by Linda Ladd
"Gray understood. He loved you so much he didn't care." Carlisle fiddled with the emerald wedding ring that she hadn't removed since Chase had put it on her finger at their own strained wedding. "Gray's angry and disappointed in me. I could always see it in his eyes, even when I was a little girl. But Stone will be on my side; he always is. Is he here or working out in Denver?"
Tyler averted her gaze, and coldness ran through Carlisle's body. "Oh, dear God, Tyler, has something happened to Stone?"
"We don't know for sure where he is or what he's doing. We're all very worried about him."
"I don't understand. When was the last time you saw him?"
Tyler's reluctance to pursue the subject became more pronounced. "Gray intended to tell you all this himself. He didn't want to put it in a letter." She hesitated, then went on. "Stone's missing, Carly. Did you get my letter about Emerson Clan and the Chicago fire?"
Carlisle nodded, her face stricken, as Tyler continued. "Unfortunately, Clan escaped when the city was burning and everything was so confused. There was nothing any of us could do to dissuade Stone from going after him."
Tyler paused, looking distressed. "Early in November, he left on a train heading toward Denver. Gray got word a few weeks later that it was attacked and burned by Indians somewhere out on the prairie." Carlisle gasped, and Tyler quickly reassured her. "Stone wasn't listed among the dead, so we think he managed to escape. But no one knows where he is."
"Could he have made his way to Denver? He knows the area well because he's worked out there on some of our railroad construction crews."
"But why wouldn't he send word to us? Gray's already sent out search parties and private detectives. He wanted to go himself, but he was afraid to leave me here alone, in case Clan came back."
"I was such a fool to send that letter to Clan," Carlisle said morosely. "You told me not to, but I just didn't listen."
"Everything turned out all right. I'm fine now. You can see that for yourself. And we'll find Stone. I know we will."
"Did Clan try to hurt you, too?"
"When he thought I'd lured him here so Stone could capture him, he tried to kidnap me. Stone and Gray rescued me during the fire. That's how Clan got away." She shivered, as if the memory upset her. "Oh, Carly, Clan is so evil. I've never seen such a cruel man."
Tears burned like pinpricks behind Carlisle's eyes. "I'm to blame. I've done so many stupid things. I've hurt so many people. Chase, and poor Esteban—how can I ever forget all the trouble I've caused?"
For the first time in many days, Carlisle felt her strength ebbing away. She leaned her head against the cold windowpanes.
Tyler patted her shoulder. "You must think of the future and your child. For a long time I fought with my conscience like you're doing, over the things I'd done to Gray and other people, but I've learned to live with myself. Gray has helped me see that it doesn't do any good to dwell on your past mistakes. Chase's love will help you. You'll see."
Carlisle listened to Tyler's gentle words and let them soothe her troubled heart. Everything would be all right. It had to be. Stone had to be safe. He'd come back to Chicago soon, and he'd laugh at their fears. She was at home with her family now, where she belonged. They would take care of her until Chase arrived. And he would. She had to believe that.
The next morning when her older brother knocked on her door, Carlisle was still in her dressing gown. She quickly bade Juana to admit him. He would still be angry, but she realized with some surprise that she really didn't care. She was a grown woman now, married and with child—not just his little sister.
"Good morning, Carly," Gray said after Juana had gone downstairs to join the other servants for breakfast.
"Good morning."
"May I sit down? I'd like to talk with you."
"Of course."
She led him to the chairs before the hearth. After they were seated, Gray smiled.
"I'm really glad you're home."
"I am, too," Carlisle answered, but in her heart, she wished she were back in Mexico at the Casa Amarilla, with the warm sun and gardenias, and Chase.
"Tyler told me what happened down in Mexico," he began. "Carly I'm sorry. I thought Chase would take care of you, I swear. It never occurred to me that he'd take advantage of you. I ought to kill him for what he's done!"
"Please don't blame Chase. It's not his fault."
"But he dishonored you—" Gray sputtered furiously.
"Chase is the most honorable man I've ever met," Carlisle defended staunchly.
Her remark caused Gray to rise and begin pacing in front of her. In contrast, Carlisle remained calm. Poor Gray, she thought. Now she was causing him more grief and pain. Would it never end?
"How can you stick up for him after what he's done to you, Carly?"
"Because I love him. None of the things that happened were his fault. I'm the one who got him involved with the Perezes."
"The baby wasn't your fault!"
"Well, I had something to do with it, wouldn't you say?"
"Good God, Carly, what happened to you down there to make you change so much? I hardly know you anymore."
Carlisle almost smiled. "I grew up, I suppose. And I guess I didn't do a very good job of it. But I'd appreciate it if you'd let me stay here until the baby is born, and then I'll decide—"
"Let you stay here?" Gray repeated, looking dumbfounded. "What in God's name do you mean by such a ridiculous question? Of course you'll stay here! This is your home! We're your family!"
"Thank you, Gray." She'd almost said Gracias, she realized. Spanish now seemed more natural to her than English.
"I'm going to send a letter to Chase demanding that he live up to his responsibilities—"
"No, you're not!" For the first time, Carlisle became emotional. "Please. Don't contact him. I left him, don't you see? He doesn't love me. Any feelings he had died when Esteban was killed because of me."
Gray sat down beside her. He shook his head. "I wish there were something I could do, Carly. I should never have let you go to Mexico."
"You had nothing to do with what happened between Chase and me. I'm trying to be responsible for myself now. Please let me."
"All right, if you'll agree to one thing."
"What?"
"I want you to stay with Tyler and me. We want you here." He leaned back, grinning. "Tyler is absolutely ecstatic to have you in the house. She doesn't have any close friends here in Chicago yet, except for the Bonds. She's lonely, and worried about Stone."
"Stone's all right," Carlisle said firmly. "I'd sense it if anything bad happened to him. I know I would."
"Actually, I've had the same feeling all along. Stone's always been able to take care of himself."
"I guess it's in our blood," Carlisle said. "Kincaids know how to survive."
Gray gave her a hug. "That's right. Don't forget it," he said as Tyler opened the door, fully dressed, her face beaming with happiness.
"Breakfast it ready! Come on, Carly, I have so much to tell you! And I'm starved, aren't you?"
Gray and Carlisle smiled at each other. Then the three of them walked downstairs together to marvel at the deep snowdrifts that had piled up nearly to the eaves during the long winter night.
A fortnight after Carlisle arrived in Chicago, she held her skirt in one hand and
carefully followed Tyler down the shiny marble staircase of the palatial new store owned by Gray's good friend, Marshall Field. She paused to look at a beautifully crocheted pale yellow baby's shawl, which reminded her of the one Dona Maria had knitted for her. She sighed, her spirits plummeting despite Tyler's cheerful attempts to brighten her day with shopping and her own bubbly company.
Nothing made Carlisle happy, but somehow she felt more at peace living in the familiar rooms of her childhood home. She felt safe in the house on Lincoln Avenue, her family's affection soothing her wounded soul. But even in the company of Gray and Tyler, and other well-meaning friends, she was lonelier than she'd eve
r been in her life.
Gray and Tyler had been kind—especially Tyler, for she understood Carlisle's pain. But when Carlisle saw the married couple smile lovingly at each other or share stolen kisses when they thought she wasn't watching, her heart twisted as if her lifeblood were being wrung from it. She yearned for Chase so violently that she felt physically weak. Why did everything have to go so wrong? her heart cried out at night when the house was quiet and she lay in bed alone. Why did she have to make so many stupid mistakes? And why did Chase have to be so unforgiving? Why didn't he come after he?
"What a beautiful shawl," Tyler said, coming up beside her. "Let's buy one for each of us. And look, Carly, here are matching bonnets and booties! We'll need plenty of these. Chicago always has a windy spring, doesn't it?"
Spring seemed very far away, Carlisle thought, nodding, as Tyler chattered on. "Look how tiny these little mittens are! There are just so many things we need for our layettes, even though my friend, Harriet, and I have been sewing for months now. Thank goodness we have the driver along to help us carry our purchases. And now that you're home, we'll need another crib, too."
Pausing, she dimpled winsomely. "Gray has given us no spending limit, so we better get everything we need before he receives his first bill. Just wait until you see the children's wear section. There are tables and tables of the most beautiful clothing, and toys from England and Italy and all over the world."
Carlisle made an appropriate remark and followed dutifully in Tyler's wake, not wanting to dampen her sister-in-law's happiness. But once she saw the children's display room, she began to share Tyler's enthusiasm. Rows of small tables and chairs decorated with rabbits and ducks, miniature buggies and donkey carts, and every type of plaything imaginable made the room seem almost magical. Carlisle exclaimed over different items with as much delight as Tyler did.
"How precious," she murmured, kneeling beside a tiny but intricately designed rocking horse. "This reminds me of the one I had when I was a little girl. I can still remember how Stone used to hold me on the saddle and push me back and forth. I'd hang on to the mane and squeal until he laughed."
Her throat closed at the thought of her missing brother, and Tyler laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll hear from him soon, Carly. And from Chase, too. My cousin will be here in time for your baby's birth, I'll lay odds on it. But right now, we must have two of these darling little horses so our babies can go riding together in the nursery."
Carlisle merely smiled, but she was very pleased when they purchased the small painted ponies, one blue, the other red. They browsed for a while longer, then Tyler signed for their bountiful purchases. When they stopped in the front entrance to the store, Carlisle and Tyler stood aside, holding their prized rocking horses as Johnny, Gray's driver, carried their boxes and bundles to the waiting sleigh.
"It's snowing again," Carlisle said, shivering. "After so long in Mexico, I'd forgotten how cold Chicago can be."
"I'll never get used to the awful wind off Lake Michigan," Tyler replied. "I wish I were more like Gray. He's invigorated by the cold. Sometimes he even throws open our bedroom windows in the dead of winter!"
Carlisle, too, remembered Gray's penchant for opening windows in winter, and she laughed as they picked their way carefully across the snowy sidewalk, leaving two sets of small footprints behind them.
Moments later, they were nestled under the blankets and soft lap furs, as Gray's red-and-white cutter flew over the hard-packed snow of Randolph Street. They had almost reached Lincoln Avenue when Carlisle heard excited shouts above the cheerful jingling of the harness bells.
Tyler sat on her right, busily retying the bow around the neck of one of the rocking horses, and Carlisle looked past her. Only yards away from them a runaway carriage was careening into the intersection and straight for them. Horrified, Carlisle screamed as one of the horses pulling the coach skidded on the icy street and went down with a harsh braying, the coachman knocked from his perch just before their sleigh was struck broadside. The cutter jerked sideways on impact and went into a reckless spin. Clinging desperately to the seat, Carlisle could not hold on and felt herself being thrown into the air. The last thing she heard was Tyler's terrified scream, before she landed in something cold and icy, and knew no more.20
The spiraling snow had turned into sleet by the time Chase Lancaster stepped from the hired hack that had brought him from the railway depot. He tilted the brim of his beaver hat to protect his face from the icy pellets as he stood at the curb and looked at the house in which his wife had taken refuge.
Even after the long, anxious days aboard the steamer and the stuffy, cigar-reeking train car to Chicago, he was angry. But no longer was his rage directed at Carlisle. His initial fury over her abandonment had fled long ago. Now he was only angry at himself for being so incredibly stupid.
He loved her. He'd loved her from the beginning. He'd never acted rationally where she was concerned. Now he dragged his feet like a recalcitrant child when confronted with facing her again, not sure she'd want to return to Mexico City with him. But she'd have to, he thought, steeling his resolve. He would demand that, as his wife, she must return.
Then he shook his head. No, he didn't want to force her. He'd ask her to come. He'd tell her he loved and needed her. If that didn't work, then he'd order her to come with him.
Decided, he opened the gate and walked up the snowy walk, his gaze on the second-story windows. Nearly every room was aglow in the night, and he wondered which one was Carlisle's. Anxious to see her, he quickened his stride, shrugging off his heavy wool cape as he reached the wide stone porch. He removed his hat, then saw the black wreath on the door. He stared at it in dismay, unthinkable explanations rocketing through his head. Carly hadn't been feeling well before she'd left Mexico City. What if the voyage made her worse?
"Oh, God," he muttered, hastily banging the gold knocker against the door. When no one answered, he tried the knob and found it unlocked.
Fear made his heart hammer as he stepped through the small vestibule into the large, elegant foyer. The big mansion was quiet, and no one was in sight. Not until he heard low, muffled weeping did he see the young maid in a black dress and white apron, huddled on a bench under the stairway.
"What's happened here? Why is the wreath on the door?" he demanded, going to her, tension making his voice harsh.
The girl was so upset she could hardly speak, but she jumped to her feet, her face swollen and blotchy. "Oh, sir, it's just so awful! The poor little babe came so early that he hardly even had a chance to live! And now our poor lady is near death herself, stricken with the childbed fever!" She cried pitiably through her words and had barely finished her explanation when Chase took the steps three at a time, suffocating with dread and disbelief. It couldn't be, not Carlisle, not their baby! Oh, God, don't let her die!
At the top of the steps, he looked frantically down the long silent hall with its line of closed doors.
"Carly!" he yelled. "Carly, where are you?"
Panic-stricken, he opened the first door he ran to, but the room was empty. Shouting his wife's name again, he came to a standstill when a door opened a short distance down the corridor. Carlisle stepped out, weeping into her cupped palms, but her sobbing stopped when she looked up and saw him.
Relief, pure and cleansing, swept through him. Carly was safe; his child was safe. Joy such as he'd never known before overwhelmed him, making him choke back his own sob.
"Chase! Chase!" she cried, running toward him. He met her, picking her up and holding her tight. He shut his eyes, thanking God as Carlisle clutched him, her cheek against his chest.
"You came," she wept brokenly against his shirtfront. "Oh, Chase, I've missed you so much."
Chase's hands trembled as he stroked her soft hair. "Gracias a Dios, you're all right. The girl downstairs said the baby died, and oh, Dios, Carly, I thought it was ours. I thought I was going to lose both of you." His voice was gruff with emotion.
&nbs
p; "No, it's Tyler's baby." Carlisle began to cry again. "It happened nearly a week ago. A coach hit our sleigh."
"You were in an accident? Are you all right?" he asked quickly, holding her at arm's length to her tear-streaked face.
"Yes. I had a few bruises, but I landed in the snow. I was lucky, but Tyler, poor Tyler . . . When the sleigh overturned, she was thrown into the street. Chase, I don't think I can bear this! Please hold me!"
Chase's arms tightened around her. "Shh, my love, I'll hold you. Are you sure you're all right?"
She nodded, and Chase hesitated. "Where's Tyler's room?"
"Down there, at the end of the hall. Gray's with her, and the doctor and his wife, Harriet. She's Tyler's best friend." Carlisle pulled back to look at him, tears running down her cheeks. "The baby lived for three days, but the poor little thing was just too tiny to survive. Dr. Bond worked and worked to save him, but he just couldn't, Chase. We lost him this morning, right before dawn."
Carlisle suddenly grabbed his coat, her eyes full of anguish. "Tyler was holding the baby when he died, and now she won't give him up. She won't let anyone touch him, not even Gray. I tried to talk to her, to make her accept it, but she's so sick with the fever that she won't listen."
Chase shut his eyes, feeling helpless and sick to the depths of his soul. "Poor Tyler. Take me to her. Maybe I can help."
Carlisle wiped her tears, and Chase supported her with his arm as she struggled to pull herself together.
"I'm just so worried about Tyler," she cried. "She was so happy about the baby. She and Gray both were."
Inside the master bedchamber, the gas lamps were turned very low. Gray sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over Tyler, while the doctor and his wife hovered anxiously on the other side of the bed. Chase led Carly to the foot of the four-poster. Tyler looked very small and pale in the huge bed, her long auburn hair tangled on the pillow. Chase swallowed convulsively as he saw the tiny, still bundle wrapped in a blue shawl and clutched tightly against her breast.