Mystic Montana Sky Part 15

A beautiful woman perhaps a few years younger than Maggie entered the room. She was dressed in an expertly cut shirtwaist with balloon sleeves and a skirt of spring green with a fern-leaf pattern running through it. A green satin sash showed her small waist. A flat-brimmed black straw hat with puffs of green ribbon rested on a coif of dark hair with auburn highlights. The spring color made her hazel eyes appear green. She smiled warmly at Maggie before catching sight of Caleb, and her smile fell away.

Caleb shifted, as if uncomfortable.

Maggie glanced at him. His body seemed tense. An expression of regret crossed his face before he turned impa.s.sive, which was unlike him.

Mrs. Norton gestured to the younger woman. "But first, Mrs. Baxter, let me introduce you to the young lady who will be my daughter-in-law in ten days, Miss Delia Bellaire." She clasped her hands together in almost childish delight. "You can tell I'm thrilled, can't you?" She fluttered a hand. "Come here, dearest Delia, and meet Mrs. Baxter and greet Mr. Livingston."

Delia slanted a glance at Caleb. Although her lips turned up, her expression appeared strained.

"Delia," he said reaching for her hand and bowing over it. "You are looking well. No, more than well."

He called her Delia. At Caleb's familiar use of the woman's name, jealousy stabbed Maggie.

Is he in love with her? The thought made her stomach tighten, and an odd proprietary feeling seized her. He's mine!

As quickly as she staked her claim, Maggie backtracked. He's not mine to feel that way about. Yes, we've shared a special experience, but that doesn't really mean anything except we have a friendship.

Miss Bellaire blushed. Like Maggie's, her skin was olive, but in a warmer shade.

Maggie was sure her complexion must appear sallow next to the beautiful woman's. She became conscious of the cut on her forehead, the bruises on her face. Miss Bellaire's elegance made her feel like a Gypsy waif-a thick-waisted one. My waist will eventually return to normal, she tried to rea.s.sure herself.

Miss Bellaire's smile became more natural-looking. "I'm happy to be home and looking forward to the wedding." She spoke with a soft Southern drawl.

Caleb patted the young woman's hand. "I'm glad you feel Sweet.w.a.ter Springs is home."

Maggie c.o.c.ked her head, seeming to hear double meaning in his simple statement. Am I imagining things?

He released Miss Bellaire's hand.

Maggie read reluctance in the movement, as if Caleb had wanted to continue touching Delia Bellaire. She wondered if he had romantic feelings for a woman who was engaged to another man.

"I believe you'll make Reverend Joshua quite happy," he said in a sincere tone.

At the sound of the minister's name, Delia smiled so brightly her whole face glowed. She obviously deeply loved Reverend Joshua.

Oh, poor Caleb. Maggie couldn't understand Miss Bellaire's choice. Reverend Joshua is a wonderful man, but Caleb is. . .is. . . . She couldn't even find the words to describe him. He's Caleb.

He gave them all a charming smile. "Well, ladies, I think I'll leave you to chat." He nodded good-bye and left the room.

The three of them waited in silence until the sound of his footsteps receded.

Mrs. Norton sent a smile after Caleb. "Such a handsome man," she said with a sigh. "Although, I should remember that inner character is what is important, not outward appearance."

Delia frowned and looked away, confirming Maggie's suspicions. Something has, indeed, happened between those two. Curiosity consumed her as well as something else. Her chest felt tight as if she was hurt. Caleb's romantic affairs are none of my business, she told herself sternly.

"Let me look at your baby again." Mrs. Norton bent over the cradle. "Oh, she's awake."

"She is?" Maggie leaned to look. Sure enough Charlotte was looking at the ceiling, as if examining something.

"Do allow me to pick her up, Mrs. Baxter. I have held every baby in this town since Reverend Norton and I arrived here when we were newly married."

"Of course," Maggie agreed, although she wasn't quite sure how she felt allowing someone she'd just met to hold her precious daughter-someone else who isn't Caleb, she amended. Although, she recalled, Edith had held Charlotte. But as she watched the competence in Mrs. Norton's movements, and Charlotte didn't start crying, she became more relaxed.

Mrs. Norton let out a happy sigh. "They are so dear at this age. We missed seeing our grandson Micah as a baby, for he was born in Africa. But I hope he will soon be joined by a brother or sister. Reverend Norton and I are praying for a quiverful of healthy grandchildren." She sent her soon-to-be-daughter a teasing glance. "As is your father."

A becoming flush of pink crept into Delia's cheeks, making her look even more attractive. "So Papa has said on several occasions."

Mrs. Norton rocked Charlotte. "Maggie, you've arrived at an exciting time in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs, with my son's wedding to Delia approaching. Practically everyone in Sweet.w.a.ter Springs will attend, which will give you a chance to meet people. Such a grand occasion. Why, I become fl.u.s.tered just thinking of it."

Maggie shifted. "I've been hearing about your wedding. A few families from Morgan's Crossing are planning to attend. There's been a flurry of dress-making going on."

Delia's smile to Maggie was warm. "I want you to be there, too, Mrs. Baxter. Surely your ankle will be better by then."

"Why, I. . . ." Maggie's first thought was that she didn't have anything to wear, but then she remembered Caleb had bought her new clothes. "I'd love to come, Miss Bellaire." She remembered listening to the other women discuss the wedding and her wistful wish that she could attend, too. Now, she felt almost like Cinderella receiving an invitation for the ball.

"Call me Delia, please. I'm soon to change to Mrs. Norton and don't want to confuse people with two Mrs. Nortons. I intend to make it easier on everyone to distinguish between us. Otherwise, I'll end up being addressed as Mrs. Reverend Joshua."

They all laughed.

Maggie would just as soon not be called Mrs. Baxter. She'd love to leave Oswald's name behind as much as possible. "I'm Magdalena, but everyone calls me Maggie."

Mrs. Norton glanced down at Charlotte and smiled. "And you can bring this dear baby with you to the wedding."

"What if she cries?"

"We're used to crying babies."

"You must have a big church to fit everyone."

Mrs. Norton laughed. "Quite the contrary. We will have the pews packed as well as standing room in the back and on the sides. We have to do that on the Christmas Eve and Easter services, although in the winter, many don't risk a long drive. Thank goodness a wedding ceremony doesn't take much time at all, and we can use the hotel for the reception."

Delia shot Mrs. Norton an impish smile. "I believe the time has come to build a new church. One that could hold everyone."

"Oh, my, such a lovely idea." Mrs. Norton's forehead crinkled. "But we don't really need one. Such an expensive undertaking."

Delia patted Mrs. Norton's arm. "Something to think about for the future."

"A reception at the hotel. . . ." Maggie clasped her hands together and let out a romantic sigh. "Sounds like a lovely party."

Mrs. Norton nodded. "So good of Mr. Bellaire to take care of all the arrangements."

"You mean he insisted," Delia said with a fond smile. She glanced at Maggie. "Papa is over the moon. I'm his only child. Most of my life we've been separated, me living in New Orleans with my mother and him in New York. So he delights in spoiling me. Reverend Joshua and I tried to rein him in, but we ended up allowing him his head."

"Can you believe Mr. Bellaire is having hothouse flowers brought in?" Mrs. Norton's tone marveled. "And orange blossoms for Delia's bouquet. And the hotel is catering all the food. We are not to cook a thing."

Maggie wondered why Caleb hadn't mentioned such a big event for his hotel. "Mr. Livingston must be doing a lot of work for your reception."

"Oh, not at all. Peter Rockwell manages the hotel. Everything is in his quite capable hands."

Maggie wondered if organizing Delia's wedding reception was too painful for Caleb. Is he suffering in silence? Her heart ached for him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

As the week went on, Maggie's bruises faded, and her ankle mended enough that she could hobble to the bathroom on her own. She still had nightmares every night. Each time, Caleb would hear her cry out and climb on top of the covers, taking her in his arms, chasing away the demon named Oswald, and making her feel safe. In the morning, she'd awaken alone and missing him.

The secret of their nights followed her around during the light of day, even though neither referred to that time together. Yet it showed in the ease between them, the way the touch of his hand on her arm or back-conventional to any onlookers-conveyed a silent intimacy.

Often Maggie had to chastise herself for allowing her dependency on Caleb to grow, instead of weaning herself from him-especially if he had feelings for Delia Bellaire. Even though she warned herself that this time with him wouldn't last-that if she came to care for Caleb too much, she'd suffer when she left the Livingston residence to forge a life on her own with Charlotte, Maggie couldn't seem to make herself stop.

Every day, members of the Norton family called on her. Sometimes the elder Reverend Norton came with his wife or alone. Other times Mrs. Norton and Delia Bellaire came together, or Reverend Joshua dropped by alone or with either one.

Mrs. Cameron visited with her small son Craig, who was starting to crawl. The two of them had indulged in lovely discussions about their babies. In many ways, Mrs. Cameron reminded Maggie of Mrs. Tisdale, both women having a great deal of common sense and a practical knowledge of medical matters, especially concerning babies.

In the evenings after Ben's homework was done, everyone gathered in her bedroom. Ben started teaching Maggie how to play chess, while Edith and Caleb vied for holding Charlotte. Caleb usually won the argument, pointing out that his sister had time with the baby during the day while he was at the bank.

On Sat.u.r.day morning after breakfast, Edith entered Maggie's bedroom carrying a linen-wrapped bundle tied with white satin ribbon. "I have something for Charlotte to wear tomorrow."

Tomorrow? Maggie wasn't sure what Edith meant.

"The christening."

Maggie hadn't given Charlotte's christening any thought, having fallen out of the habit of weekly church attendance. In Morgan's Crossing, the christening wouldn't have taken place until one of Reverend Joshua's monthly visits and might have been lumped in with any other event, such as a marriage or a funeral.

She shifted the baby to one arm so she could take the bundle. One-handedly, she untied the ribbon and opened the linen covering to see a lacy baptismal gown and bonnet in soft ivory. The bodice had embroidery and delicate tucks, and lace edged the sleeves, hem, and collar. The bonnet matched. "Oh, these are beautiful."

"My mother made them when Caleb was a baby. I wore them and so did Ben."

Maggie's eyes filled with tears. She tried to sniff them away and when that didn't work, she swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

"Are those good tears or bad tears?"

"Good. You are all so kind."

"We do our duty." Edith's voice sounded stiff.

Maggie suspected the woman was holding back emotion, not really meaning to act distant. She patted the gown. "This isn't duty, Edith. Duty was Caleb buying baby clothes for Charlotte that would have been just fine for her to wear tomorrow. Letting my daughter borrow the Livingston christening gown is generosity, indeed."

Edith smiled. "This actually isn't the Livingston christening gown. That one remains in Boston. The garment is many generations old and is a family heirloom. I don't know how many babies have worn it. There's so much lace adorning the material, the baby weighs twice as much. And one of my aunties watches the gown like a hawk to make sure nothing is spilled on it, and the baby is changed as soon as he or she is wet. And of course, the infant wears extra layers of diapers."

Maggie laughed. "The mother of the baby must spend all her time fretting about protecting the gown, rather than enjoying the service."

"Yes." Edith patted the gown. "And for that reason, as well as sentimentality, I used this one for Ben." Her lips turned down. "Nathaniel's parents attended, but they didn't insist on my baby using their gown-the one he and his brother wore." An echo of old pain lingered in her tone.

"I'm sorry they hurt you."

"Strange, really. I hadn't thought of that memory in years." Edith gave a slight shake of her head. "Enough of the past. The future is what's important. Let's concentrate on Charlotte."

"I hadn't really considered the christening." Maggie swallowed. "Would you be willing to be a G.o.dmother to Charlotte?"

Edith's eyes lit up. "I'd love to. I've come to care for her. I suppose you'd want Caleb to be her G.o.dfather."

"There's no one else more suitable." No man loves my baby more than he does. A wave of emotion swept over her. Maggie didn't stop to figure out what she felt or why she was experiencing it. She touched the lace on the hem of the christening gown and returned to the original subject.

"The obligation of wearing the Livingston christening gown sounds enormous. I think I'd refuse to allow Charlotte to wear the gown, even if we were in Boston and someone in your family condescended to offer it."

A look of discomfort crossed Edith's face, quickly suppressed.

But Maggie could tell the thought. The highfalutin Livingstons would never have offered the sacred gown for Gypsy Maggie's baby to wear, even if they didn't know I was one. "Does Caleb know about this?"

"I mentioned it at breakfast, and he was quite approving. Now, for tomorrow. . .there's more than just a service." Edith rushed the words out as if anxious to change the subject.

"What do you mean?"

"My brother has decreed that we'll invite any of our friends who attend church to come to dinner after the service. Since the list is quite large, Mrs. Graves has been cooking up a storm. And we've placed a large order with the baker, as well as at the sweet shop."

Maggie could only stare at Edith, mouth agape. She forced her jaw closed. "A party?"

"I don't know that we'd cla.s.sify it as a party. That's a larger and more arduous affair. No, this is a small gathering-perhaps thirty people. At least you'll be spared the Cobbs. At this time of the year, they keep the store open for several hours after church, not just for one as they usually do. They know many families who haven't risked the drive during the winter are coming into town for the first time in months, and they will need to stock up."

"Whom are you inviting?"

"The Nortons, of course. Dr. and Mrs. Cameron. And Delia Bellaire, whom you already know, although you haven't met her father, Andre. Are you acquainted with the Walkers? I believe Darcy Walker is friends with Prudence Morgan. Mrs. Walker comes from quite a wealthy, distinguished family in the East. Neither she nor her husband is much for socializing, so we don't entertain them very often. But if they are in town, we will invite them."

"I've met the Walkers. They attended the party the Morgans threw for the christening of their youngest daughter."

"Ah, you probably know all of the former mail-order brides and their husbands, then."

"We've met." Maggie wouldn't count interacting with the Walkers, Flanigans, and Barretts among a group of about a hundred people for the two days the families stayed for the party as knowing. "I'm best acquainted with Mrs. Brungar."

"I don't believe I've met her."

"Bertha Brungar, the former Miss Bucholtz, is shy, but so kind." Maggie thought with regret of her friendship with Bertha, whose biscuits were legendary in Morgan's Crossing. When Oswald was at his most difficult-something hard to hide in the close confines of a tiny town-the woman would bring over a basket of her biscuits. Eating them seemed to soothe the savage beast within Oswald, and Maggie had always been so grateful. "She manages the boardinghouse in Morgan's Crossing, and I doubt you could pry her or her husband from their home to come to Sweet.w.a.ter Springs."

"Probably just as well. There are only so many the dining room can comfortably hold. I also expect to see the Carters, Sanders, Thompsons." Edith ticked off the families on her fingers. "All ranchers. The Gordons-he runs the newspaper, and she's the teacher. Sheriff K.C. Granger. Mr. Rockwell, the manager of the hotel. Who else? Oh, yes. Caleb has taken quite a liking to the Muths-dairy farmers on the prairie. They were quite instrumental in ending the recent thieving by the Indians."

The recitation of names made Maggie's head spin. "You call that a small gathering?"

Edith laughed. "Well, I must say our intimate dinners have grown in the last few years as more people have moved to Sweet.w.a.ter Springs. And of course, as either Caleb or I form new friendships. . . ."

The idea of such a gathering for Charlotte's christening overwhelmed Maggie, especially she and the baby being the center of attention. She wondered if it was too late to put a halt to the planning, and then remembered that Edith had already placed an order with the baker. "I can help Mrs. Graves with the cooking. Sit at the table and chop things, for instance."