Whirlwind (31 page)

“Your box is overflowing.” The postmaster stamped the back of Arthur’s hand with an ink stamp, then handed her an appreciable stack of mail.

Millicent riffled through the envelopes, hoping in vain for a letter from Audrey and Fiona. Disappointment flooded her. Without a photograph, the bracelet was her only tangible link to the girls. Mr. Eberhardt’s promise to the girls that she’d never take it off wasn’t exactly accurate, but Millicent never allowed it out of her sight.

Arthur tugged on her skirt. “Up peasssss. Amma, up.”

Her heart skipped several beats. Millicent dropped the mail and knelt beside him.

“Uh-oh! Boom!” Arthur squatted down and started picking up the envelopes.

Mr. Tyson came around the counter to help. He frowned at Millicent’s tears. “Is something wrong?”

Heart overflowing, she shook her head. “He called me mama.”

Twenty-Two

D
adda!” Arthur shouted as he ran past the shelves and toward the counter. “Dadda! Preee!”

Daniel hefted him. “Yes, Mama’s pretty.”

“No. Mine! Pree!” He stuck out his hand to show off the ink stamp.

Daniel whistled. “Now, that’s something.”

Thrilled with the attention, Arthur wiggled. “Down! Izbelle!” “Yes, Aunt Isabelle would like to see that. Here you are.” Daniel set him down, then straightened up. He looked at Millicent and waggled his brows. “I still say Mama’s pretty.” As she drew closer, he saw traces of tears. He rasped, “You’ve been crying.”

The sweetest smile he’d ever seen sketched across her face.

“Arthur called me ‘Amma.’ ”

“Then I’ll forgive him for not calling you pretty just this once.”

Trilling laughter, Millicent handed him the mail. “I don’t know your system. Your organization is beyond me.” She coiled up some loose string for tying packages. “Arthur is a very bright boy. Clever.” She sharpened two pencils.

Daniel opened the letters, sorted out the bills—

“So I’m sure you’ll agree with me that it’s essential.” She brandished the feather duster and attacked the rifles.

Pitying the rifles, Daniel walked over and took the duster from her. “What’s essential?” Had he missed hearing something while glancing at the mail?

Gusting a sigh, she looked for something more to do. Daniel kept taking whatever she picked up away from her. “You’re a businessman, Daniel. Think of it as an investment. A clever boy like Arthur needs books to wind up his imagination and stimulate his thinking. Books for him now will mean brilliance later. We simply must do this for him. After all, the town has no library.”

This is all about books!
“I have a crate full of books upstairs from the nursery back home, Millie. I’ll locate it for you.”

“You’re a scamp, Daniel Clark. If your son—”

“
Our
son.”

“If
our
son grows up to be half the man you are . . .”

“It will be because his mama loves him.”

“Of course I love him!” She straightened her apron. “If I stand here much longer and try to reason with you, the roast will burn.”

An amused expression crossed his features. “If you
stand
here?”

“I can take a hint. I really do need to get back upstairs.

Will you please carry Arthur up?”

“Yes. Millicent?”

She watched him stoop to pick up Arthur. “It’s very difficult to carry on a conversation with you. Did you know that, Daniel? It would be ever so much easier if you’d just stay still.”

He forgot what he was going to say. Once she and Arthur were upstairs, Daniel looked at the trail of merchandise in odd locations that marked Millicent’s crazy path through the store. Putting them away, one of Millicent’s ideas took root. Books could be a solid investment. Especially cookbooks.

Isabelle shadowed Daniel’s steps. “Millie’s worried about her girls, Daniel. I told her it’s too soon for a letter to reach here from England, but you ought to know that she can’t help fretting. She has a big heart, so it’s not that she loves Arthur any less.”

“I know. We’ve sent a telegram. We’re bound to have news soon.” He said as much as he dared.

“That’s terribly expensive.”

Daniel finally faced her. “Millicent said the same thing. Allaying my wife’s troubled heart is worth whatever the cost.”

“She’s growing very fond of you,” Isabelle whispered.

“Isabelle?” Millicent’s voice drifted down the stairs, sounding uncertain.

“Excuse me.” Isabelle went up the stairs.

Daniel wondered if Millicent had overheard her sister and was trying to silence her. They were confidantes. Had Isabelle been trying to tell him something but he’d not comprehended her meaning? Her grief kept her so subdued, he found it impossible to understand anything about her at all. Other women were so much alike—they attended those finishing schools and all resorted to the same little phrases, tactics, and ploys. They were trained that young ladies behaved thus and so. Only his Millicent—she was a rule unto herself. At times, Daniel found that refreshing and delightful, but sometimes, like now, he wished it wasn’t so. He’d like to be able to tell if she was genuinely happy or just humoring him.

Phineas Stahl came in. He looked about the store, then asked in a low tone, “Is anyone else here?”

“No. Is there a matter you need to discuss? Would you like to open a line of credit?”

Phineas shook his head. Grim-faced, he stared at Daniel. “My Annie was here to buy thread.” When Daniel nodded, Phineas continued, “She came to me. She saw it—the list you made for your wife.”

“Yes?” Daniel had no idea where the conversation was headed.

Flexing his hands at his sides, Phineas leaned forward. “Annie’s a widow now, but her husband treated her bad. Very bad. Each day, he wrote a list for her, too. My Annie was here today and saw the list you made for your wife and came to me, weeping. She is worried for your wife.”

Daniel let out a hearty laugh. Shaking his head, he grinned. “Millicent could no more follow that list than she could sprout wings and fly. They’re suggestions. She knows the first few things are the tasks I consider the most important. Our very first days of marriage, I was foolish enough to expect her to follow the list, but I soon learned different. I once told her I didn’t believe in compromise, but that’s exactly what we’ve done—she tries to do the first three or four things, and I try to ignore anything else that doesn’t get done. The rest of the time, she has free rein over things upstairs in our home, and I do as I please in the store.”

Phineas grinned. “The things we do for the women we love, ja?”

Daniel extended his hand. “Any man who is willing to put a woman’s safety ahead of his own comfort is the kind of man I’m proud to call my friend.”

He finished the work day, turned over the CLOSED sign, and locked the door. Once upstairs, he declared, “Something smells great!”

“Dinner will be ready soon. We’re having the roast Tim Creighton brought.” Millicent stopped stirring for a moment and popped Arthur into the high chair they’d gotten in with their last order. She kissed his crown, then went back to the stove. A sound of dismay escaped her lips.

“Millie, will you please put the potatoes on the table?” Isabelle shoved the bowl at her and took over at the stove. She started stirring the gravy furiously.

Biting her lip, Millicent placed a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table next to the roast.

“Goo food!”

That seemed debatable. Nonetheless, Daniel bowed his head and asked a blessing. The roast was dry and the gravy plopped out in lumps. Mixing them with the mashed potatoes made the meal edible. Millicent looked ready to cry, so Daniel served himself seconds. Smiling with each bite he took, he gradually revised his order. He would send for two different cookbooks. No, three.

After supper, Daniel played with Arthur as the women did the dishes. Millicent refilled the sink and tested the water.

“Arthur, bath time.”

“Baff! Baff!” Arthur bounced with glee. “Bows?”

“Bows?” Daniel gave Millicent a puzzled look.

“Bubbles. We sometimes dip my bracelet in the soapy water and blow bubbles through it.”

Daniel unbuttoned Arthur’s gown. “No wonder he’s excited. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Standing around and watching Arthur splash was a delight. When Millicent dipped her bracelet into the water and held it up, Arthur’s “blows” turned out to be squeals of joy. Millicent ducked down beside him and timed her puffs to coincide with his efforts so he could think he’d created the bubbles.

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Daniel swiped the bracelet. “Son, let’s make one together.”

Nothing happened. They tried it four times, and Arthur grew impatient. He grasped the bracelet and thrust it toward Millicent. “Amma do peassss.”

She made it look so easy. Arthur giggled as he poked his fingers through the bubbles and popped them. “One more, Arthur, then it’s bedtime.” Millicent blew that bubble, then Daniel lifted his son from the water. Looking over his shoulder, Millicent frowned.

Daniel turned. Isabelle had fallen asleep in the wingback chair. “Her grief drains her,” he murmured. “When she minded Arthur over at the boardinghouse, Mrs. Orion made sure Isabelle napped.”

“I tried to get her to nap today. She wouldn’t.”

“Mark my words: She’ll nap from now on. I’ll blackmail her.”

Millicent gave him an outraged look. “My sister’s never done anything—”

“Ah, but you see—” he slipped her bracelet back onto her slender wrist—“I’ll tell her if she naps each day for a week, I’ll send a telegram to Alastair and ask for a photograph of the girls for you.”

Daniel spread his hand wide and rubbed his temples in disbelief. Just when he’d thought they were doing better . . . this. He pitched his voice to keep from waking Arthur and Isabelle. “Millicent!”

She rushed down the stairs and skidded to a very unladylike halt. “Yes?”

“Just what,” he asked, pointing at the monstrosity in the corner of the store, “is that?”

Suddenly intensely interested in a tiny spot on her apron, she announced, “Our gift to you.”

“Whose gift?”

“Your gift.”

He glowered at the hideous birdcage that he’d wanted to throw out since the first day they’d taken possession of the store. Millicent had polished the stupid thing until it glittered. Ornate, overblown swirly things dipped and looped around the cage. Cleaned up, it looked worse than it had when it was covered in dust. Daniel closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to keep from saying something that would hurt her tender feelings. “Just whom am I supposed to . . . thank . . . for . . .” His voice ground to a halt as something yellow flitted behind the foliage and silk flowers. “Don’t tell me there are birds in that thing.”

“Of course I wouldn’t tell you that.”

Relief eased through his neck and shoulders. He should have known Millicent had better sense than to—“It’s rude to tell someone about their gift. They’re supposed to discover it on their own.”

“Millicent, get your list.”

She pulled it from her pocket.

“Did you, or did you not, recently say that you would adhere to your schedule and our agreement?” As soon as he asked, he saw the hurt look on her face. He thought for a moment. She’d accomplished the main tasks he’d asked of her for the day.

“You’re the one who said it was acceptable.” Her voice remained steady.

“I did?”
She’s been under too much strain. . . .

Millicent didn’t just nod, she looked quite certain of herself. Still holding the list in her hands, she recited, “ ‘I’ll have my son in a cot. I’ll even consider a bird in that cage. That’s two out of three wire cages. I’ll sweeten it a little so you feel the deal is fair. On Sundays and special occasions, if you want to be caged, I won’t complain.’ ”

He stared at her in disbelief. He’d said those exact words.

“When I went to order the lovebirds, they seemed like such a wonderful present. Clicky didn’t have to help me order them at all. He knew Mrs. Vaughn needed to sell hers since she’s moving. Everything seemed to work out so perfectly. Who wouldn’t want their home to be filled with beauty and music? But then, things . . . made me realize how very different you and I are.”

“Things.”

Slowly putting her list back into her apron, she said, “I see the birds, and you can’t see past the cage. When I look at it through your eyes, a cage is a sorrowful gift indeed.”

“If you want the birds that bad, keep them.”

“What I wanted was to make you and our home happy. I should have known better than to think something could do that. Only God can.”

The distinctive sound of retching woke Daniel. He’d suffered a case of indigestion late into the night. It made sense that Millicent and Isabelle were miserable. He pulled on his robe and went to the kitchen. Adding some bicarbonate of soda to a glass of water, he mentally steeled himself. Being anywhere near someone who was violently ill made his own stomach lurch.

The nursery door opened. Millicent appeared, her nightgown peeping from beneath the hem of her dress. A sickly shade of green, she held the covered chamber pot.

He tugged it from her. “Go back to bed. I’ve got this.”

“But—”

The stench from the chamber pot made him shove the glass into her hands. “Bicarbonate.”

After emptying the mess, Daniel stood on the back porch of the store and drew in a few deep breaths of fresh morning air.
Poor Millicent.

He went upstairs to find his wife at the stove. “Dear, go back to bed.”

She shook her head. “No, no. Tea and toast . . .”

“I’ll bring them to you. How is Isabelle?”

“Shaky.”

He nodded and curled his hands around Millicent’s waist. For a moment, his mind went blank. He’d touched her in a similar manner before, but this time her small waist gave slightly to his touch. She hadn’t laced on her stays yet.

“Truly, Daniel—”

“Go.” He turned loose of her when all he wanted was to pull her closer and—
She’s ill. I’m being a selfish beast.
“Go.”

Millicent gave him a strained look. A second later, the nursery door clicked shut.

When he took the tray with cups of tea and some toast to the door, he poked his head inside and ordered, “Give me Arthur. I’ll take him to the diner for breakfast so you don’t smell anything cooking.”