JAMES Page 6

  Robbie latched on hopefully but turned his head away after only a taste. “I know it isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.” James tried again, and a third time, but the baby only cried harder.

  “Where could she be?” Setting the bottle aside, he began pacing the cabin. The movement appeased Robbie for a few moments, but soon the cries began again. Would she have gone to the Finneys’, in spite of the risk? Was she off trying to find a place to live that didn’t include a bachelor preacher? Where? Suddenly, he knew where to find her.

  Heading out the back door, he strode up the hill to the cemetery. The change of scenery caught Robbie’s attention and the cries subsided. James found Esther planting wildflowers on her daughter’s grave. He planned to stop a respectful distance away to let her look up, but Robbie must have recognized her. Filling his little lungs, he screamed loudly enough to frighten the birds from the trees fifty yards away.

  Esther jumped to her feet. “Oh, heavens. You poor thing. I’m so sorry, James. I lost track of the time and—”

  “Don’t apologize. Just help me. Please!”

  Taking Robbie and hurrying to the bench a short distance away, she sat and turned her back on James. Realizing she planned to feed the baby right there in the open, he spun around and tried to concentrate on the view. He counted clouds. He identified the flowers she’d planted for Emma. He recited the books of the Old Testament. Anything to keep from imagining what was happening behind him.

  The memory of her bare skin and a contented Robbie returned to haunt him. She was so pretty and such a beautiful soul. And he found, to his shame, that he was hoping Mr. Owens pushed the issue and insisted they marry. “Forgive me.”

  “For what?”

  His mind went blank when he looked down into her face. The sun had pinkened her cheeks and the breeze had teased wisps of her red-tinted blond hair out of the coil at her neck to brush over Robbie’s head, tying them together somehow.

  “James? Is something wrong?”

  Instead of answering, he brushed the strands away from her cheeks. “He’s sleeping?”

  “He must have worn himself out crying. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to care for him.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be available every moment, Esther. Sadly, though, I have no idea how to take your place. I tried to feed him the condensed milk Mrs. Meier insisted I buy for him. He wasn’t the least bit interested.”

  “Did you warm it first?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  She laughed softly. “Do you like your coffee cold? Warm milk is more like mother’s milk, I suppose.”

  “I know so little. If you leave us, I’ll harm the boy inside of a day.”

  “You would never hurt him, James.”

  “Not intentionally, but…” He offered his elbow to escort her down the hill. “Would you teach me how to care for him? I know he needs regular feeding, burping, and changing? But, even knowing, I had no clue how to feed him. Or get the diaper to stay in place. I could only let him cry.”

  “James, babies will cry and sometimes you won’t know why. But he knows he’s loved and that his needs will be met.” She brushed a kiss to Robbie’s crown. “I’ll be happy to show you what I know, but I’m warning you, I don’t know it all.”

  Relief swept through him, washing away the last of his worry. When they reached the cabin, they turned together to walk down the main street of town. No words were needed. It was as if she could sense his thoughts, or he, hers. They could make a go of marriage if he could just convince Esther to try. Just stop, he ordered himself. Orland Owens had much to repent for putting ridiculous ideas into his head.

  Esther had no interest in a forced marriage, a loveless marriage, she’d said. Then woo the lady, he swore he heard his sister’s voice in his head. And just how do I do that, he argued. Robbie chose that moment to whimper and fuss.

  “Here, let me carry him.” James plucked the baby from her arms. “He’s certainly a healthy boy.”

  “He’s putting on weight just as he should,” Esther agreed. “Where is everyone?”

  The street was empty, as was the mercantile. And a closed sign hung on the front plate glass window of the bank. Closed? In the middle of a business day? James had a bad feeling about this. “Perhaps you should return to the parsonage.”

  “What’s wrong, James?” She looked around and evidently spotted the sign. “He’s done it, hasn’t he? He’s already causing us trouble. Why can’t people mind their own business?”

  “That is a question for the ages, Mrs. Travers.”

  Esther was barely out of sight when James was hailed from the bank. “Reverend Hathaway. A word if you please.”

  James had expected to be summoned before the church elders, but he didn’t expect it to come a few hours after Orland Owens had stopped to supposedly check on the church. If only they would complete church business with such dispatch. Usually these men were working, running businesses, farms, and the like. But here they sat, judge and jury.

  Orland Owens took the lead, though he wasn’t head of the church Elders. “Understand, Reverend. We’ve been satisfied with your leadership of our church to this point. But keeping a woman who is not your wife in your home is, well, it just isn’t done.”

  “As I told you when you stopped by this morning, Mr. Owens, Mrs. Travers is staying in the parsonage. I am not. I take meals with her because I’m responsible for the infant in her care, and because she is a generous woman and doesn’t mind cooking for me. But I’m sleeping in the church.”

  “Regardless, Reverend, this can’t continue. If another solution isn’t found, the Elders will have to rethink your position in King’s Ford.”

  James battled his rising temper. “I don’t believe I understand your meaning.”

  “Get the woman out of your house or you won’t have a house.” Owens punctuated his demands by pounding his fist on his desk. “Or a pulpit.”

  “I see. Your terms to prevent this farce from continuing are to simply find Mrs. Travers somewhere to live besides the parsonage.”

  “Immediately. This instant,” the banker blustered.

  “Very well. I’ll bring her and the infant to your house in an hour. I assume that will be satisfactory?”

  “My house? No, that is impossible. I won’t have an infant keeping us up all night.”

  “But, Mr. Owens,” James overrode his objections. “I believe you and Mrs. Owens would be the perfect caretakers for Mrs. Travers and the baby. You have the room and your daughters are old enough to help care for the child.”

  “But she was at the doctor’s home. She might bring the influenza into ours. No. I’m sorry, Reverend, but she is not going to stay with us.”

  “Then where do you suggest, Mr. Owens? Mrs. Meier is helping Doctor and Mrs. Finney. Mrs. Porter has barely enough room for herself and Tad.”

  He scanned the other men in the room. “Will one of you take in a grieving widow and an orphaned child?” No one would look him in the eye. “Will no one entertain a stranger and by doing so, perhaps entertain the Lord God?” he paraphrased scripture. “I see. Everyone in town is as concerned as you about the influenza, it would seem, Mr. Owens. Perhaps if I moved into your home. Surely that would be acceptable.”

  “You’ve been out among your flock, Reverend, as is your duty,” Owens insisted. “You’ve been exposed to this terrible disease.” Owens looked around the room for agreement. “Very well. The woman can stay in the parsonage, but you must give us your word that you will not.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping in my home since Doctor Finney insisted Mrs. Travers move in there. I’ve been staying at the church, which I will continue to do.” James rarely raised his voice, so when he did it was effective. Everyone in the room fell silent. “In the meantime, since business is understandably slower due to the illness in our midst, and you gentlemen seem to have time to spare, there are repairs to the parsonage that must be undertaken. The leaky roof is more th
an Mrs. Travers can handle on her own. We wouldn’t want her or the child to take ill, would we?”

  The mumbles of agreement were music to James’ ears. “Wonderful. That is most Christian of you. And, Mr. Owens, I know I can count on Mrs. Owens and your daughters to feed this crew of willing workers. She can bring food to the church yard at noon. I’ll tell Mrs. Travers to expect everyone after breakfast tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Soon after the sun rose the next morning, a dozen men and several boys showed up at the parsonage. James had told her what transpired with the elders, and they’d made plans to break their fast earlier than usual. She’d gathered what she needed for the day and took Robbie over to the church.

  As she climbed the stairs, James stepped out and held the door for her. “Good morning, Reverend.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Travers. I’ve opened the windows for you. Have a nice day.” Then he tipped his hat and went to wait for the crew. Since they were so concerned about the possibility of contagion, he left them to climb ladders and haul materials up to the roof, while he went visiting other parishioners.

  To pass the morning, she entertained Robbie, did some darning she’d been putting off, and practiced the organ for the Sunday service.

  At midday, James came in to invite her to join them for the meal. “You’re back.”

  “Only a few minutes ago,” he assured her. “Shall I take Robbie off your hands?”

  Several of the wives had sent along food for the men. While she and Elda Owens, with the help of sixteen-year-old Zelda and ten-year-old Lucy Owens, served the meal, James kept his distance and looked after the baby. Gradually the men drifted over to speak with him.

  Something about seeing James holding Robbie, so obviously proud to show him off to the other men, gave her an odd flutter in her middle. Like the first time she followed Claude up a steep wash in the Black Hills and made the mistake of looking down.

  “He’s so very handsome,” Zelda sighed.

  “Zelda Anne Owens, we’ve discussed this.”

  “I know, Mama. I’m just remarking on how the Reverend looks holding a baby. He seems quite comfortable, don’t you agree, Mrs. Travers?”

  Esther glanced up from the cake she was cutting. James did look natural with Robbie, like a boy’s father should look. “I suppose he does.”

  Zelda sighed again and walked away. Esther shook her head. She could remember suffering with the same affliction when she saw Claude Travers the first time. She soon discovered that handsome was the least important trait of a good husband.

  “She’s very pretty, Mrs. Owens.”

  “Call me Elda.” Elda plated cake for everyone and called out for them to come and get a piece. “She is pretty, and she is too aware of the fact. Last year, on her fifteenth birthday, she announced she was of an age to marry and that she’d chosen her husband.”

  “He didn’t share her regard?”

  Elda huffed. “Hardly. She’d set her cap for Reverend Hathaway.”

  Esther couldn’t hide her shock. “But he’s so much older than she.”

  “Ten years. Or maybe eleven.” Elda paused with a piece of cake suspended over a plate. “It doesn’t matter. We tried to explain that she couldn’t just pick a husband like she picked a new parasol, but she wouldn’t listen.” She finished with the cake and came closer to Esther. “She presented herself at the parsonage the next morning,” she whispered, “and tried to trap the Reverend into marrying her. He didn’t take too kindly to it, I can tell you.”

  No wonder he was so concerned with the proprieties. It wasn’t just her reputation he was trying to protect. When she glanced up, Zelda was offering a piece of cake to James, but his gaze was on Esther. “Excuse me, Elda. I’m going to hold Robbie so Reverend Hathaway can enjoy his dessert.” She crossed the grass, holding out her arms for the baby. “Let me take him. You don’t want to miss out on dessert. It’s very good.”

  James relinquished Robbie and accepted the cake Zelda still held. “Thank you, Miss Owens.”

  “You’re quite welcome,” the girl simpered and batted her eyelashes. Apparently, she hadn’t learned her lesson.

  “Zelda, perhaps you’d like to help me change Robbie?”

  Instantly, the girl’s attention switched to Esther. “Could I really? Then may I hold him? Please?”

  Esther smiled at her enthusiasm. “Of course, you may. Would you mind running into the church to get his bassinet? I left it near the organ.”

  Zelda was off at a run. “Thank you, Mrs. Travers. You have no idea—”

  “Mrs. Owens was just telling me the story,” she interrupted, saving James from recounting it. “I suspect the girl wants to be a mother more than a wife.”

  Zelda came out with the bassinet, spread a small blanket in the shade, and dug out a clean diaper and soaker. Esther fetched a bucket of water, kneeled beside her and showed her what to do. Zelda beamed when Robbie smiled his appreciation for being dry once again. “Very good. A little practice and you’ll do fine on your own. Now, if you’ll excuse me, he needs to be fed. Once he’s finished, you may take care of him until it’s time for his nap.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Travers. I’ll wait right here.”

  “Why don’t you go help your mother clean up, instead? I’ll find you.”

  Zelda hurried to her mother, nearly skipping with excitement. Esther took a moment to study the roof. The men had decided to replace it rather than try to repair it. Even with the extra work, it was nearly complete. James would have a dry cabin the next time it rained.

  When she handed Robbie to a giddy Zelda, along with a reminder to be careful and keep his head supported, James joined her.

  “Are you doing all right? It has to be hard to be forced out of the house all day.”

  “It could be worse. I could be helping you cart buckets the next time it storms.”

  “Help?” Zelda looked from one to the other. “You helped during the storm the other night? You were together? At night?”

  “Miss Owens, I could hardly sleep through the storm and leave Mrs. Travers to that leaky cabin with no assistance.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  Zelda looked away from him, obviously not convinced. In fact, Esther thought she looked envious. If she only knew the bone-deep exhaustion that came of emptying buckets of water for hours, then caring for an infant.

  “Zelda?” Elda Owens called out. “Time to clear up and get on home. You come on, now.”

  “Yes, Mama.” She handed Robbie to James and thanked Esther for allowing her to help with the baby.

  “Anytime, Miss Owens. I hope you’ll come over and help me again, if your mother says it’s all right.”

  That put the smile back on Zelda’s face. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Travers. I’d really like that.”

  When she was safely out of earshot, Esther glanced up at James. “I promise I’ll warn you to eat dinner at the café that day.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Travers.” James patted Robbie’s back and bounced him gently in his arms. They both grinned when he let out a satisfied burp. “I should get to work with the others.”

  Esther took Robbie. “It looks like they’ll finish today.”

  James studied the cabin. “We should. It isn’t a large roof, and we have plenty of hands.”

  “Did they come to be sure we weren’t together in there?”

  “I think it’s more they wanted to meet you. And getting out from under their wives’ feet probably played a large part, too.”

  They laughed together as Mr. Owens joined them. “A good joke?”

  Esther bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing again. “I was just telling Mrs. Travers how nice it is to have all of you helping,” James answered, “and that none of you probably minded being, um, out for the day.”

  Owens’ brows drew together, then one corner of his mouth kicked up. “Out from under the women’s thumbs, you mean. Out for the day. That’s a nice way to put it, Reverend.” He turned to E
sther. “I’m sorry for the noise and disruption, ma’am.”

  “A necessary part of a new roof, Mr. Owens. I believe Robbie and I will take a nap under the tree in the cemetery.” She glanced at James. “I want to visit with Emma for a while.”

  He nodded in understanding. “I’ll come for you when we’ve finished for the day.”

  Snagging a blanket and Robbie’s basket, she strolled around the church and up the hill. It was quiet here, though she could still see the men working on the roof. She stopped at Emma’s grave for a moment. “Next time I’ll bring more flowers, my little one.” She sniffed back tears. “I miss you, though I hardly had a chance to hold you. You and Robbie would have gotten on so well, like brother and sister.” Of course, if Emma had lived, Esther might not have been caring for Robbie.

  A bird flew overhead, casting a shadow and reminding Esther she needed to get the baby out of the sun.

  Settling in the shade of the single tree, she propped herself against the trunk, put Robbie beside her on the blanket, and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift. She imagined Robbie and Emma as toddlers, playing in a shady spot near the cabin. And James’ laughter as he watched. He’d be a proud father and a good husb—

  Esther sat up so suddenly she startled Robbie from sleep. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Crooning softly, she rolled him onto his tummy and rubbed his back. “What on earth is the matter with me, Robbie? I can’t think of your father in that way. Of any man, for that matter. I already had a husband and that didn’t turn out very well.”