Ivy’s eyes widened. “The Aurora Borealis?” she breathed. “That will be an adventure.” She glanced down at Jewel, engrossed in scribbling As on her slate. “What about this one?”
“We won’t go for long, and she sleeps deeply throughout the night.”
They ate while Jewel chattered of As and numbers.
Then, Jewel took a nap, and Ivy went to her room to rest.
Torin went to the dining room and picked up his book, “The Three Musketeers,” an old favorite, and moved to the more comfortable wingchair in the parlor, finally allowing himself to read. At first, he barely concentrated on the words, still edgyabout the governess. But the more he released his vigilance, the more he was drawn into the story.
When he’d finished, he held the book, taking a while to transition from 1628 France to modern-day Three Bend Lake.
Oh, the luxury of relaxing with a book!Usually, he only read during stolen moments while Jewel slept, and he finished up with chores. He used to be an avid, book in-a-week, reader—to the point Mary Beth complained about wanting more of his attention. But since Jewel’s arrival, two months was a more likely timeline.
When he’d moved here, he’d chosen not to subscribe to any newspapers. He didn’t want to know about the town’s happenings or even learn about people he’d never meet. As for the wider world…he just pretended it didn’t exist.
He wasn’t a complete ignoramus. Brian and Hank kept him apprised of the important facts. Their conversations usually went along the lines of, “William McKinley was just elected president. Garret A. Hobart is Vice-President.” Or “Turkey and Greece have gone to war.”
He’d nod but wouldn’t ask anything more, and the conversation died. He’d always appreciated how Hank and Brian didn’t push the issues.
With Ivy’s arrival, Torin had become aware of how ignorant he was about what was happening outside of Three Bend Lake. He felt rather appalled at how much he’d allowed his brain to atrophy.
Somehow, he’d equated the wider world as bad—to be blocked out. And since newspapers mostly reported the darkest news—daily dealings, difficulties, and disasters—he had no desire to read about the pain of others. He had enough to do with suppressing his own and making a happy life for his daughter.
But I’ve also turned away from all the good out there.
I could subscribe to newspapers again.
The idea was both liberating and unsettling. Opening a newspaper meant acknowledging that a world existed beyond Three Bend Lake. A world that had rejected his daughter.
But also a world that produced competent, kind women like Ivy.
He closed the book on that thought before it could go any further.
But now that he’d have time to peruse them, Torin decided to subscribe to some newspapers. He’d start with theSweetwater Springs Heraldand, even though they’d be dreadfully out of date by the time of their arrival, perhaps a state newspaper, as well as a national one.
Imagine that. Torin Rees opening to the wider world.
9
The next day wasBday and adding five more numbers to Jewel’s repertoire, or so Ivy informed Torin after breakfast. He still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around his daughter counting to ten. Fifteen would be an unimagined bonus.
Today, Jewel wanted to wash the dishes by herself, so he swept the floor and kept an eye on her until she’d finished. Afterward, she ordered him from the room so she could dry them, a task she zealously guarded as her own. While he didn’t allow her to wash dishes unsupervised, he figured the worst she could do while drying and putting them away was drop one, and the sound of breaking would bring him running to clean up before she cut herself.
To his surprise, since she seemed so taken with her new governess, Ivy wasn’t excused from Jewel’s domestic tyranny and was dismissed as well. With a smile, the woman held up her hands to signalI’m goingand waltzed out of the room.
With each new encounter with Ivy to ponder and only positive evidence of her interactions with his daughter, gradually Torin relaxed his need for vigilance. He was still waryabout the governess, but not as knotted up as he’d been the previous day.
Upon Ivy’s request, the two went to Jewel’s room for Torin to show her the contents of the toybox, the first and only piece of furniture he’d ever crafted. Doing so had taken himmonths, for being single-handedly in charge of a baby meant very little free time and even less sleep. Far too often, he napped when Jewel did.
Up until his work on the box, Torin had never considered himself a perfectionist. But for his precious child, every inch needed to be sanded velvety smooth, the corners carefully rounded, and the top made easy for small, uncoordinated hands to open.
The inside contained his childhood treasures. Stacks of square blocks. His tin army soldiers. A hard rubber ball. A spinning top. A bag of marbles. Another of jacks. A black pull-along horse on a wheeled platform. Crouching to lift them out, he smiling to himself, remembering the hours he’d spent playing with the toys beside his daughter.
Ivy dragged over a nearby three-legged stool, took a seat, and leaned to examine them. “We had a pull horse, too. A bay, though, not a black.”
Looking at the toys laid out in a semi-circle on the floor, Torin became aware his daughter lacked girl toys. He reached to push the horse, making it roll into a stack of blocks and knock them over. “You might be wondering why she doesn’t have a bisque doll. I thought about buying one, but with her clumsiness, I was afraid she’d drop and break it. I don’t mind the destruction. But if Jewel murdered her baby, she’d be devastated.”
“Unlike Humpty Dumpty, you can glue a doll’s head back together,” Ivy said in a matter-of-fact voice. “But the experience would be traumatic, so a ragdoll is a much safer choice. If Imight borrow the marbles and jacks today? I’d like to see if Jewel’s ability to count beans can transfer to other things. Maybe tomorrow, we’ll try with the soldiers or the blocks.”
