Elijah winced. He could well imagine Betty Ranulfson clomping up the stairs to Isaac’s apartment, muttering about how the steps were too steep or too narrow or too something, ostrich feathers swaying on her overly large hat, and all so she could demand news from Isaac.
“Oh.” Isaac grabbed yet another biscuit off the platter. “I invited Thomas Dowrick to stay with me for a bit. Figured I should tell you before you hear it from somewhere else.”
“The wastrel that left his wife and daughters?” He eyed his brother.
“He’s not a wastrel, and he seems awful intent on winning his wife back and spending time with his daughters.”
“How long is ‘a bit?’”
Isaac shrugged. “I think he’s resigned himself to staying through winter. Though if the way he and Jessalyn were arguing earlier means anything, I doubt he’ll convince her to move to South Dakota by then.”
Elijah opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.
Isaac wasn’t fighting with him about yesterday’s rescue, but had opened his apartment to a man that abandoned his family?
That bout with diphtheria must have addled Isaac’s brain, because though the man sitting across from him looked like Isaac with his tall frame, unruly auburn hair, wide shoulders, and narrow waist, he certainly wasn’t acting like the brother he’d known for the past twenty-two years.
“I made this for you last night,” a sweet little voice said. Then a sheet of paper slid across the table in front of him. Elijah looked down to find Alice standing at his side, her dark eyes sleepy but full of hope. “Do you like it?”
The paper had a line running down the middle. One side had stick figures praying at a sofa, and the other had a stormy sea and a little boat, which was also manned by stick figures.
“It’s you rescuing the sailors.” Alice climbed onto his lap and curled her small body against his. “And this one is of me and Jack and Toby and Miss Victoria praying. Did you know we prayed for you last night?” A yawn cut off her words, and she rested her head on his chest.
Elijah swallowed. He’d known the young’uns would tug at Victoria’s heart, but he’d not reckoned on them yanking on his. “It’s a lovely picture, sweetheart.”
She snuggled her head against his chest and let her eyes drift shut. “I’m sleepy.”
“I can see that.” He stroked his hand up and down her arm as she curled even tighter against him.
“Can you t-take him while I make some tea?” Victoria approached Isaac, a sleeping Toby in her arms.
“Looks like your reading put both of them to sleep.” Isaac took the boy from Victoria and held him against his chest.
Elijah grunted. That was a picture he hadn’t thought to see anytime soon, his brooding baby brother holding a small child.
“Reading is the easiest way to get them d-down for their naps. Though Toby in particular seems to crave my touch. I wonder how much Jenny or his pa bothered to cuddle him.” Victoria filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil, then turned back to them and crossed her arms loosely over her chest.
Elijah let his eyes skim down her, the dark hair that seemed to grow richer with each passing day, the pink lips that quirked up into a smile whenever her eyes rested on him, the lithe form that nearly stood as tall as he. If he got closer, he’d smell that expensive flowery scent she insisted was better than the rosewater and lavender water most of the other women in town used. Jasmine, was it?
“I want to keep the children past Christmas.” At his wife’s words, the comfortable warmth invading the kitchen left.
“What? No.” Elijah set his mug down with a thump. It didn’t matter that he’d seen this conversation coming since the first afternoon they’d brought the children home, this discussion wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“They need to go back to the Harrington’s. I’m sure Lindy misses them.” The O’Byrnes were only supposed to be here for six weeks or so while the doc and his new wife Lindy settled into life as a married couple. There’d be nothing left of Victoria’s heart if the children stayed on longer.
“Lindy won’t mind if they stay.”
Something about the way Victoria said it, the certainty and sadness that laced her tone, made him look up. “How do you know?”
She pressed her lips together, her face turning white.
He guessed the answer before the words left her mouth.
“Because Lindy’s pregnant, or at least she thinks she is. She says it’ll be another week or so before she knows for certain.”
He drew in a breath, long and deep, then let it out. “I’m sorry, love.” He opened an arm for her, the one that wasn’t busy holding Alice, but she stayed beside the sink.
“I’m not sorry. Of course I’m not. What’s to be sorry about? I’m happy for Lindy. I’m sure she wanted children. And she’s been through so much. She deserves to have a happy family and a happy…” She pressed a hand to her mouth and blinked furiously.
