Courting Susannah (12 page)

Maisie chuckled, stroking the baby's downy head with one work-roughened hand as she rocked the chair back and forth. The infant drew hungrily from the bottle. “You don't need to pretend with me, miss,” she said. “I ain't lived all this while 'thout knowin' a thing or two. Until last night, when Mr. Fairgrieve waited for you in his study the way he did, I had Hollister in mind for your match. Now, though, I've started seein' things from a different angle.”

Once more, heat filled Susannah's face. She slammed the tea canister down on the work surface beside the big cast-iron sink. “And what angle is that?” she asked, more tersely than she had intended.

Maisie was unfazed. In fact, she looked downright smug. “I reckon you're the reason the mister got shut of his fancy woman. You could do a lot worse than Aubrey Fairgrieve, you know.”

Aghast, Susannah stared at her friend. “You can't be serious! This is my
best friend's
widower we're talking about—why, it would be—it would be—”

“It would be what?” Maisie prompted. “Mrs. Fairgrieve was your friend, but she's dead and gone, and you're alive. She wanted you here, begged me to send for you. Maybe she knew—”

“Stop,” Susannah pleaded.

“Like I said, Mr. Fairgrieve would be a mighty good catch. Even in Seattle, there's plenty of women who'd bless their stars if he wanted them.”

Susannah regained control of her outward manner, though still swept up in the confusing maelstrom of
emotion Maisie's remarks had aroused in her. “They can have him,” she said, perhaps too hastily, “with my blessings.”

Maisie only laughed.

An hour later, the weather had not cleared, and the baby was sleeping soundly in her basket. Susannah, always ready to snatch any opportunity for a walk, rain or shine, kept going to the steamy windows, wiping with her apron, and peering out.

“Go on with you,” Maisie said, busy chopping vegetables for a supper of stew. “I'll look after the little one till you get back.”

Susannah flung her friend a grateful glance and fled toward the front of the house, grasping the cloak and swirling it around her as she went. Outside, the sun struggled behind a curtain of clouds, and there was a distinct chill to the atmosphere, yet she was jubilant with excitement.

She strolled the neighborhood for some time, at a brisk and bracing pace, before winding up in the churchyard, beside Julia's bleak, elegant grave. There was no sign of Reverend Johnstone or anyone else, which was just as well.

Susannah sat down on the stone bench nearest her friend's resting place and held the cloak closed with a tightened fist. The wind was rising, stinging her skin, and the cold seemed to reach past flesh and fiber to hollow out her bones. She had shed many tears for Julia. Now, she was left with a sort of emptiness, and she had to practice remembering the other woman's features, the same way she made her piano students go over and over the scales, in order to keep herself from forgetting.

“I've come to look after your baby, Julia,” she said quietly, although she knew the essence of her cherished friend, the life force that had animated her and made
her an individual, was not in this grimly beautiful place. “And I've got to admit, I'm not sure I understand why you found your husband so objectionable.”

There was no answer, of course—just the wind whispering in the dried and falling leaves of the churchyard's few deciduous trees. Most were evergreens, venerable and pungently scented.

“I'm going to give your daughter a name,” Susannah went on presently. “Victoria. I've bought her a christening gown, and lots of new clothes as well. She's growing so fast, Julia! Why, Maisie told me she's three times the size she was when she was born. Pretty soon, she'll be walking and talking and going to school.” Sudden tears stung her eyes, and she paused to dry them with the back of one hand. “I'm so sorry you won't be here to see her. It isn't fair, that you have to miss even a moment—”

Behind Susannah, someone coughed diplomatically, to let her know she wasn't alone. She turned on the bench and was startled to see Ethan standing there, cattleman's hat in hand, ears red with the cold. He looked every inch the cowboy, in his boots, denim trousers, and fleece-lined leather coat. Between the lapels, she glimpsed the blue chambray of his shirt.

“I didn't mean to disturb you,” he said.

Susannah was relieved, if anything. She had been getting a bit maudlin before he arrived, and that never did anyone any good. “Not at all,” she said with a smile, patting the stone bench beside her. “Sit down.”

He grinned. “I reckon I'd rather go out to the ice house and settle myself on a big lump of last year's lake water,” he said. His expression turned serious. “You all right, Miss Susannah? You look a little flimsy to me.”

She smiled and stood, dusting off her skirts, more out of habit than necessity. “It's just that I miss Julia so very much,” she said, glancing back at the monument. She
paused, studying Aubrey's younger brother, then spoke her mind. “Did you know Julia well?”

He looked away for a moment, then settled his hat on his head with a movement so brisk that it was almost harsh. “Not as well as I thought I did,” he said. He brought his gaze back to hers then and regarded her unflinchingly. “I came here looking for you, Susannah. I've already said all my good-byes to Julia.”

She was honestly puzzled. “What do you want with me?”

“I thought we could talk. I was driving past, about to return a rig I borrowed from Aubrey, and I saw you, so I stopped. I guess I shouldn't have interrupted you—I'm sorry.” He started to turn away, but Susannah found herself at his side, taking hold of his arm.

“Wait,” she said. “Don't go. Please. There are things I want—I need to know. About Julia's life and—and about her death.”

Ethan gave another sigh, then crooked his elbow. “I'll tell you what I can,” he promised, “but I'd rather we had our chat someplace warm. How about the dining room at the hotel? We could take some refreshment and thaw ourselves out at the same time.”

Susannah felt a little surge of pleasure. She was becoming quite the woman about town, first having dinner out with Mr. Hollister and now tea with Ethan Fairgrieve. “That sounds fine,” she agreed, hoping the delay wouldn't worry Maisie.

Ethan helped her up into the box of the wagon, then climbed up beside her and took the reins. His grin was boyish, a reminder that he was very young and probably much less sophisticated than his elder brother. Within a few minutes, they had made their way over bare streets and cobbled ones and reached the Washington Hotel.

Inside, Ethan removed his hat and coat and helped
Susannah out of her cloak. The garments were left in the charge of a clerk at the front desk.

The dining room, where Susannah had eaten with John Hollister only the night before, was a spacious place, with a Persian carpet and a plethora of potted palms. Ethan looked somewhat out of place in his rough, practical clothes and scuffed boots, but he was clearly at his ease; he might have been relaxing in his own parlor, for all the self-consciousness he showed.

They were given a table next to the fireplace, where a cheerful blaze crackled and snapped, and a Chinese man came to greet them. With Susannah's approval, Ethan ordered a pot of hot chocolate, some sandwiches, and a selection of sweets.

“You wouldn't have found Aubrey at home, you know,” Susannah said, referring back to the mention Ethan had made earlier of borrowing his brother's wagon.

Ethan grinned again, and even though Susannah was not moved romantically, she could imagine female hearts breaking all over the west. “That's why I took the rig,” he retorted. “Because Aubrey's on his way to San Francisco, I mean.”

Susannah didn't know if he was teasing or not, the mischievous grin notwithstanding. “Surely he wouldn't have minded lending it to you,” she said.

He sat back in his chair and heaved a great sigh. “My brother has little or no use for me these days,” he admitted. “At the moment, it's my niece I'm concerned about. The poor kid hasn't even got a name yet, has she?”

Before Susannah could answer, the waiter returned with a tray, and she waited until the cups, pot of chocolate, and various plates of sandwiches and cookies had been set out and they were alone again before speaking. “I call her Victoria,” she said. Then, after taking a deep breath, she plunged into deeper waters, like a resolute
swimmer. “I suppose you know that Aubrey believes Julia was unfaithful to him,” she said, taking care to keep her voice low.

Ethan looked distinctly uncomfortable and busied himself pouring hot chocolate into both their cups. He was surprisingly graceful at it, considering his rugged appearance.

“Ethan?” Susannah prompted when the silence went on too long to suit her. She had an odd, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Julia was—unhappy,” he said at long last. He was a study in polite misery.

“You don't mean she actually
did
take a lover?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “That's what I mean, all right. That was her business, I guess. But it happens that she told Aubrey that I was the other man. He believed her.”

Susannah's heart stopped, then lurched back into motion again. She felt all the color drain from her face, and the sickness grew to the point where she could not have touched the food and drink before her for any reason. “Was he right?” she dared to ask after a long time, wondering at her own audacity the whole while.

It was then that she saw the resemblance between Ethan and his older brother. He glared at her, looking for all the world like Aubrey, and sounding like him, too, when he snapped, “What do you think?”

Chapter 6

S
usannah kept her gaze level with Ethan's, though her voice faltered a little. “I don't know what to think,” she said, keeping her voice down lest the other diners overhear. “That is why I'm asking you. Were you and Julia—improperly close?”

For a while, there was no reply. Ethan's cup rattled dangerously as he set it down on the tabletop. “I've loved one woman in my life,” he said in quiet, even tones, leaning forward in his chair. His resemblance to Aubrey was still greater than before. “Her name was Su Lin. Before we could be married, her father sent her back to China to marry a distant cousin.”

The news made Susannah catch her breath. Ethan's grief was acrid as smoke between them, and it brought a brief, stinging sheen of tears to her eyes. “I don't know what to say.”

“Neither did I,” Ethan rasped. “‘Good-bye' just didn't seem to be enough.” After a few moments, he relented a little. His features relaxed visibly, and his impressive shoulders, stooped a moment before, were square again. He thrust a hand through his hair. “I'm sorry, Susannah. None of this ought to concern you, but I'm afraid it does, if only because of the baby.”

Susannah was still deeply troubled, for she knew, in her heart of hearts, that Julia
was
capable of vengeance and deception, if her private purposes were served. A rift between brothers, and all the damage it could do, might not have worried her overmuch. She had been a fully faceted human being after all, not a one-dimensional image painted on canvas or caught by the lens of a camera. Funny, intelligent, pretty, and adventurous, Julia also had been somewhat reckless and selfish at times. She had had vain moments, and spiteful ones as well, and Susannah had loved her without illusion, loved her for her whole self, not merely her admirable qualities.

“The baby.” She sighed, steering the conversation back to its center of importance. “Aubrey has given me permission to have her christened. I mean to have that done before he returns from San Francisco, since it's doubtful he'll want to participate. Would you agree to be her godfather?”

Ethan was quiet—and expressionless—for so long that Susannah began to fear that she had committed a serious error by asking. “You are aware that Aubrey might interpret that as a sort of claim on my part?”

Susannah scraped her teeth over her lower lip, a habit she had been trying to break for years. The sisters had reprimanded her for it repeatedly, and Mrs. Butterfield had called it “common.”

“Aubrey,” she said presently in measured tones, “has made it clear that he does not wish to be involved. And it seems to me that he's already drawn the worst possible conclusion.”

“Yeah,” Ethan agreed, somewhat wearily. “But he did give you permission to do this, right? He doesn't take
kindly to interference in his affairs, so you've got to be sure.”

Aubrey certainly hadn't given his blessing to the idea; he'd just tossed off an all-right-let's-be-done-withit sort of remark the last time the topic was discussed, and Susannah had chosen to translate that as consent. A child could not be let to grow up without a Christian name, after all. “He made it clear that he doesn't care,” she replied honestly. “Therefore, it falls to me to take action, as the person Julia depended upon.”