She didn’t listen and by now, he’d given up expecting her to. Instead, she ran out the door.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his exhausted face and wishing he were more like his own father. How had it come so easily to him?
“Max?” Delia’s voice was soft behind him.
He turned around to find her on the stairs.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded. “I should be asking you that question after having all of your belongings rifled through.”
Delia gave him a gentle smile. “She didn’t hurt anything.” She descended the remaining stairs until she stood before him. “Should we go after her?”
Max shook his head. “She’ll come back.”
Delia paused, clasping her hands before her. “You mentioned in your letters that Anna’s mother passed away and that you’ve only recently taken her to live with you. Did . . .” She trailed off, pursing her lips as if she were thinking. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but . . .”
“How did that happen?” he filled in for her with a wry smile.
“Yes.” She gave him a grateful look. “If it’s an uncomfortable topic, please don’t feel as if you need to address it.”
“It’s fine.” It was uncomfortable, but if they were to be family, she had every right to know. “Would you like to sit? I’ll put on some coffee.”
She nodded and followed him to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for her before going to the stove. As they waited on the coffee, he leaned against the countertop and forced himself to dredge up the past.
“I was eighteen when I came to Denver from Mississippi. The war had ended the year before, and there was nothing for me there. My father had died in battle, and my mother gave up our small farm and moved us in with family. I wanted to make it on my own, and all I saw out here was opportunity. The only skill I had besides farming was with cards, so that’s what I did.” He paused, trying to gauge her reaction to his less-than-reputable previous career.
When Delia showed no hint of judgment or dismay, it gave Max the courage to continue. “I got to know the daughter of one of the proprietors of a small gaming hall. We were about the same age, and . . .” He swallowed, the shame creeping up his neck as Delia listened intently. “Her name was Vivian, and she was wilder than any girl I’d ever known. When she found out about Anna, I asked her to marry me. I had nothing to my name aside from my winnings, but I figured I’d find work during the day and play more poker at night, and we’d be fine. She turned me down.”
Delia’s eyes widened. “Why?”
Max turned and poured them each a cup of coffee. It was funny how the memory of her rejection still nicked a corner of his pride, twelve years later. “Honestly,” he said as he set a cup down in front of her. “I don’t know, not entirely. She said shedidn’t want her life to change, that she didn’t want to be put away in a kitchen and have to clean floors. She wanted to stay with her father. Sometimes I wonder if she just didn’t wantme.”
Empathy reflected in Delia’s face as she stirred sugar into her coffee. “How did her father react?”
“Not well. I begged her to reconsider, over and over. Her father eventually found out and actually chased me out one night with a pistol. I didn’t dare go back. I was young and prideful and angry. I left Denver and didn’t return until I received a letter informing me that Vivian had passed away and Anna was without a family.”
“And you went and got her.”
“Of course I did.”
She smiled at him, and heat crept up his spine until he had to look down at his mug.
“Anna hasn’t talked about Vivian much. In fact, she doesn’t say a lot to me at all except to let me know how much she hates it here. The neighbor lady who was looking after her when I arrived told me that Vivian wasn’t home often, and Anna came and went at all hours on her own. She doubted Anna went to school with any frequency. She once asked Vivian if she had any family to help, and Vivian told her that her father had made her leave home. But that was all the woman knew.”
“That had to be difficult to hear,” Delia said.
“I don’t know what to do.” He tried not to cringe at his own words. “I’m sorry. I should have told you more about Anna in my letters. I hope you don’t think I’ve tried to deceive you.”
“Of course I don’t think that.” She reached out and laid a hand on his. “You’re a man on his own, trying to do the best you can by a child you barely know.”
Max didn’t dare look at the hand resting on his. It was one thing to have taken her hands during the wedding ceremony,and something else entirely for her to reach out like this. It gave him hope that he hadn’t completely scared her away.
“Thank you,” he said. It meant more than he could say that she understood. “I know she’s a handful. But I’m hoping that with a woman’s influence, she might . . .”
“Calm down?” Delia filled in. She tapped his hand before withdrawing hers to take a sip of her coffee.
“Yes. To be honest, I’m not certain how much mothering she received.” It hurt to say that out loud, but he reminded himself that he’d had no control over what had happened. It was the truth and Delia needed to know it in order to do the best she could with Anna.
