An Angel in the Mail (11 page)

“Thanks, you’re a saint,” Nate said.

“It was no problem, I assure you.” She turned to Angel. “I’ll be back in the morning. While Nate’s at his shop, we can discuss a few things.” With a wink in her direction, she placed a kiss on the sleeping baby in Angel’s arms. After returning the towel to the kitchen, she placed her hat on her head, tucked her loose hair under it, and left. The click of the front door closing left the house in silence.

Angel felt the tension in the room rise.
Is he going to kiss me again? This time I’ll be ready.

Her heart started to pound in expectation and she glanced sideways at Nate. He gazed off into space.

Okay, come on, now. I’m ready.
She was grateful for the distraction when the baby shifted in her arms and let out a soft sigh. Her eyes met Nate’s, and they grinned.

“Let me get you a bit of that pain medicine,” Nate said, getting up and heading toward the kitchen.

All right, heart, you can slow down now. It appears there is no kiss in your immediate future.

He returned with the small brown bottle, efficiently poured the liquid into a spoon, and handed it to her.

After settling back onto the settee, Nate began playing with the ends of her hair. “Tell me about your life in New York.”

Kiss alert. It can still happen. Speed up, heart.
“There isn’t much to tell,” she hedged. “I went to school there, and lived with my father and stepmother, before my father died.”

“Is that why you decided to come on this adventure, as you put it?” He smiled that lazy grin that made her stomach flip-flop.

“Yes.” In an effort to sidetrack him, she shifted. “You do a wonderful job with your children.”

He chuckled. “I just stumble through every day.”

“I mean it. You have so much patience, and I still can’t believe you got five children up, dressed, and out the door for church. It makes me wonder why you felt the need for a wife.”

Nate stared at her for a minute, his eyes twinkling with humor. Then, running his knuckle over her cheek, he leaned closer. “It’s hard doing it all myself. I really need someone who can take care of the house and keep track of the kids.”

“Mrs. Darby?” Her voice squeaked as his fingers slid to the back of her neck and teased the hair along her nape.

“There are other things a man needs a wife for. The cooking and cleaning are important, but companionship and nighttime comforting are important as well.”

Pound, pound, pound.
Angel felt the blush start at her toes and go all the way to her hairline.

Noticing her discomfort, Nate laughed softly. “Will you jump again if I kiss you?”

“No. This time I’m ready.”
Do you think you could say anything more stupid?

He moved even closer, and being careful of her ribs, kissed her deeply and thoroughly. His strong fingers massaged her scalp.

“This is the kind of comfort I was referring to,” he said against her lips. “But we’ll put off anything else until after you’re healed.” He drew back and stroked her cheek again.

His gaze rested on her throat where her heart beat rapidly. “You’ll never have to be afraid of me. I won’t ever do anything you don’t want me to. And I’ll never hurt you in any way.”

“I know.” The squeak turned to a breathless sigh. She knew him to be gentle and caring. That furthered her determination to live up to his expectations. Again she blessed Mrs. Darby, who would show her everything she needed to know in order to run a house.

After five days, Angel didn’t know any more about housekeeping than she did when she’d arrived. Mrs. Darby had been wonderful, teaching her cooking, cleaning and laundry. But no matter how many times Angel tried to copy her teacher, it never seemed to turn out exactly the way she planned.

“I think you can probably handle changing the baby, since your ribs aren’t so sore.” Mrs. Darby smiled at her grimace. “Oh, don’t fret, dear, you’ve seen me do it enough times.”

A long string of drool hung from the baby’s mouth as Angel took the little squirming body in her arms. Hoping this would go better than her first attempt at diaper changing, she carried the baby upstairs and gingerly placed her on the bed. Before she turned back with the clean diaper in her hand, Julia-Rose was off the bed and had crawled under it.

“No, no, no, come here.” Angel ran around the bed and got down on all fours, thankful her ribs were mostly healed. She couldn’t help but laugh at the child, who was now well out of reach.

“Look, sweetie. See what I have.” She unclasped the chain hanging from her neck, held the small heart, and waved it at her. Julia-Rose blew bubbles and laughed.

“I mean it, now. Come out here.” She used her sternest voice. The baby lay her face down on the dusty floor and sneezed.

“See, you’re going to get sick. You must come out from under the bed. Right now.”

Julia-Rose let out a huge yawn and, putting her fingers in her mouth, settled in for a nap. Angel stretched her arm as far as she could, but it was not far enough to grab the baby.
Damn! Now what do I do?

She lowered her head so her chin was touching the floor, and worked herself under the bed. Her sore ribs kept her from moving too fast. Finally, she reached Julia-Rose and slowly pulled the sleeping child out. Holding her ribs as she stood, she sneezed repeatedly. “Ow!” She grabbed her side.

Julia-Rose opened her eyes. “Mama,” she gurgled, holding her chubby arms up.

Angel eased herself down on the floor alongside the baby, and sighed. The thought of trying to get everything done that needed to be finished in a single day by herself seemed impossible when she couldn’t even diaper one little girl’s bottom.

Angel’s week of reprieve was nearly at an end. She sat at the table, finishing up a hem on one of Amy’s dresses. Earlier in the week she made up a story about losing one of her trunks that contained her work dresses, and Nate told her to help herself to Amy’s dresses that were packed away in the attic.

The day Angel made the climb to the attic was the first time she could actually move without pain. She was still sore, but a lot better.

The attic was dirty with years of accumulated grime. As she raised the platform to enter, rays of sunlight slanted through the window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air like magical fairy glitter.

Boxes and barrels and dusty old furniture filled the space. A spinning wheel sat in one corner, along with a dresser, a full-length mirror, and an open chest with colorful feathery items spilling out. She gasped when she spotted a beautiful dollhouse in another corner.

Walking toward it, Angel exclaimed with delight over the details on the small house. Someone had spent a great deal of time constructing it. A few of the little rooms had wallpaper, while others were painted bright colors. A pile of tiny, beautifully hand-carved wooden furniture sat alongside the dollhouse. This would be a wonderful toy for Julia-Rose when she got older.

Memories, of decorating her own dollhouse with her mother years ago, brought tears to her eyes. They had spent hours picking out colors and setting up each room just so. Losing her mother at a young age was painful, but those recollections warmed her and made her feel her mother’s presence.

She carefully picked her way through the maze to one of several trunks. The first two were filled with men’s clothes, obviously from a long time ago. She laughed when she saw the curled, powdered wig near the bottom. Julia-Rose could use these as dress-up clothes, and they would have a tea party. Suddenly she realized being a mommy to a little girl might be fun.

Eventually, she located the trunk containing Amy’s clothes against the far wall, under the small window. She blew off the thin layer of dust, and opened the trunk. Near the top were several dresses that most likely had been her work clothes. Further down someone had neatly stacked stockings and shoes. All the stockings were carefully patched. She also pulled out a wool coat and bonnet. Underneath was a pair of Sunday gloves, mended on two fingers, and a small velvet reticule.

A dark cloud seemed to pass over Angel as she handled the clothing, thinking about a young woman dying and leaving her five children.

She sat back on her heels, holding the gloves. Amidst all the confusion of her arrival and attempts at learning housekeeping, she’d pushed the idea of a previous Mrs. Hale from her mind. She rubbed her fingers over the gloves. A woman wore these. A woman who birthed five children with the man she was now married to. Then, death claimed her, and she left them all behind. What was she like?

After a few minutes, Angel rubbed her arms where goose bumps had appeared, and stood. She tossed the clothes she wanted down the platform opening, and gathered them when she climbed back down. After examining each article in the light of the kitchen, she hung them outside on the clothesline to air.

Mrs. Darby had her try one on. The dress fit pretty well, but was a little tight in the bosom, and about two inches too long. Together, they tore out the hem and Mrs. Darby showed her how to raise the edging and sew it with tiny stitches. Frustrated, Angel ended up ripping out the hem twice on the first dress until she got it right.

Now, sitting in the kitchen as she finished the last dress, she still panicked at the thought of doing all of this herself tomorrow. Mrs. Darby had to travel to San Francisco to help her daughter who was about to have a baby. Angel would be left completely on her own.

Julia-Rose’s cry interrupted her musings. She smiled and headed toward the small cot kept in the kitchen for naps where the baby stood, her arms out. “Mama.”

Lifting the baby had gotten easier, as long as she didn’t move too fast. Her hand patted the little girl’s wet bottom, so she went to the washroom and picked up a clean diaper and a cloth. She laid Julia-Rose on the settee and proceeded to clean her up. At least she had gotten better at this chore.

“How’s my little sugar?” Angel efficiently wiped the little dimpled bottom with the warm cloth. “Did you have a good nap?”

She’d grown fond of the boys over the past week, but Julia-Rose held a special place in her heart. Probably because she couldn’t talk. Angel grinned at the thought. And she was a delightful baby. Always smiling, and rarely in a foul temper.

It seemed all the children had inherited her husband’s easygoing nature. Mark could be a little difficult at times, but otherwise they were a happy clan.

As she carried the diapered baby to the kitchen, she remembered the first time she’d worn one of Amy’s dresses. The twins didn’t seem to even recognize it, but Matt and Mark both stopped abruptly when they came down for breakfast and saw Angel in their mama’s dress and apron.

“Why are you wearing our mama’s clothes?” Mark said somewhat belligerently. “Don’t you have any of your own?”

“Actually, some of my clothes were lost on the trip out here,” she said. “Your papa said it would be all right if I used your mama’s dresses. Is that okay?”

She held her breath as Mark continued to glower at her. Finally he said, “Don’t matter to me.” He pulled his chair out, and sat down to eat breakfast.

Angel awoke with her bottom pushed into Nate’s manhood, his arm wrapped around her middle, their bodies fitting together like a couple of spoons. She had awakened this way for the past few days. Even though they had yet to consummate their marriage, she knew it wouldn’t be long, now that she felt better. She would see Dr. Penrose today, and she expected him to take off the bindings and pronounce her healed.

The days went by so quickly with all the work that had to be done. She barely got the kitchen cleaned up from breakfast, before she and Mrs. Darby either washed clothes, or mopped floors, or made bread, or dusted the rooms. Later in the afternoon, they pulled in clean clothes from the lines, folded them, and coerced the boys into putting them away.

Most days, she’d heat up the irons on the stove and press Julia-Rose’s dresses and Nate’s shirts, while supper cooked on the stove. Mrs. Darby put on her hat, and left with a fond farewell just as Nate arrived each evening. After supper, Angel cleaned Julia-Rose and wrestled her into her nightgown while Nate supervised the boys’ bedtime routine. She attempted to do her mending by the fireplace, but much to her chagrin, Nate had to wake her most nights. He’d take the mending out of her hands, and she’d stumble up the stairs, pull on her nightgown, and collapse into bed.

Today was the first day she was on her own. She gently removed Nate’s arm from around her, and slipped out of bed. Quickly washing her face and braiding her hair, she put on one of the work dresses, quietly left the room, and padded downstairs.

As usual, Nate had stocked the stove with wood before he went to sleep. Using the technique Mrs. Darby taught her, she lit the wood, and soon had a fire going. Feeling pleased with herself, she got out the list of ingredients Mrs. Darby had written down for biscuits.

While she was mixing the biscuits, Luke came downstairs, smiling his brand-new-day little boy smile.

“Good morning, Luke,” she said. She still surprised herself that she could tell them apart. At first it was impossible to tell one twin from the other, but now it didn’t seem confusing at all.

“Mornin’,” Luke said as he slid onto a chair.