The stove held only ashes and Cleary patiently lit a small stack of kindling within its depths, then fed the journal pages into the flames. One by one, he placed them atop the flickering fire, then watched as they caught and blazed brightly. Augusta tore them slowly and carefully, removing a whole section from the book, offering them into his hand, as if it were some sort of ritual that must be performed and observed in a precise manner.
“Is that it?” he asked finally, watching as she closed the black, slender volume and held it to her breast.
She nodded, concentrating fully on the glowing embers, and then she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Thank you, Jon. I wouldn’t have thought of this. It’s put a seal on the memories of the past for me. Maybe now I can read the rest of the words she wrote and just remember the good times we had, and recognize her as the wonderful woman she was.”
“Our children can know her through that book,” he said, meaning the prediction from the depths of his heart. “Every family has secrets, Gussie. Yours just fit into a different category than most.”
She laughed, a vibrant sound that touched a chord within him. And then her hand crept into his palm, twining with the length of his longer, stronger fingers. “Let’s go back to bed,” she said quietly, her eyes dark in the faint glow coming from the stove. She watched as he settled the stove lid into place and then allowed him to lead her toward the foyer and up the stairs to their room.
They shed their clothing, Augusta having snatched his shirt from the floor to cover herself, Cleary garbed only in his trousers for the trek to the kitchen. The bedsprings squeaked a bit as they settled into the center of the mattress, and for a moment, he felt as though it was his wedding night once more. A different situation to be sure, and definitely a different location, but containing that same sense of newness. A fresh beginning that might very well accompany their coming together again and again in the years to come.
They were starting over again, the air cleared of nebulous memories that might cloud their future. He sought and found his place atop her once more. As if this too were a part of the rituals of this night, he moved her where he would, aligning her soft places to fit snugly against the firm structure of his muscular form, his masculine body eager for the yielding of her woman’s flesh.
He begged entrance, his mouth and hands pleading silently as he readied her for his taking. Soft words were but sighs against his throat, her tongue tasting the skin there, her purrs of contentment bringing him to a peak of arousal that gave no respite but drove him to a completion that left them breathless and limp, sated by the ecstasy of their coming together.
“Did I tell you how much I love you?” he asked.
“Um…I think so.” Her fingers threaded through the length of his dark hair, holding him closely to herself, as though she could not bear to have him lift his weight from her.
“I don’t want to hurt the baby,” he said, rising over her, her fingers reluctant as they slid from his head to his shoulders and then rested against his chest. “I didn’t even get a chance to get acquainted with him.”
She laughed aloud, sputtering as her fingers covered her mouth. “I’d say you were on speaking terms a few minutes ago,” she gasped, catching her breath. “You couldn’t have gotten much closer to him if you’d really set your mind to it.”
He rolled with her, tugging her close, sorting out their tangled limbs as she settled her head on his shoulder. “We’ll be happy, won’t we, Jon?”
“If you mind your manners and do what I tell you, everything will be fine,” he said, tongue-in-cheek, waiting for the explosion that was sure to follow.
It was not long in coming. She lifted to her elbow and peered down at him. “I never should have said I’d obey you. I knew it at the time, but things were so confused that day that I just let it slide, and now I suppose I’ll be expected to be biddable and obedient for the rest of my life.”
“Ah, Gussie, that’s too much to hope for,” he said smugly. “I’ll probably settle for you being agreeable most of the time.”
“You need to know that I don’t intend to abandon my shelter, Jonathan.”
“I didn’t think you would. I just want you to let someone else do the everyday management. I think your brother is having a good time there. You need to give him a chance to see what he can accomplish.”
She settled down beside him again. “All right. That makes sense.” Her fingers traced small circles against his flesh, outlining the nubs on his chest that were almost buried beneath dark curls. “What are you going to do, Jon?”
“Right now?” He grinned, knowing the direction she took.
“No, I mean in the future. Where will you work?”
“Nicholas is coming tomorrow. Things should be fitting together nicely, he says, and he’ll be bringing news. Can you wait until then for an answer?”
“All right. But what will we do in the meantime?” she asked politely. “I need something to take my mind off all the things that are racing around in my head.”
He lifted her, turning to his back and fitting her against himself. “Why don’t you just see what you can come up with?” he asked, his knees bent, his thighs spread so that her slender form dovetailed to his broader, firmer body.
She tilted her head, watching him by the light of the guttering candle. “I think you’ve already come up with something,” she said in a solemn whisper. “And I think I know just what to do with it.”
“I knew I should have moved that slop jar closer before we went to sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly, holding her against himself as she bent over to spew bile into its depths. She shuddered and he lifted his shirt from the floor, wiping her mouth with the inside of one sleeve. “Come on, crawl back in bed and I’ll go get you a damp cloth and a piece of bread to chew on.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling as if she had lost every bit of dignity she’d ever possessed. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “This won’t last long.”
He pulled the sheet over her and then bent to find his trousers. Buttoning them as he watched her, he managed a smile. “Do you think you’ll feel this way every time we start a new baby?”
Augusta shuddered again. “Don’t even talk about it. Just let me get through this one first, before you start making threats.” She dozed for a while, aware of his hands turning her, a warm cloth washing her face and his mouth pressing soft kisses against hers.
“Nicholas will be here soon,” he said quietly. “Do you want to rest, and I’ll talk to him?”
She roused, took a deep breath and recognized the loss of her early morning nausea. “No, I’m feeling all right. I’ll get dressed and be right down. Start a fire in the kitchen stove and I’ll fix breakfast.”
Nicholas joined them, tucking into the scrambled eggs and bacon with a will. He leaned back in his chair as Augusta poured him a second cup of coffee. “We’ve got news,” he said, waiting until Augusta regained her seat to begin his recitation. “Got a wire this morning from the banker’s organization in Dallas. They’ve offered you what you asked for. It’s the very job we described to them.”
Augusta pressed her lips together, determined not to interrupt in this discussion yet aching to know what Nicholas was talking about.
“Did they agree to my salary?” Cleary asked, and at Nicholas’s nod, he picked up his cup and sipped the hot brew. “Do they need my plan in writing first?”
“Didn’t seem to want anything but your agreement to upgrade their security and check out their systems on a regular basis.”
Cleary turned to Augusta. “This will mean going on a business trip once a month, for three or four days. Will that be all right with you?”
If Nicholas thought it odd that a man should ask his wife such a question, one pertaining to his plans for a career change, he didn’t allow his thoughts to show, only sat back as Augusta considered Cleary’s query. Then, as she nodded thoughtfully, she saw a smile light the banker’s face.
“It will give me a chanc
e to spend time at the shelter on a regular basis,” she said. “In fact, it might work out very well.”
“There’s one more thing,” Nicholas said, his tone offering a warning.
“The sheriff?” Cleary asked.
“Yeah. The town council wants you to take over until they can find someone else to fill his shoes. I figured it would give you something to do in your odd hours.”
“I don’t like the idea of you wearing a gun to work,” Augusta said bluntly. “We talked about that last night.”
“There’s not enough crime in Collins Creek to warrant him wearing a gun every day,” Nicholas told her. “To tell you the truth, it’s a prime job. Not much to do but keep the floor swept and the hinges oiled on the cell doors. He’ll be home for dinner every day at noon, and gets to wear a silver star pinned to his shirt.”
Cleary looked at her, his face drawn into lines of concern. “I know you’re worried about my being a lawman, Gussie, but this isn’t anything like what I’ve been doing as a marshal.”
He turned to Nicholas and opened his mouth to speak, then shot a look at Augusta. “Can I tell him?” he asked. “You know, about—”
She nodded. There wouldn’t be any keeping it a secret once the ladies got out and about anyway. Janine was sure to carry the news to the dressmaker. Pearl would tell the next-door neighbor, Harriet, probably the next time she carried eggs over, and once those two women heard about a coming baby, the whole town would be in on the story.
“We’re gonna have a baby,” Cleary announced, doing his best to sound casual about the whole thing, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
It was no such happenstance as far as Nicholas was concerned. He rose from his chair, drew Augusta from hers and hugged her, then extended his hand to Cleary, still holding her around the middle with his other arm. “How about that!” He bent a bit to peer into her face. “Is that why you fainted a while back? Are you all right now?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him readily.
His delight was genuine, Augusta decided as he released her and picked up his coffee cup. “Here’s to the next generation,” he said, offering a toast. “And while we’re at it, I’ve got more news to brighten your day.”
Cleary rose, his hands sliding negligently into his trouser pockets. “Did it come through?” Though his stance was casual, Augusta sensed his excitement, and as she watched, she noted his sigh, as if a load had been removed from his shoulders. “Gussie,” he said, turning to her and grasping her hand. “We need to go over to the shelter. I want to talk to your brother.”
“A pardon?” Wilson was stunned, his eyes unblinking, his mouth twitching, as if he sought more words to speak, and was coming up dry. “You actually got me a pardon, Cleary?” And then he looked at Nicholas. “Or were you behind it, Mr. Garvey?”
“Kind of a joint effort,” Cleary said, hugging Augusta to his side. “It just came through this morning. Nicholas got a wire from the governor.”
“How did it happen? They don’t do those things out of the goodness of their hearts,” Wilson said firmly. “Someone must have pulled some strings.”
Cleary shifted uncomfortably, and Nicholas grinned. “Your brother-in-law knows more strings to pull than you could ever imagine, son.”
“You did it for Gussie, didn’t you?” Wilson asked, facing Cleary head-on. “And don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you wanted to make her happy, but at the same time, I don’t like being beholden to anybody. You know that.”
“Well, let’s just say it erases my debt to you,” Cleary told him. “Remember the day you cut Chloe loose and watched my back till she got me out of danger? That debt’s been canceled. And if that doesn’t suit your fancy, let’s just say I couldn’t stand the idea of my brother sitting in prison.”
“Your brother.” The stunned look returned to the younger man’s face and he turned aside, clearing his throat.
Honey rose from her seat near the parlor door and took her place beside him. “Sometimes it’s better just to say thank you,” she told him quietly. “Accept the gift in the spirit in which it was given. No strings attached. Am I right, Mr. Cleary?”
“You’re right,” he answered, extending his hand to Wilson, who looked at it dumbly, then snatched it between his palms, as if the offer might be rescinded should he delay in accepting the gesture.
“I thought this might be a good day to have a wedding,” Cleary said, looking Wilson squarely in the eye. “How about taking a hike to the parsonage and see if the preacher wants to come by later this afternoon.”
“Well, if I’m planning on attending, I’d better be on my way. I’ve got a bank to tend to,” Nicholas said, breaking the awkward silence that ensued at Cleary’s suggestion. He drew his watch from his pocket, checking the time as his words set off a flurry of activity. Then with a wave of his hand, he was gone.
The rest of the gathering fled the parlor, leaving Augusta and Cleary standing in the center of the room. He slipped his arm around her and glanced about the warm, welcoming parlor. “You’ve made a difference here, Gussie. You’ve given all these folks a place to call home.”
“I had a lot of help,” she said, unwilling to take the credit for what others had contributed. “They’ve given me a family, Jon. If it weren’t for them I’d never have been out looking for funds the day we met. I’d not have run across you in my everyday doings.” She felt a pang of sorrow at the thought.
“And now you’ve given Wilson a second chance at life, and given him your blessing. You’ve made changes right and left.” She felt tears gathering and forced their retreat, unwilling to cry when there was so much joy to be found. “I don’t know how I’d face the days ahead without you,” she confessed. “These people are my family…but you’re my life.”
“Another seven months, huh?” he asked, swinging her fully into his arms. “We’ll have our family circle complete before you know it.”
“I thought you said—”
“Hush,” he whispered. “I did. This is only the first, but each one that comes along will only add to the circle, and each time it will be complete until another baby is on the way. It’s like a set of stepping stones, one leading to the next.”
“Don’t get all carried away,” she told him, leaning back against his forearms and looking sternly into his twinkling eyes. “I’m not planning on more than four or five.”
“That sounds like a good number to me,” he said agreeably. “We’ve got that many bedrooms to fill. After that, we’ll just have to put an addition on the back.”
In the kitchen, Bertha gathered the ingredients for a cake, and Pearl watched from the back door as Wilson and Honey walked around the side of the house, on their way to visit the preacher. Glory sat on the stoop, Henry asleep on her lap, his huge, puppy paws bearing mute testimony to the size he would become. With a slam of the screened door, Janine strolled in the front door and made her way to the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked. “I’ve got to be back at work in an hour.”
“We’re celebrating today,” Bertha said. “When you hear the news you may want to take the afternoon off to help plan the party.”
“What party?”
“Sit down there while I mix this cake, and we’ll tell you,” Bertha said. “You won’t believe what’s in the works.”
Epilogue
“I’ll bet he’s the only baby ever born with eight godmothers ready and waiting to welcome him,” Augusta said, holding the tiny bundle swaddled in a flannel square in the crook of her arm.
Cleary looked stricken. “Tell me they’re not all going to parade up to the front of the church for the ceremony.”
She looked at him disbelievingly. “Of course not. Just Wilson and Honey will stand up for him. But the rest are planning on having some say in his upbringing.”
There were three more women settled into the bedrooms upstairs in Augusta’s shelter, Janine having found a small house of her own. Although self-sufficient, she still m
anaged to be a regular visitor at the big house where she’d been given a second chance at life. Pearl was spending a lot of evenings with Sam Ferguson, the giant who owned and ran the livery stable, and Augusta wouldn’t be a bit surprised should that twosome instigate a wedding some day soon.
Wilson and Honey were head over heels in love with the baby girl they’d welcomed several months ago, and Glory was hard at work at the business of attaining skills that would allow her to take over the books and perhaps find employment in the back room at the bank one day.
This morning Nicholas Wilson Cleary had joined the family, leading Cleary to predict that Nick Garvey would be turning up on their doorstep on a regular basis.
Having never had a child named in his honor, and stalwart in his denial of planning on marrying anytime soon, he’d been waiting anxiously for the arrival of this baby, determined it should be a boy.
“You need to walk over to the bank,” Augusta told Cleary. “Bertha will spread the news at the shelter. She ought to be getting there right about now.”
The stalwart woman had directed at the delivery, eschewing the presence of a doctor, claiming a long history of escorting babies into the world. Augusta was prone to believe her claim, baby Nick having arrived with only four hours labor spent in the effort of his birth. Somehow she doubted that Cleary could have withstood much more than that, his tolerance for her pain being short-lived.
Now he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, his index finger brushing at a wisp of hair. His son had arrived with a full head of golden curls, and dark eyes that, this morning, matched those of his father. Though Bertha said they might change over the next weeks. It didn’t matter, Cleary had said stoutly. Whatever color eyes and hair the baby was born with, the important thing was that he was healthy, and his mother had survived the ordeal with flying colors.
“Do you want to hold him?” Augusta asked, and then with easy movements, she transferred the tiny bundle to his father’s arms. He looked small, fragile and uncommonly beautiful, she decided. His eyes opened and he frowned, one small fist clinging to Cleary’s index finger with a reflex action.
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