Dorothy Garlock by Homeplace Read Free Book Online

promise me that if I . . . if I die you’ll let Mama have my baby.”
    Ana wanted to smash her fist into the face of the big, silent man. Why didn’t he say the words that would bring comfort to the girl whose life he had ruined? Why was he sitting there like a big stump? Damn him! Holding the child in her arms, Ana bent over her stepdaughter.
    “Don’t worry, honey. You’re going to be all right, but if not, I’ll move heaven and earth before I leave your baby here. You know how stubborn your mama can be when she sets her mind. I promise that your baby will have all the love my heart has to give. Now you’ve got to rest. Sleep is what you need. Your son will be hungry soon.”
    Ana forced her voice to stay firm until she finished, but she never felt more like crying in her life. A desperate feeling of loneliness possessed her—a loneliness that would be her future without Harriet.
    Harriet’s eyes, glazed with tears and exhaustion, went from Ana’s face to Owen’s. It was all she could do to keep her eyelids from drooping over them.
    “Owen? You know how it is here. I’d rather my child be dead than to have the spirit crushed out of him. Promise you’ll let Mama have him or I’ll pray with my last breath that God takes him.” Her voice had lowered to a painful whisper and her eyes were dull and staring.
    “Rest easy, little girl.” Owen was holding one of Harriet’s hands in both of his. “Mrs. Fairfax and I will work out something so she can look after the boy.”
    “Thank you,” she whispered. “Mama, I love . . . you—”
    “I love you too, honey. Can you rest now?”
    Ana turned away lest Harriet see the tears in her own eyes and the worry on her face.
    “I don’t want to go to sleep. Soon I’ll be sleeping for a long, long . . . time.” Her voice faded, then came back stronger. “Owen! Tell him . . . I love him—” Her lids drooped over her eyes as if they were too heavy to hold up.
    Owen lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ll tell him,” he whispered huskily.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Harriet was dying.
    Owen knew it. Ana knew it. She had never felt so helpless in all her life. She sat in a chair beside the bed as the lifeblood slowly drained from the girl. Ana thought of the first time she had seen her—a toddler taking her first steps. A child herself, Ana had knelt on the floor and held out her arms. The trusting, chubby little cherub had staggered into them, confident that Ana wouldn’t let her fall. In the joy of her accomplishment she had placed wet kisses on Ana’s cheek. From that moment on she had been Ana’s child. Ana slept with her, fed her, tended to her while her grandmother did the work.
    Her anguish too deep for tears, Ana held Harriet’s hand throughout the long night hours. She was losing the dearest thing she had in the world. She wanted to rage at the injustice of it and at the man responsible. If he had needed a woman, why hadn’t he gone to one of the establishments up and down the river and paid his money for his pleasure. Instead he had seduced a young, innocent girl and brought her to this.
    The baby lay in a bureau drawer that had been lined with blankets. Ana had dressed it in one of the gowns she brought with her and wrapped it in a soft blanket. She picked it up, brought it to the bed and laid it in the crook of Harriet’s arm. He was a big baby. Ana guessed that he weighed well over eight pounds. It’s no wonder the baby was so big, Ana thought bitterly. The father was a big, powerfully-built man. It took all of Ana’s self-control to keep her anger at bay and to be civil to Owen Jamison.
    He came in, set a cup of coffee on the table within Ana’s reach, and took his place on the other side of the bed. He hadn’t said anything for hours. Occasionally Ana caught him massaging his thigh when he thought she wasn’t watching him. She would have rather kept the vigil alone, but the man was Harriet’s husband and he had just as much right to be here