Mittman, Stephanie (41 page)

Willa
shook her head. "She's taking it real bad. I hope Francie can snap her out
of it."

"I'd
better go," Noah said quietly, sensing that he was intruding on family
time as Bart came into the room and put his arm around his wife.

All
her brothers and sisters seemed to have a shoulder to lean against, a strong
arm to bolster them, a backbone to share when their own seemed too weak to
support them. Oh, Ethan hadn't settled down yet, and Francie hadn't made her
mind up either, but Annie was alone. And although she had stood beside Miller
most of the day, she had been all alone until this evening.

"I'll
think on it," she said, meeting Noah's even gaze and giving him a
tremulous smile. It was worth thinking about, anyway.

In
the dark and cold of early morning,
Noah sat with hunched shoulders and
listened for the train whistle that would announce Francie Morrow's return to
Van Wert. She'd been gone one and a half months. He wondered if the time had
changed her as much as it had changed him. He hoped not.

Oh,
he would be more than happy if she'd given up her silly crush on him, but it
would break his heart if she'd lost the skip in her step, the smile on her
face, and the gleam in her eyes somewhere in New York City. She was a special
girl, almost as special as the woman who'd raised her from birth, and he had to
admit a certain thrill accompanied the thought of seeing her again, even under
such tragic circumstances.

If
it hadn't been for Francie there would be no chance of marrying Annie, no hope
for the future, no mother for his girls. He had Francie to thank for
everything, and he intended to let her know the depth of his gratitude just as
soon as she descended the steps of the Chicago & Atlantic Railroad.

A
long blast of a whistle broke the silence of the predawn morning, followed by
two shorter blows. The train was stopping in Van Wert. Though he'd checked it
twice already, Noah pulled his watch from his pocket once more and looked at
it. Six a.m. Just two more minutes and Francie would be back in their lives,
even if only for a few days.

He
wondered if Hannah and Julia would still feel so strongly about her.

She
was the first one off the train, her pale hair catching the light of the old
gas lamps.

He
leaped from the wagon and hurried toward her, waving and calling her name in
the empty station. "Francie," he yelled. "Over here!"

She
turned at the sound of his voice, and the smile that lit her face unnerved him.
He'd have to tell her why she was sent for. He couldn't bring her back to her
family with that wonderful smile on her face and make them break the news to
her themselves.

"Noah!"
she shrieked and ran toward him, one hand holding on to her hat and the other
lifting her skirts so she could get to him faster. "Oh, Noah!" She
catapulted into his arms and nestled against him. She was half a head shorter
than Annie and even more childlike than he remembered.

He
lifted her and swung her around, not wanting to ruin the moment. He would tell
her in the wagon. Bad news could always wait.

Her
arms went around his neck, nearly choking him. When he put her feet back on the
ground, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him, smack on the lips. And not
a friendly nice-to-be-home kiss either.

"I
knew you'd come to your senses," she said when she finally released him.
"Every man needs a wife." She brushed some lint from his jacket and
lifted his collar around him.

Shit.

That
was all he could think. Especially when he saw the trainman unload two cartons
and a suitcase onto the platform. She'd brought home everything she owned.
Annie wasn't going to like this, not at all.

"Francie,"
he began. "I think you've misunderstood."

"Hmm?"
she said as she looped her arm into his and headed toward her luggage.
"Why didn't you bring the girls? I can't wait to see them. And whatever
happened to your eyebrow? It looks like you missed with your razor."

"It's
nothing."

"Good.
So it took you long enough. Wait until I tell you all about the men I had to
fight off in New York while I waited for you to—"

"Francie
honey, you're not listening to me." He tried to extricate himself from her
arm, but instead of getting free she just let her hand slide down until her
gloved hand rested in his. If he didn't know better he'd think she'd been
learning a few things in the big city.

She
shook her shoulders, a wiggle that reminded him of Della. "I always liked
it when you called me honey. Are we going back to your farm?" She picked
up her gladstone bag and left the larger suitcase and the cartons for him.

"Francie,"
he tried again. "You don't understand."

"Oh,
don't tell me. Sissy wouldn't like it if I went back to your farm." She
stuck out her lower lip. "But I miss my girls."

"Francie!"
he said, trying to still the whirlwind around him. "Will you shut
up?"

Her
eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. As soon as she became aware of it,
she snapped it shut and folded her arms across her chest. "What did you
say?"

She
seemed every bit a grown woman to him now, with angry eyes glaring at him like
a schoolteacher waiting for a naughty pupil's unacceptable excuse.

"I'm
sorry," he said, "but I've got some bad news for you and you just
refuse to let me speak."

Her
face went pale. "Oh, my God," she mumbled and looked for something to
hold on to. Noah was the nearest thing, so she steadied herself on his arm.
"It's the girls, isn't it? Hannah? Julia?"

He
kept shaking his head. He didn't remember Francie being such a talker. Maybe
after all the silence in the house once Wylene was gone, he had enjoyed
Francie's chatter.

"What
is it then?" she demanded.

"Annie
asked me to send for you," he said. She seemed confused. "Your
sister. Sissy." He hated that name. Somehow it seemed to take away her
identity.

"I
know who Annie is," Francie said. "Is she sick?" There was a
kind of false bravado to her question, as if she was pretending not to care.
"She must be if she let you send for me. I think she wanted to keep me in
New York for good."

"For
your
good, maybe," he agreed.

"She
isn't sick, is she?" she asked. This time her voice trembled with the
concern that even her childish resentment couldn't erase. The hand that held
his arm tightened into a death grip. "Noah? Is Sissy all right?"

He
nodded and patted the hand that was now cutting off his circulation.
"She's fine. It's Della's boy, Samuel."

A
slight grimace touched her lips. He supposed there weren't too many people to
whom the thought of Samuel would bring a smile. "What about him?" It
seemed as though she was putting all the pieces together in her head, and he
gave her a moment to come up with the answer. If Annie had sent for her surely
it could only mean one thing. The look on her face showed she understood.

"Please
don't say it," she said softly.

"I'll
put your bags in the wagon and take you home."

"To
your place?" she asked and then laughed at herself. "I thought—"
she began, but he patted her shoulder gently and reached down for the luggage.

"Yes,"
he said. "I know. I'm sorry if my message misled you."

She
waved away his words. "Well, I'm home now. Maybe I'll be able to change
your mind."

"Very
funny," he said, trying to brush off her comment as a joke.

"You
haven't married anyone else," she said when they got to the wagon.
"I'd have heard from Ethan."

"No,"
he said. "But—" Did he have the right to tell her about Annie? If she
chose Miller—and just the thought set the hairs on his neck on end—she surely
wouldn't want anyone to know that she had even considered marrying him.

"But
nothing," she said, then changed the subject as he handed her up into the
wagon. "How's Della taking it?"

"Not
well." He was relieved to talk about Samuel. Though sad, it was a safer
subject between the two of them.

He
explained the accident as best he could, having gleaned the important facts
from the talk at Peter and Della's home the day before.

He
stayed away from the subject of marriage entirely. Surely she was just teasing
him with her proposal. He just hoped Francie had the good sense to keep her
childish fantasies to herself. He didn't want anything interfering with his
plans, now that he was so close to convincing Annie she belonged with him.

They
fell silent halfway to the Morrow farm. Noah kept his gaze straight ahead, but
that didn't stop him from feeling Francie's eyes bore into him the whole way to
Annie's front door.

***

The
footsteps on the porch echoed in the living room where Annie waited for Noah
and her sister to arrive. Francie would be devastated by Samuel's death. Della
and Francie were two peas in a pod, and what hurt one would hurt the other just
as deeply.

There
was a hesitation at the door, then a knock. She supposed Noah had suggested it
because he was there with Francie and wouldn't want to just burst into her house.
Not that he hadn't just burst into her life and turned it upside down.

Annie
opened the door and drank in the beauty of her sister's face. It had been so
long since she'd seen the pale blond hair, the light green eyes, the
translucent skin. If it was possible, Francie was even more beautiful than when
she'd left. And despite traveling all night, she was tidier and less rumpled
than Annie herself.

"Oh,
Francie!" The words poured from Annie's heart as she spread her arms for
her sister. And Francie rushed into them and cuddled against the softness of
Annie's breast and hugged her sister hard.

"It's
good to be home," she said, the words muffled in Annie's shirtwaist.
"Even though—"

"Della
will be so happy to see you," Annie said. Over Francie's head she tried to
read the look on Noah's face. Hopeful? Yes, but there was something more. If
Annie hadn't known better, she'd swear it was fear.

"Mr.
Eastman?" Before she could ask if everything was all right, Francie's head
snapped back.

"Are
you still calling him that? I thought by now he'd be just Noah." She
turned and gave him a dazzling smile.

How
beautiful she was! She had none of Della's brazenness, but all of her charm.
Just standing there, her back erect, her head at just the slightest angle, she
was Venus come to life; she was a portrait that breathed.

Noah
saw it too. How could he help it? Her frailness brought out the protectiveness
in him in a way that Annie never could. Just the way he looked at her showed
his concern. He seemed to be awaiting her every word, her slightest move.

And
when he moved his gaze to Annie it seemed to waver, as if he wasn't as sure
this morning as he had been the night before.

"I'll
get Francie's luggage," he said finally, and turned to leave.

When
Francie thanked him there was a purr to her voice that struck Annie as odd, but
no odder than the shrug that Noah gave her in return.

While
Noah was out at the wagon, Francie pulled off her gloves and coat. She was
wearing a new wool jersey, one that must have been purchased in New York. It
nipped so tightly at the waist and spread so lushly above and below that it was
evident Francie had taken to wearing a corset.

Annie
knew better than to compare herself to either of her sisters. She could only be
found wanting. It had never bothered her overly before. After all, she took
pride in their appearance, just as her mother would have. And she'd heard
enough sermons on envy and jealousy to know that the green-eyed monster had no
place on the Morrow farm.

Still,
standing next to Francie as Noah came back in with her luggage, Annie became
again what she had always been: plain. Plain and passed over. It was all right
if Noah had changed his mind after seeing Francie again. After all, Annie was
good and kind and a hard worker, and she knew those were important qualities
for the wife of a minister. She never shied away from the sick or the crippled,
she could bake for a whole congregation on just a day's notice, and she could
mend and clean as well as any woman in Van Wert County.

Francie
asked Noah if he would bring her things up to her room, then preceded him on
the stairs to show off her newly purchased figure. He shot a glance back at
Annie as if pleading for her help. She didn't blame him for a second. What man
wouldn't feel like things were out of his control around the new improved
Francie Morrow?

***

Miller
Winestock was preparing his eulogy for poor little Samuel Gibbs, trying to
think of something pleasant to say about the boy. He was known throughout the
county for his personal touch at weddings, funerals, and confirmations. While
he worked he kept a watchful eye on Tessie Willis, who was taking care of his
correspondence with a diligence and a competence that had quite frankly taken
him by surprise.