Daughters of the Heart (11 page)

While the master and mistress of the house talked, right at that minute another confab unfolded in the parlor that would one day bring heartache to all of the extended family.

“Let me see it.”

Lacy Rose grabbed her paper and held her it to her chest. “Promise me you will not tell.”

Bart grinned. “Why? What’d you draw? Let me see.”

“Not until you promise.”

He looked around then leaned close. “You’re my best friend. I ain’t never telling on you ever.”

Best friends. Her heart swelled then fell just as quickly. “So you promise?”

“Yes, I promise. You have my word.”

“Good.”

“What about Houston?”

His shoulders rose then fell. “Me and him are buds, but you and I are.…” His grin turned down.

He might not want to say it, but she knew exactly what hung on the tip of his tongue. The words he couldn’t spit out. She held out her picture of the people’s village or at least what she imagined it looked like from her mother’s stories.

“One day, I’m going to find my Comanche family. Want to come with me?”

The almost nine-year-old stared long at her. “How long will it take?”

“I don’t know. We could ride on the train. A week maybe?”

“What about Houston? Tan he tome? Are you inviting him?”

“No. He isn’t half Indian like us, and you cannot tell him either. You promised. Remember?”

“I won’t. Mama and Partner wouldn’t like it if I was to light out.”

“Well, you can study on it, but I’m going whether you go or not.”

“When?”

“Maybe in three years, we’ll be almost twelve then. Look at Charley. He’s twelve and more man than boy.”

“He’s thirteen.”

“Oh. Well. That really doesn’t matter anyway.” Only the promise she made to herself mattered. And that no one found out. One day, she’d go find her father’s people.

Comanche didn’t have a word for half-breed.

The instant Cecelia laid eyes on her father that last day of the week, she knew he knew and it about broke her heart. How could May? Why had she ever called her Mama or trusted her? A real mother would never have told him!

The only thing that helped soothe her shame was that he hadn’t immediately locked her in her room until she turned eighteen.

Perhaps Mama May could be credited with that small blessing. Should she ask her? Maybe…if she would tell Cecelia about the conversation…at least she’d know better what to say to Daddy when he confronted her.

Where was her stepmother anyway? Sooner or later, the hammer was sure to fall. The only question was when.

The rest of that day, she did all she could to avoid him and his wrath that had to be simmering, getting ready to boil any minute. Being locked in her room might have been better than dealing with all the fear and dread plaguing her.

And she never was able to catch May alone either, like the woman purposely avoided her.

Sunday proved no better.

Perhaps he was waiting until he shipped Elijah back to California before lowering the boom on her. Normally, church was the highlight of her week, but she could not enjoy any of it.

Even Levi and Rose spending the whole day with them failed to lighten her heart. She wanted to find a hole and crawl in and hide until her eighteenth birthday.

Except even then, that would only mean she could be courted. What good would that be if Daddy sent Elijah packing?

He loved her, said he’d wait—well, almost—and even came up with a planter to build so he could stay another month. Since that night though, he’d only given her a glance and a quick smile. At least it reassured her some.

Oh, why had she done it? Now everything was just…wrong! She should’ve trusted God.

By Sunday night, she had to unburden her heart. She tapped on Gwen’s door then stuck her head inside. Her big sister raised up off her bed, glanced at the baby-boy-sized lump and quickly crossed her lips with a finger.

Cecelia slipped in and eased the door closed. What was Crockett doing in her bed…again? Gwen tucked the covers in tight then joined Cecelia in the far corner. She turned the oil lamp up a bit then eased her needlework into her lap.

“What’s got you so upset?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“No, all Bonnie and I have been able to figure out is that you’re in big trouble. What did you do? And why haven’t you come talk to me before now?”

She swallowed. Coming was a mistake, but since there, might as well tell Gwendolyn of her sin. Since confession was supposed to be so good for the soul and all. A sigh escaped and she glanced away from her sister’s penetrating gaze. “Three nights back, I snuck into Elijah’s room through the attic.”

“You didn’t!”

“Oh, yes, I did alright.”

“No, CeCe! Why would you do such a thing?”

“I thought I had to, but it was nothing but a huge mistake. Especially since Daddy knows.”

“Are you sure? If he did, he’d have done something by now. Don’t you think?”

“He knows, believe me, though he hasn’t said a word about it. I don’t know why he hasn’t lowered the boom. There’s disappointment all over his face every time he’s looked at me.” She covered her eyes with both hands then pushed her hair away from her face. “And he must have said something to Elijah, too, because the man hasn’t said a word and only glanced my direction one time since Saturday morning.”

“I thought it strange when he made a point of riding in another wagon going to church.” Gwen shook her head, picked up her needle, then set it back down. “And I thought I had problems. Choosing between Clay and Braxton is nothing compared to…” She leaned in close. “What exactly happened after you got there?”

“Nothing, well…” She couldn’t compound her sin by telling a lie, and it wasn’t all that bad to admit. “I told him to wait, that I was worth waiting for, then I kissed him.”

“You didn’t! Cecelia Carol, I can’t believe it. You’ve had your first kiss before me! It isn’t fair.” Her eyes widened. “What’d he do?”

“Nothing, didn’t put a hand on me or even kiss me back in the slightest.”

“Oh, thank God for that. So it really doesn’t even count.”

Pursing her lips, she shook her head at her older sister. “Really, Gwen, is that all you can think about? Who got the first kiss? It hurt my heart a bit that night, but you’re right. I bless God, and am so thankful Elijah responded as he did. He’d surely have been sent packing…and might even been dead if he hadn’t.”

“So, not even a little bit? Did he hug you?”

“No! I already said he didn’t lay a hand on me. He just stood there.”

“How’d Daddy find out?”

“Uncle Chester heard me in the attic and told May. Why’s Crockett up here anyway?”

“Mama and Miss Jewel think it’s time to wean him.”

“Oh.” Cecelia leaned back, remembering overhearing them arguing over that. Daddy obviously won the debate. Didn’t he always?

“Forget our baby brother. Tell me more about this late night escapade of yours.”

“There’s not much else to it.”

“Sure there is. I want to hear every word between you and Mama May. I noticed you called her by her first name only. I sure wouldn’t get into that habit.”

“I asked her not to tell Daddy, and it had to be the first thing she did as soon as she got him alone!”

“Cecelia, you can’t hold that against her. She had to.”

“She did not.”

For the next two hours, she relived the night for her sister, every detail, and the conversation with Mama May. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed re-experiencing the kiss as she had ten thousand times in the last two days.

And loved the conflict on her sister’s face when she opened them again.

For a fact, Gwendolyn had never been kissed by anyone but family, and that only on the cheek for the last ten years.

After the telling and retelling and answering every question, the conversation drifted to the why as to her father doing nothing and wondering on all the possibilities.

Of the many considerations discussed, none matched the reality of the following morning.

Each time May laid eyes on Cecelia, she wanted to hug the girl and tell her it would all work out. But Henry hadn’t made up his mind yet as to exactly what he was going to do, and until he did….

So, she avoided the young lady. CeCe probably thought she’d lied to her. But she’d only said she leaned toward keeping the secret.

In the end, she had not been able.

The trust she enjoyed with her husband proved too valuable—even to being called Mama. She had one of her own now with another on the way.

Since that cat got discovered peeking out of its bag, she was all the more convinced of her condition, and this one would be a baby girl. She just knew it. In the end, even if she wanted to, she could not keep a secret from Henry.

Then to her and the young lovers’ surprise, after breakfast, instead of work, Henry invited Elijah to his library. Then with a whisper and wink, asked her to fetch Cecelia and join him.

“What does he want? Is he going to send Elijah home?”

If only she had an inkling. “I truly have no clue, sweetheart. When I asked this morning, he said he still hadn’t made up his mind.”

From the parlor through the hall, the girl walked next to her, then stopped ten feet short of the destination. “Why did you tell him?”

“Darling, it was too important not to. And he would have found out sooner or later, and then it would have been worse for both of us.”

The seventeen-year-old filled her lungs, pressed her lips together, then took another step. “What if he says no? What if Elijah goes back to California?”

May slipped her hand under Cecelia’s arm and tugged. “Come on, baby, we shouldn’t borrow trouble. Let’s wait and see what he has to say.”

The young lady closed her eyes and nodded. “You’re right.” She stiffened her spine, held her shoulders back, tilted her chin slightly, and proceeded to the door, exactly like a Buckmeyer should.

Oh, Lord, smooth out her path. Soften her father’s heart.

Cecelia tapped the door then held it, once bidden to enter, until Mama May stepped inside.

Her father sat behind his desk while Elijah rested rather comfortable-looking in the far wingback. Was that a good sign? Or had her daddy given him the out he really wanted all along?

After all, truth be known, he’d only nodded. Never said the words ‘I’ll wait.’ Was that what this was all about? Her hearing it first hand, just like when he sent Clay packing?

Elijah jumped up and offered his chair to Mama May.

“No thank you, dear.” She waved him back down, strolled around the desk, and eased into the extra chair.

“Sit down, baby.” Her father gestured toward the other wingback.

“Yes, sir.” Obedience being the wise path, she minded as she always had when her father told her to do anything. Didn’t all those years of instant obedience count for anything? She was a good daughter and deserved his trust and leniency.

Why couldn’t the high and mighty Patrick Henry Buckmeyer give her the benefit of the doubt?

Probably because she’d snuck through the attic into a man’s room in the middle of the night. She was doomed, and it was all her fault. She made herself offer him a smile then glanced at the object of her great affections who seemed way too relaxed.

Daddy glanced at his bride who sat next to him on his right. Exactly as Gwen described when he banished Clay. Her new mama sitting there not saying a word, while the king told everyone exactly how things were going to be.

A body would think a famous novelist like May Merriweather would have an opinion.

He turned on her. “Sweetheart, when I heard about what you did, my first reaction was to shoot Elijah and lock you in your room until you’re twenty.” He grinned and nodded toward May. “But your mother convinced me otherwise.”

Cecelia scooted forward a bit in her chair, glanced at Elijah, gave Mama May a quick smile before facing her father again. “I was wrong, Daddy. I know that. I thought I had to, but now I know I was dead wrong, and I’m sorry. If you could please –”

He held a hand up. “Repentance is good, but other than you kissing him, nothing happened.”