Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6) (17 page)

Edith handed her the baby. “I’ll stand until Caleb and Ben arrive so they can see where we are. This isn’t our usual pew. We typically sit in the middle of the church. Mrs. Graves and Jed always prefer to find room in the back.” With a widening of her eyes, she raised her chin to indicate a couple walking down the aisle. “Here are the Walkers come to town, after all.” She waved for their attention.

The white-haired man held the hand of a child of about seven, her brown curls in long ringlets. The child stopped to talk to a girl her age, and he waited with her.

Her mother continued down the aisle toward them. She had brown hair drawn back from an interesting bony face and intelligent gray eyes, accentuated by the silver-sage green of her gown. The fullness of her sleeves and the wide collar of pale lace draped around her shoulders and ending in a
V
at her middle disguised the thinness of her frame. But even the well-cut tailoring couldn’t hide her pregnancy.

Edith greeted the new arrival with a welcoming smile.

When Mrs. Walker saw Delia, her smile widened, and she held out a hand. “Miss Bellaire, I’m glad to see you looking so well after your long absence from Sweetwater Springs. I’m so anticipating your wedding.”

“I’m most anxious for the happy day.”

Careful not to jostle Charlotte, Maggie stood to greet the newcomer. Mrs. Walker’s large pearl earrings of shimmering gray made her feel self-conscious about her brassy hoops.

“Mrs. Baxter, I’m delighted to see you again.” Mrs. Walker leaned forward to study the baby. “She’s so beautiful.” She straightened and patted her stomach. “One of the few nice things about only meeting someone once or twice a year is how babies can slip into a family and be a complete surprise when you meet up again.”

Delia gestured to the woman’s stomach. “I’m not the only one looking forward to a future event. Mrs. Walker, I see we’re to congratulate you.”

Mrs. Walker’s gray eyes grew misty. “We are so blessed.” She slid a sideways glance at Maggie. “Neither my husband nor I expected to marry,” she explained. “Finding each other, having Julia—” she gestured toward her daughter “—has made me the happiest of women. Although I’d hoped for more children, I was well contented with the one I had. Now, after so many years. . . .” She seemed unable to go one.

Edith stepped in. “Mrs. Baxter’s baby is going to be christened today. We’re having a small get-together at the house afterward, and I hope you and your family will be able to attend.” She slid her gaze to the Bellaires. “You two, as well.” As she spoke with the father and daughter, her expression grew pinched and her tone changed from inviting to grudging.

“I don’t want to impose,” Mrs. Walker murmured. “Surely, you didn’t expect us.”

Maggie laughed. “Quite the contrary. We did. Please come. We’ll need your help to eat all the food, for Edith expected to invite the whole town.”

Edith smiled. With a faint shake of her head, she said, “With the weather, many families are staying home today.”

Mrs. Walker glanced down the aisle at her husband. “Of course, they must stay safe. Luckily, my dear Gideon knew I needed some social activity, so we came into town.”

Maggie tucked the blanket around Charlotte. “You’re not concerned about the weather?”

“No, if it starts to rain, we’ll stay at the hotel for as long as need be. We have the horses with us, and no other livestock to worry about. We get our milk and eggs from the Barretts, who are our nearest neighbors. You met them at the Morgans’ party.”

“Yes, Mrs. Barrett and I had a long chat about babies.”

“That’s Lina. There’s nothing she likes better than children. I’m sure she’d be whisking your baby away from you right now. Unfortunately, because of their animals, the Barretts are more homebound than we are.” She touched Maggie’s arm. “I’d be delighted to further our acquaintance at the party.”

“I would like that, too,” Maggie exclaimed with gratitude.

“A social gathering is less of an ordeal when you already have acquaintances,” Mrs. Walker agreed with a sage look of understanding. “When I lived in New York, I used to dislike such events. But out here, I’ve made such good friends, and each opportunity to gather together is a pleasure. I’m sure you will soon have similar experiences.”

With a touch on Mrs. Walker’s arm, Edith drew the woman’s attention.

Maggie glanced back at the church, which was starting to fill. With a dip of her stomach, she saw Caleb walking up the aisle, looking handsome in a navy blue suit.

He stopped to talk to Gideon Walker.

Their conversation appeared serious, and she wondered what they discussed.

With a nod, Caleb disengaged and moved toward them. He, too, greeted Mrs. Walker warmly but only nodded at Delia and Andre.

Maggie itched with curiosity, wanting to know why Caleb and Edith seemed distant from the Bellaires. Now that she thought about it, Edith had never joined the visitors in Maggie’s room when Delia was present, although she sometimes had when Mrs. Norton or Mrs. Cameron came to call.

The more she observed Caleb and Delia together, the more she suspected he had feelings for her and had suffered rejection. From the corner of her eye, she watched his face to see if his eyes gave anything away. But his impassive expression left her no sense of his feelings.

CHAPTER TWELVE

E
ven months after he’d learned the truth about Delia Bellaire’s illegitimacy and Negro blood, Caleb didn’t know how to treat her and her father. They’d lied to him—to the whole town—perhaps not so much in words, but by their actions. Now, he and Edith knew the truth. So did the Nortons and Sheriff Granger. But he and Edith could hardly cut the Bellaires’ acquaintance, for the town was too small for such odd behavior to go without remark. And with Delia Bellaire about to become Mrs. Joshua Norton, Caleb had to at least show common courtesy.

At the time of the discovery, Reverend Joshua had seemed more upset about the deception than about Delia’s antecedents, but he’d obviously forgiven her. Although the lie bothered Caleb, he was more annoyed that he’d begun to court a mixed-race woman.
What if I had married her?
He suppressed a shudder.

Since the discovery, Caleb focused on feeling thankful his heart wasn’t engaged, that only his pride had taken the blow. The Bellaires’ departure for Crenshaw had helped speed his return to his usual equanimity. With his hotel unfinished, there’d been nowhere in town they could stay—Widow Murphy’s not being the kind of rooming house anyone would want to live in for more than a few days. Even with the recent expansion of the parsonage, there still wasn’t enough room for father and daughter, especially with Andre convalescing from his heart attack.

I’ll ease back into a friendship with them.

So, instead of paying attention to Delia, Caleb peered down at Charlotte. As usual, when he looked at her, his heart swelled with love—a reaction that still sometimes caught him off guard. “How is my goddaughter?”

Maggie chuckled. “She’s not your goddaughter yet.”

Caleb made a dismissive motion with his hand, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “A mere matter of minutes. . .well, depending on the length of the good reverend’s sermon. . .whichever reverend gives it. . .maybe more than a few minutes.”

The bell in the steeple began to toll.

Reverend Joshua gestured for them to take their seats and moved away to confer with his father.

With a tilt of her head at the pew, Edith glanced in question at Caleb.

He nodded in a gesture for her to make space for him next to Maggie.

She lifted an eyebrow, but obliged him and moved to the right, so he could slide in between the two women.

Ben hurried up to join them.

Reverend Joshua took a seat next to the boy, with Delia beside him, then Micah. Andre brought up the end near the aisle. All of them together were a snug fit, but no one seemed to mind their close proximity.

As Caleb sat next to Maggie, he realized that his choice to sit beside her might stir up some gossip. But hopefully when people later saw her need for help with walking, they’d dismiss their earlier speculations.

When “O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing” caused ragged voices to lift in praise, Charlotte startled awake.

Maggie rocked her.

Singing by rote, Caleb held out a finger and touched the infant’s palm.

The baby grasped his finger and turned her head toward him.

The elder Reverend Norton stood, moved to face the congregation, and began the service. “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” He made the sign of the cross in the air.

Unlike his son, who wore new tailored suits, the minister wore shabby black, with a yellowing white shirt under his waistcoat. Word was the man refused to have his son purchase anything new for him except a coat, claiming not to need finer adornment.

As with the hymn, Caleb knew the order of responses by heart, saying them automatically while concentrating on playing with Charlotte by wiggling his finger, a game he’d discovered the baby seemed to enjoy, for she stayed attentive and held on all the while.

Maggie shot him a quick smile before turning to face the minister.

With the service flowing over him like a slow river, Caleb watched the baby and made plans for the next week. Although he knew Peter Rockwell was more than capable of organizing the reception, Caleb had been lax in overseeing his small empire, instead concentrating on Maggie and Charlotte as well as dealing with the bank business, particularly several foreclosures.

In regard to taking back properties, the worst part of being the only banker in a small town was interacting with his clients—seeing them around town, mingling with them at social gatherings, and worshiping with them on Sundays. A foreclosure wasn’t just a commercial transaction that ultimately usually ended up profiting him.
No.
He knew the faces of the family members who’d be impacted. Consequently, Caleb was far more lenient when people fell behind than he should have been. His Boston banking relatives would severely criticize him if they knew.

I’ll make sure to go to the hotel this week.
He slid a sideways glance at Maggie, who was listening attentively to Reverend Norton’s sermon.
As soon as she can walk freely, I’ll take her for a visit.

As he sat there between Edith and Maggie, Caleb became aware of the fragrance of rose soap wafting from both women.
I’ll have to buy Maggie her own soap.
He sorted through various scents, considering which would best suit her.
Lavender? Gardenia? Jasmine? Lily of the valley? Lilac? Honeysuckle?
He discarded each one.

Patchouli? That’s a possibility.
While he thought the perfume he smelled on most women too overwhelming and tended to move out of their vicinity as soon as possible, he figured the soap wouldn’t be as strong, and the minty fragrance from the Orient seemed to fit Maggie.

I’ll buy her a bar and see if she likes it.

Reverend Norton brought the sermon to a close. With a cringe of guilt, Caleb realized he hadn’t heard a word.
Not a good start for my role as a godfather. I sure hope in the future Charlotte doesn’t ask me about the sermon on her baptismal day.

Reverend Norton’s warm smile softened his austere face. His vivid blue eyes glinted when he looked at Maggie and the baby. “A christening is always a joyous occasion, as a baby begins a divine journey that will last a lifetime. Today, we are blessed to have Charlotte Victoria Baxter who will formally become part of the family of Christ.” His gaze moved around the congregation. “
Our
family. This precious soul survived an accident that could have taken her life and that of her mother. Unfortunately, her father passed away.”

People murmured.

“Most of the time, Reverend Joshua and I never debate about which of us will have certain duties. Our responsibilities seem to naturally fall into particular areas, such as his ministry to the smaller towns outlying Sweetwater Springs. But two days ago, my son and I did have a back-and-forth discussion about who would perform this baptism.”

Reverend Joshua brought his hand to his mouth, as if covering up a laugh.

Reverend Norton’s eyes twinkled. “I, as your senior minister, naturally have seniority. But Reverend Joshua pointed out that he was the one who married Charlotte’s parents and counseled Mrs. Baxter during her recent loss. Therefore, I have reluctantly stepped aside in this case.” He held up a hand. “But I reserve the right to give her a blessing. So Charlotte Victoria will be doubly blessed.”

The congregation made sounds of approval.

Reverend Joshua stood and walked to join his father. “Will the godparents come forth with the baby?”

Maggie handed Charlotte to Caleb.

He wanted to keep the infant, but knew traditionally the godmother held the child during the ritual, so with a smile at the baby, he passed her to his sister.

Edith settled Charlotte into the crook of her arm.

Caleb held her elbow to help his sister to stand, and together, they moved toward the altar. Unlike with the rest of the service, this time he paid close attention to the words that made him a godfather. He’d heard them many times before, but had never thought of the promises in regards to himself. Now he realized the weight of the solemn vows he and Edith were making to Charlotte. Not only were they supposed to nurture and guide her spiritual welfare, but also if something happened to Maggie, they would have the duty to raise her, for there were no other relatives to do so.

The words of the ritual bound this baby to God and to them. Spiritually, they’d just become family.

Caleb looked down at Charlotte.
You’re mine.

Leaning on Caleb’s arm, Maggie walked down the aisle behind Edith, who carried the baby. They couldn’t move more than a few inches before someone would stop and admire Charlotte or be introduced to Maggie, often making a statement of how lucky she was to be rescued by Caleb.
If only they knew how much.

Once outside, Caleb helped her down the steps and a few feet into the yard. He looked down at her. “Will you be all right to stand here while I fetch the surrey?”

Although Maggie’s ankle ached, she didn’t want to admit the truth. “I’ll be fine.” She released his arm and made a small shooing motion. “Be off with you,” she teased.

Edith gave her a sharp look. “I still can’t get over you joking with my brother.” She cast Caleb a playful smile of her own. “He’s always too starched up to tease. Although when we were children. . . .”

Caleb reached up and playfully pulled on his collar. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Graves about using less starch when she irons my shirts.”

A small man approached, a battered felt hat grasped in both hands. Although his face and hands appeared clean, his clothes looked like they could do with a good scrubbing. Under a ragged brown coat, the front of his once-white shirt sported a colorful green-plaid patch. “Mr. Livingston.” The man twisted his hat. “I need to talk to you about the bathhouse.”

Caleb frowned. “We have already had several such talks, Mr. Wood, to no avail.”

“Please, sir.” He grabbed Caleb’s sleeve. “I must speak with you.”

Up close, Maggie could smell alcohol on the man’s breath. The reminder of Oswald’s drinking made her stomach curdle.

Caleb twisted his arm out of reach. “This is not the time to talk business,” he said, his voice clipped. “Now move along.”

“But, I need an extension on my loan, Mr. Livingston,” Mr. Wood whined.

“You’ve had
three
generous extensions already, Mr. Wood, as well as extensive advice about what you need to do to make the place successful.” Caleb gave the man’s attire a pointed up-and-down glare. “Including laying off the alcohol and availing yourself of your own facilities. Now, be off with you.” His jaw clenched with obvious anger, he turned his back on the man.

A look of pain flashed in the man’s eyes, and his shoulders slumped.

Maggie squeezed Caleb’s arm.

He glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised.

She sent him a glance of appeal.

With his free hand, Caleb rubbed his forehead. “Oh, very well.” He partly turned. “Wood, you have until the day after Reverend Joshua’s wedding. If you can’t make money from that event. . . .”

“Thank you, sir.” The man continued to bend his hat.

Maggie wondered why Mr. Wood sounded resigned rather than relieved. “What was that about?” she asked as Caleb escorted her away.

“A travesty of a good business is what that was about.” He almost growled the words. “Ever since his wife died last year, the place has gone downhill. The man cannot stay out of the saloon and keep his place spick-and-span like a bathhouse should be. What’s the use of patronizing a place if you don’t emerge cleaner than when you went in?”

“Spick-and-span?” murmured Maggie who had never heard the term.

“From Plutarch, I believe, although we’d have to check with the Walkers to be sure.” The angry look left his face. “Either Gideon or Darcy, if not both, are bound to know.” He turned to the Walkers, who came along behind them, both holding hands with their daughter. “I need your expertise.”

Mr. Walker cocked an eyebrow, his gray eyes amused, but he didn’t question them.

Up close, Maggie could see he was far younger than his pale hair made him appear, perhaps in his late thirties.

“Does the phrase spick-and-span come from Plutarch?” Caleb asked Mr. Walker.

“They were all in goodly gilt armour,” the man quoted, “and brave purple cassocks among them, spicke, and spanne new.”

“Thomas North translation,” added Mrs. Walker, when it seemed her husband wouldn’t volunteer anything more.

Caleb laughed and dropped a hand on Mr. Walker’s shoulder. “I knew you two wouldn’t fail me.”

“We can lend the book to you, if you lack it in your own library, Mr. Livingston,” Mrs. Walker commented with a sly smile, although her intelligent gaze on them was friendly. “Or, you can borrow my Latin version.”

Caleb lowered his arm. “Perhaps I will take you up on the Latin edition. While Mrs. Gordon has given Ben some basic Latin, he’ll need to know much more for when he goes away to school. Mine is a bit rusty.”

Edith inclined her head in approval. “We’d be most appreciative.”

“Do let me know if you need help,” Mrs. Walker said to Caleb in a tone of cool amusement.