Under the Desert Sky (17 page)

“I thought about that, too. I didn't sleep all that well last night.” As Phoebe took a step away from Christian, a wave of dizziness came over her. She reached out for Christian's arm.

He steadied her. “Are you all right?”

“I think I should lie down.”

Without hesitation, Christian scooped her up in his arms and began walking toward the house.

When he laid Phoebe on her bed, she closed her eyes, gripping the side as if she needed to hang on.

“It's awful, Christian. The room is whirling around me.”

“You need to stay in bed for a while.”

“I can't.”

“And why not?”

“Who's going to take care of Will?”

“Maybe he could go stay with Gwen until you feel better.”

“No!” Phoebe's eyes darted open and she tried to sit up, but immediately she fell back on the pillow.

“You know Gwen and the girls would love to have him until you feel better.”

“Frank was here looking for my son. I won't let him take Will. I won't let that happen.”

“I understand. Then I'll take care of him.”

“That would mean you'd have to stay here, wouldn't it? I mean, in the house, not in the bunkhouse.”

“I suppose it would. Would you be all right with that?”

“I think the question is: Would you be all right with it?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“It's just that, last night, I remembered something that happened before the horse kicked me. Didn't you say, ‘I guess that's my cue to ride out of here'?” Phoebe asked, repeating the words Christian had said when she'd told him Trinidad was back.

Christian looked down. “I did, but it's not what I wanted to do. Maybe you don't remember what precipitated those words.”

Phoebe reached for Christian's hand. “I do remember—I remember it very well, and I am embarrassed by what I did.”

Christian smiled. “You mean banning me to the bunkhouse?”

“No, Christian. I was a brazen hussy to come to your room. I'm sorry.”

Christian leaned down and kissed her. “I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry at all.”

Tears were glistening in Phoebe's eyes as she wrapped her arms around Christian. “I don't know how to act. I've never known a man like you.”

“I'm not very good at this either. Why don't we pretend like we're just meeting one another? Phoebe, may I have your permission to start a courtship?”

Phoebe smiled. “That depends. Do you have a carriage or a bicycle built for two?”

“For you, a magic carpet.” Christian kissed her again. “I'll let you rest now.”

“All right, but don't let me sleep through lunch.”

“I won't.”

Leaving her bedroom, Christian walked back into the kitchen. “Whatever you're making smells awfully good.”

“Will suggested soup.”

“Will did that?” Christian tousled the boy's hair.

“I think Mama will like it, but now I'm helping Miss Gwen make noodles to go in the soup.” Will dropped a handful of flour into the bowl Gwen held.

“I think that'll be all we need.” Gwen mixed the stiff dough.

“If Will is finished here, I could use some help to move my things out of the bunkhouse.”

Will looked dejected. “Where are you going?”

“I'm moving back upstairs, unless someone else has taken my room.”

“Oh, goodie! You're coming back!” Will began clapping his hands, raising a cloud of flour.

“U
nder the circumstances, I think someone should be in the house with Phoebe,” July said when he found out Christian's intentions. “But I'm going to stay in the bunkhouse.”

“I understand, but I'm sure it'd be all right if you moved back to your room as well.”

“ ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.' I've lived by that maxim for a long time, and I probably shouldn't have opened my mouth yesterday.”

“No, you were right to speak up. If something is going to happen between Phoebe and me, it should happen in its own good time.”

“Do you want something to happen?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

“Do you want this, Wet?” Will came out of the bunkhouse carrying Christian's rifle.

“Let me carry that. It's a little heavy.” Christian took the rifle from the boy.

“Do you ever shoot that gun?”

“I've never shot this particular rifle, but I learned how to shoot when I was just a boy.”

“Will you teach me how?”

“When you get a little older.”

Will's face broke out in a broad smile. “You're going to stay with us a long, long time.”

“We'll see.” Christian picked up his satchel. “Let's go see if the soup is ready.”

•  •  •

“It's good to be eating together,” Phoebe said when everyone was gathered around the kitchen table. “July, you have my eternal thanks for doing what you did when my brother-in-law came.”

July was abashed by Phoebe's kind words. “I didn't do anything. I just knew that Will didn't want to go with that man, and I said I'd take care of him until you came back.”

“And you did that very well,” Phoebe said.

“I don't ever want to see Uncle Frank again. He's mean,” Will said.

“Honey, he's your daddy's brother,” Phoebe said. “Uncle Frank was probably worried about me, and that's why he was so gruff.”

Will shook his head. “I don't like him.”

“Well, he's not here now,” Christian said. “I think I need to go out and see if I can count the new baby chicks. Does anybody want to come with me?”

“I'll go.” Will jumped down from his chair, then stopped. His face contorted. “I can't go. I have to take care of Mama.”

Phoebe laughed. “You go ahead. Miss Gwen's here if I need anything, and besides, I'm going to take a long nap. Do you want to take a nap, too?”

“I'll go with Wet.”

•  •  •

Phoebe's condition improved slowly over the next few weeks. Although the bouts of nausea and dizziness occurred with less frequency, they were often enough to make it difficult for her to actually tend to her birds. She found herself totally dependent on Christian and July.

She was pleased to see how both men took to Will's insistence that he help them. They never gave the slightest indication that he might be in their way, but included him as much as they could. It was almost as if they were a family, as if Christian was there, not simply because he was needed, but because he belonged. But, Phoebe told herself, this was a temporary arrangement. It couldn't last forever, and she knew that she had to keep the arrangement in perspective in order to keep Will from being too badly hurt when Christian left.

But even as that caution crossed her mind, she knew that she wasn't thinking only of Will.

Christian tapped lightly on Phoebe's door.

“It's open,” Phoebe called softly.

When Christian opened the door, Phoebe was propped up against the pillows.

“Hi.” He stepped toward the bed. “Do you mind if I sit here awhile?” He intended to sit in a chair, but Phoebe moved over, indicating that she wanted him beside her. When he sat, he took her hand. “It's been a long day for you.”

She smiled wanly. “For you, too. Will can be a handful for someone who isn't used to being around small children.”

“He's a good boy, Phoebe. You're an excellent mother.”

“That's not what the Sloans think. They think Frank and Myra should be the ones to raise him, and maybe they're right.”

“I know you don't mean that. A boy should be with his mother. Believe me, I know.”

“That's a strange comment coming from you, a man who's had so many opportunities.”

“That's true, I have had opportunities, but I'd trade all of them to have had the love of my mother.”

“What happened?”

“It's a long story. I was young—about Will's age, I think—the last time I saw my mother.”

“She died?”

“I was taken from her, so I really don't know. I suppose she did, but the people who ran the orphanage never tried to find out anything about her, or if they did, they didn't tell me.”

“You lived in an orphanage?”

“For a little while.”

“What happened? Were you adopted?”

“Not exactly. Some older boys took pity on me,” Christian chuckled. “I guess you can say I was a runaway when I was about six or seven, and from then on I was on my own in the world.”

“A seven-year-old can't take care of himself.”

“He can if he's determined, and if he has no other choice.”

“Oh, Christian, how awful.”

“It was a long time ago, and I don't want to talk about it right now. I came in here to see if you needed anything before you went to sleep.”

“There is something I need. Is Will in bed?”

Christian nodded. “He's all tucked in and been read to. I started ‘Mowgli's Brothers' again, and we didn't get as far as we did the first day I tried to read it to him. If I ever see Kipling again, I'm going to let him know his story puts children to sleep.”

“Do you mean the writer Rudyard Kipling? You've met him?”

“I have.”

Phoebe sighed.

“Is there something wrong with me having met an author?”

“No—it's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Last night, I had a hard time falling asleep. I was thinking about us.”

Christian smiled. “And that's bad?”

“You have to know that I'm attracted to you. I like you, but you and I are from two different worlds. Nothing can ever come of a relationship between you and me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Do you know who I am? Do you know what I am?”

“I know that you are a very vivacious woman, a woman who enjoys—”

“No.” Phoebe put her finger to Christian's mouth. “Don't say that.”

“Enjoys life. What did you think I was going to say?” Christian had a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Since we are baring all tonight, I think it's time to tell you something.” Phoebe repositioned herself. “This could be a long story, so you'd better pull up a chair.”

Christian moved to the chair and, taking off his boot, rested his foot on Phoebe's bed.

“You weren't the only one abandoned by a mother, except for me it was different. I was seventeen when Mom went to the Chicago World's Fair, an innocent enough thing to do, but she met a man there and never came home.

“If this man had been someone she fell in love with, I think my dad and I might've understood, but that's not what happened. The man was John Dowie. Have you ever heard of him?”

“I can't say that I have.”

“He's a charlatan, and he made my mother into one, too. He goes around the country holding ‘divine healings,' but they're all fake. My dad met someone who'd seen one of his services. He said my mother was healed from a different illness every night.”

“But, Phoebe, what your mother did has no bearing on you.” Christian lowered his foot and moved his chair closer to the bed.

“It's the reason I'm here. The people of the small town where I grew up made fun of us, and my father thought I'd have a better chance if I left Mount Olive. He put an ad in the
Phoenix Republican
, and the Sloans answered it. I came out here to be their maid.”

“Then how did you and Edwin get married?”

“Now, that's the question, isn't it? A maid and the banker's son, they don't go together, do they? That is, unless there's a baby on the way.”

Christian's only response was to lift her hand to his lips and kiss her fingertips.

“Judge Johnstone married us before the Sloans ever knew about the baby. When Edwin told them we were married and I was expecting, W.F. disowned him. It's hard to not be bitter when you lose as much money as Edwin thought he'd lost. After a while, as he watched Frank spend the money that Edwin considered his inheritance, he got even more bitter. He resented me and he resented Will.”

“Then why would Frank want to take Will away from you?”

“Because Myra hasn't given Frank a child, and now W.F. concedes that Will may be his only legitimate heir. He's willing to forget that the child carries my lowly blood, just to carry on what he considers a dynasty.”

“That's ridiculous. He's a banker. That doesn't make his lineage a dynasty. July has more claim to lineage than he does. His father was the son of Shaka, one of the greatest Zulu monarchs in Bulawayo.”

“There it is again.” Tears welled in Phoebe's eyes. “Who's ever heard of Bulawayo, much less Shaka? You know everything and you've seen so many places. What could I possibly have to offer you?”

Christian leaned forward and kissed her. “You can give me what I want most.”