Part 4 (1/2)
Caleb knelt by her side and followed her instructions, tying the strings tight. The umbilical cord surprised him with how soft it felt, yet he still had to apply a certain amount of pressure to cut all the way through. He wiped off the blood, and the task was done. ”There.”
”Well done, Dr. Livingston,” Maggie said, her eyes bright with exhilaration.
For the first time, Caleb became aware of his hunger. He'd been so focused on Maggie and Charlotte, he'd failed to heed the call of his body's needs. ”I'll fix us something to eat.” He went to wash up again, then moved to the campfire, opening a can of corned beef hash and one of peas. He set them at the edge of the fire to heat for dinner. From a basket he'd taken from the surrey, he brought out the last of the bread and cheese his housekeeper, Mrs. Graves, had sent along with him for the journey.
One of the horses nickered as he waited. Probably thirsty. He'd water them soon.
When the food was warm, he dished some up and brought the plate to Maggie, along with another mug of tea. ”I'll hold the baby while you eat.”
Maggie gave the dozing infant a kiss. ”It's hard to let her go, even to you.”
Caleb chuckled. ”I'll be right here under your eye the whole time.” He bent to take the baby.
”Support her head.”
”I am.” He brought the infant to his chest. Charlotte was so tiny, seemed so fragile, yet he'd already witnessed her strength. This time Caleb was the one who explored the baby, softly touching her b.u.t.ton nose and running a finger over the petal-soft curve of her cheeks. ”I think she's going to have your cheekbones,” he told Maggie.
Her mouth full, she could only wrinkle her nose before she finished her bite. ”Oh, I hope not.”
Caleb couldn't imagine why. He shot her a puzzled look.
She rubbed her cheek. ”Because they make me look different.”
”You are a lovely woman, Magdalena Petra. Your looks are more out of the ordinary than most women around here-not that we don't have some attractive ladies in our town. I think that only makes you more interesting.” He thought of Delia Bellaire. ”Reverend Joshua's betrothed also possesses exotic beauty, so you won't be the only peac.o.c.k among the chickens and swans of Sweet.w.a.ter Springs. The Bellaires are to return to town today. They've been staying at a hotel in Crenshaw.”
”Reverend Joshua has spoken of her. His face always lights up when he does so. I know the Morgans and some others from Morgan's Crossing plan to attend the wedding.”
Caleb tried not to think of his ambivalent feelings toward the Bellaires, who hadn't been honest with him about Delia's illegitimacy and Negro blood, although the wedding was good business for his hotel. . . .
He held the baby in front of him and focused on her, making a playful face. ”Charlotte will be lucky if she's blessed with her mother's looks. Right, sweetheart? Although perhaps I shouldn't say so, I wouldn't want you to have your head turned by all my compliments.”
Maggie chuckled. ”Well, I guess a few are all right.”
”Glad I can get away with some.” Seeing she'd finished eating, he gave Charlotte one last look. ”Ready to return to Mama?” he asked the baby.
Maggie set her plate and silverware on the ground and held out her hands.
Carefully, Caleb deposited Charlotte in her arms. ”You two rest for a while.”
”We will. But you need to eat.”
He grinned at her bossy tone. ”Yes, ma'am.” Caleb saluted and sauntered over to the fire to dish up the corned beef hash and peas. He spooned out the food, poured some water into a cup from the pack he'd brought with him, added a slab of bread and cheese, and returned to her. But he saw she'd fallen asleep, and the baby with her. Keeping an eye on mother and child, he gobbled down the meal, aware Oswald needed a burial-as rotten a ch.o.r.e as he'd ever undertaken.
Only when he'd finished eating and set the bowl on his lap did Caleb realize he still wore the ap.r.o.n. With a wry shake of his head, he took off the garment and folded it. He sat for a bit, weary, but with a deep sense of peace.
Charlotte made a sound.
”Do you think she's hungry already?”
”We'll see.” Murmuring soft endearments, Maggie unb.u.t.toned the slit in the bodice of her nightgown and brought the baby to her breast.
Honoring the mother-baby moment, he glanced away, but the image lingered as beautiful and awe-inspiring as a medieval painting of the Madonna and the Christ-child painted by one of the masters.
”Caleb,” Maggie chided. ”After all we've been through, I think we can cast modesty to the winds.”
With a feeling that he might be casting more than modesty to the winds, Caleb Livingston, staid banker that he was, brought his gaze back to mother and child and looked his fill.
Maggie hurt all over, and yet she'd never felt happier, or more content. Lying on the bedding, which Caleb had changed, with her head and shoulders propped on pillows, Charlotte in her arms, she watched the man move around the campsite. He'd cleaned her up and soaked the soiled clothes in the washtub. He built up the fire and taken care of both teams of horses. He'd followed her directions and found the Mason jar with liniment under the bed-luckily unbroken-and rubbed the ointment on Pet's strained leg.
He unloaded the vardo, setting her scanty possessions in piles, and brought a bedroll from his surrey and spread it out a few feet from Maggie's. Then he'd taken Oswald's shovel and the basin with the afterbirth and disappeared.
Without Caleb saying so, she knew he'd gone to bury her husband.
For the first time, Maggie thought of Oswald with a pang of grief, not so much for missing him, but for what he was missing-their sweet baby. She remembered how he'd appeared during their courts.h.i.+p-handsome and strong, offering a shoulder to lean on when she was grieving the death of her grandmother, her last living relative. He'd swept her into a marriage while she'd been vulnerable and without giving her time to form an opinion of his character.
No, I did that to myself. I could have put my foot down, not let my fears of being alone sway me into thinking I was in love.
What a foolish girl I was!
The baby stirred in her arms.
Maggie glanced down at her daughter, swaddled in faded plaid flannel. She'd cut down an old s.h.i.+rt of Oswald's to make the small blanket. Love swelled her heart until she thought her chest couldn't contain the emotion. ”But then I wouldn't have you, my darling Charlotte,” she murmured to her daughter. ”I'd go through everything twice over to have you.” Exhausted, she laid her head down on the pillow and drifted off.
A squeaky wail startled her awake. Dusk had fallen, casting a purple-gray haze over their surroundings. The flannel cloth wrapping the baby was wet. I need to change her. Maggie struggled to sit up, gasping as her abused muscles protested.
”Let me.” Suddenly Caleb was at her side, supporting her back.
”Charlotte needs a diaper and a soaker. We didn't put one of those on her before.”
”Don't move.” He ordered. ”I'll take care of everything.”
Maggie smiled at his tone, doubting he'd ever changed a baby. Well, I haven't, either. She'd had no younger siblings, only some older cousins. But Caleb did well enough earlier when he put on Charlotte's first diaper. She pointed to the pile. ”We'll first pin one of the diapers on her. Then come the soakers-the knitted pants-over it.” All the soakers she'd knitted were stacked together. ”Find the tiniest pair.”
He rummaged through the pile, and then held up a miniscule multicolored one for her to approve.
Maggie had knitted the soakers from leftover pieces of yarn, careful to keep the knots on the outside so they wouldn't rub against the baby's tender skin. Embarra.s.sed, she realized the little panties conveyed the poverty she'd lived in, the s.h.i.+fts she'd made to economize when Oswald drank up too much of his wages. Maybe Caleb won't notice how rag-tag they appear. He's probably never seen soakers before. For all he knows, that's how they're supposed to look. She almost snorted at her own wishful thinking.
Caleb's brows pulled together in a frown. ”We need to clean her.”
”There's a bottle of oil in the basket.”
Caleb glanced at the sky, and his mouth firmed. He looked down at her. ”We'll be camping here tonight. I don't like it, but we don't have a choice. I don't want to move you, and that horse of yours needs to recover more. At least the sky is clear and, hopefully, will stay that way. I'll keep the fire going and stand watch.”
”Is that necessary?”
”Birth and death happened here, Maggie. Both involved blood, which will attract animals. I dragged Oswald's body some distance, but I didn't want to be away from you two for long, so I only dug a shallow grave.”