Page 16 of A Late-Blooming Rose
“When you mentioned taking a basket to the Hatters’, I started thinking about what I can contribute. Since Horace will be recuperating for a week or two, would you mind if I made him a present of the dressing gown and slippers you gave me for Christmas? You know what a creature of habit I am. I’ve barely worn the slippers because my old ones are still comfortable.”
“And you already have another dressing gown. Not to mention that shabby old thing you resort to at times when you want an evening cigar. Behind my back, I might add. I hate the idea of you smoking.” She affectionately leaned against him. “I think giving Horace the robe and slippers is a wonderful idea. I don’t mind a bit, although, as usual—” she swept an arm toward the bed “—I see you have more than a robe and slippers in mind.”
“I wish I could give the man money, but I doubt he’d accept such a gift, because he’ll see any funds from me as charity.”
“I heard through the grapevine that Mr. Livingston will pay Mr. Hatter’s salary during the time he’s recovering.”
“Ah. Well done of Caleb. One never knows with that man.” Andre hadn’t entirely forgiven the banker for turning them out of his house when he’d discovered Delia’s illegitimacy and Negro heritage.
“Maggie is good for him. Caleb is a different man because of her and the baby. I’m glad they’re getting married.” She reached to smooth a hand over the cotton case of a plump, down pillow. “I see you’ve appropriated one of the guestroom pillowcases.”
“Wouldn’t do to give Horace one with our initials embroidered on the cover.” He pointed to the rest of the items. “I have more nightshirts, caps, and stockings than I’ll ever wear. So one of each. I thought a soft blanket….” He tapped the cover of a book set next to the pillow. “And, of course, Marcus Aurelius to keep him company—that is, when his eyes recover from the concussion and he’s allowed to read.”
“Your old friend.” She leaned against his arm again. “How do you know Mr. Hatter doesn’t haveMeditationsalready?”
“Because I’ve lent him a copy in the past. You know I keep an extra on hand for that very reason. This one’s a gift, though.”
She glanced up with a smile. “No, I didn’t know that. But having extras on hand is so like you.”
“Why do you think I’ve wanted a library in town?”
“So you can hoard your favorite volumes and not be forced through courtesy to lend them out,” she teased.
Their banter eased his heavy spirits a bit.
Delia’s eyebrows pulled together. “I’m ashamed to say that I’m barely acquainted with the Hatters. Besides a few words before or after church when they’ve come through the greeting line, I haven’t spoken to them. I don’t even know Mrs. Hatter’s given name. What kind of minister’s wife does that make me?” She placed a hand on her belly.
This wasn’t the first time Delia expressed doubts about fulfilling her duties. Andre tapped the crinkle on her forehead. “The best kind. One who’s concerned about her parishioners.”
For the thousandth time, Andre cursed his former mistress Isadora for keeping Delia a secret from him and raising her to believe she was little more than a beautiful commodity to be sold as a wife or a mistress to the highest bidder. Luckily Joshua was patient and supportive and adoring with his wife. Andre couldn’t ask for a better husband for his beloved daughter.
He reached for her hand and squeezed. “You can’t expect to know everyone well yet. Building those acquaintances will take time. Besides, what matters isn’t the past but what you’re doing now.”
“Are you tired of reminding me?”
“Never, my darling girl. I have many years of not dispensing fatherly advice to make up for.” He released Delia’s hand to give her a quick sideways hug around her shoulders. “Mrs. Hatter seems the retiring sort. Not one to put herself forward. They’ll take longer to become acquainted with. I haven’t spoken to Mrs. Hatter at all, although I’ve chatted with Horace when I’ve done business at the bank, especially that stretch of time when Caleb and I mutually avoided each other.”
“Perhaps others are having similar recriminations. Joshua would say this kind of change is one of the good things that will come from this tragedy—the community will become better acquainted with one of our more reserved families.”
He fell silent, thinking about Rose and Cora’s arrival in a few days in the midst of the danger and turmoil of the town.
She frowned up at him. “What else is on your mind, Papa?”
He raised his eyebrows. “How do you know something’s on my mind?”
Reaching up with one finger, she rubbed the middle of his forehead, almost the same gesture he’d just done with her. “You get a crease right here when you’re gnawing on a worry like a dog with a bone.”
“Comparing me to a hound, are you?” he said lightly, turning the conversation away from his fears.
“Papa….” Delia warned.
Letting out a sigh, Andre reached to straighten one of the slippers, aligning the heel with the other before capitulating. “When I invited Rose and Cora, I never thought for an instant I’d be putting them in harm’s way.” He resisted rubbing his chest over the quick thump of his heart.
“Are you envisioning the outlaws holding up the train?”
“Oh, Lordy, daughter—” he leaned a hand against the bedpost “—don’t put that idea in my head! What if something were to happen to them?”
Delia frowned. “Death is something none of us have power over. That’s in God’s hands, and you’d best stop blaming yourself for that robbery. The man who shot Deputy Rodda is to blame, not you.”
