Come Spring (28 page)

“Let’s put on this new dress,” Annika chatted as she pulled the black satin over Baby’s head, “and then we’ll see about putting on your shoes, too. Would you like that? You haven’t had them on for a long time.”

Baby took to her suggestions immediately, having become accustomed to spending long hours alone with Annika. At first Annika had worried about Buck’s sudden inattention to the child, but then she realized what he was doing. It had become apparent to her the day she had fully recovered that he was purposely stepping out of Baby’s life. And, until three days ago, when she conceived the idea of tonight’s little surprise, Annika hadn’t known how to approach him.

Not that she even had a chance to talk to him before tonight. For two weeks he’d arisen before dawn, set the breakfast out, and was gone before she’d awakened. Ever since her illness he had let her sleep in the big bed with Baby while he remained on the pallet on the floor. He stayed outside until well after dark. Annika thought his lack of proper sleep accounted for his haggard appearance and the dark circles beneath his eyes, but she didn’t know how to approach the subject of trading sleeping arrangements.

Baby shook her out of her reverie. “Buttons on my dress?”

“Yes, honey.” Annika smiled, turning Baby this way and that. Now that the dress was actually on the little girl it looked much better than it had empty. “Those buttons are for you. Do you like the dress?”

Baby nodded, unable to take her eyes off the new gown. She kept running her hands up and down the smooth satin and touching each and every button. “Mine?”

“Yours.” Annika’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of Baby in the elegant creation. Buck Scott could no longer ignore the child or deny his feelings.

“Now,” Annika said, swooping Baby up into her arms and then settling her on a chair beside the fire, “I’m going to comb your hair and tie it up with this piece of satin. Uncle Buck will think you are the prettiest little girl he’s ever seen.”

“Me pretty hair,” Baby agreed.

“Your very pretty hair.” Annika worked quickly, taking care not to pull too hard as she untangled the mass of curls and then tied a wide satin bow atop Baby’s head. The black satin against the golden bouncing curls made a delightful contrast.

Annika gave her a few cutouts to play with at the table while she washed her own face and hands and then combed her hair. She left it long, flowing down her back well past her shoulders, and tied up with a satin band like the one she had made for Baby. She wished she had something new to wear for the occasion, or at least something clean. She’d taken great care to wash out her blouse and hang it by the fire while Buck was outside that day, but there was nothing to be done for her wool suit. She looked in the cracked mirror on the wall and decided that at least she was somewhat more presentable.

Wondering what Buck would think, she felt her face flame with color and turned away from the sight of her face in the mirror. More than once she had silently thanked him for staying away from her for the past few days. Whenever he was around it was hard not to be reminded of the day she had kissed him so spontaneously and of how much she’d wanted him to take her into his arms and kiss her back.

Her reaction to Buck was as much a surprise to herself as it must have been to him, but now that she had faced it, Annika wanted to see it through, to see if there was a magic spark between them that had always been missing between her and Richard. She shook her head as she bent over the stew again, absently giving it a stir. Buck Scott was the last man in the world she would have ever thought she would have been attracted to, but that only served to show that one should not judge by appearances.

He was rough around the edges, crude, mean if crossed, and came from a world she barely knew existed before she had been forced to share it—yet she had come to realize he could also be responsible, caring, sensitive, and beneath his rough exterior, undeniably handsome. She wasn’t certain when she had stopped hating this place, but she guessed it was at the same time she began to care about Buck Scott.

The change had come slowly, one step building on another. She thought of the little things he had done for her since the day he’d so rudely commandeered her off the train—the way he’d given her his gloves on the journey, the way he entrusted Baby to her care, the lessons he’d taught her so that she might keep herself alive in the event anything ever happened to him. When she fell ill he had cared for her with the greatest concern. And even though she still knew little about his past, she suspected he had opened up to her more than he had ever done to anyone else in his life.

Annika took a deep breath and tried to still her growing excitement. What happened between them tonight would be up to him to decide. She would merely set the stage and see how their relationship progressed.

B
UCK
opened the door and stood speechless on the threshold.

“Well, come in before you let in the cold,” Annika called out gaily from where she busied herself before the fire.

The familiar scent of hearty stew filled the air. His mouth watered instantly. Buck avoided looking at Annika as he closed the door, but even with the one quick glance he had spared her, he became aware of the new way she'd combed her hair and the jaunty black bow holding back her shining hair.

He forced himself to think when she began walking toward him, her radiant smile beaming.

“Let me take your coat.”

Before he knew it, he'd slipped his arms out of the sleeves and had handed his heavy jacket to her. She stood on tiptoe as she hung it on the peg beside the door. Her own chocolate wool jacket was open revealing the stark white front of her fitted blouse. He was all too aware of the way the crisp fabric hugged her full breasts.

When Buck realized his hands were shaking, he shoved them into his pockets. “Smells good in here,” he managed to say.

She turned to him and gave him that smile again. “Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled secretively.

Wondering what she was up to, he forced himself to stop staring and took in the room instead. The table was already set for all of them and at one end, Baby sat playing with some bits of paper. He stared, long and hard, at the shining black dress she wore.

“Do you like it?”

He nearly came out of his skin, starting visibly when Annika spoke. She was still standing beside him. He paced around the table until he stood beside Baby. “Where'd she get it?” Buck reached out and gingerly felt the silky material between his rough fingers.

Annika swelled with pride. “I made it.”

Knowing how ill at ease she was with a needle, he appreciated her efforts all the more.

“Stand up and show Uncle Buck your new dress,” Annika said to Baby.

The child held out her arms to Annika and Buck watched as the woman picked up Baby and stood her on the floor. Baby twirled and preened and then flew to Buck, hugging him about the knees and burying her face against him. He reached down and scooped her up, then held her against him while he admired the satin dress. He touched the row of buttons and looked over at Annika.

“These are yours,” he reminded her unnecessarily, wondering at her use of them.

Her sky blue eyes shadowed. “Baby loves them so; I thought she should have a few. If you save them, you can use them for a dowry when she grows up.”

He felt a stab of pain at the mention of Baby growing up, swift but cutting, for he knew she would not be around for him to watch her grow. He set the little girl on the floor again.

Annika turned back to the hearth. It was a moment before she said, “I have some stew all made and some biscuits, and you won’t believe it, but I even tried to bake some apples. It’s not a pie, but...” She shrugged.

He watched her as she hovered over the fire, stirring, sniffing, sampling.

“Why?” The word was out before he realized he’d said it.

“Why what?” She turned to face him again. Her cheeks were red, but he wasn’t certain if the color was from the fire or embarrassment.

“Why are you doing this?”

She planted her hands at her waist and frowned. “Can’t I help out if I want to?”

He pointed to Baby. “But the dress, the dinner. Why all of a sudden?”

She stepped away from the fire and came to stand before him. Buck felt himself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He took a step back.

Her voice was low, warm as melted butter. It played up and down his spine. “I just wanted to do something for you because you’ve been working so hard lately, and I thought we should celebrate Baby’s recovery. I decided to save the dress for a surprise and I planned this little dinner party.”

He knew he was frowning, but he couldn’t help it. She was standing so damn close, smelling so clean, so womanly, and looking so pleased that it was all he could do to keep himself from reaching out for her.

Then he heard her whisper, “Please don’t ruin it.”

Shaking off his dark feelings, Buck tried to smile. “Give me a minute to wash up.”

“Go ahead. I’ll dish up.”

Walking to the basin he was thankful for the reprieve. As he poured water from an earthenware jug into the enamel washbowl, Buck tried to corral his racing thoughts. There was no way he could turn tail and run outside as he had for the past two weeks, not with Annika waiting for him to acknowledge her efforts and join the celebration. He closed his eyes as he splashed water over his face and neck and called on all the strength of will he possessed to see him through the next few hours.

A
NNIKA
cleared away the last of the dishes and stacked them on the kitchen bench. She left Buck dwelling over a cup of coffee with Baby happily ensconced on his lap as she showed him the paper dolls and the many articles of clothing the pages of Sears and Roebuck had so generously provided them. She had sensed Buck’s unease throughout the first few minutes of the meal, but the longer Baby was her endearing self, preening and tossing her curls as she admired her new dress, and the more Annika ignored his discomfort, the sooner he forgot himself and began to relax with them.

He had even complimented her on the meal. The stew, which he had taught her to make step-by-step, had been delicious. The biscuits, although she thought she had done everything she had observed over the past weeks, were as hard as bullets. And the dessert—she poured hot water in the washbasin and then slipped the dishes in one by one—well, the baked apples had only been half baked but edible.

Unwilling to let the mood slide back to what it had been before they sat down to eat, Annika turned away from the soaking dishes, dried her hands on the dish towel, and then joined Buck and Baby at the table.

“Now for the festivities.”

He looked at her skeptically, one of his golden brows arched in question. “Festivities?”

She nodded. “At home whenever we have a dinner party we all gather in the parlor after dinner and sing songs, tell stories, and pop popcorn. I thought the least we could do was tell stories.”

The life she described sounded idyllic, like a scene out of a storybook. As Buck watched the golden girl sitting across from him speak of home with such a glow in her eyes, the more he became determined to see that Baby would have just such a chance at that kind of life.

“What do you think?” She was watching him closely.

“I don’t know any stories.”

“Oh, pooh.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Pooh? Pretty strong language, Miss Storm.”

“You must know one or two stories. Didn’t your mother ever tell you any?”

“Not that I can remember. She was a midwife who traveled all over the hills from house to house whenever she was called. When she was home there was the three of us to care for and my father to wait on. She never had time.”

Uncertain how to react to his statement, she changed the subject. “Then let’s sing.”

“I don’t know any songs.”

“You’re lying.”

“What if I am?”

“Don’t you know how to have fun?”

“What for?”

Frustrated, she put her arms on the table and leaned toward him. “Life isn’t all drudgery, Buck Scott.”

“You can’t prove it by me.”

Annika sighed and tried to keep her spirits up. Just when she was about to give up, Buck stood up. He put Baby down on his chair and began to walk away from the table.

Surely he wouldn’t just walk out tonight as he had every night for the past two weeks? Annika couldn’t believe that even he could be so unfeeling. “Are you going out?”

He heard the disappointment in her voice and shook his head to reassure her. “Just lookin’ for something.” He stepped up on the hearth and began to shuffle the tins and crocks that lined the mantel. Finally, he took one from the back row and shook it, opened it, and peered inside.

He walked back to Annika and presented the tin to her.

She peered inside and then smiled up at him. “Popcorn!”

“There’s not much, but the bugs never found it, so we might as well have it.”

“Oh, Buck! This is a wonderful addition to the party.”

She held the tin of popcorn to her breast as if he had given her the greatest of treasures.

He was beginning to think that the isolation and the four walls of the cabin were beginning to get to her mind. How else could so humble an offering make anyone so happy?

Annika hurried to pour oil in the Dutch oven and then sprinkled in some popcorn, thankful that Buck was beginning to come around. A moment ago she thought he’d been ready to walk out the door, but now he was holding Baby on his lap again as he talked to the child about each of the cutout figures on the table before them.

He looked up and smiled at her over Baby’s head and Annika felt her heart sing with joy.

It was a beginning.

“B
ABY
and I have been talking lately,” Annika began, watching Buck intently, “and I think that our celebration tonight is the perfect time for her to choose a real name.” She tried to hold back her enthusiasm, but felt it bubbling over as she tried to explain her thoughts of the past few days. “It’s as if she’s starting her life over again the way she came back to us after the accident, so I think it would be appropriate for her to choose a real name. What do you think?”