Rumors and Promises (24 page)

Later, as she lay awake in their moonlit room, Sophie watched the rise and fall of Caira’s chest with each peaceful breath. Long eyelashes rested on the baby’s chubby pink cheeks. Hot tears streamed down Sophie’s face like a summer rainstorm. She tried so hard to keep her mournful cries quiet, so as not to wake anyone.

Shivering under the blankets, Sophie’s cheeks warmed with humiliation. Ian must have realized her secret and taken pity. Why else would he have shown an interest in her and Caira? On the one hand, he would be helping girls who might be victims, like herself. But to think of their babies being ripped from each young mother’s arms hurt her. Then again, the children would have a chance to go to a good family with a mother and father. Isn’t that what she often lamented Caira would never have? Perhaps she’d been selfish. Oh, the shame of it all. How would she face Ian ever again?

The wind blew under the eves of the doctor’s house. The low moaning brought no comfort to Ian as he tried to sleep. He tossed and turned on the luxurious feather bed, thinking he should have
been exhausted from his full day. Ian couldn’t stop thinking about Olivia Bidershem’s unexpected revelations.

Along with the grandchild’s name, the picture in the locket confirmed her identity. Though showing a younger, innocent Sophia, he recognized her just the same. He so wanted to tell her mother that she was safe, she was loved, and Caira was healthy. But even more than that, Ian would have liked Sophie to feel as though she could confide in him. He recalled her discomfort in saying Caira was her sister when they’d met. There had to be a reason she carefully guarded her secret, even around her friends.

An image of the pained expression on Sophie’s face as she readied herself to play Maggie’s Bidershem piano came to mind. The way she showed such gentleness with the child rather than be annoyed with a little sister … the whole situation made sense now.

Her ruse troubled and disappointed Ian. After all, she’d lied to him and the whole town. Yet he of all people could afford to show mercy. Was he any better in his failings? He didn’t consider himself any better than a murderer for letting Annie down.

And yes, Sophie was a wonderful mother to Caira and a hard worker. But just how did he feel about Sophie? His heart had ached as they’d sat in the Conrads’ parlor drinking Earl Grey tea after dinner. Their comfortably appointed home had lacked something … no … someone.

He had missed watching Sophie knit those little woolen mittens, her pretty head bent over her work while she chatted away with Maggie. And then there was Caira. How he loved reading to her and looking at Philip’s old picture books through the little one’s eyes. At the end of every evening, Caira rode upstairs on his shoulders, giggling with delight. Often he caught the appreciative glance of Sophie with her smile appearing so sweet in the soft amber glow of the gaslight. Who had taken
Caira up the stairs tonight? And who would take her up in the future, helping Sophie tuck her in each night over the next several years? Who, indeed?

Yet he had to be more careful than ever with Sophie. If Gertrude and her cohorts knew the truth and how his affections were growing for Sophie, the gossips would happily run them both out of town. Instead of answers, he had only questions.

CHAPTER 14

“I
insist that you stay here and rest today, Sophie.” Maggie clucked about like a mother hen the next morning, fluffing a pillow behind her and pulling a blanket up over her on the settee. “Philip is off to school, so the house should be pretty quiet until I’m able to come back.”

“Really, Maggie, I’ll be fine. A-achoo!” She covered her mouth just in time, then sniffled. She swallowed. Her throat was raw and she shivered with chills. She had to admit, it was nice being mothered a bit.

“About all you’re fit for is making yourself a pot of tea, but the first one is already brewing. After I bring you some, I should probably get over to the boardinghouse. I just need to get Caira up and dressed. I’ll feed her over there.”

“No, no, I insist you leave her here.” Sophie spoke with the little forcefulness her sore throat would allow. “You’ll have your hands full enough.”

Maggie sighed. “Very well. We’ll let her sleep in case she’s fighting what you have. But you must promise to take some white willow extract in your tea to take care of that fever.”

Sophie knew she’d made the face of a child who didn’t want to take disgusting medicine, but it was too late.

“We’ll even add some extra sugar for the invalid.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as my little brother.”

Ian
. Sophie had just stopped thinking about him for a few minutes. She closed her eyes, pretending she didn’t want to talk anymore.

“When you’re somewhat better, I’m sure you can find something to read in Ian’s study if you’re bored.”

If nothing else good came of being sick, she would at least have time to enjoy reading a book. Sophie drank the concoction her friend had put together for her, taking a sip at a time. Then she lay back on the pillow and drifted off to sleep.

“Soffie.” She heard a little voice chirrup. “Soffie.” A pudgy hand patted her through the blanket.

Weary, Sophie opened her eyes one at a time to see her daughter with matted hair, standing there in her nightgown. Caira carried her ragdoll in one arm while a blanket trailed on the floor behind her. It was a miracle that she hadn’t tripped and fallen down the stairs. Sophie’s heart pounded at the awful thought.

She pulled her hands out from under the blanket and hugged her baby. “Sophie’s sick today, so we’re staying … here.” She’d almost said “home.” And how she wished she could call herself Mama. She hated this whole charade, pretending to be someone she wasn’t! Not feeling well had made Sophie all the more cross about her situation. Was she doing what was right for Caira? Perhaps she would have been better off pretending she was a widow. At least then she could own up to Caira being hers though she would still be lying any way you looked at the situation.

“I hungry, Soffie.”

“Let’s see what Maggie left for us this morning.” When she sat up, she realized she wasn’t quite as feverish or achy. Even her
throat felt a little better. Perhaps the white willow extract had been what she needed. But Sophie was still careful not to get up too fast. She’d passed out before when she’d been feverish.

Caira left the doll behind and took her mother’s hand. She almost galloped to the kitchen, pulling on Sophie’s arm.

“Slow down.” Sophie was hoarse, and it was painful to speak above a whisper.

When they reached the kitchen, Sophie found biscuits on a napkin-covered plate and a jar of strawberry jam next to it. This would probably be a good time to make another pot of tea.

Sophie split a large, flaky biscuit with Caira, slathering it with the gooey jam to help it go down more easily. She really wasn’t any hungrier than her daughter that morning. Then she set up a little tea party for her and Caira on the oak table near the settee. She wished she could talk more, but it hurt too much.

The little one clapped her hands together, giggling at their game. After Sophie brought out the blocks and a number of books for Caira, putting them on the floor nearby, she went to search Ian’s well-equipped study for herself.

Sophie loved having time with Caira alone. These occasions were rare and fortunately they had this time in such a lovely home. She could almost pretend that she was a mother with a husband and her own home. When she opened the door to the study, the scent of leather-bound books and the leather upholstery of the desk chair awoke her senses. Spring sunshine streamed through the filmy curtains on the window, lighting Ian’s private world to her. She read familiar author’s names: Yeats, Dr. Johnson, Milton, Dante, Dickens. She slowed down, noticing titles, too. James Fennimore Cooper’s
The Last of the Mohicans
and George Eliot’s
Silas Marner
stood on the shelf among other titles. His hand must have held each of them at some time. She could almost sense his presence as her fingertips brushed each spine. Biblical
commentaries and dictionaries graced the shelves, as well. His eclectic library reminded her of her family’s.

Ian wasn’t just some dull country preacher, reading only theological tomes. He understood people’s character. She sighed. If she could have married him, these would be her books, too. The forbidden study would be a place where they could spend time and laugh together. She’d missed him the night before, missed the even tones of his quiet voice as he read to his nephew and then to Caira. He was a good man.

What was she thinking? What kind of spell had she been under? Ian was off limits and neither of them needed people getting the wrong idea about their friendship. She shook herself from her reverie and pulled a couple of books from the shelf.

Surprisingly, Caira played quite well on the floor by herself. Sophie was worried that she would grow bored and lonely for Philip and the commotion of Fairgrave’s. But the little girl looked up lovingly at her several times, bringing her dolly to Sophie for hugs and kisses on imaginary boo-boos. Did Caira know the truth deep in her heart? That they shared the mother and daughter bond in their souls? Sophie smoothed the child’s hair back, delving into the dark gray eyes.
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