Colorado Dawn (13 page)

“Thank you. You will be careful getting to your rooming house, won’t you?”

Buckford cleared his throat behind them. “Perhaps I could escort your guest to her rooming house?”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

Karen closed the door behind them. Had the visit done more harm than good? Mrs. Doolin’s words made no sense, and yet, Paddy Doolin had used practically his dying breath to implore her to get his message to David. What could varmints possibly have to do with the accident? Nothing, that’s what. As she said, the man was out of his head.

A pile of letters on the hall table caught her eye. She sorted through them, bills and accounts, the newspaper, circulars, and personal correspondence. Perhaps David would like her to read the newspaper to him before bedtime.

Aunt Hattie would be scandalized if she knew Karen read the newspaper. Speaking of Aunt Hattie, a fat letter from her lay at the bottom of the stack. Karen scooped up the paper and the letter and returned to the parlor.

David sat before the fireplace, his face in his hands. When she took the chair across from him, he sat up and sighed. “She’s gone then?”

“Yes, Buckford is seeing her to the rooming house. Did you know her husband well?”

“Paddy Doolin was the best dynamiter in Martin City. Every mining engineer in the Rockies tried to pinch him from us. A giant of a man and as capable as they come, always smiling and laughing. I can’t think why he’d want to tell me about a problem he’d taken care of himself.”

“More likely he wasn’t in his right senses.”

David thought on this. “That could explain it. Or maybe she misunderstood.” He smacked his thigh with his fist. “I thought maybe she had a clue for me, something that Paddy knew that would tell me why the shaft collapsed—Something to tell me what I did wrong.”

“Isn’t it possible that it isn’t anyone’s fault?”

He shook his head. “Something caused that cave-in. Marcus is supposed to be looking into it, but I haven’t heard anything from him.” His feet shifted, and he pounded his leg again. “Though if he finds something that shows I was at fault, I don’t know if he would tell me.”

She needed to change the subject, give David something else to think about before bedtime. “I sorted the mail.” She tugged at her bottom lip. “The evening paper arrived while we were out. Would you like me to read to you?”

“No, thank you.”

She swallowed her disappointment. “There’s a letter from Aunt Hattie, too.” Slipping a hairpin from her coiled hair, Karen slit the envelope and withdrew the closely written pages. She tilted the paper toward the fireplace and scanned the first page. A wave of homesickness sloshed over her, and a lump formed in her throat.

“David, she’s invited us for Christmas.” A smile stretched her lips. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I miss her so much. When she got sick, I was so afraid. She’s the only one I have left from my family. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” She turned the page. “Listen to this:

Karen lowered the letter. “David, Christmas in Kansas City, won’t that be fun? I’m not sure where the time has gotten to. It’s only two weeks until the twenty-fifth. I’ll have to do some shopping and see about tickets.”

“Karen, stop.”

“But there’s so much to see to. I should start making a list, so I don’t forget anything.” She bounded out of the chair and headed for the desk to find a pencil. What a blessing it would be to talk face-to-face with her aunt. Christmas with family. Her eyes grew misty at the thought.

“Karen.”

His voice was so sharp, she stopped with the drawer only half open. “What?”

“I’m not going to Kansas City.”

Her mouth fell open. “But…” She blinked, her heart tumbling into her shoes. “It’s Aunt Hattie.”

“I’m not going to Kansas City for Christmas. I’m not going to Martin City for Christmas. I’m not going anywhere for Christmas.”

“But you went out tonight and everything went fine.” Except for the way their kiss ended. She touched her lips, remembering the bliss of being in his arms. “And Aunt Hattie won’t judge or make you uncomfortable. You’ve never met a kinder soul. She’ll love you. I wanted you to meet her at the wedding.” Her voice hitched. “The doctor told her she’d be well enough to travel by early summer when we originally planned to marry. Since we moved up the wedding date and she wasn’t able to come, this will be the perfect solution. It shouldn’t interrupt your studies too much. We’ll be back in less than a month. Two weeks if that is all you can spare.”

“You’re not listening to me.” His hands fisted and relaxed, only to fist again. “I am not traveling. There’s a big difference between a few hours’ visit to the school and traipsing across the plains to stay in the house of a complete stranger.”

“But she’s not a stranger. She’s family.”

“No, Karen. This is not open for discussion.”

Karen took in his impassive face, as stubborn and set as ever, and clenched her teeth. Tears gathered in her eyes and spilled over. One fat drop plopped onto Aunt Hattie’s invitation. Karen folded the pages and stuffed them into the envelope to read later. “Very well.” She couldn’t keep the sound of tears out of her voice and didn’t care. She wanted him to know how much he’d hurt her. Why must she be the one to always sacrifice? “I’m going to bed.” Before she gave vent to the harsh words she wanted to hurl at him, she escaped.

David pushed his forehead against the heels of his hands. He’d made her cry. Again. But couldn’t she see she asked more than he could give? A train trip? To a strange city, to a strange house? To be presented to her sole remaining family member as the cripple she’d married?

No. He couldn’t do it. They would spend the holidays here. But maybe he could make it up to her—extend the peace of the season and make some smaller concessions. He’d grown weary of his own recalcitrance. Perhaps it was possible for them to achieve some measure of happiness together. Tomorrow he’d talk to Buckford about sending a message home. Karen’s Christmas gift lay in his bureau drawer at the house. Mother could send it in plenty of time.

Straightening, he leaned back in the chair and rested his head, pushing his guilt over Karen to the back of his mind. For now, he would examine everything Mrs. Doolin had said about her husband’s last words. Perhaps, if he thought on it enough, he could make some sense of the cryptic message.

T
he letter to Aunt Hattie needed two stamps, but it weighed much less than Karen’s spirit. She battled down resentment and tried to understand things from David’s perspective, but it took much prayer and soul-searching, and nothing she did seemed to alleviate the heaviness. In the same mail, she sent a letter to David’s parents, declining both their invitation for Karen and David to come to Martin City and their offer to journey to Denver so they could all be together for the holidays. She shopped for gifts and contemplated the idea of going by herself, but the thought of spending their first married Christmas apart didn’t sit well with her, and she discarded the idea. Perhaps he’d feel more confident by springtime and they could travel to see Aunt Hattie together. Or Hattie could come to them as soon as the doctor gave her leave.

The closer they drew to Christmas Day, the more homesick and lonely Karen became. The package from Aunt Hattie nearly broke her heart. Buckford brought her the crate and helped her open it. Beneath layers of excelsior, she unearthed the hand-carved crèche and figures of her aunt’s beloved nativity set. Brought from Europe by Karen’s great-grandmother, it had held a place of honor in the Worth household. The card expressed Hattie’s disappointment at not being together for the holidays, but now that Karen had her own home, the nativity should be hers. Karen didn’t try to stop the tears as she lifted the wooden animals and shepherds and wise men from the crate and set them on the mantel. Each dear, loved figurine only made her miss her aunt more. By the time she lifted the natal family into place, she was sobbing.

Voices in the hall had her scrambling to mop the tears and present at least a facade of calm. Lessons must be over for the day. She straightened her hair and tucked her handkerchief away and went to say good-bye to Rex until the new year. When she reached the doorway, she stopped, not wanting to interrupt.

“You’ll never have any measure of independence until you’re willing to leave the safety of this house. Why won’t you even take a walk down the street with me? You have to be weary of being cooped up here day after day. The only place you’ve gone in almost two months is a single reception at the school, and I had to strong-arm you into going then.” Rex placed his hat on his head and his hand on the doorknob. His walking stick, twin to one he’d brought for David that stood unused in the umbrella stand, jutted from under his arm. “Your training won’t be complete until you can go where you want, when you want.”

“I don’t need that. I wish you’d stop pushing me.”

“It’s my job to push you.”

“Then it’s my job to push back. I appreciate what you’ve done for me—teaching me to read again, to eat and dress and organize. I don’t want anything beyond that.”

“But there’s so much more that you’re capable of. So much more you could do.”

“Good-bye, Rex. Until the new year.”

Rex left unsatisfied, and Karen sympathized with him. She was unsatisfied, too.

Early on Christmas morning, Karen donned a russet wool dress and wrapped her cape about her shoulders. As she passed David’s door, she had to blink back tears. In spite of her best efforts, she had gotten no further than Rex had, and David refused to accompany her to church, not even on Christmas.

Though he must have felt some remorse for denying her request that they go to her aunt’s. Or maybe it was the holiday that brought about the subtle changes. He had seemed softer these past few days.

She slipped into the back pew and surveyed the congregation. How she missed the fellowship of the little whitewashed church in Martin City and dear old Pastor Van Dyke’s sermons. Though the soaring spaces and stained glass of this large church in Denver inspired awe and she was surrounded by many times the number of worshippers in Martin City, the experience left her remote and cold. The droning, vibrating tones from the pipe organ sent chills across her flesh, and she shivered as she opened her Bible for the reading.

If she and David had gone to Kansas City for Christmas, she would be sitting with Aunt Hattie in the nice church Karen had visited when she went there to take care of her aunt. Was it really less than three months since she’d been there, listening to the young preacher, Silas Hamilton, deliver a poignant and stirring message? If she was with Hattie in that church, Christmas and Christ would seem very near.

As it was, she sat through the formal service, detached and unable to focus. Her thoughts bounced from missing her aunt, who was distant from her by days and miles, to frustration with her husband, who was distant from her by pride and fear.

When she got home, she draped her cloak over the banister to carry to her room later and wandered into the parlor. Off-key humming accompanied the clank of cookware from the back of the house and made her smile. Taking a long match from the holder on the wall, she touched it to the coal fire then went around the room lighting the candles among the pine and holly. Not even the spicy, resinous scents that mingled with the smell of roasting goose lifted her spirits.

“God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” boomed from the kitchen. Mrs. Webber, a choir of one.

Karen stopped before the nativity scene, touching the pieces lightly, her heart sending Christmas wishes to her aunt and to David’s family. Karen fingered the cameo at her throat, a gift from the Mackenzies.