by Mary Birk
Meg put her arms around her sister as Anne broke down into tears.
“He never even opened my letters.”
“You’re kidding?”
“He offered to give them back to me, all unopened.” She sniffled. “People open junk mail, for God’s sake. I must have seemed so pathetic to him.”
“You’re not pathetic. You didn’t know how he felt. Now you do, and you just need to proceed accordingly.”
“I did okay at dinner, didn’t I?”
“You were perfect. Civilized and polite. Absolutely perfect.”
“I didn’t hit that stupid Miranda who was hanging on Terrence.” She jiggled her arms when Michael grunted a complaint at being ignored.
“That’s right. That was especially civilized, because she deserved it.”
Anne laughed through her tears. “Can you get me a tissue, please? My arms are full.”
“The two of them deserve each other.” Meg wiped the tears from Anne’s face.
“I can’t really blame Terrence for not wanting a wife who’s embarrassed him and his family over and over.”
“It wasn’t all your fault, Anne.”
“Maybe not, but it was mostly my fault. Anything else he could have said, I could have argued with, but when he said that, I just gave up.” She shook her head. “Oh, God, I can’t wait to go home.”
“We will soon, don’t worry.”
“Now that I know there’s no chance Terrence will come back to me, I can move on.” She held Michael close with one hand, and he went on with his determined nursing, oblivious to anything going on around him. “It’ll be easier now, knowing it’s over.”
Meg took her cup over to the tray and came back to the bed. She lay down and curled up against Anne’s back, stroking her hair.
“It will. Give it time.”
“It’s like a death, I guess. You just have to accept it and move on. You know how Jeanne always said her children kept her going after she lost Jeffrey? Now I know what she meant. It was the same for Andrew with Lenore when he lost Marisol. I just have to survive this. Get up every morning and take care of Michael, do what I need to do to make sure he has a good home and a good life—whatever that entails. Like getting along with Terrence and his family, not making a mess of this visit, figuring out what to do about my work, and then, when I get back home, deciding what to do about Andrew. I’ll just take things a little bit at a time, do what I can, and then one day I’ll wake up and not want to die.”
She started to cry again, and Meg held her.
When she finally stopped, Meg spoke, smoothing her hair. “So, about breakfast, sweetie, what do you think? Are we going downstairs? If you don’t want to, I can bring up a plate of whatever makes your milk happy.”
“I guess we should go downstairs. Everyone will want to see Michael, and I want to make sure they have time with him. They’ll be a big part of his life.” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
“Me too. This would be a nightmare if you were the only Christian for the lions to eat.”
Anne forced a smile. “I dread it. That Miranda is all over Terrence.”
“I can’t imagine he really likes her.”
“I can’t be objective about her right now, but she’d probably fit in with his life better than I do. My problem is I can’t see him with anyone but me.”
Meg handed her a fresh tissue. “No more crying.”
“I can’t promise that, but I promise that’s the end of tears for today. No more crying until after midnight. Then I get a fresh allotment of tears to spend.” Anne carefully disengaged herself from Michael and raised herself off of the bed. “Will you watch him while I get ready, please? He’s half asleep, but he needs to be burped. Then I’ll take over while you get ready.”
“No problem.”
“God, this is going to be an ordeal. Not only do we have to make it through the day, but we have the christening tonight and the party afterwards to get through. At least Mom and Jeanne and the kids will be here soon. More moral support, which I definitely need.”
Meg picked up the baby and put him over her shoulder. “I almost forgot it’s Christmas Eve. Happy Christmas Eve.”
“Oh yes, very happy.” Anne made a face. “I’ll take a bath and get dressed so we can go downstairs. Might as well get the fun started.”
Chapter 17
REID SAT at the dining room table with his coffee and part of the morning newspaper. The long table, stripped of its finery from the night before, was covered by a simple white cloth and centered by an arrangement of winter evergreens. The fragrance from the pine boughs mingled with the smell of coffee and sausage. It smelled like home and Christmas.
He’d gotten up early after not sleeping well and went down to work out for an hour. That had at least helped dissipate some of the tension he was feeling. Then he spent some time in the cold chapel before finally going in to breakfast, where he’d been joined by his father. By tacit agreement, neither had mentioned their conversation of the night before.
Thomas Haney came in, mumbling good mornings, and went over to the sideboard filled with silver serving dishes to help himself to breakfast. He got his food and took a seat. Picking up his fork, he looked at Reid. “Superb reviews on the single malt, did you see?”
Reid nodded absently, then realizing his brother-in-law had paused expectantly, said, “Great work.”
Haney went on enthusiastically about the various comments the whiskey had gotten, but apparently sensing Reid wasn’t in a conversational mood, eventually gave up and turned his attention to the Earl, who was more than happy to discuss distillery business.
Reid took his coffee and paper and went over to one of the upholstered chairs by the window. Outside, big, thick flakes of snow came down at a steady pace. It was too early to call Harry and check on the investigation. Reid supposed he’d interrupted the man’s private life enough when he’d called so late the night before. Perhaps it had just been too long since he’d had a private life himself for him to remember to take that into account. In fact, between his work, his commissions and committees, speaking at conferences, writing reports, he could hardly even remember a private life. But now, at least for a short time, his son was here. For now, he had a small piece of a private life again. But the boy was upstairs, and he was downstairs.
He would have gone to check out his birds in the Falcon House, but he didn’t want to leave and miss Anne if she came down with the baby. According to Bernard, who’d been setting out the food, the Earl and Reid had been the first down to breakfast, so he knew she hadn’t been down yet. She’d said he could see Michael first thing in the morning. He wondered if after what he said to her yesterday, Anne would think it inappropriate for him to go to her room to see the baby, or if he had to wait for them to come downstairs for breakfast. He appreciated her agreeing to keep up appearances through this visit. Then, after the holidays, they would start the annulment process and set up some sort of schedule for when he would have regular time with Michael. Right now he just wanted to see the baby as much as he could.
Behind him, the other two men continued their discussion of the family business. He didn’t pay attention to their discussion, but vaguely heard his father leave to take the dogs for a morning run.
Reid had heard the baby cry a little bit in the night, but the child seemed to be quickly quieted by the murmurings he knew must have been made by Anne. He pictured her in the nightgown he’d seen her in earlier—a special kind of nightgown for nursing. She must have had to buy a lot of things for the baby, but she hadn’t used any of the money he sent to do it. His checks had never been cashed—and he knew she’d never touched any of the money he’d put in her Scottish bank account. She hadn’t even taken the checkbook with her to the States. Was Grainger giving her money? He closed his eyes. Damn it, Anne. Damn it.
Restless, he got up and went to the sideboard to refill his coffee cup. He didn’t need more coffee, but he neede
d to do something. He couldn’t just lurk around the dining room. Would they never come down? Maybe she wasn’t coming to breakfast at all. Great. He’d just drunk a river of coffee for nothing.
He put down his cup and pushed open the door to the kitchen, headed for the back where he knew the cook would be. Mrs. Paulson would know if trays had been sent up and if indications were that his wife might be coming down for breakfast.
Surprised but clearly pleased to see him, the cook looked up from her baking board where she was rolling pastry. “Oh, it’s himself. What’re you doing in my kitchen? Not enough food for you in the dining room?”
“I just thought I’d come out and see you. Say good morning.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Fresh as always.” Her voice was brisk, but he could tell she was pleased. “You certainly have been a long time away.”
“Aye. Where’s all your help?”
“Greta’s still doing trays, and the others don’t start ‘til nine today. They’ll be here late for the party.”
“What are you making there?” He indicated where the woman had been working.
“Just some pastries for tea later. And some things for tonight. For the baby’s christening. ‘Tis going to be quite the feast for our little laird.”
He tried to look casual. “I was wondering, did Ms. Michaels mention if she was coming down to breakfast?”
She looked balefully at him. He knew the fact he and his wife weren’t sleeping in the same room wouldn’t be news to her. Reid was sure their sleeping arrangements had been noted by all the staff.
She looked at him over her glasses. “I don’t think your mother-in-law has arrived.”
He sighed. She’d known very well he’d meant Anne. “Ms. Michaels, I said. Not Mrs. Michaels.”
“Ms. Michaels, my foot. You marrit her, dinnae you? And she’s had your child?” She sniffed.
“Is she coming down or not?”
“I would think she would be. She’ll need more than tea and toast.”
“She had a tray sent up?”
“Aye. Tea and toast. Didn’t I just say?”
He checked his watch. “When was that?”
“Hour and a half ago, maybe. The wee bairn was up early, of course.”
“Is that unusual for babies?”
“Not a bit.” She smiled. “He’s a beautiful babe.”
“Thank you.”
She turned her attention back to her pastry. “You could go up and see them.”
“It’s probably still a little early. Maybe I should just wait down here.” But he didn’t want to wait. He wanted to see his baby. The boy would be here such a short time.
“Suit yourself. I suppose you think you know best with all your many years of experience at being a father. Though, to me, it seems like if the baby’s been up since dawn, it wouldn’t be too early.” She feigned casualness as she looked up at him. “By the way, how’s Miss Miranda? You two seem to be friendly.”
He frowned. “Haven’t we always been?”
“Sometimes more than others. Maybe it’s not my place to say, but them that’s got their own family should tend to them. That girl’s not all she seems.” She waggled her finger at him. “She’s trouble.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Chasing around after a married man. It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is. And the man being chased should tell her so.” Her pastry was getting the worst of the woman’s mood. “It’s insulting to Lady Anne that she’s doing it right here in the family house. Even the staff has taken notice of it. No one’s pleased.”
“Even if it were anyone else’s business, which it isn’t, we’re just friends.”
“You’re blind, then. She’s after you if I ever saw it.” The pastry took another hit.
“What are you doing to that pastry?” Even he knew you didn’t manhandle pastry like it was bread dough. More, he was surprised at her vehemence and allegiance to Anne’s interests. He was used to the cook doting on him, and had expected her to side with him, not with someone who had wronged him so publicly.
Mrs. Paulson looked dismayed at the beaten pastry dough. “You distracted me. Now I have to start over. It’s sure to be tough.” She threw the lump of pastry in the waste bin and reached for another lump of pastry sitting in a bowl, ready to be rolled out. “I would certainly think you could go get the baby and let the mother get herself ready for breakfast. She needs to eat for the child.”
“She might feel I’m rushing her to get up.”
“Most mothers would be glad of the help. Especially if the help is the baby’s father.” She looked at him significantly. “Whatever foolishness the father is up to.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m five years old.”
She muttered a long string of something and started rolling out pastry dough.
“Excuse me?”
“I was just saying, them that says they’re fathers should act like it.”
He was fairly certain what she’d muttered had been more direct, but she had a point. He was the father and he wanted to see his son. “You’re right.” He kissed her again on his way to the back stair-case. He gripped the rail and raced up the stairs two at a time.
*****
Meg let him in. “Anne’s in the bath. But you can come in and see this guy, if you like.” She motioned to the baby on her shoulder. His face was alert, but he looked like he’d just eaten a small turkey dinner. His full cheeks pooched out like a chipmunk’s. How did a baby look like that from just drinking milk, he wondered? Anne must be doing well nursing him, and for some idiotic reason, that made him feel proud of her. Whatever else she was, she was a good mother.
“I would like that. Thank you.”
“Good.” She handed him the baby. “He just finished eating and needs to burp. Can you do it while I go back to my room to get dressed for breakfast? I’ll be back before Anne’s finished in there.”
He looked at the docile infant. “I guess so.” He realized his voice sounded dubious. But this sounded simple. He should be able to handle it. “Of course, I can.”
She handed him a cloth. “Put this on your shoulder just in case. I’ll hurry.”
Bewildered about the need for the cloth, he watched her leave him holding the baby. Now what was he supposed to do? He’d seen enough films. Pat the baby on the back. So he tried it, patting the baby gently. Nothing happened, so he tried walking around the room and talking to the baby while he patted. The room was large, with a seating area arranged around a fireplace that had been converted to burn gas, and that part of the room was especially warm just now. Reid circled the area near the fireplace as he walked.
Finally, he heard a little sound come from the baby. Was that a burp? Was it enough of a burp? He looked at the little head on his shoulder. “Did you burp?” The baby just looked back at him, a little milk coming from his mouth. Ah, the cloth, he thought, and wiped Michael’s tiny mouth gently, catching the milky substance before it hit his shoulder, and thus saved his cashmere sweater. Smoothing the baby’s cheek with a finger, he spoke softly. “You sure that’s all the burp you have in you? I don’t want to mess up the first job I’ve had with you, laddie.” The little face looked back at him placidly and Reid kissed the baby’s soft dark hair, inhaling the smell of it.
Just then Anne came out of the bathroom. She was wrapped in a white towel, her arms raised, rubbing her hair dry with another towel. Her face, bare of make-up, stung him with its innocent, youthful glow. She didn’t see him where he stood over in the other part of the room. He stayed quiet, not moving, and watched her. Over the top of her towel, he could see the soft beginnings of her breasts. He swallowed and let his eyes move down to her long legs and bare feet. Images of her during lovemaking flashed through his mind. She would wrap those lovely bare legs around him and hold him to her. He felt himself harden immediately. He stared at her hungrily, trying to absorb as much of her as he could before she noticed him. He knew he should announce himself, bu
t he couldn’t speak.
She turned his way, yelping when she saw him.
He moved forward, then stopped. “Sorry.”
“You scared me. I didn’t know you were here.” She looked down at the towel she was wearing. Her face flushed. “Where’s Meg?”
“She gave me the baby, told me to burp him, and went to her room to dress. She said she’d be right back. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to see Michael. Meg said she’d be back before you . . .”
“Oh.” She pulled the towel up and her cleavage disappeared, then clamped the towel edges tightly closed. “No problem.”
Hoping she hadn’t noticed the effect she’d had on him, he peered down at the baby on his shoulder. “I think he burped. Not loud, but I think so.”
“Good.” Anne went back into the bathroom. When she emerged again, she’d shed her towel in favor of a robe. “Why don’t you go ahead and take him downstairs?”
“By myself?”
“Of course, by yourself. He’s your baby too.” She picked up a brush to untangle her wet hair. “Take him. I’ll get dressed and dry my hair and be down in a little while.”
He looked around the room. Surely it couldn’t be that easy. Didn’t babies need things? “Should I take anything with me? Nappies or a blanket or something?”
She indicated a blanket folded over the bassinet. “That blanket there would be good. And maybe grab another little cloth from the diaper bag in case he spits up. I don’t think you need to take anything else. Meg just changed him when I went into the bath. If he needs changing, one of us can bring him up here.” She held up her hand. “Hold on. I have something for you. I nearly forgot.” She went to her suitcase, took out a large envelope, and handed it to him. “I meant to give you this yesterday.”
He just looked at her. Had she brought divorce papers? Surely she would have mentioned that last night.
“Take it. Don’t worry, it’s not another one of my pathetic letters. It’s the checks you sent. I didn’t need them, but thank you for sending them anyway. I brought them to give back to you.”