Deirdre sat back in her chair with a hard huff of air. She thought of the soft, warm smell of Collin’s baby-soft skin, the giggles and coos she could coax from him as she rocked him. She took a swallow of her tea. It was sad, but babies died all the time for all sorts of reasons. It was part of life.
“June. That’s when her young ’un died. Your Mama took sicker than I ever seen her around then, too. I quit the railroad to take care of her. I’ve a mind they’ll let me come back after everything’s settled, though.”
Deirdre searched the corners for shadows. She absently stroked the healed-over cut on her palm. She wondered about Phoebe. If Mama’s healing with Gentry didn’t hold true, Phoebe’s might not, either. The thought blackened her mood even more.
Pa brought a loaf of molasses bread out from the hearth, and they sat together in amiable silence as they ate. After they finished, Deirdre fidgeted in her seat, the question she most wanted to ask on her lips for a long time before she put it forth. It was hard to speak of her own future, with Mama dead in the other room. “Robbie brought me home. I saw him in Rogers. Goodness, has Rogers grown, just like you said it would.” She took a sip of her tea. “Has Robbie been by yet? To ask for my hand?”
Pa wrinkled his brows. “No, poppet, he hasn’t. And there’s something I need to tell you, but I didn’t want to say it in a letter.” He reached out, his calloused hand warm over Deirdre’s, which had suddenly gone cold. “He’s married Ingrid.”
Everything slowed down. “Ing?”
“I’d hoped he’d tell you himself. They got hitched a month or so ago. I was afraid Maja was gonna have to get her shotgun out. Ingrid’s bigger than the broad side of a barn with his child. I’m sorry, poppet. There are other fine men. Better men than Robbie. Why, there’s a young engineer ...”
Papa’s words faded as a thousand feelings ran through Deirdre at once. Anger. Embarrassment. Hurt. She stood from the table, shaking.
Pa shot up from his chair. “What’s the matter, Deirdre Jane? You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I ... I just need to take the air, I think.”
“You want me to come out with you?”
Deirdre shook her head. “No. I need to be by myself for a while, Pa. I’ll be back afore dark to help with supper.”
She tied on her cloak and went out, tearing through the grass and up the rain-slicked hillside before she could lose her nerve. The lighthouse loomed over her, the cozy stone shack at its base streaming a friendly column of smoke from its chimney. Georgia was tied to the hitching post, her spotted flanks shining with sweat. He’d ridden hard after leaving her. Ridden hard to get back to Ingrid.
Deirdre stalked to the door and raised her fist, giving three brisk knocks.
Ingrid opened just as she raised her fist for the fourth. Her great belly nudged outward, round and full as a bushel bale. She smiled. “Deirdre. I didn’t know you’d come home.”
Deirdre opened her hand and sent a stinging slap to Ingrid’s cheek. The other girl stepped back, her eyes widening.
“How could you, Ing?”
“How could I what?” Ingrid lifted her chin. Deirdre’s handprint blazed red against her pale skin. “I was with his child before you even lay with him.”
“Hischild. And how can you be sure it’s his? I know you.”
Ingrid smirked. “What does it matter?” Ingrid said haughtily. “All of our farmhands have gone. Left to work for the railroad. Only my brothers are left to see to our farm. Robbie was here, and you were gone. I had to marry someone, Deirdre. You’d have done the same, if it were you.”
“No, Ing. I wouldn’t have.” Deirdre fought back the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She wouldn’t give Ingrid the pleasure of seeing her cry. “No wonder you didn’t write to me in Charleston. No wonder you were so keen to have me do the vinegar rinses. How long have you secretly hated me?”
Ingrid pressed her lips together. “I don’t hate you. I never could. Life’s just easier for girls like you. Girls with pretty faces and straight teeth. All you need do is blink your eyes and men fall at your feet. For me, I always had to give more than a smile to turn a man’s head. You can’t see how you’re the lucky one.” Ingrid rubbed her belly. “But you needn’t worry about Robbie. I make him plenty happy.”
“Is that so?” Deirdre pulled the barb of hurt free and used it as a weapon. “He picked me up at the station. Pulled the wagon over on Ballard Creek and showed me just how much he’s missed me. He probably still smells like me, if you doubt it.”
Ingrid scowled. “I never meant to hurt you, Deirdre. But you’d do well to stay away from my husband.”
“He wrote to me. Sent me a lock of his hair. Told me he loved me.” Deirdre hated the tremor in her voice. The desperation.
A tear leaked out of Ingrid’s eye. How dare she cry!
In the shadows behind Ingrid, Deirdre caught a flicker of movement. Robbie emerged from the murk. He laid a hand on Ingrid’s shoulder. “Ingrid, let me talk to her.”
“No. Anything you can say to her, you can say in front of me, husband. We both deserve as much.”
Robbie’s eyes hardened. “Go back in the house, Ingrid.”
Ingrid gave an exasperated sigh, and turned away, muttering as she waddled back into the cottage. Robbie took two steps toward her, and Deirdre stepped backward. He smiled sadly.
