Deeply Devoted (23 page)

“Me too,” Angelo muttered.

“Apology accepted.” Clara gave the twins a hard look.

Mario grunted. “Good! Now let’s try what’s left of the pasta fagioli.”

Everyone took their seat, and after Peter prayed a special birthday blessing for Greta and blessed the food, Catharine passed the bread around. She’d forgotten to light the candles, but it was a good thing she hadn’t or it could’ve been disastrous. And that definitely would have sent Clara into a tizzy! Catharine nearly giggled out loud at the thought.

Clara leaned into Peter’s side, talking too low for Catharine to hear what was said.
How can I make her like me?
she wondered.

When the last bite was gone from the soup tureen, with compliments to Mario that it was the best soup they’d ever had, everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to Greta and settled back with coffee and dessert. Even Clara seemed to be enjoying herself.

Catharine pushed her chair back and reached over to the sideboard for the gifts to hand them to Greta.

“Open mine first,” Anna urged.

“Nice wrapping. I’m surprised.” Greta gently unwrapped her sister’s gift. “Oh, Anna. This is wonderful!” She held the gift up for everyone to see the watercolor of Crow Creek, with the filtered sunlight kissing its bank and overhanging trees.

“I know how you like to stroll down there to think or meet Bryan,” Anna declared.

“Anna!” Greta rolled her eyes.

Bryan laughed and said, “Very observant, Anna. Nicely done.”

The Cristinis gave Greta a stylish hat, which Greta immediately donned, preening this way and that. “For your next trip to the Cheyenne Opera, Greta,” Angelina said.

“I may have to borrow it myself.” Catharine admired the hat with a grin.

“I hardly think you’d catch me without this hat on the next time I go to town.” Greta gave a soft giggle.

“You have excellent taste, Angelina,” Clara commented.

“How do you know I didn’t pick it out?” Mario laughed.

Clara shot him a glance. “Really?”

“He’s only teasing, Clara. You can’t get him to shop for anything unless it’s food.” Angelina poked her husband and everyone laughed.

Dorothy smiled as Greta opened her gift. Nestled inside was a delicate lady’s writing pen and embossed stationery. “Dorothy, thank you for your thoughtfulness.” Greta looked pleased as she set the box aside, then picked up Catharine and Peter’s gift. She tore off the wrappings and exclaimed, “A leather Bible! Oh, Catharine and Peter . . . it’s so wonderful,” she said, almost reverently running her hand across the smooth leather. “Thank you both so much,” she whispered, her eyes glistening.

“You’re so welcome,” Catharine said. “Let God be your guide for the future.”

Catharine’s heart felt full. Here was her sister, a woman, now ready to be launched into whatever life brought her way. She prayed life would be full of wonder and happiness for Greta.

Catharine felt Peter’s eyes on her, and her gaze swerved toward him. His eyes held hers for a long moment, and she felt flushed.

Bryan stood up and fished in his pocket for his present. “I have something for you too, Greta.” He handed her a small box, then sat down.

Greta looked at him in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting anything, really.” She flipped open the box and pulled out a small locket in the shape of a heart. “Oh, goodness . . . Bryan, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Bryan placed the gold chain around her neck. It twinkled in the light against her pink gown. Greta reached down, touching it. “It’s simply beautiful. Thank you so much, Bryan.”

Bryan turned a light shade of pink. “You’re welcome. Now, how about that walk you promised me?” He winked.

Everyone was quiet, watching young love unfold right before their eyes. Even the twins seemed to sense something special happening.

Greta shoved back her chair and looked at the group around the table. “If you all will excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.”

A strange, distant buzzing penetrated Catharine’s sleep, and with a drowsy gaze she glanced around the bedroom, looking for its source. It had been a fitful night filled with a haunting dream.

She saw nothing, but the sound was real. She lifted Peter’s arm off her hip, quietly slipped out of bed, and made her way downstairs to the porch. It was a warm night again, and her nightgown was sticking to her. Leaning against the post by the porch railing, she looked out across the yard and beyond the grassy fields of wheat illuminated by the moon. All was still, and with the breeze absent she could hear the locusts.

The party had been a great success, despite Prince’s frolic and Clara’s disapproval on so many levels. But on Catharine’s mind now was the dream she’d just had. It was exactly as she remembered it when the events happened.

The gavel of the judge had rapped hard on his massive desk, executing his verdict. Accidental death. She’d been glad that her parents hadn’t had to witness this. Catharine stole a glance at Karl, fighting the huge lump in her throat. In slow motion she moved through the filmy haze to do what she must now, her heart broken. When she walked past him, his eyes pleaded, but she was devoid of any feeling of love she’d had for him before. Eerily, she continued out of the courthouse, remembering . . .

Catharine shuddered from a sudden chill. Would she ever forget? She patted her abdomen to reassure herself of the life within her. Karl Johnsen had been a smooth talker, handsome, and oh so incredibly charming. It had been a whirlwind romance, and her parents had warned her, just as she’d tried to warn Greta. But at least Bryan had come courting in the proper manner now, and he did seem to really adore Greta.

Catharine’s heart was full as she prayed.
Lord, watch over the unborn baby You’ve entrusted me with. Thank You for my sweet Greta, a young lady now. Give her a good future with whomever You have planned for her. Watch over my little Anna with her tender heart. And, Lord, I know Peter is worried about the wheat crop, but I know You will provide if we trust You. Thank You for loving me. Amen.

A sudden wind blew, and she heard an owl hoot from its roost in a nearby tree. It was a lonely sound, but she wasn’t feeling as sad now. She heard the door open and Peter stepped behind her, encircling her with his arms and pulling her back against him so they both faced the field.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

She could feel his warm breath against her ear, and she snuggled back further. “The sound of the locusts interrupted my dreams. Can’t you hear them?”

Peter sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, and that’s what concerns me now. Last summer was so hot and winter was the coldest one on record, which resulted in the grasshoppers. I feel a repeat coming.”

She lifted one of his calloused hands from her waist, brushing it lightly with a kiss. “I pray not, Peter. Maybe it won’t be as bad as last year.”

“In a couple of days I’ll be able to know if the bait we put out is working. Anything is better than nothing at all, considering last year’s swarm.”

“Tell me, how did you know to do all that?” Catharine listened to the hum of the locusts and shivered.

“Congress created a commission to respond to the grasshopper plague and how best to stop it. The bait is part arsenic and part sawdust. So we’ll just wait and see.”

She turned around to face him, gazing into the kind blue eyes she’d come to love. “It was a nice party today and the food was so delicious. What a relief for me not to have to make it.”

He cupped her chin. “Don’t worry about what my mother said. I swear she’s just jealous that she never thought to do that. However, we will have to do something about all those puppies.” His mouth twisted sideways. “Agree?”

“It was almost comical seeing your mother so undone. Anna told me later that she forgot to put the puppies in the pen. She felt badly about it.”

“I should hope so. I know she’s only fifteen, but don’t you think it’s time she started to be a little more responsible?”

Catharine splayed her hands against his chest and felt his heartbeat underneath her palms. “I’m trying, truly I am. Anna is different somehow. She’s more of a free spirit than Greta or I.”

“I’ll give you that. But you still have to talk to her.” Peter’s face was serious.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you might let us—I mean her—keep all four puppies?”

Peter laughed softly. “You little minx.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What I was thinking was maybe she could part with two of them for Angelo and Alfredo. That’s if Mario will let them. He may refuse outright.”

“Good idea. I knew you were a smart man,” she said, playfully running a finger along his mouth. “Anna will feel better knowing they have the puppies.” She yawned, trying to cover her mouth. “I’m getting sleepy. Let’s go back to bed.” She felt the pressure of his hand massaging her lower back, and her pulse quickened.

“Only if you let me hold you close.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

The owl hooted in agreement from his perch high atop the elm tree.

The day after the play, Mac didn’t return to Clara’s as promised. She’d wanted to bring him along to Greta’s party, but apparently he’d gone out of town once again. She wished he’d at least told her. Every time he returned to Cheyenne from his trips, he was so charming that he won her over with his attention, so she was never miffed at him for very long. She was finding it hard to concentrate on much of anything without his face swimming before her. She felt like a silly schoolgirl.

She took great care picking her dress today, wanting to look her best. She intended on walking to Mac’s office on the chance that he might be there. She couldn’t wait any longer. She selected a day dress the color of bisque, which was cooler for summer wear with its lightweight fabric. Staring at her image in her mirror, she felt satisfied with her look and glad that she’d maintained her slender figure as she’d aged. The conservative dress held an open neckline and a lightweight chemisette that ended in a small
V
. Coral piping continued down the length of the bodice to meet her waist, making it appear even more slender. The sleeves were full at the shoulders, but the skirt remained narrow with a soft bustle at the back. Perfect, she thought.

She gave her cheeks a slight pinch for a hint of color, then picked up her reticule, praying that Mac would be in his office. Not wanting to appear in a hurry, she strolled down the sidewalk to the center of town, nodding to passersby here and there, then waved to Angelina, who was sweeping off the sidewalk in front of their restaurant across the street. It surprised her that she really liked Angelina and Mario. It was obvious they were becoming fast friends with Catharine and her sisters.

You could too, if you tried.

Clara gave a soft grunt.
I’m trying, Lord. But how can I trust someone who hasn’t told Peter the truth?
Maybe if I hadn’t started prying in the first place, I would be none the wiser. But then I wouldn’t have met Mac, would I?

At her destination, she slowed her steps and reached for the door handle when suddenly an arm reached around from behind her, unlocking the door. Turning, she looked into the smiling face of Mac.

“Good morning, beautiful! You look wonderful. Perfect timing, I was just arriving.”

Clara had to still her heart. Was she old enough to have a heart attack like her husband did? She sucked in air then smiled back. “Mac, I’m so glad you’re back. Where on earth have you been?”

His eyes swept over her in admiration. “What kind of greeting is that? Have you missed me?” He took her hand and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. He pulled her to him, giving her a long, deep kiss until she thought her lungs would burst from lack of air. “Ahh, your lips are so sweet, Clara.”

“Mac.” She moaned, then staggered back, her heart hammering. “Yes, I’ve missed you.” Had he said he missed her too? She couldn’t remember exactly what he’d just told her.

“That’s more like it.” Mac’s dark eyes penetrated her. “I had to make a short trip to Denver. Come on in. What have you been up to?”

Clara swallowed hard. “Is that all you can say? You couldn’t drop by and let me know you were leaving? You promised the night of the opera that you’d come back the very next day so we could talk.” She would not let him skirt the issue this time.

“Clara, I meant to. Really, I did. I just got busy and forgot.”

“At the very least, you could have sent me a message.” She stiffened as he reached for her again. She could smell his aftershave, and she loved how the dark hair at the edge of his neck curled into his collar. “I went to Greta’s birthday party without you.” She pouted, folding her arms across her.

He stepped closer. “I know, my sweet. I’m sorry. That was just an oversight. How about I make it up to you and take you to lunch?” His lips descended on hers again, and she let them linger there, allowing the pleasure that shot through her.

She’d longed for his touch when he was away. Clara struggled to keep her head this time—business first. “I’m really not that hungry. Have you found out any more about Catharine yet?”

He eyed her. “Come sit down and we’ll talk.” He patted the leather chair next to his desk, which Clara noticed was devoid of his usual clutter. He pulled out a folded piece of paper that appeared to be a wire and pushed it across his desk toward her. “This is proof that she was married to a Karl Johnsen. What I don’t have is proof that she was ever divorced from him.”

Clara stared at the wire confirming from a solicitor in Amsterdam that Catharine Olsen indeed was married. She moistened her dry lips. “Was she divorced or not? This could totally ruin my son and my reputation! I must have proof, Mac!”

He turned in his chair and looked briefly out the window, his fingers tapping together while he pondered her demand. “And you’ll get the proof you need. I promise. I have my contact working on it, and he believes she was never divorced before leaving the country. Unfortunately, I’ve run short of cash with my last trip, and my contact in Amsterdam won’t send any more documents until I wire him more money.” He swiveled in his chair again to face her, imploring her with his eyes. “You can understand that, can’t you? The solicitor there has done quite a lot of research for me, and he’s not cheap.”

Clara’s heart fell. More money? “How much?” she asked, compressing her lips into a thin line.

“About a thousand dollars should take care of it.” He leaned over and lifted her hand. “All in all, that’s not a lot of money to get to the truth, is it?” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm tenderly, gazing at her with half-lidded eyes.

She found his endearing smile irresistible and sweetly romantic. “All right. I’ll go over to the bank and have a draft written for you today, and I expect to get some answers right away. But I’m afraid this is all I can spend on this investigation, Mac.”

“Perfect!” He pushed back his chair and rose. “Now let’s go have lunch and forget our troubles. Does that sound good to you?” he said, slipping his arm about her waist as she stood. “My, but you smell divine.”

Clara felt a surge of love so strong that it dazed her. She wanted nothing more than the pleasure of his company.