The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  “It does indeed. In more ways than one.” Her exuberant laugh filled the hall.

  “No!” said Mrs. C., her eyes wide.

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, my dear, that’s wonderful.”

  Quinn looked at the giddy women and scratched his head. “I’m missing something. What are we talking about?”

  Color spread into Grace’s cheeks, but nothing dimmed her smile. “Andrew and I are expecting a baby.”

  Mrs. C. hugged her, squeezing the little boy between them. “Your husband must be over the moon.”

  “He is. We’re both thrilled Christian will have a sibling to share his childhood.”

  Quinn studied the boy who looked so much like Grace and marveled how she hadn’t hesitated to raise her late sister’s child. Originally, he hadn’t quite understood her determination, but now with baby Evelyn in his life, Quinn could appreciate the depth of Grace’s commitment. “Congratulations, Grace. You deserve this happiness after all you’ve been through.”

  “Thank you, Quinn. And so do you.”

  “Come into the parlor and sit down,” Mrs. C. said. “No need to stand in the hall all day.” She carried the boy into the room and sat him on her knee while she began to remove the blanket from around him.

  Quinn hovered in the doorway for a moment, not sure how to bow out of what would surely be woman talk. But he hadn’t seen Grace in ages, and it would be rude not to visit for a few minutes at least.

  “Tell me, how is that precious baby girl of yours?” Grace asked as he took a seat on the sofa. “Mrs. C. told me all about her, but I want to hear it from you.”

  A smile came easily to his lips. “She’s growing every day. And finally sleeping through the night.”

  “That’s always helpful. Especially for her parents.” Grace winked at him.

  His neck heated at her implication, his gaze sliding to the patterned carpet. With Grace’s marriage so blissful, she wouldn’t begin to understand his complicated situation.

  When he glanced up, he saw that Grace was busy removing little Christian’s sweater and hat and thankfully appeared oblivious to his discomfort.

  “How is Andrew?” Mrs. C. asked. “Still busy with his father’s hotel?”

  “Always. Though it will be better once the Valentine’s Day Gala is over.”

  Mrs. C. bounced the boy on her knee. “I hope he manages to make time for you, dear. After all, you’re still newlyweds. And it’s important to keep the romance alive.”

  “Andrew always makes time for us.” Grace smiled. “Last night he cooked dinner for me and had his mother mind the baby. It was wonderful.” She sighed, a dreamy look coming over her face.

  “He cooks for you?” Quinn’s brows rose. He’d love to see such an expression on Julia’s face, but by the time he ever learned to cook, Evelyn would be starting school.

  “Andrew is always doing things to make me feel special. And of course, I’m happy to reward his efforts.”

  The two women laughed out loud.

  Quinn rubbed his hands on his thighs, his thoughts suddenly swirling. Since he’d been back, there’d been no romance at all between him and Julia, mainly because of the baby. But maybe that was the problem. He’d been focused on helping Julia with Evelyn whenever he could and keeping the firewood stocked. Practical things to prove his devotion. But maybe a romantic gesture was needed to show Julia how he truly felt about her. “What sort of things does Andrew do?” he asked cautiously.

  Grace pursed her lips. “Well, he often brings me flowers from the greenhouse. Or takes Christian for the afternoon to give me time to myself. Or arranges a night out for the two of us. He’s quite creative actually.”

  “You’re a lucky woman,” Mrs. C. said. “Some men never learn how to keep the spark alive in a marriage. I was fortunate that my Miles was romantic as well.”

  Quinn’s thoughts flew back to the intimate meal he’d shared with Julia at the inn in Peterborough. The prelude to their first kiss. Perhaps he could re-create that evening and remind Julia of the spark that once existed between them.

  Or perhaps even ignite a new spark. His pulse sprinted to life. He would woo his wife as if they weren’t already married, and hopefully it would help them determine the direction their future would take.

  It was certainly worth a try.

  The clock in the hall began to chime the hour.

  Quinn blinked. If he was going to plan something special, he’d better get moving. He stood up. “I really should be going. Julia will start to worry.” He bent to kiss Grace’s cheek. “It was lovely to see you again, Grace.” He looked over at Mrs. C. “Don’t forget, I’m available for any other jobs you need doing. Just not tonight.”

  “Good-bye, Quinn.” Grace laughed. “And give Julia our best.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Julia checked on Evelyn in her cradle, sleeping contentedly with her thumb in her mouth. As she ran a finger over the baby’s satiny cheek, Julia’s heart expanded with love. She still couldn’t get over the miracle of this beautiful child. That she’d grown in Julia’s womb and was now a living, breathing human being.

  Did all new mothers feel this way? Amazingly powerful, like they could do anything, achieve anything, now that they’d given birth? Becoming a mother had changed Julia in subtle ways—made her stronger, more courageous. This new little being depended on her for everything, and Julia knew she could take on the world for her daughter’s sake.

  Fortunately, she no longer had to worry about Richard Hawkins, a fact she gave thanks for every day.

  She straightened, her thoughts spiraling back to Quinn and the unsettling conversation they’d had this morning. She’d hoped these past few weeks would have solidified their union, not made matters worse. Though Quinn had been nothing but thoughtful since Evelyn’s birth, he’d treated Julia more like a sister than a wife, keeping a polite distance between them, and had given no indication that he wished for their marriage to change.

  But lately, Julia had sensed a shift in her husband’s mood. Watching him this morning brooding on the porch, hearing him voice his discontent aloud, had snapped her out of the bubble she’d been living in. She’d been too focused on the baby, she realized, and hadn’t considered how Quinn must be feeling.

  “Living here with no real purpose. Not able to work to provide for my family. It goes against everything I’ve been raised to believe.”

  Of course it did. For the better part of his life, Quinn had been responsible for his family, working hard to earn every shilling he could. These last two months must have been extremely difficult for him—living on what he would view as the charity of a widow. It must chafe at his pride and his sense of integrity not to earn his keep. No wonder he kept trying to find odd jobs to do.

  And he’d borne it all without complaint for her sake.

  Julia moved to the bed and folded a blanket she’d tossed there. She could no longer ignore her husband’s growing unhappiness. If it meant releasing him from his commitment, then she would do so, even if it broke her heart to let him go. After all he’d done for her, granting him his freedom was the least she could do.

  If they were to have a future together, she wanted it to be because he loved her, not because his ingrained sense of duty chained him to her.

  Be bold, Julia. No more waiting for Quinn to declare his feelings. No more fear of the unknown.

  Tonight she would take charge of her life again and trust that God would work all things out for their mutual good.

  A soft knock sounded on the adjoining door. Her heart sparked like a backfiring auto.

  Lord, please be with us during this conversation, and help us to follow your will for our lives. No matter what the outcome.

  On a quick inhale, she moved to open the door.

  Quinn stood on the other side, a tentative smile on his face.

  Her mouth fell open, and her pulse began to race. He was wearing his good suit, the one he’d worn at their wedding, and looked incredibly handsome
, his hair freshly combed and a striped tie at his neck.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” she blurted out.

  His lips twitched. “I’m here to request the pleasure of your company at a dinner for two this evening.” He gave an exaggerated bow.

  Her hand fluttered to her throat, her fingers brushing the worn neckline of her old blouse. She’d stopped wearing her better outfits since Evelyn seemed determined to stain every one. “That’s thoughtful of you, but I can’t”—she waved a hand toward the cradle behind her—“leave Evelyn.”

  “You don’t have to. We’ll dine right here in my room by the fire.” He gave her a slow smile that made her pulse skitter. “Why don’t you meet me in fifteen minutes? The food should be here by then.” He winked at her and closed the connecting door.

  Julia gulped in a nervous breath, her plans for the evening suddenly forgotten.

  Mrs. Middleton had been more than pleased by Quinn’s request for a private meal in their quarters, eager to help him pull off his romantic surprise.

  “About time,” she’d said and shook her head as though he was a slightly daft child.

  Then the dear woman had instructed her cook to comply with Quinn’s instructions, and the two had planned some of Julia’s favorite dishes for the menu. Mrs. Neville also supplied him with a tablecloth, napkins, and candles to decorate the small table in his room. Flowers would have been perfect too, if he’d had time to visit a florist.

  Now as Quinn surveyed the scene, satisfaction curled in his chest. The room looked as romantic as he could get it. He only hoped Julia would appreciate the effort.

  He paused to say a heartfelt prayer, asking the Lord to give him the right words to let his wife know exactly what she meant to him.

  And if you’re so inclined, Lord, could you bring her around to my way of thinking about England? If not, then help me to accept that too.

  A polite knock sounded precisely fifteen minutes later.

  Quinn attempted to calm his rioting nerves as he opened the door.

  Julia stood there in a gauzy blue dress, hands clasped in front of her. She’d taken her hair down and wore it loose.

  He swallowed hard. “You look lovely. Please, come in.”

  “Thank you.” Her nervous gaze slid past him to survey the room. She took a few steps forward, leaving the connecting door ajar, then stopped. “Oh, Quinn. This is wonderful.” She ran a finger over the tablecloth and the china plates. “How did you manage all this?”

  “With a little help from Mrs. Middleton and her cook.” Knowing he needed to take his time, he resisted pulling her into his arms. “Why don’t we enjoy our meal, and we can talk afterward?”

  He held out a chair for her. The silky ends of her hair grazed his fingers.

  Quinn took the other seat and laid a napkin on his lap.

  A fire blazed in the hearth, and two taper candles graced the table, casting a subtle glow over Julia’s beautiful face.

  He lifted the cloth covering her dish and smiled. “I hope you’re hungry. Mrs. Neville went out of her way to make this for us in a short amount of time.”

  “Fried chicken and mashed potatoes? My favorite.”

  “Good. I was hoping I’d remembered correctly. We might even have chocolate cake for dessert.” He gave her a deliberate wink.

  Color bloomed in her cheeks. “You’re re-creating our night in Peterborough,” she said quietly.

  “I’m trying.” He studied her as she stared at her plate, wishing he could read her mind. “I wanted to give you a special evening. I hope I haven’t overstepped.”

  “No, of course not. This is very . . . thoughtful.” She picked up her fork and began to eat.

  Quinn did the same, and for several minutes, they ate in silence, with only the crackle of the flames to break the stillness. He glanced at Julia’s plate and his stomach dropped. Far from enjoying the meal, she was toying with the food on her plate.

  Suddenly she set down her fork. “I have something I need to get off my chest or I won’t be able to eat a bite.”

  One glimpse of her troubled face and Quinn’s spirits fell. This romantic evening was not going the way he’d hoped. Where had things gone wrong?

  Julia glanced up at her husband, dismayed by the wretched expression on his face. She still couldn’t understand why he’d arranged this dinner. If he hadn’t been so miserable earlier in the day, she might have been thrilled by his efforts. But something didn’t seem right. Was he trying to make up for his admission earlier, to prove that he wasn’t as unhappy as he appeared?

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. I’m sorry you’ve been so discontented lately, Quinn. I never wanted to be a burden to you.”

  His head snapped up, eyes blazing. “You’re no burden, Julia. Never think that.”

  “But you’re not happy. That much is obvious.”

  His gaze slid away. “I’ve been feeling a little restless. That’s all.”

  She fingered the napkin on her lap. “Be honest with me. Do you feel trapped here with me and the baby?” Though it pained her to ask, it was beyond time for them to be truthful with each other.

  “Not trapped. Just . . . in limbo.” He released a long breath. “I’m used to working from sunup to sundown, and these months of inactivity, along with the blasted snow, have me climbing the walls.”

  That made sense. While she had much to occupy her time caring for Mrs. Middleton and the baby, Quinn must have felt at loose ends.

  “I didn’t realize how hard this must be for you,” she said carefully. From his frown, she knew there was more he was holding back. She reined in her impatience and waited for him to continue.

  The candles flickered, casting shadows over the tablecloth.

  “The truth is,” he said, “that I can’t help thinking about the farm. I want to be there to help my brothers with it.” He stared miserably at his plate.

  Of course he’d want to go home. On the farm, his hard work would be valued. He’d have a purpose to his days.

  “That brings me to what I need to say.” She took in a breath and rose. “Could we move to the settee?”

  His mouth pressed in a grim line, and he nodded.

  They crossed the room to the small sofa, and he sat down beside her, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.

  “I know we agreed to a marriage in name only,” she began, “with the stipulation that once the baby was born, we would reevaluate our situation.” Dread pooled in her stomach, but she squared her shoulders. “You’ve sacrificed a great deal to protect me and the baby, and I will forever be grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Julia, I—”

  “No, please, let me finish before I lose my nerve.” She wet her lips. “It’s time that I put your needs first. And so I am officially releasing you from your debt to me. I want you to be free to live your life as you planned before I derailed it. And if you need to go back to England, I understand.” Her voice broke, and she blinked hard to hold back tears.

  When he met her gaze, a host of emotion swirled in his eyes. “Is that what you want, Julia? For us to go our separate ways?” He sounded weary.

  Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest. If she told him the truth, he might feel even more obliged to stay. Yet, didn’t he deserve the truth at last?

  Be bold, Julia.

  “No, it’s not.” She swallowed, shoring up her courage. “What I really want is for our marriage to be real. To be true partners and raise our daughter in a loving home. But not at the expense of your happiness.” She held her breath. Her whole future would hinge on his next words.

  He looked into her eyes with such intensity that the air leaked from her lungs. “You want our marriage to be real?”

  “I do,” she said softly.

  An incredulous smile spread across his face. “I want that too. That’s why I arranged this dinner. To show you how much you mean to me.” He took her hands in his. “I love you, Julia. More than the day we marri
ed. I want to share everything with you and love you as a husband should.”

  Heat burned up her neck to her cheeks, and her heart threatened to fly from her chest.

  “I love you too,” she breathed. “I realized it right before you left, but somehow I couldn’t say the words.”

  His smile widened. “You have no idea how I’ve longed to hear that. But I didn’t want to pressure you.”

  “And I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

  Staring into her eyes, he tugged her to her feet. Her free hand landed on his solid chest. The smell of Ivory soap and his spicy cologne wrapped around her like a hug.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, his voice husky, “I’d like to kiss my wife now.”

  She laughed, joy bubbling up through her, feeling suddenly light enough to float across the room. “I’d like that too.”

  He wound his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck, sending a host of shivers down her spine. Slowly he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers with just a whisper of contact. Then he fused his mouth more firmly against hers.

  She returned his embrace with an eagerness that shocked her. How she’d longed for this closeness again. The feel of his strong arms around her. The taste of his lips on hers. This was where she belonged. With Quinn, she’d found her place in the world at last.

  When he moved away, her heart still beat a quick tempo in her chest. He rested his forehead against hers, and she waited until her breathing evened out to look at him. “As much as I want to keep kissing you, there’s another important issue we need to discuss.”

  His expression sobered. “England.”

  “Yes.”

  The flames crackled in the hearth. Her glance shifted to the remains of the meal still on the table, one more reminder of everything he was willing to do to please her. From helping change Evelyn’s nappies, to chopping firewood, to always treating her with respect and honor. If he could give up everything for her, she could do no less. She laid her palm against his cheek. “If your happiness means moving back to England, then Evelyn and I will go with you.”