Colorado Dawn (14 page)

She turned when footsteps sounded in the hall. “Hello, David. Merry Christmas.” She forced the words out. So far the day had been anything but merry.

“You’re back. How was church?” He crossed the room easily and reached for his chair.

“Fine. It’s a beautiful building, lots of brick and stained glass. Their organist is very…enthusiastic.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “So is Mrs. Webber. She’s been singing carols all morning. I think it’s her not-so-subtle way of bringing Christmas cheer into the house.” He breathed deeply. “Though I have to admit, the place sure smells like Christmas. Would you like your gift now?”

Her head came up. “I didn’t know if we would be exchanging gifts. I got you something, too.” Weeks ago.

“I know you’ve been upset with me about staying here alone for the holidays, and I’m sorry you were disappointed. Maybe we can declare a truce from hurt feelings for today?” He spread his hands, palms up. “After all, it is Christmas.”

She tugged on her lower lip then dropped her hand to her lap with a sigh. “Very well. You’re right.” A wry smile touched her lips. “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.”

“That’s the spirit.” He pulled open his jacket and dug into the inner pocket. “Now I can return your greeting. Merry Christmas, Karen.” He withdrew a velvet pouch and held it out to her. When she hesitated, he swung it toward her a bit. “Go on. It’s for you.”

She took the bag and loosened the drawstring. Running her fingers over the gold-embossed jeweler’s name on the bottom of the pouch, she tipped it upside down. A glittering ribbon of white and red stones slid into her hand. She gasped then breathed, “David.”

He smiled. “I bought that when I bought your engagement ring. The garnets match the setting in your ring. Do you like it?”

The jewels captured and shot back the lights from the candles, winking warmly as she turned them. “They’re beautiful.” She rose and went to the mirror over the mantel where she draped the necklace at her throat. “Thank you.” A lump formed in her throat.

He came to stand behind her. She stood stock-still when he cupped her shoulders. “Their beauty must pale beside your own. You always were the most beautiful woman in any company.” Then, as if he thought he had gone too far, he stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Now, what’s this about a gift you have for me?”

Karen turned from the mirror and laid the necklace on the table beside her chair. “It’s in my room. I’ll get it.” A truce, for today. Their marriage so far had been one long, pitched battle interrupted by small truces. When would they reach an accord they could both be happy with? She retrieved the package from her bottom bureau drawer and returned to the parlor.

David stood at the mantel, his fingers trailing over the nativity figurines. When she entered, he turned toward her. “That’s a really fine set. The carving seems so detailed, and there are so many pieces. It was nice of your aunt to gift it to you.”

She exhaled slowly. “I think it would be in the best interest of our truce if we don’t talk about Aunt Hattie. Please, sit down and I’ll hand you your present.”

When he had resumed his seat, she placed the squareish object into his hands and stepped back. The qualms she had when she first bought it came galloping back. Would he think the present emphasized his blindness? Or would he realize she only wanted to help him? She laced her fingers under her chin and waited.

Slowly, he pulled the end of the store twine and pushed back the brown paper. His fingertips grazed the fine wood. “An abacus.” The beads whispered on the rods and clacked together when he tilted the frame.

“I found it in a shop downtown. The owner is Chinese, and the place was stuffed with herbs and tea and artwork. I saw this in the window, and it was so pretty, much better than the one Rex loaned you from the school.” She knelt beside his chair and spun one of the wooden beads. “The frame is cherry, the rods white hard maple, and the beads are polished walnut.” She searched his face for a reaction. “I thought it might be useful.”

He flattened his palm and ran it across the face of the abacus, rotating the walnut disks. “This is really fine. Thank you.”

“You like it? It’s all right?”

“Very much. You’re very thoughtful.” He reached out and touched her hair, letting his fingers trail down her cheek. Then his hand dropped away. “How about if we go in search of our Christmas dinner. It must be nearly time to eat.”

“You’re eating with me?” She tipped back on her heels and gripped the arm of his chair to steady herself.

He rose and the paper and string in his lap drifted to the floor. “Would you mind?”

She gathered the paper and tossed it on the fire, trying not to read too much into his offer. “I’d like that.” Smiling for the first time in days, she tucked her hand into his arm.

He set the abacus on the table beside his chair and walked with her to the back of the house.

Late that night, David sat in his bedroom with the abacus in his lap. Idly, his fingers did calculations while his mind drifted. Dinner together had been a success from where he sat. He’d managed not to spill anything on himself or her, and the conversation had flowed passably well.

In keeping with both their families’ traditions, once they’d returned to the parlor, Karen had read aloud the Christmas story from Luke chapter two. They’d passed the rest of the evening with Karen reading aloud from a new book Sam had given her for Christmas,
Life on the Mississippi
by Mark Twain. David had relaxed in his chair and let her voice take him through a history of the mighty river and Twain’s exploits as a riverboat pilot. Altogether the best evening they’d spent together in months.

He ran his hand along the abacus frame. A beautiful and thoughtful gift. Useful, too. He wished he’d known how to use one before the cave-in. It would’ve lessened his workload considerably not having to work everything out on paper.

His mind turned back to his work. The images of his maps and drawings remained firm in his head, the calculations and projections. He still hadn’t been able to find the weakness. Where had he gone wrong? If he was starting from scratch on the project, what would he change? And where did Paddy Doolin’s message come in? Was it just the raving of a dying man or did it have some bearing on the cave-in?

David rubbed his forehead and got up to prepare for bed. The more he worried the problem like a terrier with a rat, the more muddled he became. Perhaps he’d have to accept the fact that he would never know where he’d gone wrong. Marcus had remained silent, which meant either he hadn’t found anything or he’d found something he didn’t think David should know. Relief mingled with defeat as he thought about letting go of the past.

He set the abacus on the desk in the corner. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He wished he could’ve seen Karen’s face to determine if she really liked the necklace and if she recognized it for what it was: a peace offering. Just like the cave-in, perhaps it was time he accepted things the way they were and get on with living, an action that included letting go of his fears and having a normal marriage—or as normal as he could manage—with his beautiful wife.

Worms of doubt wriggled through him, whispering that he was a fool to consider it, that he wasn’t man enough, that he would only get his heart broken.

Stop it. You tried to hold Karen at arm’s length, but it didn’t work, did it? She’s in your heart, and you need her. Not having Karen in your life would be worse than being blind. You should be doing everything in your power to make her happy. You heard it in her voice when you did something as simple as eating dinner with her tonight
.

One successful dinner didn’t mean he was ready to conquer the world, but perhaps it wasn’t too early to begin planning a trip to Kansas City in the spring. He wouldn’t tell Karen right away, but when Rex came back after the first of the year, David would take him up on his offer to learn to navigate the streets of Denver by himself.

K
aren looked up from her correspondence when Buckford entered the room. “Ah, thank you for the interruption. I think my writing hand is about to fall off. I could use a cup of tea.”

“A telegram arrived for you, ma’am.” He held out an envelope. “I’ll see to your tea right away.”

“Thank you. Would you see if David would like some tea or coffee? I think he’s still upstairs reading.”

Buckford nodded and left.

Karen leaned back in her chair and rubbed her wrist. She’d long grown weary of sending out her regrets for one party after another. She hadn’t known the Mackenzies knew so many people in Denver, nor that their friends were so social. Each invitation to a ball, soiree, or fete must be answered, and the deluge of envelopes for tonight’s New Year’s Eve festivities had taken most of the morning to respond to. A yawn tugged at her jaw, and she turned her attention to the telegram.

Karen read the words, each one slicing like jagged glass. Tears blurred the type, and the paper fell from her nerveless fingers. A deep trembling started in her middle and radiated outward, chilling as it went. A fist of pain lodged in her throat.

Sobbing reached her ears, a mournful cry torn from an anguished soul. She tried to shut it out until she realized it came from her. Loss crept around her like a black mist, and the room began to whirl.

Buckford rattled the teacups when he plunked the tray down and hurried to her side.

Karen put out her hand to grip the edge of the desk.

“Ma’am? Are you all right? Should I call someone?” In an unprecedented move, he took her arm. “Perhaps you’ll feel better if you lie on the couch.” He didn’t wait for her assent but helped her to her feet and put his arm around her waist, assisting her to the settee.

A small, detached part of her mind reasoned that she must look very shocked and shaky indeed for Buckford to break protocol like this. She lay back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, wetting her temples and trailing into her ears, but she didn’t care. Aunt Hattie was dead. Her heart throbbed as if a giant heel had ground on it. She would never see her beloved aunt again on this earth.

“Lie still. I’ll get some help.” Buckford patted her shoulder then disappeared into the foyer.

Karen couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Boulders of grief tumbled over her, swallowing her in an avalanche.

Footsteps clattered on the stairs, and David knelt beside her. “What is it, Karen? Are you ill?” He felt over her arms and legs. Then his fingers touched her tear-soaked face. “Are you hurt?”

His caress burned her skin. Anger such as she’d never felt before welled up inside her, and energy returned like a lightning flash. She shoved his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” Grabbing the back of the settee, she struggled upright, banging into David in the process.

He rocked and tumbled onto his backside. “Karen, what’s the matter with you?” He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.

She got up and brushed past him toward the desk. The telegram lay on the floor by the chair, and when she reached down for it, the blood rushed to her head, renewing her dizziness. She snatched up the paper and crumpled it to her chest. Her control cracked, and she spewed out hurt-laden words. “My aunt passed away last night, and thanks to you and your colossal selfishness, I wasn’t there.” A spike-laden sob clawed its way out of her throat, choking her.

David clambered to his feet and approached her with his hand outstretched.

She shrank from him, pushing into the corner. If he touched her, she would be sick. “Stay away from me.”

His hand dropped to his side. “Karen, I’m so sorry about your aunt.”

She shook her head. Tears dripped from her chin onto the telegram. “No, you’re not. You didn’t even know her. You didn’t want to visit her. She was the only person I had who really loved me. And now she’s gone.”

“That’s not true. Karen, I love you. Let me help you through this.” He reached for her again, but she evaded his grasp.

“You don’t love me. I thought you did once, but I was wrong. If you loved me, you would’ve married me without being coerced. You would’ve let me help you, and you would’ve treated me like your bride. I’m a secretary not a wife, taking care of household accounts, overseeing the help, writing your correspondence. No matter what I do, you still aren’t ready to love me more than you love yourself. You keep me at a distance. You never share your thoughts and feelings unless you’re angry or bitter, and then you deny me the chance to see Aunt Hattie one last time. Does that sound like love to you?” She choked on a sob and pressed her knuckles to her mouth, not wanting to look at him anymore. She only wanted to get out of the room, to find somewhere she could breathe and think and grieve. Knocking his outstretched hand away, Karen hurried to escape.