Twice Blessed (11 page)

Maybe because he was trying to learn to act the same way, not asking unnecessary questions that might start a dangerous conversation. Could it be she had something to hide, too?

As he reached for the door, he murmured, “Everyone has something to hide.”

He held out his hands to Belinda, who ran along the narrow hall toward him. Some people had things that were important enough to give up everything for. He swung her up in his arms, hugging her, but his gaze was caught by Emma's as she came out of the parlor, smiling.

He looked hastily away, burying his face in Belinda's soft hair. Yes, some people had things that were important enough to give up everything for. That had always seemed so easy to remember, but now he could not keep from meeting Emma's eyes, which glowed almost as brightly as Belinda's. As every muscle responded to that sweet fire, he tried to remind himself of the reason he was here, the reason he had given up everything to protect the child in his arms, the reason he should not think of holding Emma instead.

It had always been so easy to remember … until now.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Emma thanked Gladys for passing her the plate with the roast chicken on it. Taking a piece, she handed the plate to Belinda. When the little girl had trouble balancing it, Emma held one side while Belinda selected what she wanted.

“Thank you,” Noah said as he took the plate.

Emma mumbled something. Looking around the table in the elegant dining room, she tried to hide her amazement. The room had recently had new wallpaper hung. The cabbage roses were the same color as the fancy china on the stylishly modern oak table. She had seen these dishes and the table in a catalog she had received at the store. Not Mr. Montgomery Ward's catalog, which most of her customers used for the things she could not otherwise get for them. This furniture and even the rug on the wide-board floor had all been in that fancy catalog from some company in Chicago. She remembered the picture clearly, because she had admired the claw-footed table and wished she could have something like it for her house.

The furnishings in the parlor were just as new and expensive, and the runner going up the stairs did not appear to have been walked upon for more than a few weeks. She guessed she could find pictures of them as well in that catalog. Upstairs in Belinda's room, the only thing that seemed
not
new was a wonderful dollhouse with a collection of delightful furniture to fill its six rooms.

Yet Noah was a furniture maker. He had told her that, and earlier, on the way toward Haven, she had seen the area in the woodlot where trees had been cut, although she had not seen him then. Belinda had told her Noah had made the dollhouse and all the furnishings. Making such a delightful toy for his daughter was a reasonable thing for a man who worked with wood to do. But if he was a woodworker, why was all the furniture in his house from some factory in Chicago?

A flash of lightning tore through her thoughts. Belinda moaned and hid her face beneath the lacy tablecloth as thunder shook the house.

Noah picked her up out of her chair and set her on his lap. “It'll be all right, pumpkin.” Over her head, he said quite unnecessarily, “Thunderstorms frighten her.” He pulled her chair closer to his and said, “Sit and have something to eat, Belinda. I'm right here.”

“Can I stay on your lap? Please!”

He ruffled her hair and smiled. “If you eat everything on your plate.”

“Including the vegetables?”

“Yes.”

Belinda's nose wrinkled and her lip twisted with disgust, but she reached for her fork. When lightning flashed again, she pressed her face to Noah's shirt. He kept his arm around her.

The expression on his face made Emma uncomfortable, because it was private between the little girl and her doting father. She looked away and smiled swiftly at Gladys, who was taking a bowl of peas from Sean. He let go of it too quickly, but Gladys caught it before it could fall to the floor, scattering the peas across the rug.

Emma was about to chide Sean for being so careless, then saw
his
expression. He was staring at Noah and Belinda with both disbelief and envy. Wanting to reach across the table to take the boy's hand and say how sorry she was that he was so far from any family he might have still alive, she folded her hands in her lap. Saying that would embarrass everyone at the table.

Turning away so Sean would not see her dismay, she was astonished to see Noah staring at
her
. What did he hope to see—or was it nothing more than that he had seen Sean's dismay and was trying to avoid looking at the boy, too? No, for his gaze edged along her face like a caress. Her fingers curled against her palm before she could give in to the yearning to touch his whisker-scored cheeks as she had by the creek.

Gladys began to talk about the weather. A safe topic, Emma decided, though if this storm became a cloudburst, both the creek and the Ohio would threaten a rampage through the low-lying areas.

She ate, but barely tasted the food. The way Sean swallowed his chicken with gusto, she guessed it was delicious. She tried not to think of how Noah had kissed her with the same fervor, forcing her thoughts to focus on her store. Although the village was high enough above the river to be safe, she needed to bring out the supplies she kept ready in the storage room for those who might get flooded out.

Emma did not realize she had finished until Gladys went into the kitchen and came back into the dining room with a chocolate cake. Putting it on the table, she sliced through the dark frosting. Crumbs fell across the plate that she held out to Sean.

“For me?” he asked, not taking it.

“Yes.” Gladys looked at Emma, clearly confused.

“It's your dessert, Sean,” Emma said in a hushed voice. “Take it and thank Gladys.”

“Thank you,” he said in the most insincere tone she had ever heard. His nose turned up. “Miss Delancy, you can't want me to eat
this
. It looks disgusting!”

“Sean!” she gasped. “Remember your manners.”

“
My
manners? I'm not trying to serve someone dirt.”

Gladys chuckled. “Dirt, do you say, my boy? Is that any way to talk about my fine cake? You certainly liked the looks of it when it was in the kitchen.”

“Then it was all fine and covered with smooth candy.”

“There's no candy on the cake.”

“Saw it myself. Sure, that I did.” His brogue thickened as he argued with the housekeeper. “Thick brown candy melted all over it.”

Emma said quietly, “I believe he's describing the icing on the cake.”

“Icing?” Sean regarded her with a scowl. “Miss Delancy, it's too warm for ice. If it'd been cold enough, the creek wouldn't be racing like a copper after a pickpocket.”

“If he isn't going to try it,” Gladys said, “I shall. I never let a good dessert go to waste.” She patted her side. “Just to
my
waist. The mark of every cook.”

As the others laughed, Sean scowled. Belinda slid off her father's lap and walked over to him. Handing Sean a fork, she said, “Try it. It's good.”

“It looks like dirt.”

“It isn't dirt. It's cake. Try it.”

Sean hesitated, then dug his fork into the cake, taking mostly frosting and only a few crumbs of cake. That he was willing to trust Belinda and not either Emma or Gladys was yet another reminder of how he had lived in a world where no adult was trustworthy. He might trust Emma enough to work for her and let her offer him a room in her house, but he could not believe she would not sit and watch while he was served dirt on a fine china plate.

Slowly he raised the fork to his mouth. He sucked the piece of cake off from it so quickly that she knew he barely trusted Belinda as well. He gasped and dug his fork into the cake, this time getting less of the icing and more of the cake. He bent over the plate, eating it so quickly that Emma feared he would choke.

Noah laughed and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. “You don't have to wolf it down. There's plenty of cake, because Gladys always makes two. So enjoy it and have another piece if you want.”

“What is it?” Sean asked, his eyes wide.

“Chocolate cake.” Emma hesitated before asking, “Haven't you had chocolate cake before?”

“No, ma'am. I wouldn't forget something that tasted like this. It may look like dirt, but it tastes like heaven.”

Gladys choked back a gasp, but Emma knew this proud boy would not want anyone's sympathy. Reaching for another piece of cake, she put it on a plate and set it in front of where Belinda had been sitting. The little girl rushed around the table to enjoy her own dessert.

In the most off-hand voice she could manage, Emma said, “If you think this is good, Sean, wait until summer comes and we make ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” He paused, leaving his fork halfway to his mouth. His eyes glistened with excitement. “You have ice cream here in Indiana?”

“We will in the summer, when there's nothing better than to sit on the porch and enjoy a big bowl.”

“Is it safe?”

“What do you mean, Sean?” Noah asked. “Why wouldn't it be just fine to enjoy some ice cream?”

Sean looked around the table, then put his fork back on his nearly empty plate. “I know you all have been trying to be nice to me, but I do know how to fire a gun.”

“Do you now?” Noah glanced at Emma and was not surprised to see her face abruptly pale. No doubt, she was imagining this lad helping himself to someone's Colt and firing it off on Haven's street. She had let her generous heart persuade her to take in this child, but now she was having to deal with the reality of an urchin who had survived the tough streets of New York on his own.

“Sure.” He grinned, his thin chest puffing with pride. “I learned from Dickie when I started doing errands for him in Satan's Circus.”

Gladys made a choking sound as if she had swallowed a chicken bone.

“Satan's Circus?” Noah asked carefully.

“That's the name some preacher gave to the area where I lived around Fifth Avenue and Thirtieth Street.” Sean took another bite of cake, oblivious to the sudden silence around the table. “Dickie kept a saloon and a bordello. He sometimes let me sweep up, which was good because then some kind gent would let me finish his dinner while he went off with Gini or Mabel or one of the other gals. Usually I just ran errands for him. Then I got a penny to buy my own supper.”

“Sean,” Emma began, “this isn't conversation for—”

“Let me.” Noah pushed back his chair. “Sean, come with me.”

“Where?” asked the boy, again the wary youngster who had tried to flee in Haven.

“Guns aren't a topic for ladies. Let's go in the kitchen and talk man to man.”

Sean stood, but brought his plate with him as he went out into the kitchen.

At Emma's soft call of his name, Noah turned to see her on her feet, too. Her eyes looked almost as apprehensive as Sean's. That annoyed him more than he expected. By Jiggs! Did she expect him to take a hickory stick to the lad in his own kitchen? She should understand he wanted to keep Belinda and poor Gladys, who looked about ready to swoon, from hearing the lad's sordid tales.

He did not answer her as he went into the kitchen. As the door closed, he heard Emma asking Gladys if she needed a cool cloth for her forehead. Emma would be able to deal with his housekeeper. He needed to concentrate on finding out how much Sean knew about guns and firing them before the boy did something foolish like trying to show someone his skill.

This room was Gladys's realm, so she must have been very distressed to let him bring the boy in here without following after to be sure they did not jostle any of her cooking dishes or touch the big black stove that was set between two windows that gave a view of the area she planned to turn into a vegetable garden. Lightning flashed through the window and sparked its reflection in the water bucket by the back door. At the square table in the middle of room, Sean sat, finishing up his cake as his feet swung back and forth inches above the rag rug.

As the thunder sounded, closer than before, Noah glanced toward the window again. No rain yet. Maybe it was just a noise show that would pass the river valley by and head north, away from this watershed.

Noah pulled out the bench across from Sean. Sitting, he asked, “What did you mean by it not being safe to eat ice cream on Emma's front porch?”

“Indians, of course.”

“What?” He fought not to laugh. All of this was about something so silly?

“This is
Indiana
, right?” Sean asked.

“Yes.”

“So there must be Indians here!”

Noah feared he would choke on his laughter, but kept it from bursting forth as he said, “I'm sure there are, and I'm equally sure they're living in farm houses like this now, not tipis.”

“Miss Delancy doesn't seem to be scared of them,” Sean said as if he had not heard Noah. “She drives around without a gun in her wagon. She opened the door in the middle of the night when you brought the dog to have her take care of it. There could have been wild Indiana Indians on the other side, ready to take her scalp.” He grimaced. “Women don't have a lick of sense, sometimes.”

“Now who told you that?” This time, he could not keep from chuckling. He doubted if he had ever met a more sensible woman than Emma Delancy, for she ran her business with such good business judgment.

“Dickie.”

Noah smiled. “You might be better off not mentioning your friend Dickie around here.”

“Do you think some of his enemies will chase me out here and try to get me to tell them all of Dickie's secrets?”

“Maybe.” He hated lying to the boy, but Sean needed to live in this small town instead of the foul streets where he had eked out a way to keep from starving until someone must have sent him to the Children's Aid Society. “Nice ladies don't like to hear about those sort of things.”