Their gazes met over Jewel’s head. In his eyes, Torin suspected, she saw fear warring with hope, protection with possibility. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything.”
“Sas-ee now?” Jewel entreated, still clutching herJ.
“Yes, sweetheart. Let’s go see Sassy Girl and show her your new letter.”
In the entryway, Torin helped Jewel into her outerwear and donned his own.
As they walked toward Brian’s cabin, with Jewel between them chattering about her “Jay,” Torin basked in his daughter’s happiness.How can I risk this tranquility by adding an unknown woman, no matter how highly Cora speaks of her?
The choice seemed impossible, too fraught with risk. He’d never before had to choose who’d be in Jewel’s life. Hank and Brian were neighbors. Inevitably, they discovered their fellow bachelor had a baby. Dr. Angus Cameron, Constance Taylor, and Elsie Bailey were visiting Hank on the day Jewel escaped him and wandered over, only to fall and sprain her ankle. But her disappearance had practically given him apoplexy, and in the overwhelming relief of finding her, the fact that strangers had done the rescuing turned the three into instant friends.
Same for Cora. Once again, Jewel had wandered off to visit Brian, and the nurse and his daughter bonded almost immediately. Each time, the decision to trust someone new had been taken out of his hands.
Now I have to choose.
But I can’t risk choosing wrong.
Deep into February’swinter was the hardest time of year for Torin. For anybody, he supposed. He liked to be outdoors. But in the frigid months, he worried about his daughter’s health. He would hover protectively over Jewel, making sure she was warm enough, that her clothing didn’t get too wet. Over this past year, she’d become independent—like her mother that way—and more adamant about going outside.
He used to be able to distract her with games and songs and toys. She’d been happy to sit next to him while he read to her or listened to the stories he’d tell. Now, he struggled harder to keep her healthy and safe.
But on a beautiful Montana winter day, with the sky such a deep blue his heart lifted to look up to the heavens, and patches of snow thin on the earth, he judged the temperature to be not as cold as the past few days. The ground was frozen, so he didn’t need to worry about mud. He and Jewel had gone for a long walk. Jewel was sad Hank wasn’t there to visit. The swans didn’t make an appearance.
Even though he reassured her that both would return, it had taken a game of hide and seek among the trees to lift her spirits. He was only able to coax her back inside by the promise of hot chocolate.
An hour later, in a bleak mood, Torin stood at the front window, looking out at the water, while his daughter slept.Thank goodness, most days she still takes naps.
For so many years, he and Jewel only had two friends—Hank Canfield and Brian Bly—his bachelor neighbors. But over time, the men became family, brothers he could trust and depend on.
Up until the last couple of months, he’d always had this comforting sense of Brian living to his left and Hank to his right. He didn’t have to see them to feel reassured by their presence, just knowing they were there. They’d step up if he needed them for socializing or to do errands in town. Her honorary uncles took over Jewel’s care when he was ill or exhausted or needed a little time away from her.
But then Hank fell in love and embarked on a long courtship of Elsie Bailey. Elsie came attached with her employer, dressmaker Constance Taylor, as well as Dr. Angus Cameron, Constance’s fiancé. Then Elsie’s friend, Cora, joined their circle, and Brian fell for her. Brian dove deeply into writing his memoir about the bank robbery and then became engaged to Cora. Both men spent more time in Hank’s lodging in the Gordon building in town, to be around their womenfolk, than they did in their homes at Three Bend Lake.
As an affianced man, his formerly curmudgeonly friend had metamorphosed into a contented one. He hardly recognized his neighbor these days, because a smile so often transformed his craggy countenance.
So Torin was acutely aware of theemptinessin the places where his friends’ presence should be. And how loneliness—a not infrequent companion before—now had come to stay.
But as he often told himself,this is the price I pay to keep my daughter safe.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the oldest Swensen girl walking down the road to approach the house, and he sidled to the right so she wouldn’t spot him at the window. The Swensen family lived higher up the mountain. The five older girls attended school when the days were temperate enough—for winter, that is—to trek to school and back. The long walk and the weather conditions made their school attendance spotty.
With his neighbors gone, Hank had arranged for Inga, the oldest daughter, to bring Torin’s mail from town. The girl knew he was a hermit. Knew not to knock on the door. Just leave his mail and packages on the small table on the porch.
I’m not a good neighbor.There was no reciprocity he provided. He knew from Hank and Brian that the family lived in poverty, their life one of mere subsistence. Mr. Swensen clung to his pride tighter than a corset on a hog. And for Torin to offer to pay Inga would be seen as an affront.Perhaps, I should purchase a book of fairytales that they could read to each other. Surely, Swensen would not be offended if the gift was in reciprocity for his daughter’s help?
I’ll place an order the next time Hank or Brian is here to go to town.
With Inga’s attention on her task, he leaned sideways to study her. The girl was about Jewel’s age, maybe a year or two older. Blonde, blue-eyed, and pink-cheeked, blooming with healthy Scandinavian prettiness—although, she seemed too thin.
He couldn’t help comparing her to Jewel, wondering what his beloved daughter would have been like if she wasn’t born Mongoloid. Then guilt stabbed him, and he banished the thought. Torin loved Jewel just the way she was. But he would have wished for a normal life andlifespanfor her.I’d still be married to Mary Beth.That thought was enough to break the fantasy.
He wondered if Mr. Swensen knew how blessed he was to have seven healthy children. Or was the man too burdened with providing for them to appreciate his blessings?
At least, Torin had come into his great-aunt’s inheritance before his family disowned him. He never had to worry about materially providing for Jewel, even if he had to rely on othersto do his shopping at the mercantile or place orders from catalogues.
He waited until Inga was out of sight and then a few minutes more before going outside. The cold wind bit, but he only had to take a few steps to grab the package and return to the house.
Once inside, Torin studied the package—lightweight, wrapped in brown paper, about six inches by six inches, and tied securely with twine. The ink of the return address, blurred by rain or snow, made the sender’s name hard to read. He squinted and held it higher toward the window. The pale daylight helped him see the New York address but not the name.
