Baby Kisses (17 page)

He lifted the book from her hands and gently opened the hardbound cover. He read the words on the cover page,

A Christmas gift for my precious daughter, Annabelle, from your loving Mother, in The Year of Our Lord, 1863.

Tooty gasped!

Miles turned to the back of the book. "There's nothing on the back page." He returned to the cover page and began turning pages, one by one. After several, he stopped and pointed to a letter that had been circled with a pen. A few pages later, another letter was circled. Throughout the remainder of the book, letters and sometimes a number in a page number had been circled.

Tooty grabbed a pencil and pad and wrote down the letters and numbers he called out. After he closed the book she repeated what she'd written:

K T G Y E E and 1 1 1 1

Miles grinned. "I think we have a scramblegram."

Tooty giggled, "This is fun. Let's see what words we can make." She handed Miles a pad and pencil.

After a few minutes, he said, "I think I've got it."

"Oh, tell me! Tell me!"

"Get Key."

Tooty looked at his notepad that he'd turned toward her.

 "Yes, that has to be it. But where is the key and what do the numbers mean?"

"Have you found any keys in drawers or anywhere in the house?"

"Not that I remember."

"You know, a key and numbers can be associated with a safe deposit box."

"But who would have the key?"

They looked at each other and then said in unison, "The attorney."

Tooty barely slept. The next morning at precisely nine o'clock she called Beatrice's attorney, introducing herself as Tooty Townsend to the receptionist so as not to confuse them.

The attorney immediately took her call. "Good morning, Mrs. Brightman. Let me offer my congratulations on your marriage."

"Thank you. How did you know?"

He chuckled, "I'm a great fan of Maxwell Henry." He cleared his throat. "The umm newspaper at the grocery checkout first alerted me. I don't condone those kinds of papers, but that's how I found out. How may I help you?"

Tooty laughed. At least they only called me a bumpkin and not an alien from a distant planet. But, to get back to the reason for my call
—
in Beatrice's last letter, she said there would be no more correspondence, but did she happen to leave a key to be given to me if I inquired about one?"

"How delightful you've discovered its presence! Yes, I have the key. She told me I was to give it to you in ten years, if you didn't ask for it sooner. It opens a safe deposit box at a Denver bank. I don't know the contents. Would you like me to overnight the key or would you prefer to pick it up?"

* * *

Tooty and Miles entered Bank of the Wild West and walked to the help desk. After explaining who she was and showing her key, the clerk pulled paperwork and asked for her ID. Then she asked Tooty to punch in the password on a keypad. Holding her breath, she keyed in 1111. The clerk watched her computer screen, and said, "Please follow me." She pressed a buzzer and only allowed Tooty to enter the safe deposit boxes vault.

Miles smiled encouragingly. "Go find your treasure, honey."

Tooty said, "I'm looking at him."

Inside the vault, the clerk pulled a box about two feet square and set it on a tall table before leaving Tooty alone. Tooty stared at the box, blinking back tears. Slowly, she placed her key in the slot and turned. It clicked. With trembling hands she lifted the lid and gasped. Ever so carefully she reached to remove the carving of Annabelle, Eli, and their five children. The exquisite detail portrayed unmistakable expressions of joy on Annabelle's face, love on Eli's, and the differing personalities of their children. Lovingly, her fingertips traced Annabelle's form and Eli in his wheelchair. Lifting the carving she read the words etched beneath, "I would do it all again for the gift of Annabelle."

Tooty stifled a sob and reached for the paper at the bottom of the box. It was the ancestry chart. Across the bottom, Beatrice had written,

Some stories are meant to be told. By whatever means possible, tell their story, Tooty.

"Okay, Mrs. Brightman, it's time for another big push. The baby's head has crowned."

"Arwwwwwggg," Tooty gripped Miles' hands and pushed as hard as she could. After the contraction, she said with conviction, "You knocked me up again, Miles. No more. I swear your kisses make babies."

He patted her hand, "I know, honey, I know."

She yelled, "Here it comes again! Aaahhhowwww."

Two hours later, Tooty and Miles gazed lovingly at their fourth son. She said, "Can you believe Austin was born on the same day
The Gift
hits the market. This day is a celebration of life. Our baby's birth and Annabelle and Eli's story breathed into eternity.

 Miles ran a finger down his baby's cheek and then lifted it to caress his wife's cheek.

She looked lovingly into his eyes. "Miles, what I said about not getting knocked up again, I didn't mean it. In a couple of years, we still need to try for our girl."

Miles smiled slow and sexy, "I'd love to give you some baby kisses, sweetheart."

I hope you enjoyed the dual love stories in
Baby Kisses.
I am a hopeless romantic for whom there is no cure. I may write another "Kisses" book in the future, but I'm not sure who the heroine should be
—
maybe Miles' sister, Cecelia or Sarah's sister, Libby?

For my next western romance, I have decided to write a story that takes place during the late 1800s. I've always found the practice of finding your spouse through "mail order" during that era to be quite fascinating. Of course, this storyline has been written numerous times, but that fact has not quenched my desire to write Abby and Brant Samson's love story.

My heroine, Abigail Mary Vaughn, is a thirty-eight year old school teacher who finds herself alone in the world after the death of her parents. Since her heart's desire has always been to have a family of her own, but life's circumstances have kept her from fulfilling that dream, she is now considered an old maid. Nowadays, her subsequent actions would be termed a mid-life crisis when boredom and loneliness motivate her to do something absolutely, unbelievably crazy—answer an ad by a rancher seeking a wife and mother for his three children.

Please continue reading for an excerpt.

Abby: Mail Order Bride
Chapter 1:  Courage or Folly?

Abigail picked up the newspaper advertisement for the hundredth time, read it again, reread it, and tossed it back on the desk in her library. Smoothing her hand over the sides of her auburn hair and the bun at the nape of her neck, she pushed her chair back and walked from the library to the parlor. Pacing the length of the lovely room, she stopped occasionally to straighten a vase or lift a family photo, all the while contemplating something so crazy it made her heart pound.

After an hour, she squared her shoulders, returned to the library, sat at her desk, slipped a piece of stationary from the drawer, reached for her ink quill, and wrote:

March 18, 1870

Dear Mr. Samson,

I am writing to introduce myself. My name is Abigail Mary Vaughn and I read your classified advertisement in the Philadelphia Gazette seeking a wife to help raise your three children. I would like for you to consider me. By trade, I am a teacher and that would benefit your children.

I have never been married and I am thirty-eight years old. I have lived in Philadelphia all my life and taught school for the past eighteen years. I am an only child and my parents died a year ago. I have no responsibilities keeping me here. I have always desired my own family, but circumstances of caring for my elderly parents prevented that.

I do not believe in withholding information, so I have been candid in my response to your advertisement. I hope to hear from you.

—
Miss Abigail Mary Vaughn

Before she could react and change her mind, Abigail enclosed the letter in an envelope and asked Harry, her old servant, to walk it to the post office not far from her home near the city's center.

* * *

Brant removed his cowboy hat and ran a hand through hair as black as coal. A dust whirl captured his attention and he silently prayed for a spring rain to clear the air. Pausing in front of the blacksmith's where he'd just gotten his horse shod, he heard his daughter calling from Clyde Jenkins General Store across the street. Clyde was also the postmaster for the dusty town of Two Rivers. She held her baby brother in one arm and waved letters in the other. "Hey Pa, you got more mail. Maybe you'll find us a Ma in this bunch."

Brant paused while a buckboard pulled by a swayback horse rambled past. He waved at old Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass and then crossed to the warped planks that ran in front of a dozen businesses. "Jenny, did you give Mr. Jenkins that list of staples so we can pick them up next trip to town?"

"Sure did." She shifted two year old Ty to her other hip. "One of the letters came all the way from Philadelphia."

"I'll read them tonight. Where's Luke?"

"He's still talking to Mr. Jenkins about ordering some more dime novels."

Brant bent and kissed his baby's forehead. "Well, run in and tell him it's time to go while I bring the buckboard around. We've got chores to finish up."

"Sure, Pa."

Several minutes after Brant had the wagon in front of the store, his fourteen year old son sauntered out. Inhaling a calming breath, Brant said, "It's nice you could join us, Luke. I'd sure like to get home before nightfall. If not, you'll be mucking the barn in the dark."

With a sullen look, Luke hopped onto the back of the wagon and sat on a sack of grain. Jenny snickered and Ty scrambled to sit on his big brother's lap. Brant flicked the reins. "Giddy-up."

After a long evening of chores, Brant finally collapsed into his favorite chair and propped his feet on the hearth. He could hear Jenny telling Ty a bedtime story in the room she shared with her baby brother. No doubt Luke was in the loft devouring another cheap novel.

Leaning his head back, he surveyed his cabin. Besides his bedroom and Jenny's room, there was an additional bedroom that his mail order bride would stay in until they got to know each other. His plan to marry scared the daylights out of him, but he was dead set to find a ma for his children. He closed his eyes and saw Molly's laughing face. God, he missed her. How he'd loved her. His eyes stung and he opened them again, glancing around the large combined living, dining, and cooking area that still held her touch in the faded curtains and small knickknacks. Although modest, the cabin was sturdily built from the labor of his own hands.

Unable to put it off any longer, he unfolded his lanky frame and reached for the letters he'd tossed on the mantel. Sighing, he read more responses to his advertisement. Damn, but the thought of marrying someone met through a newspaper ad irked him. However, his children needed a mother. Jenny did the best she could caring for Ty, but she was only ten years old. Guilt plagued him at the responsibility that had been forced on her. As for Luke, Brant hadn't been able to bond with his son since Molly's death, and now the boy lost himself in dime novels. And Ty, his baby, God help him, needed a mother's care.