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Robin Lee HatcherWhen Love Blooms"The fig trees are budding, and the grapevines are in blossom. How delicious they smell! Yes, spring is here! Arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away." —Song 2:13
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Boise City, September 1883 It was mid-afternoon when Gavin Blake drove the wagon down Boise City’s Main Street. The territorial capitol had grown in the years since his last visit. There had to be several good physicians living here these days. One of them would be able to help Drucilla. If he didn't believe that, he never would have agreed to undertake this trip. He turned toward his wife. A tall and plain woman, her kind and giving spirit more than made up for whatever outward beauty she lacked. Everyone who knew Dru loved her. Which only made it harder on Gavin, seeing her as she was now—too thin, too frail, exhaustion from a week of travel written in her hazel eyes. I shouldn’t have let her come. Not that she’d given him much choice. Dru’s will hadn’t weakened along with her body. It was still hard as flint. At least the weather had been warm for their trip. He'd made her a comfortable bed in the back of the wagon so she could rest whenever she wanted, and at night they'd lain beneath the blankets, staring at the stars and talking about what Dru wanted for Sabrina and Petula. Sometimes listening to her—hearing the calm acceptance in her voice—made him angry. He wanted to rail against her illness—and against God for letting her get sick in the first place. Hadn’t she suffered enough? Gavin stopped the wagon in front of the Overland Hotel. After setting the brake, he hopped to the ground. "Come on.” He held his arms toward her. “Let's get you into a nice, soft bed." "Shouldn't we go to the newspaper office first?" "I'll take care of that later." "Gavin, I—" "You heard me. Come on." Dru acquiesced with a nod. "I suppose you're right, but we came all this way to—" "I know why we came.” His tone was gruff, though he didn’t mean for it to be. He wasn’t angry at her. It never failed to alarm him when he lifted her down from the wagon and his fingers overlapped around her waist. He remembered when she was pregnant, her body ripe and round like a pumpkin, her face rosy, her eyes shining with happiness. That seemed a lifetime ago. Look at what had happened in the few years since then. First her son was stillborn, then Charlie died, and now this. If only he could take her back east to one of those fine hospitals. If only he were wealthy. If only there was more he could do for her. "Gavin?" Her cool fingers touched his cheek. "Let's go inside." Without a word, he placed a solicitous arm around her back and guided her into the lobby of the hotel.
Wanted: Governess and teacher Perhaps the insect seemed noisy because the house was so silent. Kevin, Colleen, Tara Maureen, and Colin—Maggie's four oldest children—were all in school. Sheridan, at four the baby of the family, had gone into town with his mother for some shopping. And Emily was here alone with time weighing heavy on her mind. She left the dining room and wandered into the parlor. There, her fingers caressed the photographs and knickknacks as she moved about the room. Memories. Lots of memories. Happy ones too. And yet she felt out of place here. She was restless and impatient with her life. Nothing seemed to be going as she wanted. Not that she was entirely sure what that entailed. What did she want? For many weeks after her hasty return last winter from Washington, D.C., she had gladly cared for her sister and young nephew, nursing them back to health, praying for their recovery, seeing to their every need. She had mothered the older children, reassuring them that all would be well. And she’d spent many a late evening sitting with Tucker in this very room, offering her brother-in-law what comfort she could. But the Branigan household had long since returned to normal. Although wanted, she knew, Emily wasn’t needed any longer. Should she return to Washington? Despite how much she had enjoyed her work, that option no longer felt right. But what awaited her here? Marriage? A family of her own? She didn’t feel ready for those things yet. In fact, she had turned down a proposal from Matthew Foreman only one week before. No, she wanted to do something before she married. She wanted to make some sort of difference in the world. If only she knew what. She shook her head and walked back toward the dining room, pausing by the window and staring across the yard toward the river. Bed sheets fluttered in the golden September sunlight. Tucker's old collie lay in the shade of a poplar, his tail slapping the dried grass in a lazy, steady rhythm. God, what is it I’m to do? I’ll die of boredom if You don’t show me something soon. She sighed as she turned from the window. Her gaze fell upon the folded newspaper, laying on the oak table where she’d left it moments ago. Look at it, her heart seemed to say. She took up the paper and read the ad a second time.
Wanted: Governess and teacher Her pulse quickened. This could be it. This was something she could do. She’d lived on a ranch since she was six, so that prospect didn’t daunt her. Cattle and horses and cowhands were a part of her history. She certainly knew how to teach. She’d received a wonderful education and had countless things she could share with two young girls. And after living all these years with Maggie’s brood, she knew a thing or two about acting like a governess to children, even if she’d never been employed as one. Yes, this was something she could do. She was sure of it. Did she dare apply for the job?
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