Whirlwind (32 page)

Gratitude made the gray striations in her eyes shimmer.

“Shall I fetch the doctor?”

“There’s no need. Truly, there isn’t.”

Keeping Arthur out of trouble while he shaved might pose a problem, so Daniel carried the high chair into his bedchamber. Soon, his son giggled as he got a good view of Daddy’s funny faces. “So you’re entertained, are you?” Daniel used the brush and daubed a few spots onto his son’s jaw.

Arthur stared at himself in the mirror and squealed with glee.

Breakfast at the diner tasted fair. With all of the traveling he’d done, Daniel thought he’d developed a cast-iron stomach . . . until last night. He finished feeding Arthur and lingered over a cup of coffee. He wouldn’t open the store for another half hour, and if he kept his noisy little boy out of the place, maybe Millicent and Isabelle could catch a little more sleep.

The school bell rang twice. The second call for families who didn’t own a clock. The system seemed quite effective: a single ring for a half hour, two when school would start in fifteen minutes, and three times when the school day had begun.

When Daniel heard three rings, he rose. Everything at the store was spic and span. All he needed to do was show up and open the door. Mopping up Arthur, he chuckled. “You make funny faces like Daddy does when he shaves.”

Carrying his son down the boardwalk, Daniel heard someone call his name. He turned. “Reverend Bradle.”

“Daniel. I wanted to speak with you about what happened at church last Sunday.”

Daniel nodded curtly.

“I want to thank you for what you did. We’ve been inviting the Van der Vorts to church for years. No one’s wanted to pry as to why they refused. I’ve been praying for the Lord to send someone who could reach them. Sunday, Piet told us why. Instead of condemning him for his outburst, you offered to walk beside him.”

“It wasn’t a slight to your preaching.”

“I didn’t take it as such.”

The men spoke a little longer. Finally, Reverend Bradle said, “Piet’s grief isn’t fresh like your sister-in-law’s, but it is every bit as raw. Karl shook my hand after church and plans to return; let’s agree to minister to both of the Van der Vorts in whatever ways the Lord directs.”

“Let’s.”

“Good. Good then. I’m off to visit the Vaughn widow. Now that you’ve arrived and your check for the mercantile cleared the bank, Orville paid her off for the feedstore. She made arrangements to leave at the end of the week. My wife wants to have a departure dinner on Thursday night. We hope you can attend.”

“Pastor, something’s not right. I wired Orville full payment for the mercantile from England seven full weeks ago. He should have been able to pay off Mrs. Vaughn back then. Frankly, his dealings with me have been less than scrupulous, but I’ve chosen to forgive. If Orville was willing to be dishonest with a male family member, I have grave concern—especially upon hearing that he’s been dishonest about the transfer of funds—that he might take advantage of a grieving widow. It’s imperative we look into this at once. I trust you know the person or persons who’d handle the situation. If any cost is incurred in determining this, I’ll fund it. The matter must be seen to immediately.”

“Indeed. I happen to know the bank president is gone at the moment. I’ll have to summon the board of trustees.”

Daniel headed back to the store. The day started out bad and had gotten progressively worse. A bellyache, a sick wife, and a swindling relative.
Lord, you promise not to give more than we can take. I think I’ve hit my limit.
Opening the door caused the bell to clang. Daniel was surprised to see Tim and Sydney Creighton’s housekeeper trundling down the stairs.

Millicent followed her. “Thank you for coming, Velma. It was so very kind of you to drop everything.”

“Glad to help.” Velma patted Arthur’s back as she passed by and left.

Daniel tilted Millicent’s face up to his. She was a little pale.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Tears filled her eyes.

Arthur grabbed for her. “Mmm-ah! Amma aw bear.”

Millicent kissed his baby cheek and cuddled him close.

“Daniel, did you think I was sick?”

“Yes.”

“I’m perfectly fit.” Color filled her cheeks. “Isabelle’s . . .still queasy, but it’s nothing to worry over.”

Suddenly, Isabelle’s tiredness took on a completely different significance. “Is she . . . ?”

Millicent smiled and nodded.

Daniel heard a faint rustle. The hem of Isabelle’s black skirts appeared at the head of the stairs, and his blood ran cold. “Isabelle,” he rumbled, “don’t you move. You’re not going up or down those stairs unless I’m with you.”

Twenty-Three

I
was so happy for Isabelle, I didn’t even think about Daniel’s feelings. What kind of wife am I? He lost his pregnant wife because of stairs, and now he’s going to be faced with that horrible memory every single day for the next eight months.

Daniel escorted Isabelle down and beckoned Millicent.

“We need to pray.”

“Yes, we certainly do.”

They joined together. “Heavenly Father, we come to you and give thanks for this very special blessing. Grant Isabelle health and safety, we pray. Amen.”

He was putting up a good front, but Millicent knew the truth. He’d prayed for Isabelle’s safety. Well, she was going to be praying for that, too—in addition to begging the Lord to give Daniel peace of mind.

“You aren’t upset?” Isabelle half whispered.

Daniel smiled at her. “We’ve known you longed to have a child. God heard your desires. If it’s a son, will you name him Frank?”

Pressing her hand to her heart, Isabelle made a funny little sound that was a mix between a sob and a laugh. “That would be so sweet.”

He turned to Millicent. “I see you’re all dressed. I presume this news is your reason to declare today is special?”

Millicent nodded. She wasn’t fooled for a moment. Daniel completely sidestepped Isabelle’s question. To his credit, he didn’t lie; but the truth still wrenched Millicent’s heart. Daniel didn’t want a pregnant woman under his roof. The irony of it all was too much. In trying to protect Arthur and Isabelle, he ended up sacrificing his peace of mind.

“Isabelle, will you take note of this?” Daniel let out a chortle. “Your sister is so surprised and excited, she’s speechless! It’s going to be quite a year for her. Arthur just started calling her mama, and your little one will soon call her auntie.”

Isabelle let out another of her little sob-laughs and threw her arms around Millicent.

Returning the embrace, Millicent looked over her sister’s shoulder. In that moment, Daniel’s smile slid away and the muscle in his jaw twitched. He turned and strode off—almost as if he wanted to leave, keep walking, and never look back. He’d become a prisoner of his past in his own home.

“Daniel?” Slipping into the storeroom, Millicent whispered, “Could I have a word with you?”

“This isn’t a good time.”

“It’s probably the safest time. Isabelle just left to go tell Mercy Orion her news, and there’s no one in the store.”

He didn’t bother to turn around. “Then why are you whispering, and where is my son?”

Stunned, Millicent stood stock-still. “
Our
son went with my sister.”

Her husband pivoted toward her.

“As for whispering, I don’t know why I am.” Her voice was low, but it built in volume. “I was worried about your feelings. Fool that I am, I actually thought you might have some and appreciate a friend!” She whirled around and raced out of the storeroom.

The bell over the door jangled just as Daniel came out and called her name. She hastened up the stairs as the gentleman asked, “Is this the store that gave away the bracelet?”

Widow O’Toole clomped in. “And the one that gave away the bicycle. I won it.”

Biting her lip, Millicent kept from crying. She didn’t know what she was doing at all. According to Daniel, she hadn’t done anything right since the day he put the ring on her finger.

Emotions roiling, she decided to tackle the area of the upstairs that was blocked off. Daniel said there were books for Arthur, and she was tired of waiting. Goodness knew what other useful things she’d find there. He’d shipped half of England here, and there were still assorted oddities left over from Orville. She soon lost track of time; if only she could lose some of her memories as easily.

“Dear?”

Millicent heard Daniel, but she refused to answer to that sobriquet. It was a lie. A painful one, too. She’d been foolish enough to actually cherish how he’d called her that.

“Millicent?” His footsteps crossed the parlor floor and halted by a steamer trunk. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the books for Arthur and organizing.”

He stepped over a few crates and around another obstacle. “I had getting the books on my list for today.”

Swinging her arm in a wide arc, Millicent invited, “By all means, take care of your task, then. I’ve not yet been able to locate them.”

Scanning the space, he shook his head. “I don’t recall seeing half of this stuff. It’s a good thing they labeled everything so we can tell what’s inside.” He prowled around and found the box of books for Arthur. “I’ll put this in the parlor.”

She nodded. He was acting as if nothing were amiss. Nothing happened, nothing changed.
Almighty Father, how am I to conduct myself? As your daughter? As a lady? As a . . . am I a wife? I’m so confused.

“Hello up there!” Heavy footsteps sounded on the steps. “The replies came. I brought them straight over.”

Daniel sprinted to the stairs. A moment later, he sat beside her on the settee. Millicent wasn’t sure if she wanted him that close, but it was a small price to pay since he held the telegrams.

Her hands shook as he handed her the first paper. It seemed strange to see Clicky’s large, masculine script to represent Audrey’s careful penmanship.
Dear Nanny Fairweather, I love you. I miss you. I am fine. At school they said I was too smart so they made me learn with the bigger girls. I liked your lessons better. Please come see me. You can be my teacher again. That would make me and Fiona happy. Love, Audrey.

She closed her eyes and pressed the telegram to her bosom. Dear Audrey. So grown up, so responsible and cautious.

Daniel gently tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “She sounds well.”

Millicent steeled herself with a deep breath and read Fiona’s.
My nanny, you are my dear nanny. I miss you. Alastair can bring me your letter, so he can bring you to me, too. Come right now. I am sad because you are gone. The school was mean. They were bad to me. They took Flora away. The end. Love, Fee.

“No!” Millicent hung her head.

“Who’s Flora?”

“Her doll. I made it for her for. . . .” Her voice died out. Daniel had cut himself off from her, yet he expected her to bare her heart to him? She shook her head. “Thank you for arranging the telegrams, Daniel. I’m more grateful than I can say.”

“Make another doll, Millicent. We’ll send it to Fee.”

She nodded.

Daniel cleared his throat. “Did you want to share these with your sister?”

Millicent thought for a moment. She couldn’t spoil Isabelle’s precious day with the shadow of this worry. “No.” Carefully folding the papers, she slipped them deep into her apron pocket. “It would be best for Isabelle not to know.” Always before, she’d been able to share her joys and burdens with someone—her sister, Frank, the cook or housekeeper at the Eberhardts’, and more recently, even Daniel.
I can’t share this with anyone but God.

Daniel awoke to the sound of the door creaking open and bolted out of bed as if his life depended on it. In fact, it might. Millicent’s cooking could very well kill someone. He threw on his robe and raced out to the kitchen.

Counting under her breath, Millicent was dumping spoons full of ground coffee into the pot. She counted six twice. Eleven, too. She stopped at twelve.

It won’t be too bad.
As she hastily shoveled in four more, grumpiness overtook him. “Making coffee isn’t on your list; it’s on mine.”

Yelping in surprise, Millicent almost spilled the pot. To Daniel’s disappointment, she didn’t. “I was up first. I told you I’d do things that weren’t on my list.”

“Not coffee. It’s on my list; I will brew it each morning.”

Eyes a stormy gray, she snapped, “Do you ever do anything that isn’t on your list?”

“I married you!” He couldn’t believe what he’d said. Raking his hand through his hair, Daniel said, “I’m sorry.”

Millicent set the coffeepot on the stove with exacting care and turned to face him. Hands deep in her apron pockets, she half whispered, “So it’s come to this.”

“I’m sorry I spoke without thinking. I didn’t mean I’m sorry I married you.”

Millicent lifted a hand. “Don’t. Don’t try to explain, Daniel.” Her shoulders went back and her chin rose a notch. If it weren’t for the ache radiating from her eyes, she might have fooled him by hiding behind her regal façade—but she didn’t. “We agreed at the outset this marriage was for Arthur and Isabelle’s sake. They are both doing as well as can be expected, so I have no reason to complain.”

“They are doing well, but you’ve done far more than you should, Millicent.”

“I, too, apologize. I vowed to obey—so I’ll let you make coffee, and I’ll try to follow your lists. Now that that’s settled, can we please forget this conversation ever took place?”

“No.” Daniel folded his arms across his chest. If he didn’t, he’d grab her and hold her tight. “I vowed to love you. If we’re—”

She gasped and turned scarlet. “But there are different kinds of love. Christian brotherly love is not to be dismissed.”

Is it all our marriage will ever hold?
The thought grieved Daniel deeply.

Tears welled up in Millicent’s eyes, yet she kept her chin high. “If your regrets run that deep, it’s possible to get an annulment.”

“No.” He stared at her, willing for her to see how deeply he felt. “I could never let you go.”

She tore her gaze from him, the hurt and confusion in her eyes letting him know she hadn’t detected the merest fraction of his devotion. “Please, Daniel. We’ve done well.” Millicent wiped away the tears streaming down her now pale cheeks. “Can’t we please forget about this? Pretend it never happened?”