror over the basin. She ran a brush through her long, damp hair and pulled it back into the pretty ribbon Walt bought to match the dress. He remembered a ribbon, but not shoes. She had nothing other than the old, scuffed boots she’d worn there. She’d become accustomed to wearing moccasins that felt like going barefoot, so what was the difference. She wasn’t about to wear those old scuffed boots with such a beautiful dress. The gown was long enough to hide her shoeless feet and she was starving.
She took one last look in the mirror. The redness had disappeared from her eyes, and the warmth of the bath had brought color back to her cheeks. Ready to savor whatever created such wonderful smells, she started down for dinner. At the top of the stairs, she paused and took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever the evening brought. Her damp feet clung to each step as she went down to join Walt and Mrs. Riley.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Following the delicious aroma of warm bread and freshly baked apple pie, Cecile found her way to the dining room. It had been a very long time since she smelled such wonderful treats, and she certainly hadn’t prepared any. She thought back to the bland meals she prepared for Lone Eagle and wondered why he always ate with such gusto. She’d learned to like rabbit stew and soups made with wild roots and vegetables, but somehow the aromas were never quite as tantalizing.
For a fleeting moment she pictured Lone Eagle, camped for the night, sitting in front of the fire, a freshly caught rabbit cooking on a spit. She shook her head to clear the vision and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She’d expected to miss him a great deal but not to the point of feeling hollow inside.
Mrs. Riley already sat at the table, and Walt, like a true gentleman, stood behind an empty chair, waiting for Cecile to sit.
“Thank you, sir.” She forced a smile, took her seat and smoothed her dress, creating a place on her lap for the pretty yellow napkin lying next to her dinner plate. “Mrs. Riley, dinner smells delicious.”
“Thank you. I hope you find everything to your liking.”
Cecile couldn’t get enough of the wonderful yeast rolls with fresh butter and clover honey. The pot roast melted in her mouth, and she piled a second helping of mashed potatoes and gravy on her plate.
Walt cocked his head and stared at her heaped plate. “Cece, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you eat so much!”
“Everything tastes so wonderful.” She wiped a dribble of butter from her chin and finished her last gulp of milk. With a sigh, she leaned back and placed her napkin on her empty plate.
Walt laughed. “Mrs. Riley, I assure you my wife doesn’t eat this much all the time.”
At the mention of “wife,” Cecile stiffened. While she slept, Walt must have told Mrs. Riley about their relationship. It’d been a long time since Cecile had thought of herself as Mrs. Walt Williams. Given the circumstances, she wondered if she still was.
Mrs. Riley rose and started to clean the table. “Why don’t you two young people make yourself comfortable in the living room?”
“Mrs. Riley, let me help you,” Cecile offered.
“I can manage just fine. You just run along. I’m sure you want to make up for lost time with that handsome husband of yours.”
“All right, if you’re sure I can’t help you.” Cecile reluctantly joined Walt in the living room.
***
Walt pulled her close and inhaled deeply the honeysuckle scent in her hair. “You look beautiful, Cece. I’ve missed you so much.”
The look in his eyes revealed the hunger and passion he felt. “How about some desse
rt?” He bent to claim her lips in a passionate kiss, but she pulled away and held him at arm’s length. “Walt, what would Mrs. Riley think if she walked in?”
“She’d probably think I was kissing my wife.” He laughed and added, “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I suppose I can wait till we’re alone in our own room.”
Cecile winced at his hinted intimacy. How could she pretend to be his wife when her heart ached for Lone Eagle? There had to be a way to avoid sharing Walt’s bed.
Walt snapped his fingers to bring her thoughts back to the moment. “Cece… Cecile, where are you? Your mind is a hundred miles away. I was just asking if you felt up to continuing with your story.”
He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. There was no escaping. The story had to be told sooner or later, and although she preferred never, she had to tell him what he wanted to know. She preferred to stand, and leaned against the mantle. “Where did I leave off? Oh yes, I remember. I was telling you how scared I was and how I was too naïve and useless to find help.”
She started to pick up where she left off when Mrs. Riley popped her head in the doorway. “Goodnight, you two. I’m off to bed so you can have your privacy. Have a lovely evening.”
“Good night, Mrs. Riley, and thank you for the great meal.” Immediately Walt’s focus was back on Cecile. The welcome interruption ended far too soon.
She took a big breath and started once again. “Several days passed and you hadn’t come home. I was frantic with worry and scared to death. You hadn’t told me exactly how many days you would be gone, but when you didn’t come back for such a long time, I knew something was wrong. Then I started worrying about me. I couldn’t even get to anyone to tell them you where missing. A lot of help I was.” She took another breath before continuing. “One day, I heard a noise and thought you’d come home. Before I could even react, an Indian burst through the front door and collapsed right in front of me. I was terrified!
Walt’s mouth gaped.
“When I finally gathered enough courage to touch him, I thought for sure he was dead. I rolled him over, and all I saw was blood. He’d been wounded. When I felt a pulse, I knew I had to do something to help him, so I cleaned his wounds the best I knew how and took care of him until he got better. His name is Lone Eagle. He is Sioux.”
When she paused, the silence was deafening.
“It took several days for Lone Eagle to recuperate,” she continued. “I pretty much had to nurse him around the clock. When he regained consciousness, he told me how he got wounded. His accounting of what happened included a description of a man that matched you perfectly, complete with wagon, horses, and supplies. He told me how he tried to help you when you were ambushed. The last thing he recalled was waking up wounded, to find everyone gone. Do you remember him?”
“No. Just three men riding into my camp.” He cupped his chin and gave a slight shake of his head.
“His story was too much of a coincidence, and when Lone Eagle described what had taken place, I feared you dead and when you didn’t come back to me….” Tears of remembrance rimmed her eyes, and she struggled to find the right words. “He…Lone Eagle stayed and helped me deal with the shock of losing you. When time came for him to leave, he refused to abandon me. He didn’t want to leave me all alone, especially since I….” Her voice cracked and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Especially since what?” Walt sat straighter, his head cocked.
She steeled herself. “I…I believed I was pregnant.”
Walt’s eyes widened. “Were you?”
Should she lie, tell the truth, feign illness? Doubt engulfed her.
“Well?”
“Yes, yes I was, and I was terrified I was going to have a baby all by myself. I was panic-stricken at the thought of being alone, so I went with Lone Eagle.” She bit her bottom lip, hoping Walt understood the direness of her situation.
“Went with him? You went with him, willingly?”
“Would you rather I stayed alone and died?”
Walt didn’t answer right away. Cecile’s heart pounded like a hammer against an anvil.
He slowly shook his head. “I’m so sorry I put you in a position of having to make that decision. How can I be mad at you? It wasn’t your fault.” A pained looked glazed his eyes.
Cecile sat next to him and told about her travels to the winter campground, her gnawing fear of not being accepted by the tribe, and her eventual reception in the Sioux camp. She described the warm way in which they welcomed her, but for only one reason. She paused to take a breath and gather her courage. Walt reached for her hand.
“What exactly was the reason?” His dark brow rose.
“Because… I…I was the woman of Lone Eagle.” She held her breath.
Walt gasped and dropped his hand from hers as if it had turned to fire. He stood and walked to the hearth where he remained for several minutes with his back to her. Suddenly he spun around, asking pointedly, “And were you the woman of Lone Eagle?”
He turned back around. “I can’t bear to see your face when you answer me.”
Cecile walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. “Walt, I don’t want to talk to your back. I need you to look at me.”
He faced her.
“I wasn’t his woman in that way for a very long time, but yes, I became his wife. I didn’t have you anymore. I was in an unfamiliar place with people who were strangers to me. Lone Eagle was the only person to cling to. I didn’t know what else to do, Walt. I thought you were dead.”
“Then why did you come back if you thought I was dead?” His mood and tone changed dramatically.
She softened her voice hoping he would too. “Because a white man came to the village wearing your buckle, and I found out he'd helped you and that you might possibly be alive. That’s why I’m here.”
Walt went back to the couch and sat. He hung his head in his hands, his shoulders drooped. What he was feeling right now: hurt, guilt, worry, anger? How awful if he was picturing her in another man’s arms. The thought of Lone Eagle with another certainly caused her pain.
“This is all a little more than I bargained for.” He still stared at the floor.
Cecile sat next to him and took his hand. “You have to know I loved you with all my heart, but when I lost you, or thought I had, I did what I needed to do to survive. I never meant to fall in love with someone else—to let any of this happen. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you.” Emotion choked her and she hung her head and sobbed.
“You said you were pregnant with my child,” Walt turned his gaze on her. “Then where is the baby?”
The tone in his voice challenged the validity of her story. Cecile wasn’t surprised. What else had she expected? She’d just broken his heart. Did she continue with the truth? She made her decision. There was no point causing him further pain. He already knew she loved another man. The final straw would be finding out she left his child with the Sioux. She lowered her chin to her chest. “I lost our child.” The lie rolled off her tongue with ease.
Walt took a deep breath.
She’d expected more than a look of relief, but her untruth raised only an eyebrow. Clearly he’d rather have no child at all than one who lived with Indians. She’d made the right decision in leaving Two Clouds behind. She may have shattered Walt’s dreams with her own actions, but he didn’t seem very disturbed at having lost his firstborn. He had no idea he had a wonderful son he’d never know.
They talked far into the night—more like strangers who had just met than a married couple. She told him about the Indian’s rituals and way of life, and her motherly love for Rain Woman. Cecile purposely avoided making references to the child, but not mentioning his name was hard, especially when she realized how much Two Clouds looked like Walt—the same black hair and angular chin. Even their noses were shaped the name.
Not wanting to heap on more pain, Cecile omitted details about her wedding to Lone Eagle and their life together during the past months. Al
l she wanted was for Walt to really understand what wonderfully warm and kind-spirited people the Sioux were, but no matter how she painted the picture, the look in Walt’s eyes didn’t change. The end result was the same—she’d betrayed him with another—a savage.
The sun was barely beginning to light up the sky. Walt gestured toward the stairs. “Maybe we should go upstairs and get some rest. This has been pretty hard on both of us.”
She was apprehensive about sharing a bed with him. After everything she’d just told him, surely he wouldn’t expect her to.
They walked up stairs in silence. When they reached the room, Walt grabbed some extra blankets from the closet. “You take the bed; I’ll make myself a pallet.”
Cecile said nothing, but reveled in the relief. She turned down the blankets and crawled into bed. “Goodnight, Walt. I hope someday you can forgive me.”
***
She awoke to find Walt gone. She washed up, brushed her hair, and put on her dress. Using her hands, she tried to smooth away the creases made from sitting. She took a last look at herself in the mirror, pinched some color into her cheeks, and went downstairs, thinking she might find him there.
He sat in the living room, drinking coffee and reading the morning newspaper. His demeanor was strangely cheerful and upbeat. “Good morning, sunshine. Would you like a cup?”
The fresh brew smelled delicious, and oh, how she’d missed it, especially with milk and sugar. “I’d love some.”
She was just enjoying the first sip when he started to speak. “A lot has happened and I have decided we don’t need to continue talking about it. It won’t change anything. We should both be thankful to be alive and that we have another chance. I promise to try, Cece, will you?”
She held the cup midair and stared at him over it. Wasn’t trying to make amends why she’d come back? She set the coffee on a nearby table and clasped his hand. This had to be a difficult decision for such a proud man. Breaking the silence, she looked directly into his eyes. “Yes, I will.”
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