Whirlwind by Cathy Marie Hake

effectively wiping his own nose. Oh well. The pillow slip was just as easy to launder as a handkerchief. Daniel dipped his head. “Remember what Daddy told you? There’s going to be a big noise, and then the ship will move fast.”
    Completely unimpressed, Arthur stuck his thumb in his mouth.
    Daniel refused to take chances with his son. The first time the engines had fired up as they’d prepared to set sail, Arthur had suffered a horrible fright, and Nanny Jenkin hadn’t been there to soothe him. This time, it would be different. Daniel vowed he’d keep possession of his son until the sound of the engines became a welcome lullaby.
    It didn’t take long before Arthur’s eyes grew heavy and his body went lax. Daniel relished simply holding him. The setting sun seemingly lit the water on fire—a display of scarlet, orange, and gold. The wind whipped the tips of some of the waves, and the resulting froth winked silver and gold. Under other circumstances, this time would hold nothing but contentment. As it was, Daniel waited with concern. When the engine started, how would his son respond? In the best of all possibilities, Arthur would sleep through it all.
    About ten minutes later, already weary of the Haxtons’ jaded opinions, Daniel wavered between impatience and pity for the ugliness in their hearts. To move would risk waking Arthur, so he tried to ignore their unpleasant conversation.
    An almost imperceptible vibration began. The deck chair transferred the motion, letting him know the engine was starting. As it had in port, the engine slowly built up power.
    Arthur slept through it all.
    The Haxtons argued about whether the Opportunity ought to combine sail and engine power or to simply rely on the more modern propulsion.
    “What do you say, Clark?”
    Daniel didn’t want to be drawn into their bickering. “I say my son’s in need of his cot.”
    “He ought to have been in it already.” Mrs. Haxton pulled the edges of her fur coat closer. “Keeping him out in the night air was foolish. He’ll likely come down with a chill.”
    “My wife’s right, you know. The nanny ought to—”
    “I made the decision to have my son with me.” Daniel rose carefully, trying not to jar his son. “Good night.”
    The minute he opened the door to the suite, Miss Fairweather hopped up from the table. She whispered, “How is he?”
    “Slept through.”
    She murmured something that sounded like, “Praise God.” The lamp in the nursery burned enough to give safe light, but low enough not to awaken Arthur.
    When Daniel stopped at the cot, he lifted slightly and pressed a kiss on his son’s curls.
    Miss Fairweather carefully eased the blanket away, and he laid his son down. Arthur sleepily rolled over onto his tummy and wiggled until his knees tucked up beneath his chest. Daniel smiled as he laid the blanket over his son.
    Miss Fairweather whispered, “Isn’t it darling how babies like to sleep like that?”
    “Do they?” Daniel whispered.
    She nodded. “By next year, he’ll sprawl like a boneless cat across the bed.” She kissed her fingertip, then pressed the “kiss” on Arthur’s cheek. As soon as she did, she looked away.
    Even in the dim room, Daniel witnessed the faint blush in her cheeks. She always kisses him before she puts him down. I thought it was for him—but it’s not. Her affection for my son is unmistakable. Miss Fairweather reached between the slats and scooted Buddy closer to Arthur.
    Daniel gestured, “After you,” and followed her out of the nursery. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he suspected why. “Miss Fairweather, I’m thankful for your tenderness toward my son. After what happened, he needs to feel safe and treasured.”
    Her shoulders melted. “Arthur’s a very lovable boy. You’re exceedingly blessed.”
    “Indeed. Well, then. I believe I’ll go look at the catalogues.”
    “Mr. Clark—you were asking questions regarding sewing items. If you’d like, I’d be willing to