by Ann Shorey
“You named him David.” Ward approached the bed. “David what?”
“David Karl O’Connell.”
Franklin reared back. “O’Connell! Why would you want any connection to that . . . that . . .”
“He needs a father’s last name. He can’t go through life with people thinking he was born on the wrong side of the blanket.” She held the sleeping infant toward her brother. “Would you like to hold him?”
Franklin clasped David around his shoulders and lifted him straight into the air, the way he would land a fish.
“Not like that.” Ward pushed next to him and slid his right hand under the baby’s head, supporting the body with his left palm.
Alarmed, Luellen watched the exchange. Would Ward’s injured arm be able to withstand David’s weight? She straightened, ready to gather her son back in her arms, just as Ward settled into one of the chairs.
“I’ve got him. Don’t worry.”
“Where did you learn how to hold a baby?” Luellen couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.
“Well . . . I . . .”
“I’ve got to hear this too,” Franklin said, perching on the edge of the bed. “It’s a safe bet they didn’t teach this at the Academy.”
Ward kept his eyes on David’s sleeping face for a long moment. “I was abandoned as an infant—not much bigger than this little scrap.” He swallowed. “I grew up in a foundling home. When I got to be seven or eight, I was put to work caring for the little ones.” His voice trailed off. When he looked up, his eyes met Luellen’s. She felt she was seeing into his soul.
“I wasn’t adopted until I was twelve, so I had plenty of practice.” He shifted his left leg so his knee supported his weakened arm.
Once Ward had David steadied, she asked, “And then?”
“Obadiah Calder and his wife wanted me. They were older, in their sixties, and needed a son to carry on the Calder name.”
David whimpered.
“Shh, little fellow.” Ward rose and laid the baby in Luellen’s arms. His gaze swept her face. “This little boy is blessed to have a family like yours.”
“Ward—” She reached for his hand.
“I have to work on a report.” His color high, he fled the room.
Franklin stared after him. “All this time I’ve ragged him about making the Army his home, and I never knew . . .”
“You meant no harm.” The open trust in Ward’s eyes had touched a current within her. No wonder he understood how it felt to be the object of gossip and speculation. Undoubtedly he’d experienced many critical slurs as an orphan adopted into a wealthy family. “He wouldn’t have told us about himself if he didn’t feel safe in doing so.”
Her brother nodded. “It’s good for him to be here. The reaction on the post to that duel has hit him hard. Campion’s friends think Ward should’ve been discharged too.”
“Why? Didn’t you say he was copying Ward’s reports?”
“He was. But Campion’s friends don’t know that. Ward won’t say anything in his own defense. Feels he’d be kicking a man when he’s down.”
Luellen thought of the rumors that circulated through the Normal School when her pregnancy came to light. People believed what they wanted to believe.
“I’m glad you brought him home. How long will you stay?”
“He has a week left on medical furlough. Papa’s helping him strengthen his arm. Those quack Army doctors told him not to work it, but Papa says that’s a sure way to end up with a useless limb.”
“He’s the best doctor anywhere. He knows.” Luellen looked down at her sleeping son and dropped a kiss on his dark curls. “Your timing was perfect. You got to meet your nephew—and see Belle.”
Franklin smiled at the mention of Belle’s name. “And I got a bonus today.”
“A bonus?”
“Yes. Now I know how to hold a baby.”
Dr. Gordon allowed Luellen to go downstairs on the last day of Franklin and Ward’s visit. Papa supported her with an arm around her waist, and Mama followed, carrying David. By the time she reached the sitting room, Luellen’s legs trembled with fatigue. The family watched while she grasped the arms of the rocking chair and lowered herself into it. Trickles of perspiration slipped down her temples.
“Why am I so weak?”
“You’ve been bedridden for weeks. You have to get your strength back,” Papa said. “Give it time.”
She reached for David and cuddled him under her chin. Wiggling, he made sucking noises against her neck. “I hope you can help me get stronger the way you’ve helped Ward’s arm. I’ve made plans for earning money this summer.”
Mama and Papa exchanged a glance.
“Earning money for what?” Mama asked.
“To finish school.” Luellen looked up and noticed Ward watching from the doorway.
His worried eyes were fixed on David. “I realize this isn’t my concern, Luellen, but your baby needs you right now.”
“I know that, for heaven’s sake. But I also know a woman who completed her schooling and cared for her infant. If she can do it, so can I.”
He stared at her for a moment, then turned and walked away.
“What’s gotten into you?” Mama asked. “You shouldn’t speak rudely to a guest in our home.”
Heat climbed Luellen’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. No one understands how much it means to me to finish. I’ve sacrificed to get this far. I won’t quit now.”
“No doubt Ward’s aware of your ambition.” Mama put her hands on her hips. “What you don’t realize is how much a baby will change your life. These early days of being awakened in the night are just the beginning. From now on, the baby is your life.”
“I can do both.” She looked out the window at a carriage traveling toward the train depot.
Ward spoke little during supper, and excused himself after the meal to complete his packing. Luellen knew she couldn’t let him return to the post without apologizing for her sharp-tongued remarks.
Once she’d tucked David into his cradle, she crossed the hallway and knocked. “Ward?”
He opened the door, his expression guarded. A valise rested on the bed with a stack of clothing folded nearby.
“I want to apologize for my rudeness this afternoon. I had no call to speak to you like that.”
“No apology necessary. I was out of line to interfere in a family matter.” His voice was as stiff as the high collar of his white shirt.
She remembered the times he’d stood up for her. Without his support, the past months would have been far more difficult. “You weren’t interfering—you were concerned for David.” Her tone pleaded for forgiveness.
“I do have a soft spot for that little fellow.” Ward’s expression mellowed. “I know how it feels to have no parents.”
Luellen bristled. “David has a parent. I promise you, I’ll never do anything that would lead to his harm.”
Ward gripped her shoulder with his left hand. “Of course you won’t. But if you ever need help—of any sort—please let me know.”
Warmth from his hand traveled down her side. She moved a step closer, drawn to the depth in his blue eyes. Her arms ached to wrap themselves around his sturdy body.
What was she doing? A few kind words and she was ready to . . . what? She bit her lip and moved back.
“Th-thank you for the offer.” She turned and escaped to her room.
23
Luellen hurried around the dining table, placing the reader next to a slate. Her first student, Oswald Carstairs, would arrive any moment. It had taken a month to find a family interested in having a child tutored. She believed without Mr. Wolcott’s help she’d still be searching.
She glanced at the cradle through the open door of the sitting room, hoping David would sleep for the next hour. If the Carstairs were pleased with their son’s progress, perhaps they’d tell other parents. The money the registrar returned to her had dwindled with the cost of omnibus and train fares. As things stood now,
she’d need every cent to return for the fall term, if indeed she could return.
When she heard a knock, Luellen smoothed her gored brown skirt and opened the door. Penelope Carstairs stood on the veranda, holding her eight-year-old son’s hand. Her bonnet was tied in a prim bow under her chin. She studied Luellen with dubious eyes.
“Mr. Wolcott assures me you have trained as a teacher. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Won’t you come in?”
Mrs. Carstairs propelled her son forward. “No, thank you. I need to do my marketing. You may send Oswald home when the hour has passed.” She surveyed Luellen again. “He just needs a bit of help with reading, is all. I’m sure he’ll learn quickly.”
Luellen closed the door behind her and leaned against the frame. Her student’s posture bristled defiance. Summoning a cheerful voice, she said, “Well, shall we get started?”
Oswald glared at her. “I don’t need to read. I’m going to be a blacksmith when I grow up, like Mr. Pitt.”
“I happen to know Mr. Pitt can read.” She took his hand. “Come with me. We’ll start by writing your name.”
Once at the table, he scrunched over the slate and printed his name in large capital letters. “There. Can I go now?”
Her thoughts flicked to Daniel and his earnest desire to learn. Why had she assumed that all pupils would be as eager? With a sigh, she turned to Oswald. “Your mother paid for an hour, and we will use every moment. Now, print the alphabet and tell me the sounds of the letters, please.”
Groaning, the boy picked up the pencil and scrawled an A. After writing the next several letters, he came to a halt and fished in his pocket. He placed a marble on the table and watched while it rolled to the edge and plunked on the floor. Before Luellen could stop him, he dove after the white sphere and put it back on the table, where it repeated its race to the edge.
Luellen clamped a hand on Oswald’s shoulder. “Please leave the marble where it is and attend to your letters. You may retrieve it after your lesson.”
He glared at her, shoving his fingers through his cowlicky brown hair. “I’m going to tell my mother you’re mean.”
“Fine. I’ll tell her you’re disobedient.”
While Oswald printed and grumbled, she heard a whimper from the sitting room. “Excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.”
She seized David and dashed up the stairs to the guest room. “Mama. Can you watch him for me until my student leaves?”
Her mother turned, brushing tendrils of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. A pile of blankets lay over a chair. “He’s hungry. I’m afraid you’ll have to tend him yourself. Lily and Edmund will arrive this evening and the room’s not ready.” She unfurled a sheet over the mattress.
David’s whimper grew louder. His little fists clutched at the front of Luellen’s dress. She felt a responsive pulse within her breasts. What would she do with Oswald? Carrying the now-wailing baby, she plodded down the stairs.
The boy sat rolling the marble back and forth, the slate pushed aside.
“We’ll have to stop for now. You may go home. Please ask your mother to bring you here a little earlier next time.”
Oswald jumped to his feet. “I’ll tell her if I remember.” He bolted for the door.
Luellen sagged onto a chair and unfastened her bodice. At this rate, how would she ever manage to return to Allenwood?
Luellen flung open the front door when she saw Papa’s carriage stop by the front walk. She hadn’t seen her sister since Lily’s wedding nearly a year ago. Letters weren’t the same as time spent face-to-face.
Edmund descended first. The sun polished his straw-colored hair with bronze. Frock coat slung over one arm, he reached up to assist Lily. When she stepped to the walk, Luellen dashed forward, eager to engulf her in a hug.
Hoopskirts swaying, Lily reached toward her with gloved hands. “I’ve missed you so. You look wonderful.” She studied Luellen’s face. “Are you feeling well? Mama wrote that you had lung fever before your confinement.”
“I’ve entirely recovered, thank you. A little tired sometimes, but with an infant that’s to be expected.”
“We can’t wait to see him, isn’t that right, Edmund?”
“Yes. In fact—”
Lily jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Let’s get out of the sun, shall we? It was fearfully warm on the train, and leaving the windows open only served to soil my traveling costume.” She brushed at gray coal dust that covered her gathered skirt.
Her arm looped through the crook of her sister’s elbow, Luellen turned toward the house. Mama joined her, and the three of them ascended the steps to the veranda. Edmund trailed behind, carrying a leather valise.
Mama paused at the top of the stairs and looked at Edmund. “Would you please help Lily’s father with the baggage? Take the heaviest pieces if you will.”
“Certainly.” He placed the valise in the entry and returned to the carriage.
Concern crossed Lily’s face. “Is Papa ill? He’s never needed help before.”
“He’s been rather fatigued lately. He says he has a touch of asthma.”
Lily glanced at Luellen for verification.
“Later,” Luellen mouthed.
Once inside the house, Lily hung her flowered bonnet on the hall tree and whirled to face Luellen. “Where’s David? I can’t wait to see him.”
“In here.” She stepped into the sitting room and gathered her son into her arms. He blinked and yawned, waving his fists in the air. Cuddling him close, she nuzzled his soft neck before handing him to her sister.
“He’s absolutely adorable. He’s got your black curls. And look at those blue eyes—just like Brendan’s. Do you think they’ll stay that way?”
“I hope not. I pray he’ll look like a McGarvie through and through.”
“Yes. So do we.” She bounced David in her arms and tickled him under the chin. He rewarded her with a toothless smile.
The next afternoon, Lily joined Luellen in the sitting room while Edmund accompanied Papa on his rounds. The previous night’s supper had been filled with excited conversation, as the family caught up with all the news that hadn’t been written in their letters. Now the two sisters were ready to talk out of earshot of their parents.
Lily leaned forward in her chair, adjusting her lilac-sprigged muslin skirt around her ankles. “How’s Papa, really? He looks so pale.”
A knot of apprehension formed in Luellen’s chest. “I’m frightened for him. There are times he fights for air. I wish he’d let Dr. Gordon examine him.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Mama didn’t write me any of this.”
“She probably didn’t want to worry you.” Luellen shook her head. “While I was away she didn’t write about his health to me, either. Now that I’m home—”
“But you’re not staying. Mama says you’re determined to go back to school, no matter what anyone says.”
“I can’t quit now.”
Lily had always been her ally. Thankful to have her sister on her side, Luellen continued. “I need your help. Somehow we have to convince them without upsetting Papa.” She explained how Alma Guthrie had managed an infant and schooling. “Last year was such a struggle—hiding my condition, fighting weariness—the coming term is bound to be easier.”
“How can you say that? Since I’ve been home you’ve spent more time with David than you have with me. Surely you can’t take him with you to classes.”
“I’ll find a nurse.”
“School is so important that you’d leave your son with a stranger?”
Luellen flushed. “He won’t be left. David will be with me all the time unless I’m in class.”
“After what happened with Brendan, you deserve to reach your goal.” Lily pursed her lips. “I just don’t understand why you can’t wait until your son is older.”
“What difference does it make? I’ll still have David to care for, no matter how old he is. Besides, if I stay away too long, I’
ll have to start over.”
Lily rested her index finger against her cheek. “I may have a solution.”
Luellen watched as she left the room. Leave it to her sister to come up with a plan.
Penelope Carstairs studied Luellen with a dubious expression. Oswald stood behind her on the veranda, a scowl etched across his broad forehead.
“I’m happy to try to help you with your finances, but Oswald tells me your baby interrupted his lesson time. How can you expect him to learn when your attention is elsewhere?”
Luellen strove to look professional, which wasn’t easy with David clinging to her neck and cooing. “I’m sure it won’t happen again. My son normally sleeps for two hours or more after he’s eaten. I was just about to put him in his cradle when you arrived.”
To emphasize her remarks, David gave a huge yawn. His eyelids drooped.
“Well . . .” Penelope hesitated.
Lily joined them at the doorway. “I’ll be happy to watch him while Oswald’s here.” She lifted David from Luellen’s arms and cuddled him close. “You go ahead with your lessons. Don’t worry about a thing.” With a swirl of muslin, she swept into the parlor and closed the door.
Penelope blinked. “In that case, go along, Oswald. Miss McGarvie is ready for you.”
As she led her pupil into the dining room, Luellen seethed at Penelope’s implication that hiring her as a tutor was a charitable act. What had Mr. Wolcott been telling people? She’d have to produce outstanding results with this boy in order to gain credibility.
He slumped in a chair and propped an elbow on the table. “Are you going to make me do the alphabet again?”
“Yes. Do you like to draw pictures?”
“Sometimes.” His lower lip protruded.
“Can you draw an apple?”
“That’s an easy one.” He shot her a scornful look and picked up a pencil.
She pushed the slate in his direction. “After you draw the apple, make a picture of a bell—like the one in the schoolhouse belfry.”
“I get to ring that if I’ve been good in class all day.” Smiling, Oswald completed a sketch of a bell. “What next?”