Page 61 of Mail-Order Lady

Her gaze found Robert’s, and when their eyes met, her expression eased.

His heart cracked open a little more.

The doctor descended the stairs with his bag in hand, and Robert made himself focus on the man’s face instead of Clara’s. Made himself wait while the doctor reached the bottom step and turned toward him.

“Doctor.” He nodded once. “How is she?”

“Mrs. Balfour is progressing as expected. The sickness will pass with rest and adequate nutrition. She needs to eat whatever she can keep down. Small portions throughout the day work better than full meals.” He reached inside his bag and pulled out a small brown bottle, which he handed to Clara. “Have Mrs. Wang prepare a ginger tea. As much as Mrs. Balfour can manage. Put a teaspoon of this in it twice daily. It should help settle her stomach.”

The tightness in Robert’s chest eased a fraction. “Nothing more serious?”

“Nothing I can detect. The baby’s heartbeat is strong. Her pulse is steady. This is simply the body’s way of adjusting to the changes. Hopefully it will only last a few more weeks.” The doctor closed his bag and straightened. “I’ll return next week to check on her progress.”

“Thank you.” Clara’s voice hung thick with gratitude.

The doctor nodded once more and moved toward the door. Robert followed, more out of habit than necessity. He pulled it open and held it while the man stepped out onto the porch.

“Send for me if anything changes,” the doctor said over his shoulder. “Otherwise, I’ll see myself back next week.”

“We will. Thank you.” He closed the door, then turned back to face the room.

Clara still stood at the base of the stairs, the brown bottle in both hands. She studied the glass like it held answers. And in that position, she looked so small. So fragile.

He should say something. Should cross the space between them and—what? Take her hand? Pull her into his arms the way he’d done in his room two days ago?

“Kate will be all right.” Clara’s voice came quiet, almost like she was speaking to herself. Then her gaze lifted to his. Her eyes looked like she was afraid to hope, yet couldn’t help but grasp for it. “The doctor said so.”

“He did.”

She nodded and slipped the bottle into a pocket in her skirt. She looked even more fragile than before, standing there with empty hands. Like the uncertainty—the fear—might swallow her completely.

He took a step toward her. Then another.

When he stood in front of her, he reached out, and she stepped into his arms. He wrapped himself around her as she clung to him.

He let himself breathe her in. The weight of her—solid and warm—anchored the part of him that had been drifting for two days. Since the last time he held her.

Her back rose and fell beneath his arms as she breathed, and a little of the tension drained out of her. “Do you think she’ll be all right?” Her voice came muffled against his shoulder. “Truly.”

The weight in his chest tightened. She needed reassurance he couldn’t entirely give—no man could promise what would happen with childbirth, with sickness, with any of the thousand things that could go wrong.

But she needed more from him than silence.

“The doctor seemed confident.” He kept his voice low. Steady. “He wouldn’t have left if he thought she was in danger. And we’re all praying for her.”

She nodded against him, but didn’t pull away. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt, holding on like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go.

He pressed his cheek against the top of her head. Breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. Let himself hold her the way he’d wanted to for two days. Since the kiss that had changed everything and nothing all at once.

He should tell her what he’d seen. That he’d read part of her story. That he understood now—at least a fraction more than before—what it had cost her to stand at that gate and lift the bar. To step through into a world she’d been taught to fear.

Maybe now wasn’t the time yet. But soon.

She shifted against him like she might pull away. But instead she turned her face so her cheek rested on his shoulder. Like she was settling in rather than preparing to leave.

His throat burned.

This was what he’d wanted for months. To hold her like this. To have her come to him when she needed comfort. To be the person she turned to when the weight of life was too much.