Katie rocked forward on the balls of her feet, her hands locked behind her back. “You look jus like my mommy,” she whispered reverently, a touch of sorrow in her quiet tone. Her little eyes glazed over as Elizabeth watched, but her tender smile negated her grief. “She went to heaven, too. But not in the war,” she confided in a whisper, glancing up suddenly to Miss Mimi for assistance.
Miss Mimi came forward, placing a reassuring hand on Katie’s little shoulder, squeezing gently, her own eyes hazing.
Her heart aching, Elizabeth drew Katie’s tiny fingers into her own. To her joy, Katie didn’t recoil from her touch, but instead stepped closer.
Miss Mimi cleared her throat. “Katherine, you see...” she began, only to stop short. She dabbed at her eyes.
Knowing instinctively what Miss Mimi was about to say, Elizabeth drew Katie toward her, hoping to shield her, or at the very least, lend her her own strength. To her surprise, Katie hurled herself into Elizabeth’s embrace, as though she were starved for the warmth offered.
“You see,” Miss Mimi continued, “your sister passed away during the birth of her second child... a little boy. Joshua Elias,” she choked out. “We buried him next to his mother.”
As though her life depended on it, Katie clung to Elizabeth while Miss Mimi spoke, and Elizabeth gave her a little reassuring hug.
“Near six months ago,” Miss Mimi continued, her voice breaking. She shrugged her plump shoulders. “News of John’s death took so much of her strength, I’m afraid—” She choked suddenly on her words.
Elizabeth held tightly to the child in her arms, hot tears pricking at her eyes, and then she gazed down over Katie’s shoulder, to the picture in her hand.
Three smiling figures stared back at her: Katie, perhaps at two, her hair shorter, but just as curly, her face just as sweet; a man she assumed would be Katherine’s husband, John, his dark, wavy hair sweeping proudly to his shoulders, his brass buttons gleaming; and Katherine, looking so much as Elizabeth recalled.
Beautiful, beautiful Katherine.
Elizabeth laid the frame gently against Katie’s back as a tear trickled down her cheek. “I only need to know...” She faltered over her words, glancing up at Miss Mimi. “Was my sister happy?”
Dabbing again at her eyes, Miss Mimi nodded. “Oh, dear, yes!” she exclaimed. “Very happy!”
Elizabeth nodded, closing her eyes, further words failing her. That was all that mattered, wasn’t it? That Katherine had been happy? That her life had been good? And now it was her duty to step into Katherine’s shoes as mother to the priceless child in her arms. It was, she thought, in a moment of revelation, what she was born to do.
It felt so right. Her free hand slid into Katie’s curls, rubbing soothingly. “Don’t cry,” she soothed.
Katie held tighter, burying her face into Elizabeth’s hair. “I never cry!” came a muffled exclamation, but the child held tighter, and then she sniffled, belying her claim.
Elizabeth smiled with understanding. “Of course you don’t,” she agreed, remembering vividly another time, another place: Katherine had fallen, and had skinned her knees and her elbows. Elizabeth had wiped the dirt from her sister’s dress, and then from her knees. “Look! Lookee here, it’s mostly dirt!”
“My dress!” Katherine had wailed pitifully.
“Don’t worry, Katie, Mother will understand. Look, it’s all gone! Don’t cry!”
With her sweet face upturned, and the blue of the sky reflecting in the sheen of her eyes, Katherine had sworn vehemently, “I’m not crying. I never, ever cry!” But tears had shimmered in her eyes.
Heaven help her... if it was the only thing Elizabeth ever did in her life, she would make her sister proud. Never let Katie forget. For the first time ever, something aside from her role as healer moved her to her very soul, ranked just as important—more so, perhaps, because there was something so inherently fulfilling about cradling the child in her arms. Her little body felt so very precious. A lone tear trickled down her cheek.
Miss Mimi gave them a moment longer, and then joined their embrace, weeping without restraint, telling Elizabeth how much she’d been spoken of—how well she’d been praised. And again, how much she looked like her sister.
And then, while Cutter hauled in their belongings, Elizabeth listened in silence as Miss Mimi expressed Katherine’s profound regret that they’d lost touch with each other. But she could find absolutely nothing to say in response as Miss Mimi led them up the stairs to the room they would be occupying during their stay. There was little that could be said that would fill the loss of her sister—a loss that, though it had occurred years before with her parting, only now waxed complete.
Still, there was comfort in that Katherine had thought of her—if not enough to correspond, then at least on occasion. Yet it would always pain her that through the years their separation had become so absolute, that had it not been for Elias Bass’ letter, she might never even have known her only niece.
A vision came to her abruptly, of the three of them together—she and Katie... and Cutter. Shaking her head to dispel it, she forced her thoughts to Elias Bass.
What kind of man would he be? How could anyone not want adorable Katie? Her gaze was drawn to the child darting ahead of them. Opening a door, Katie dashed into the far room, and by the time the three of them had reached the doorway, she was romping on the large four-poster bed.
“Hope this will do,” Miss Mimi said. She wagged a warning finger at Katie, but Katie disregarded the reprimand, never ceasing in her play. Without missing a beat, Miss Mimi turned to Elizabeth, as though she’d never expected the child to mind her anyway, and said, “The wardrobe is empty. Use it, if you wish. Oh, and I thought you might like a bath?”
Elizabeth smiled with appreciation, her eyes skimming the room. “Yes. Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” She placed her load upon the bed, flexing her arms. Without a word, Cutter set his yannigan bag next to hers, and then went to the window, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “The room is beautiful,” Elizabeth assured her as she watched him. “I’m certain it will do wonderfully.”
A large birch wardrobe occupied the left wall, while the headboard sat flush against the right. The door was behind her, and a small window was set in the far wall, with another dresser made of birch before it. Beside the bed sat a commode, and upon it, a washbasin and ewer of ivory porcelain. A stiff-backed wooden chair sat in the corner next to the wardrobe, kitty-corner to the bed.
“Mr. Bass’ late wife ordered everything from back east,” Miss Mimi revealed. “Bless her soul—she’s been gone near to ten years now.”
