dying.
Kate shook her head. “I can’t. I won’t … because you are going to get well.”
“There’s no reason for you to give up your dream. Hire a nanny or have Myra care for the children while you work. It’s enough to know you’ll still be there to guide them, to help them.”
Kate had told Amelie of her studies, of the influence Patrick Delany had had on her.
“It’s not that. Never that.” Kate reminded herself not to squeeze Amelie’s hand and cause her pain. “I simply refuse to let you go.”
Kate stood up again and paced over to the marble-topped washstand. She dipped a washcloth in a basin of water, twisted the water out, and went back to wipe Amelie’s brow.
Amelie closed her eyes. “Please don’t refuse me this.” A smile touched her lips. “I know how hardheaded you are, Kate. My father used to call you a stubborn Irish lass.”
“You’re half Irish yourself,” Kate reminded her. “Use that stubbornness to fight this, Amelie. If not for me, for the children.”
“It’s only sheer will that has kept me here this long.” She coughed again, taking the washcloth from Kate and daubing at her mouth. Rust-colored stains seeped into the fabric. “You were an orphan, Kate. Would you subject little Marie and Damian to that fate?”
The memory of the orphan asylum in New Orleans came back with a fierce swiftness — the sound of children who had lost their mothers crying themselves to sleep at night; her confusion over wondering where her older sisters had been taken. Kate had even begged the plump woman in the ruffled poke bonnet and the older gentleman who had adopted Sarah to take them both.
She could only imagine how she must have looked with her round, frightened eyes misting behind the new spectacles the nuns had given her, pleading with the strangers to take her too. She swore to them she barely ate anything and promised she would give them no trouble if they would just
please
take her with Sarah.
But Sarah went off alone and Kate was there for months until the Keenes adopted her. Gil and Nola were not loving parents, but they made certain she had a roof over her head and everything money could buy. They had kept her safe and saw to her future, and for that she would be forever grateful.
A motherless child was a crime against humanity. Never, ever would she submit Marie and Damian to an orphanage, never would she turn her back on them. But to agree to Amelie’s plea was an admission of defeat. She couldn’t do it.
Amelie’s warm hand closed around Kate’s.
“Please, Kate. You’re breaking my heart. I need you to promise to do this for me. It’s the only thing I need or want. Please.”
Amelie started crying such deep, wracking sobs that Kate wrapped her arms around her.
“Hush, now. I’m so sorry.” She held her for a moment and then settled her friend against the pillows. “If what you want is a promise that I will care for your children, of course, I give it gladly. But someday we’ll both be old women together and the children will be grown with families of their own. You’ll see.”
Amelie managed a weak smile.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she wiped away tears.
Kate, distracted by movement in the doorway, looked up expecting to see Eugenie with another dose of medicine. Instead, she was shocked at the sight of Colin leaning against the door frame.
Seeing him there was exactly what she wanted, but the cost had been dear. His face was drained of color, his brow glistened with perspiration. His pain was mirrored in his dark eyes. White knuckled, he clutched his cane in one hand. In the other, he carried a book. He fought to stand tall, to hide his agony, and he even attempted a slow smile for Amelie.
Kate was tempted to rush to his aid and usher him to a chair, but stayed where she was to avoid causing him any embarrassment.
How much had he heard?
When Amelie saw him, she gasped and clutched Kate’s hand.
“Colin—”
At the rasp of his
Kate shook her head. “I can’t. I won’t … because you are going to get well.”
“There’s no reason for you to give up your dream. Hire a nanny or have Myra care for the children while you work. It’s enough to know you’ll still be there to guide them, to help them.”
Kate had told Amelie of her studies, of the influence Patrick Delany had had on her.
“It’s not that. Never that.” Kate reminded herself not to squeeze Amelie’s hand and cause her pain. “I simply refuse to let you go.”
Kate stood up again and paced over to the marble-topped washstand. She dipped a washcloth in a basin of water, twisted the water out, and went back to wipe Amelie’s brow.
Amelie closed her eyes. “Please don’t refuse me this.” A smile touched her lips. “I know how hardheaded you are, Kate. My father used to call you a stubborn Irish lass.”
“You’re half Irish yourself,” Kate reminded her. “Use that stubbornness to fight this, Amelie. If not for me, for the children.”
“It’s only sheer will that has kept me here this long.” She coughed again, taking the washcloth from Kate and daubing at her mouth. Rust-colored stains seeped into the fabric. “You were an orphan, Kate. Would you subject little Marie and Damian to that fate?”
The memory of the orphan asylum in New Orleans came back with a fierce swiftness — the sound of children who had lost their mothers crying themselves to sleep at night; her confusion over wondering where her older sisters had been taken. Kate had even begged the plump woman in the ruffled poke bonnet and the older gentleman who had adopted Sarah to take them both.
She could only imagine how she must have looked with her round, frightened eyes misting behind the new spectacles the nuns had given her, pleading with the strangers to take her too. She swore to them she barely ate anything and promised she would give them no trouble if they would just
please
take her with Sarah.
But Sarah went off alone and Kate was there for months until the Keenes adopted her. Gil and Nola were not loving parents, but they made certain she had a roof over her head and everything money could buy. They had kept her safe and saw to her future, and for that she would be forever grateful.
A motherless child was a crime against humanity. Never, ever would she submit Marie and Damian to an orphanage, never would she turn her back on them. But to agree to Amelie’s plea was an admission of defeat. She couldn’t do it.
Amelie’s warm hand closed around Kate’s.
“Please, Kate. You’re breaking my heart. I need you to promise to do this for me. It’s the only thing I need or want. Please.”
Amelie started crying such deep, wracking sobs that Kate wrapped her arms around her.
“Hush, now. I’m so sorry.” She held her for a moment and then settled her friend against the pillows. “If what you want is a promise that I will care for your children, of course, I give it gladly. But someday we’ll both be old women together and the children will be grown with families of their own. You’ll see.”
Amelie managed a weak smile.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she wiped away tears.
Kate, distracted by movement in the doorway, looked up expecting to see Eugenie with another dose of medicine. Instead, she was shocked at the sight of Colin leaning against the door frame.
Seeing him there was exactly what she wanted, but the cost had been dear. His face was drained of color, his brow glistened with perspiration. His pain was mirrored in his dark eyes. White knuckled, he clutched his cane in one hand. In the other, he carried a book. He fought to stand tall, to hide his agony, and he even attempted a slow smile for Amelie.
Kate was tempted to rush to his aid and usher him to a chair, but stayed where she was to avoid causing him any embarrassment.
How much had he heard?
When Amelie saw him, she gasped and clutched Kate’s hand.
“Colin—”
At the rasp of his
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