Chapter 12
12
F or the first time since Michael was born, Lorinda couldn't keep her attention on her son while she nursed him and got him ready for bed. The startling conversation she'd had with Franklin wouldn't let her thoughts settle. His idea had a lot of merit, and she wanted to know her future would be secure without constantly worrying about the unknown.
After that thought took hold of her mind, her heart lurched within her. How could she even consider such a thing? She didn't know if she'd ever be ready for another man to take Mike's place in her life. Not being under male domination had freed her to begin to learn just who she was. Ingrid was teaching her so much she needed to know to become completely independent. That was a heady thought. Completely independent. Would it ever really happen?
More than that, why had Franklin been so vague about the reasons he didn't want to marry? A handsome man like him, who wasn't afraid to express his love to her son, wouldn't be satisfied in a marriage relationship without love. What if she agreed with him and they went through with the wedding, then a woman he could love came into his life? Both of them would be trapped in a prison of their own making. Then what would happen to her sense of security?
Although Lorinda hadn't ever thought about marrying again, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she would want more of a family...at some time. A man could come into her life as well and fill that need inside her.
Besides, what was wrong with her that Franklin wouldn't even consider her worthy of his love? His rejecting the idea of a physical relationship in any marriage they would enter hurt her…but not as much as her father's continued abuse had. This pain was on a totally different level. In her marriage with Mike, she had moved beyond the feeling of being useless instilled in her by her father. But the internal scars remained.
Franklin was kindness itself, offering her a home and protection when these were just what she lacked. Could she really turn her back on what might be her only chance to have both? What if no other man ever came into her life who would accept her need to be somewhat independent?
As she rocked Michael, his eyelids drooped and finally settled shut. Maybe she'd have to pour all her love into her son and forget about a man ever wanting to love her. She'd spent plenty of her life without comfort and security, and she never wanted to go back to that dark, scary place. Her son must never know the kind of life she'd endured at her father's hand.
Marriage to Franklin, even this kind of sham marriage, would be better than living a lonely existence the rest of her life. Maybe in time, they could establish a mutually beneficial relationship within his boundaries...and maybe, pigs really could fly.
She laid Michael in his cradle. When he started to stir, she gently patted his back until he settled back to sleep.
After dressing in her dimity night dress and plaiting her hair into a loose braid, Lorinda blew out the lamp and got into bed. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes. Thoughts marched through her head, their pounding keeping her from slumber.
She flipped over to her other side and scrunched the pillow up under her neck and head. Swooshing out a deep breath, she willed her body to relax. In only a few moments, every muscle tensed once again. No matter what she tried, sleep eluded her.
Finally, she arose and paced across the moonbeams bathing the room with soft, silvery light. She stopped to gaze at Michael sleeping peacefully. Oh, to be able to forget everything like an infant and just sink into rest.
Maybe she was going about all this the wrong way. She lit the lamp, picked up her Bible, and sat in the wooden rocking chair with the padded seat.
"Father God, you've brought me to this house of safety." She whispered the words so she wouldn't wake her son, but she liked talking to God as if he were in the room with her. She'd formed that habit during those lonely months in the cabin. "I don't know what to do. Please show me something in Your word that will lead me. I know Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path, and I need a lot of light right now."
Lorinda opened the book and read a few passages. She poured out her heart to God, telling Him what she wanted and that she would listen to anything He revealed to her spirit. Her supplication must have taken quite a while because when she finished, the path of the moonlight had moved most of the way to the other side of the bed chamber.
She sat in wakeful silence for another period of time that stretched until the first blush of dawn barely touched the eastern sky outlining the mountain peaks in gold. Peace drifted on her like gentle snowflakes, but warming her inside instead of bringing the cold. She folded her hands on the open pages of her Bible and just basked in the peace.
Finally, she knew what she was supposed to do. She didn't understand why God wanted her to accept Franklin's strange proposal, but she wanted to be obedient to God the way the women she'd read about in the Bible were. She wasn't sure how she would find the courage to step out in faith, but she knew she soon needed to let Franklin know.
After a long day out on the range, Franklin stood beside the washstand in his bedroom, circling his shaving brush in the cup with soap to work up enough lather. He'd started removing his whiskers in the evening so he could come to the table clean and well-shaven. He hoped Lorinda would notice the care he was taking with his appearance while in the house. Maybe it would help her make a decision in his favor.
Two whole days. Franklin wondered how much longer he'd have to wait for her to give him an answer. At least, he'd been busy enough during the daytime to take his mind off his proposal, if he could call it that. He and Thomas had ridden out to each of his pasturing areas to check on the divided herd and the cowboys wrangling them. Thank the good Lord, he would be able to send several railcars full of cattle to market in Chicago. He wanted them to feed on the tall mountain grasses for at least another month, maybe two, before they would drive them to Frisco in the next valley.
Both days, he'd come home near suppertime. After he left his boots in the mudroom, he'd gone through the kitchen on the way to clean up. He took time to talk to the infant he hoped to claim as his son and surreptitiously watched the boy's mother.
Lorinda smiled often, and she looked a little different. Kind of peaceful. But she never said a word about his idea.
He was not a patient man. If she didn't talk to him soon, he might have to do a circuit of the line shacks to make sure they were in good shape before winter. Never knew when someone might need to shelter during a storm. Sometimes, it was one of his hands. Sometimes, a stranger. That was part of the code of the west. To provide and help those in need. Give him something to do until she made up her mind. To keep himself from going crazy. Maybe if he weren't here for a day or two, Lorinda would miss his presence enough to come up with an affirmative answer.
He finished scraping the last of the shaving soap off his neck and glanced in the mirror. Lifting the small towel from the warm water in his wash bowl, he squeezed out the excess water before he patted his face, then wiped the last vestiges of lather from his cheeks and neck. He opened his bottle of Bay Rum Oil and poured a little in the palm of his hand, then gently rubbed this lotion on his face to heal any nicks. The fragrance of the product was light and pleasant, making him feel even fresher. He hoped someday Lorinda would get close enough to catch a whiff and enjoy it.
What am I thinking? He didn't need any emotional entanglements, but smelling nice would be a good thing even in a marriage of convenience. He'd decided he'd never marry, especially not a marriage of convenience. When had the idea ceased to be abhorrent? He glanced in the looking glass attached to the wall above his washstand. The face that stared back at him almost a stranger. He shook his head and went into the hallway.
When he stepped into the kitchen again, Lorinda was helping Mrs. Oleson get the food on the table. She was doing everything one-handed. Michael squirmed in her other arm.
"Here, let me help." As he reached for the baby, Lorinda glanced at him, a smile barely tilting the corners of her lips.
"Thank you, Franklin." She turned back toward the cupboard and lifted down the plates. Almost as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough. Or was she ignoring him?
While he played with the boy, the women quickly finished loading the table with a bounty of food. He loved this child. Although he would never try to keep Michael from knowing about the man who sired him, he wanted to fill the role of father in the boy's life.
"I'm going to have to take Michael and change him. And he's probably hungry." Lorinda took her son back from him. "The two of you can go ahead and eat. I'll be back as soon as I can."
He watched her walk into the hallway, and he immediately missed her. He glanced toward his housekeeper. "Something smells wonderful."
"Lorinda cooked the pot roast today." She sat down in her usual chair. "I've been enjoying the aroma for several hours. It's nice to have something to eat I didn't cook."
Franklin sat in the opposite chair. "You like having her here, don't you?"
"I've told you that before." Mrs. Oleson put some roast on her plate and added potatoes and carrots beside it. "I'd hate to think of her leaving us."
"Me, too." He quickly took the dish she passed his way and heaped the delicious food onto his plate, hoping Mrs. Oleson didn't notice the flush heating his face.
The door to the hall was on his left. While he and Mrs. Oleson ate and carried on a sporadic conversation, his eyes kept drifting toward the open doorway. He couldn't remember it taking Lorinda so long to change and feed her baby. Maybe she was dawdling over the whole process because she didn't want to face him yet. Was she going to tell him she wasn't interested in his idea? A shaft of uneasiness pierced his heart. The best-laid plans...
Being the owner of the ranch and the boss to many people who worked for him, if he wanted anything, all he had to do was tell them, and it was the same as done. No questions. Now a little slip of a woman had him tied in knots. Was he selfish to want his way in this situation? He didn't think so. Both of them, actually all three of them, would benefit from an agreement from her. Why couldn't she see that? What was holding her back?
Halfway through the food on his plate, his throat almost closed. He might not be able to swallow another bite. He laid his fork on the edge of his plate.
"Is something the matter, Franklin?" Concern shouted through Mrs. Oleson's tone.
"Of course not. I'm just taking a breather." That sounded stupid even to his own ears.
His housekeeper arose from her chair. "Do you need more coffee?" She headed toward the coffeepot sitting on the back of the stove.
"Sure." He moved his earthenware mug closer to her.
"Good. I wanted some, too." She filled both cups.
"I hope you saved some supper for me." Lorinda's voice drifted toward them from behind Mrs. Oleson.
Without thinking, Franklin let out a deep breath. Both women stared at him.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Mrs. Oleson set the pot back on the stove.
He nodded, then got up to pull out Lorinda's chair for her. Scooting her close to the table, he noticed how her presence completed the circle. He sat down again. His hunger returned, and he reached for a biscuit, taking the time to smear softened butter on it. "Just wanting another of these delicious biscuits."
"You'll have to thank Lorinda for them. She cooked all of supper."
"Everything is delicious. Thank you." He glanced at Lorinda just as a rosy glow made its way up across her cheeks.
He smiled at her. Maybe she wasn't used to receiving compliments.
For the rest of the meal, he enjoyed the light conversation. In his mind, they felt like a family already.
When she finished eating her serving of peach cobbler with thick cream poured over it, Lorinda stood and started removing the empty dishes from the table. While she put the first load of dishes in the dry sink, she stood with her back to the two of them. "Franklin, I'd like to talk to you after I finish cleaning up the kitchen."
Maybe she was shy about what she had to say, since she never looked at him when she said it.
"I'll be in the parlor, reading Rocky Mountain News that came in the mail from Denver today." He pushed back from the table.
"Oh, go on, you two." Mrs. Oleson gathered more of the dirty dishes.
Lorinda turned and opened her mouth as if to disagree.
"I'll clean up the kitchen, since you cooked everything."
Lorinda stared at his housekeeper for a moment before she gave a quick nod. He wished he could tell what she was thinking. Would she agree with his proposal? He wasn't really sure which thing he wanted more. He was afraid she would agree to stay. Actually, he was afraid she wouldn't, and if she left, not only would she take the boy, but he would miss having her here...to help Mrs. Oleson.
She headed out the door, and Franklin followed. His heart leapt. She didn't look upset or angry. Maybe...just maybe, she would agree with his plan.
She stood by the front window when he got to the parlor. After staring outside for a moment, she took a deep breath and turned toward him.
Clasping her hands, she let her gaze rove over the room where she'd spent so much of the time since she'd been in his home. But she never looked straight at him.
The dancing flames of the lamps and lighted candles shot glimmers of gold through her upswept hair. A few stray wisps lay gently against her neck. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
He needed to change his focus. His gaze roved the room trying to find something to concentrate on but was drawn back to Lorinda.
"Your proposal surprised me, Franklin. I had never considered such a thing before." Finally, she looked straight at him. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"
He stuffed his hands in his back trouser pockets. "I am."
"What if circumstances change?" She seemed to be holding her breath.
"I won't enter into marriage lightly. When I make a vow, I stand by it." He hoped that was what she needed to hear.
Lorinda wrung her hands, braiding the fingers together. "I can think of all kinds of things that could affect this relationship."
"When a man and a woman enter a marriage filled with love for each other, they have no real guarantees either, except their vows to remain faithful." He tried to read the depths of her eyes, but couldn't. "We'll be no different from any of them."
She took a step toward him. "I want my son to be raised in a happy home."
"That's exactly what I want for him, too." He pulled his hands free and crossed his arms over his chest.
Lorinda stood for a moment, not saying another word. Without taking her eyes from his, she finally whispered, "If you're really sure, I'm willing to follow through with this." She dropped onto the sofa as if her legs couldn't hold her a moment longer.
What should he do now? A momentary feeling of missing something essential rushed through him.
Franklin sat beside her, but not close enough to crowd her. He felt as if his throat was stuffed with cotton, and a lump rested in his chest.
After a discreet cough, he cleared his throat. "I'd rather no one else know the true nature of our relationship. I don't want any questions about our intentions. And I believe everyone will respect you more as my wife if they don't know the circumstances. It's enough they know we're getting married. And they need to see us as a family of three."
Franklin didn't know what to do now. If it had been any other kind of proposal, he'd be kissing her rosy lips, but he couldn't let himself think about that. "How...how soon can we have the wedding?"
Her eyebrows rose, and she turned her questioning gaze toward him. "I don't know."
"Our friends at church will want to be a part...of the celebration." He rubbed his sweaty palms down his denim trousers. "This is mid-May. I'll need to round up the cattle in September. How about October? That way you can plan whatever kind of wedding you want."
He felt as if he were babbling, and he was usually a man of few words.
All she did was nod.
Joy filled him because soon he would have a son and heir. And even a wife.
Suddenly, everything felt off kilter.