After the Storm (18 page)

Ten

“Rhea brought her here for
me
,” Lottie said in answer to Cailin's question as she hugged a black kitten that scrambled, hissing, out of her arms.

Cailin caught it before it could run under the stove. Calming the frightened kitten as she cradled it in the crook of her arm, she said, “If you're going to have a kitten, Lottie, you must learn how to hold it correctly.”

“So I can keep her for my very, very own?”

“If Samuel says it's all right.”

“Samuel, can I keep her for my very, very own?”

He pushed back from the kitchen table and lifted the little girl to sit on his lap. “You'll have to take care of her and the other cat, making sure they have food and water and a warm place to sleep.”

“Like you take care of Mama and us?”

“Yes.”

Cailin said nothing when Samuel looked past the little girl toward her.

A bewitching smile slid along his lips as he went on, “And how your mother takes care of all of us.”

Lottie jumped down from his lap and ran to Cailin. Putting the kitten in the little girl's arms, she said, “Now be careful. She's just a baby.”

“I will. I promise, Mama.”

Cailin went to the table to pick up the rest of the plates. They had eaten in the kitchen this evening in hopes of savoring even a hint of air from the back door. The dining room seemed as hot as the stove.

When she reached for a plate, hands at her waist brought her down onto Samuel's lap. She laughed. “How do you expect me to get my work done?”

“I don't care about your work.” His mouth caressed hers, but he pulled away at a crash.

On the other side of the kitchen, the two girls wore chagrined expressions. The kitten vanished beneath the stove again, with a frightened mew, and around two pair of feet were the shards of a plate.

“Megan! Lottie!” gasped Cailin, coming to her feet. She heard Samuel push back his chair as he stood behind her.

“I didn't mean to, Mama,” Megan said. “I just wanted to show it to the kitten.” Tears oozed out of her eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Cailin asked, keeping her eyes focused on her daughters. She did not want to see Samuel's reaction to the absurdity of showing off a plate to a kitten.

“No.”

“Good.”

Cailin pulled out her handkerchief, dabbed Lottie's face, and then handed it to Megan. Asking Brendan to try to coax the kitten out from under the stove, she began to pick up the biggest pieces of the broken plate.

“Look out,” Samuel said. “I'll sweep it up.”

“Let me.” She stood and took the broom. “Samuel, I can replace it—” She stopped herself. She had no money to buy a plate or even the food to put on it. If Samuel had not allowed her and the children to stay here, she was not sure what they would have done to survive.

Out west they are looking for women like you
.

She tried to banish her mother-in-law's vicious words from her mind.
Women like you
. She had not asked Mrs. Rafferty what that meant, for she suspected she did not want to know.

“No need to replace it.” He picked up more of the bigger pieces and dropped them into the trash. “Don't worry. None of these plates are worth much.”

“I'm sorry,” Megan whispered, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

Samuel gave her a bolstering smile. “I know you are, Half-pint. I hope the sound of the breaking plate didn't scare you much.”

She grinned. “I wasn't scared of that!”

“You're getting to be a big, brave girl, aren't you?”

“I am!” She held up her arm. “See my big muscle?”

He turned her toward the stove and gave her a playful swat on the bottom. “Then help your brother get that kitten out from under there before it cooks.”

Cailin bit her lower lip as Lottie teased for him to ask her to help, too. Samuel brought out a joy in her children that had eluded her since she had left Ireland. It was dismaying to think how long she had been separated from these bright, innocent smiles. When she thought of what could have happened to them …

“It's no tragedy,” Samuel said as she put the last china pieces in the trash. “It's just an old plate. You don't need to look so upset.”

“I'm not upset about the plate.” She tried to smile. “In fact, I'm thinking happy thoughts.”

“If that's your happy expression, I'd hate to see your sad one.”

She hastily turned away and leaned the broom against the wall.

“Cailin, I didn't mean that as it sounded,” he said to her back.

“I know you didn't.” Facing him, she locked her fingers together at his nape. “Let's just talk about something else.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” He pulled her closer, then grimaced. “I'm going to get you sweaty.”

“You're too late. I think we're all soaked. Are the summers always this hot here?”

“I suspect so.”

“We're going to melt away in this heat.”

“We need to do something about that.” Keeping his arm around her waist, he raised his voice to get the children's attention. “How about some ice cream?” He smiled at Cailin. “If it's all right with your mother.”

“Is it all right, Mama?” Brendan asked.

“How can I say no?” She laughed. Before she had gone to work in New York, she would have had to ask what ice cream was. She had seen it but never tasted it. The children's faces revealed that they had, and they had enjoyed it.

“Take the kitten out to the barn, Lottie. I'm going to need you to help turn the ice-freezing pail,” Samuel said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “What do you say to blackberry ice cream?”

“Blackberry?” Cailin asked.

He pointed to the small bucket by the door. “There seems to be a bumper crop on its way, but most of them are green and hard. I picked some early ones on my way back from taking the broken wagon axle to Wyatt to be repaired.”

“Another broken axle?” Cailin asked.

“I tried to repair it myself and didn't do a very good job. Wyatt Colton's going to work on it. He can fix just about anything mechanical.”

Lottie jumped up and down. “I love backberries.”

“Blackberries
.” Samuel chuckled. “Have you ever had them?”

“No, but I loved storeberries.” She twirled around.

“Strawberries?” Cailin smiled.

“I guess so. Whoa there,” Samuel said, putting a hand on Lottie's shoulder. “One broken dish is enough for today. Wyatt can't fix those, too.”

The children burst out talking at once, and Cailin stared at them in amazement. What were they asking about?

Samuel held up his hands. “I can't hear any of you when all of you are talking. Yes, I went out to have Wyatt fix the broken part on the wagon. No, I didn't see Kitty Cat.”

She smiled, at last understanding. “Do you mean the little girl Kitty Cat?”

“My friend,” said Megan proudly.

“Got it!” shouted Brendan, standing up as a cloud of soot billowed out from him and the kitten.

Samuel waved aside the soot. “Take the kitten out to the barn and bring in that bag of ice I broke up earlier.”

As the children rushed out, Cailin called for them to wash up before they came back inside. She swept the floor, trying not to stir up the soot again. Samuel whistled a lighthearted tune as he edged around her to get the ingredients they would need to make the ice cream.

He did not touch her, but there was something, something intangible, something compelling, drawing her toward him. She wanted to ignore it, but that was impossible. She hoped she could continue to resist it tonight.

She was horrified at the way she had acted last night in the parlor. Samuel might have reacted with anger when she cringed away, fearing he was about to strike her. She wished she could find the words to apologize. Just speaking of it threatened to open the barely healed wounds within her heart.

“All set. Just have to prepare the berries,” he said as he opened a cupboard. He lifted out a pewter pot, setting it on the table. “As soon as the kids return, we'll begin. Have you ever had blackberry ice cream?”

“I've never had any kind of ice cream.”

He looked amazed, then said, “Then you're in for a treat you won't soon forget.”

“What can I do to help?” she asked as she put away the broom.

He did not answer, and she looked at him. Her question, which should have been a commonplace one, took on new meaning when his eyes glowed with passion. An answering craving billowed through her. When she pretended to be busy straining the blackberries through a sieve as he requested, she was grateful Samuel had not replied with a suggestion that would have had nothing to do with ice cream.
Don't think of that
! She had to keep her own thoughts tightly under control.

The children burst in, slamming the screen door. Brendan handed Samuel a canvas bag, and Lottie held up a pail. Megan put a much smaller bucket of cream on the table.

“Spoons are in the drawer by the dry sink,” Samuel said as he picked up the bag of ice and dumped it in the pail. He added a few handfuls of saltpeter.

The cool air struck her face, easing the fire along her cheeks. Oh, was she blushing? Nobody seemed to notice, so she guessed it was the heat scorching her each time Samuel looked at her with an invitation in his eyes.

“Spoons?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “Is it ready already?”

Megan giggled. “Mama, we all need to help stir it so it freezes.”

“Don't tease your mother,” Samuel said. “Think how impatient you were when I first made ice cream with you. You didn't want to wait for it to freeze all the way through.”

Cailin watched, fascinated, as he set the pewter pot into the ice and then poured the cream, sugar, strained berries, and some raspberry jam into it. He put a lid on the pot and told them to be patient. The children vied to be the first to stir the mixture fifteen minutes later. Lottie was given the honor because she would not have the strength to stir it as it froze harder.

Samuel turned the pot in the ice each time the children stirred. When even Brendan could not move the mixture within the pot, he gave it one more turn and said, “It's ready.”

Taking out the ice cream pot, he set it on the table. Lottie was leaning on the table, an expectant smile on her face. Beside her, Brendan and Megan wore the same eager expressions as they held out dishes.

“Your mother first,” Samuel said. “She's never had ice cream before, so we'll let her have the first taste.”

She reached for a spoon, but froze as solid as the ice cream when he dipped his finger into the blue mixture and held it out to her. His other hand took the spoon and set it back on the table.

“Mama,” Brendan said, “hurry up. We want some ice cream, too.”

“You heard him.” Samuel's words had a husky edge that matched the warmth of his smile. He stepped closer. “Don't you want to try it?”

The children's excited voices vanished into the frantic beat of her heart while she opened her mouth to allow his finger in. The ice cream was sweet and cool on her tongue. His finger was warm and rough as he drew it away.

“Do you like how it tastes?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, knowing that neither of them were speaking of the ice cream.

“Would you like more?”

“Save some for us!” cried Megan, and the connection between them shattered.

Cailin stepped aside as the children held out their bowls eagerly. She shooed them out onto the front porch as each one got a serving.

Lottie paused, turned around, and came back into the kitchen. “Can I have some extra for Dahi?”

“Lottie,” Cailin said, “asking for more before you have eaten anything is not polite.” She did not let her amazement show. Before they came to America, none of the children would have asked for another serving, because they had known there was nothing more.

Samuel pulled another spoon out of the drawer. “Why don't you and Dahi share? If you finish it all, I think there may be a bit more.”

She shouted and twirled about again.

Cailin caught her by the shoulders and prompted, “Lottie?”

“Thank you, Samuel. Can Dahi and me—”

“Dahi and I,” corrected Samuel with a smothered laugh.

“Can Dahi and I sit on the tree swing?”

“Just be careful you and Dahi don't tip off the tree swing and lose your ice cream in the dirt.”

She nodded, then said, “I think we'll sit on the steps.”

He chuckled as she followed her sister and brother outside.

“I've been meaning to ask you,” Cailin said as she took the bowl he offered her. “Who is this Dahi? Is it another child? Daihi is an Irish name, which is close to the way she pronounces it.” She laughed. “She mispronounces so many other words.”

He set the pewter pot back into the remaining ice. “I thought you'd be able to tell me the answer to that. She talks about Dahi all the time. Apparently he's some friend only she can see.”

“The Irish are renowned for their grand imaginations and storytelling.”

“I don't think it's a story to her. She believes he's there.” He laughed, and she knew her disquiet was visible. “No need to worry. Alice tells me it's not unusual for a child to have an invisible friend.”

“Alice?” She was pleased at how natural her question sounded because a jolt had struck her as she thought of another woman here with him and her children.

“The schoolteacher in Haven. You talked to her at the meeting last night. Alice Underhill.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a green-eyed monster I see in your brown eyes?” he asked. “Jealous?”

“The only green-eyed monster here is you.” She stepped around him.

He laughed, and she had to smile. This man was just too charming for her to stay vexed with him. As she carried her bowl into the foyer, he held the front door for her.