Come Spring (29 page)

Buck offered her the last handful of popcorn in the bowl, but she shook her head. He munched on it noisily as he considered what she’d said. “A name, huh?”

“A real name. I’ve been telling her about all kinds of names lately and we’ve even named her dolls, so I think she knows what I’ve been talking about,” Annika said.

“And she gets to choose?”

Annika nodded. Baby was sitting on her lap now, cradled against the crook of her arm, her mouth surrounded by popcorn crumbs and bits of hull. “What do you think, Baby? Remember when we named your dolls and how we talked about you choosing a new name for yourself?”

Buck crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in the chair, and stretched out his long legs. “What kind of names have you talked about?”

“Girls’ names of course, like Mary, Susie, Catherine, Olivia, Elizabeth, Caroline... all kinds of names. Do you have any ideas?”

He was staring intently at the child, then his eyes met Annika’s. “I guess she’ll need a real name.”

Suddenly Annika regretted her own interference. Here she was trying to reconcile Buck to the fact that he loved and needed his niece and that to give her up was unthinkable, and now she had made it sound as if Baby were starting a whole new life, a life Buck would have no part in, a life so different that Baby would need a brand-new name to go with it.

“Maybe it’s a bad idea,” Annika said, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

“No, I think she should have a real name. Something decent.”

Annika sighed. By the resigned look Buck wore on his face she knew things were not going as she had planned. She had no recourse. “What name do you want, Baby? What should we call you?”

The little girl looked up at Annika with trust in her eyes. She smiled across the table at Buck.

“Remember the names we talked about? You said you liked the names Caroline and Susan. Would you like us to call you one of those?”

Baby shook her head emphatically. “Buttons,” she said.

Annika shook her head. “We’re not playing with the buttons now; it’s almost time for you to go to bed.”

“Buttons,” Baby said again.

Annika looked up at Buck. “On second thought, I think this was a bad idea. Maybe she’s too young to choose.”

“Buttons,” Baby insisted.

“I’ve confused her,” Annika admitted.

“Buttons!” Baby said louder because no one seemed to be paying her any mind.

“I think she’s just chosen,” Buck said with a smug smile.

Annika looked doubtful. “What?”

Baby tugged on Annika’s jacket to get her attention. “Buttons. Me name me Buttons now.”

Annika groaned. “Not Buttons. That’s not a name.”

“Me name me Buttons.”

“You told her she could choose,” he reminded her.

“I wasn’t counting on
Buttons.
The point of all this was to give her a real name. Whoever heard of anyone called Buttons?”

“Whoever heard of the name Annika?” he wanted to know.

Baby chimed in again. “Me name—”

“I know, I know,” Annika groaned. “Why don’t you let your uncle put you to bed and we’ll talk about it tomorrow?”

“Buck put Buttons to bed.” She held out her arms to Buck.

He walked around the table and took the child out of Annika’s arms, trying hard to hide a smile.

Annika couldn’t help but notice the glimpse of good humor. “Maybe it’s not such a bad name at that,” she mused softly.

“It’s different,” he said.

“So is Annika,” she said.

“Night, Ankah,” Baby called out.

She watched as Buck pulled the satin dress over Baby’s head and put the old one on before he tucked her in.

“Night, Buttons,” Annika said as she started to wash the dishes.

Baby Buttons was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Annika sensed Buck moving restlessly about the room and hurried through her task, anxious to stop him should he decide to leave her alone as usual. She quickly washed and stacked the wet dishes, gave them a cursory toweling, and nearly threw them on the shelf. When she heard him move toward the door, she spun around and blurted out, “Have some more coffee.”

He glanced quickly in her direction, then away, and shook his head. “No, thanks.”

Buck put his hand on his jacket, determined to get outside. He needed to be free of the sight of her standing there with her hands clasped at her waist, her eyes searching him for the answers to questions he would rather not have to answer.

“Please don’t go outside tonight.”

The plea was issued in a tone barely above a whisper. He wished he could oblige her, but he needed to get out into the crisp night air, to breathe in the freedom of the valley, and see the stars. He had to get away from her and try to drive the longing from his soul. Annika Storm made him think thoughts he hadn’t the right to think, to want things he had no right dreaming of.

Buck faced her again and drew upon all the courage he possessed. “I think you know why I can’t stay here.”

She let out a pent-up sigh. It was in the open now, this thing that hung on the air between them like a dark secret. It was now that she must act. “We have to talk, Buck. You can’t keep running outside and hiding from the truth.”

He shoved his splayed fingers through his hair, turned away from the door, and walked over to the fire. He stared down at the flames for a long while, then finally he spoke again. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”

“I know it is. You stay outside day and night just to keep from being with Baby. You’re trying to divorce yourself from that child, but you can’t fool me, Buck Scott.” Annika crossed the room until she stood not a foot away. She forced him to look at her, not down at the fire. He was tall, taller than any man she’d ever known, but she was no slight maid and could nearly meet him eye to eye. “You love Baby, Buck, love her as if she were your own flesh and blood, and if you intend to give her up, don’t try to enlist my help. I won’t take her from you, no matter how much I’ve come to care about her.”

“If you really cared about her, you’d take her. You’d make sure she had a good home, a decent home, one where she’d grow up safe and have everything I can’t give her.”

“You love her too much to let her go.” Annika studied him intently, afraid of becoming swallowed up by his burning blue gaze. “I think she’s probably the only thing you’ve ever loved in your life.”

She’d come too close to the truth. He watched her speak, his eyes intent on her lips. He lifted his gaze to her hair, noticed the stray wisps that had escaped the satin ribbon to p lay around her face. He ached to touch her. It would be so easy to reach out and run his fingers down her soft cheek. So easy.

But it would be his downfall. And hers.

I think she’s the only thing you’ve ever loved in your life.

Her words echoed in his mind. “You might be surprised,” he whispered, thinking aloud.

Then surprise me.
She wanted to shout it when she heard his soft reply, but she held her silence. Annika tensed, certain he was going to reach out and pull her into his arms, uncertain of what she would do if he did, but knowing she would welcome the opportunity to find out. The firelight played upon the walls around them, the soft glow of the lamp on the mantel cast the interior of the cabin in a golden light. It was a magic moment, one she knew she would never forget no matter what came to pass in the next few weeks or for the rest of her life, for that matter.

Buck stepped forward, paused as if he were debating his next move, then stepped around her. He grabbed his jacket and slammed out the door.

Annika felt as if her knees were about to give way as she watched his swift departure with fleeting hope coupled with disappointment. Her plan to confront him had failed. Not only had he held fast to his decision to give up Baby, but also he had walked out before he would admit to any feelings he might have for her.

Still, she knew there was no denying the look on his face just before he had stormed out. He had wanted to kiss her as much as she had hoped he would. Armed with that knowledge, she was certain that he couldn’t hold out much longer.

If he did she just might have to take matters into her own hands. After all, how else was she to know if kissing Buck Scott would be any different than kissing Richard Thexton? Maybe her response to all men was the same. Maybe there was something wrong with her.

She knew that somehow she had to find out.

   15   

T
HE
evening having ended in failure, Annika decided to change into her nightclothes and make up the pallet she had not slept on for days. It was time to put things back to normal, or at least as normal as they had been before, given the situation. Buck had looked exhausted for far too long and deserved a night in his own bed.

Seated cross-legged on her bed of pelts, Annika pulled her hairbrush out of the satchel and worked her hair to a high-gloss shine. Then she began to weave it into a single, thick braid. She didn’t expect him to come back inside until she had turned down the lamps and crawled into bed. Somehow he always knew when that time had come.

When the door swung inward and Buck walked in long before she had finished with her braid, she looked up in surprise. He was carrying a bundle wrapped in burlap. “Was it too cold for you to work outside tonight?” She blessed the frigid mountain night.

He cleared his throat before he said, “I was done.”

“Oh.”

He walked to the end of the pallet and dropped the burlap in her lap. Whatever lay inside was bulky and heavy. He stood over her, waiting expectantly.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

She frowned, imagining all manner of furry dead animals or their body parts that might be hidden inside the burlap. “Is it dead?”

It was slight—only a slight tilt of his lips—but it was still a smile. “Very,” he said.

She grimaced.

“It’s a gift,” he prodded.

Unwilling to appear rude, Annika stood up and carried the makeshift bag to the table. Still wearing his jacket, he followed close behind her.

“What for?” she asked.

Buck shrugged, thinking it was just like a woman to want to ask questions instead of finding out for herself. He’d worked long and hard on the present and was anxious for her to open it. “Look, it’s just a gift. A thank-you for what you did for Baby Buttons.”

Her hands were shaking. She balled them into fists, then flexed her fingers open. Reaching out, she lifted the burlap and found a softly tanned piece of buckskin inside. It was ivory—nearly white—and folded. As she carefully opened the piece, she realized it had been cut in the shape of a long coat and lined with a fine gray fur—a pelt richer than any she had seen about the place so far.

Annika lifted the coat by the shoulders, then held it in front of her, measuring its length. It was perfectly fitted to her height and hung all the way to her ankles. She gathered the coat in her arms and spun around to face the man waiting silently beside her.

“Oh, Buck! It’s the most beautiful coat I’ve ever owned!”

He reached out and fingered a sleeve, knowing he would not dare to touch it once she had it on. “I doubt that, but it’ll keep you warm.”

“I want to try it on.” She handed the coat to him so that he could hold it while she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

Uneasy, Buck realized he’d never performed the gentlemanly task before and was just wishing she would take her time when it was over all too quickly.

With her back to him, Annika pulled the edges of the coat closed and fastened the carved buttons into the neatly edged buttonholes. “The buttons are wonderful. Where did you get them?” They were big and round and each uniquely different.

“Carved them out of antlers.”

She ran her hands along the seams and felt the buttons again. The coat must have taken him hours to fashion.

Buck looked down upon her bent head, admiring the way the light played on the different colors woven into the honey gold strands. Her long braid was richer than any pelt he had ever cured. He knew without touching it that it would slip through his fingers like silken sunshine.

Suddenly, before he could guess what was about to happen, she turned around, threw her arms about his neck, and bussed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you so much, Buck! It’s the best present I’ve ever received.”