Page 23 of My Heart Will Find You

From tears of joy, she thought. “Of course.”

Alexandra Martha Logan was born nine hours ago. She is six pounds, eight ounces, and truly beautiful.

Henry was wiping his tearstained glasses on his shirt. “That’s all he wrote? Ben would tell more. Something is wrong.”

Etta closed the email and saw that there was another one from Ben.

Dad, I’m scared. There are complications. Our daughter might not make it. Caro is a mess. Send a story that I can read to her. Distract her. Pray for us.

Etta didn’t know them, but she felt she did. When she looked at Henry, there were tears in her eyes, and she hugged him. “I’m so sorry. Surely, they’ll be all right.”

Henry pulled away and looked back at the computer. “Caroline will be hysterical. She isn’t good with things she can’t control.”

“We’ll get a car and I can drive you to Denver. It’s not that far. You’ll be a comfort to both of them.”

“No, no,” he said. “Ben’s calmness will be better. They don’t need an old man interfering.” His head came up. “I’ll write your story of meeting Caro in your dream.”

“With a whip?” Etta was shocked. “I don’t think she’ll want to hear that.”

Henry stood up. “Caro’s father was a monster. A shouting bully. She’d love hearing that her prototype wore a tight dress and used a whip.” He paused at the doorway. “Tell me what the man you two women were fighting over looked like.”

“We weren’t fighting over him.”

“Of course not.” His tone was of not believing. “What actor would portray him?”

“William Holden,” she said quickly.

Henry’s eyes twinkled. “A very masculine look. And how does your young man compare?”

She began speaking as fast as she cooked. “Six feet or more, broad shoulders, not an ounce of fat on him, cleft chin, a bit dimpled in the cheeks, perfect teeth, lots of dark hair but the sun gave it highlights, dark blue eyes with gold flecks in them, hands strong enough to hold two horses that were going wild, muscular thighs, a scarred earlobe but no other marks on him, deep voice like molasses, skin the color of sunlit honey, and—” She stopped and her face turned as red as the strawberries.

“My goodness,” Henry said. “Sothat’swhat is needed to get women to fight over a man.”

“There was no girl fight. Cornelia went afterhimwith the whip, not me.”

“Did she? She stopped her horse next to you, not him, then struck out acrossyouwith a short whip. He pushedyoudown, but he didn’t so much as duck out of the way. Sounds to me like she meant to remove your ears, not his.”

For a moment Etta blinked at him. “Maybe I should tell my sister about that dream so she can figure out what it means.”

As Henry started down the hall and back to his library, he said, “Perhaps so.”

Etta got the strawberries into jars, sealed them, then went to Henry in his library. He was bent over his lap desk and writing in a notebook. She didn’t disturb him.

At four, Henry’s phone dinged for a text. He handed it to Etta without looking at it. His hands were trembling.

“‘The baby has stabilized,’” she read aloud. “‘But we are staying in the hospital for a while. The first installment of your story made Caro smile. She wants to know who the old, plain woman is. And am I the attractive husband?’”

Etta put the phone down. She was greatly relieved, and Henry looked faint. “How about a Belgian waffle with strawberry jam?”

“That sounds delicious. Mind if I wait here?”

“I would like to serve you.” As she went back to the kitchen, Etta realized that she too was shaking. She still felt bad that in the days she’d been in Kansas City she’d almost forgotten why Henry was there. He was so ill that his beloved family had left him behind. She would put money on it that he hadn’t told them that his nurse never showed up. Or that he’d invited a stranger to stay with him.

But then, Ben and Caro didn’t need the added stress.

She made the waffles, slathered them in butter and freshly made jam, then carried them back to the library. He was still writing. It didn’t take much to know that this was his way of coping with the world around him.

He quickly ate a waffle, and the sugar seemed to revive him a bit. “I thought I’d add more to your dream story and send it to them. Would you mind typing?”

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