to save after Charlotte died trying to give birth filled his mind. He bit back a groan, fought the wave of guilt that flooded his heart. All of his knowledge, all of his skill and talent as a doctor, all of his desperate prayers, had not been enough. His tiny son had never taken a breath or opened his eyes. Charlotte, Charlotte darling, forgive me.
He sucked cold night air through his clenched teeth, forced his lungs to accept it. It wasn’t worth it. No amount of money was worth this agony of guilt and pain. He would go to John Ferndale tomorrow and sign over his shop and house, then leave Whisper Creek on the next train. He would find employment somewhere and—No. That was no longer an option.
He jammed his hand into his suit pocket and fingered the folded letter with the shaky handwriting on the back. I, therefore, give Mr. Trace Warren full custody of my baby... There was no way out. He couldn’t just walk away. He was trapped by his own cleverness in trying to save his shop and house and build a facsimile of a normal life.
He halted, stared at the church looming out of the darkness before them. “Here we are, Miss Fleming.” He squared his shoulders, looked at her standing there holding the baby with the golden light from the window falling on them. He pulled in a breath. “I truly appreciate what you are doing to help the baby. I give you my word, I will find another solution to my problem as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you. I shall hold you to our arrangement, Mr. Warren.”
“Trace.”
There was a small catch of her breath in the silence. “Trace...”
He escorted her across the small stoop, his boots echoing on the wood planks.
The train chugged off down the valley.
He opened the door, tightened his grip on her elbow and they walked into the church.
The horse’s hoofs thudded against the packed dirt. Katherine tucked the blanket close about the baby and listened to the rumble of the buggy wheels, the sound of water rippling over rocks in the creek that flowed alongside the road—anything to keep her from thinking about what she’d done.
A large house with a turret loomed out of the darkness, the white paint glowing in the moonlight. She stared, surprised at the size and style of it. “What a lovely home.” She glanced sidewise at Trace, sitting on the seat beside her. “It looks...a bit out of place out here in the wild.”
He nodded, urged the horse forward. “That is the Ferndale home. John Ferndale is the town founder.” He glanced her way. “He owns this valley. And he wants Whisper Creek to be a village patterned after the towns back east.” He faced forward again. “The Ferndales are older, but I believe you will find his wife pleasant.”
Mr. Ferndale—the man who held his contract. Was that a subtle warning? “I’m sure I will.” Cold air swept across the road, chilled her face and neck and sent a shiver down her spine despite the snug velvet collar on her gray tweed coat.
“We’re almost there.”
The buggy rocked over a rut. She tightened her hold on the baby, braced herself with her feet and peered into the growing darkness. A short distance ahead, the dark form of a building stood in front of the towering pines at the foot of the mountains that embraced the valley. Judging by the shape, it had to be some sort of outbuilding. “Is that your stable?”
“No. That is my house.”
She squinted to bring the lines of the building into sharper focus against the trees and made out what looked like a porch wrapped around the strange building. She stared at the yellow blurs that took the form of windows as they neared. It was...different. She looked over at Trace Warren.
“It’s an octagonal house.”
“I’ve never seen such a house.” She faced front again, studied it as they approached. “It’s odd—but very attractive.”
“And most efficient. A few years ago I made a hou—I had occasion to pay a visit to a man who owned one. It was an exceptionally hot day in August, and the man’s house was pleasantly cool. I decided then and there, if the opportunity arose, I would build one.” He halted the horse.
A small man wearing the hat and tunic of a Chinese laborer stepped out of the shadow of a large tree and gripped the cheek strap of the mare.
“This is Ah Key. He is going with me to the station for your trunks.” Trace Warren stepped down from the buggy, grabbed the baby’s valise, came around to her side and held up his hand.
She acknowledged Ah Key’s polite bow with a smile and a dip of her head then cradled the baby close, placed her hand in Trace’s and stepped down. He helped her up the three steps to the wraparound porch and opened the door.
The entrance was triangular with a black-and-white tile floor. A table with an oil lamp and a silver tray stood beside an open doorway in the short wall on the left. The room beyond appeared to be the sitting room. The doorway on her right was dark.
“Would you like to tour the downstairs, Katherine? Or would you rather go upstairs to the baby’s bedroom and yours?”
Her need to be alone was stronger than her curiosity. She looked down at the sleeping baby. “I think it would be best if I go upstairs and put the baby to bed.”
“Do you need me to carry him up the stairs for you?”
Her arms tightened on the bundle in her arms. “No, thank you. I can manage.”
He nodded and motioned her through a doorway into a center hall with a beautiful stairway. “The kitchen is through that doorway straight ahead.”
She glanced into the kitchen, then gripped the banister with her free hand and started up the stairs to a landing, turned and climbed to a second landing. The carpet runner was soft beneath her feet and quieted his footsteps behind her, but nothing could dull her awareness of his presence.
“We’ll turn right and walk down the hall when we reach the top.”
If she reached the top. The trembling in her legs was getting worse. She wanted to turn and run back down the stairs and all the way to the train station. She looked down at the baby and finished climbing the stairs. Pewter wall sconces lit a long hallway.
“That is my bedroom.”
She glanced at the closed door and continued walking, turned right into a connecting hall, her heart pounding.
“That door straight ahead opens into your bedroom. This smaller room on the left is for the baby. A dressing room joins them.”
He opened the door and she stepped into the baby’s room, stopped and stared. “It’s beautiful!”
“I tried to prepare as best I could for the infant. I take it from your surprise you were expecting...less.” He frowned and set the baby’s valise down on the floor.
“I wasn’t expecting anything, Mr. Warren.” She squared her shoulders as best she could and looked at him. “I’ve only been responsible for this baby since this morning.”
He
