A Change in Plans
An ATC for "The Foundling"
by Lilyjack
This extra chapter is brought to you by: 52shari, MrsRussellDillon, OhioPL, BetteMaury, Sarah, jarbear17, angelolady and nanajojo. You ladies made my day.
And conversely, please, if you want to write a vitriolic post about this story and actually get it published on this site, you need to do it with a registered account, not send it to me anonymously. This fic is a very imaginative, alternate take on how things might've turned out the way they did. There are no bad guys in this story, only good guys with faults who do things they sometimes shouldn't, like fail to tell their significant other they are in St. Louis and not New Orleans because they need some space to figure out what to do after screwing up badly and getting pregnant. Quint should probably be insisting Kitty contact Matt, but he's not working that angle very hard, is he? This is not a Matt crucifixion fic. Everyone involved is flawed just like in real life. Otherwise, everything would be perfect, and life would get pretty boring. If you don't enjoy this fic, please don't yell at me. Just stop reading. I think we could be spending our time in better ways than becoming upset over fictional characters.
For those of you who are still with me and going with the flow because it's unexpected and exciting with twists and turns, this fic will be a boatload of fun. I believe you can enjoy something a little different without being a traitor, blasphemer, or evil heretic. This is all in fun. Fasten yer seatbelts, Gunsmokers. ~lj
Chapter 13
"Messages"
"I sent another telegram today." Kitty passed the fried potatoes to Quint and resumed cutting her steak, darting a glance at him from below her lashes to gauge his reaction.
"So that's where you were. I thought you two were gone a long time." Quint raised a dark brow at her, then winked. "Not that I was keepin' track or anything."
"Well, I'm not used to a man keepin' track of my daily activities, that's for sure." She rolled her eyes. "Matt's gone so much that I don't even see him for weeks at a time." She dusted biscuit crumbs from her fingers. "Your lumber is scheduled to be delivered next week. I can hardly wait for you to start buildin'."
He picked up the saltshaker. "Me neither. I can't believe the low price you managed to negotiate."
"I turned on all my charms for that old sawmill owner just for you, Quint."
He grinned. "I bet ol' Abe Farnum never knew what hit 'im once you flashed him your beautiful smile."
"Oh, Quint…" She tilted her head as her voice rose a notch. "He was a very nice man."
"Yeah, and he sold you that lumber nearly at a loss." He pointed with his fork. "I think the old codger fell for you hook, line and sinker. Not that I can blame 'im." He winked again and Kitty felt her cheeks flush.
"So…" he continued tentatively. "What news did you send in that telegram? If you don't mind my askin'…"
She kept her eyes on her plate. "Nothin' really." She sighed. "I'm a coward, Quint. I just sent him more of the same. 'Situation unchanged. Staying in New Orleans with cousin.' I hate bein' dishonest." She wiped her mouth with her napkin and draped it carefully back in her lap. "But I still don't know what to do. I'm scared to tell 'im. I really am."
Quint paused, fork midair. "You don't hafta explain to me, Kitty. Things will all work out in the end. There's no hurry." His face was kind, patient.
"Thanks, Quint." She absently traced her finger over the rim of her water glass.
He continued, "There's no need to thank me either. Besides, don't you think I've enjoyed havin' you here with me?"
"I've enjoyed bein' here, Quint. It's…restful." She cast her eyes to the ceiling contemplatively. "It's hard to explain really."
"I understand completely. I think you just needed to get away from that saloon." He laid down his fork. "It's hard work. It can be dangerous work unfortunately."
"Yeah," she smiled. "I believe you do understand."
"I do." He tossed his napkin onto the table. "Say, how did it go with Clay Michaels today? Did he take good care of ya'?"
"Well, yes but…" She narrowed her eyes and looked at Quint thoughtfully.
"But what?"
"Well, Quint, I caught him takin' a snort a coupla times. He carries a flask."
Quint's brows arrowed downward and his jaw tightened.
"Ordinarily, I wouldn't think much about it. Bein' in the business I am and all." She shot him a good-humored smirk. "But I know a drunk when I see one. Bloodshot eyes. The smell a' cheap whiskey. And takin' a nip from a flask time to time isn't a good sign either."
"I had no idea, Kitty." His brow furrowed. "I never woulda sent you with him if I suspected."
"Oh, Quint, he was fine. There weren't any problems, although he barely opened his mouth to say two words to me the whole time. But I just thought, well, bein' a blacksmith can be dangerous, especially if you're drinkin' at work. Red hot metal and coal fires. Isn't that just askin' for trouble?"
"It most certainly is," Quint frowned. "I won't stand for any drinkin' on the job. I'll have a word with…"
"Oh, Quint, don't say anything because a' me. Maybe it was just an off day for him."
"You can't have any off days when you're smithing. Somebody could get seriously hurt."
"I know, but… Just give him another chance, Quint."
Quint's mouth was a hard line. "I don't like it. But I'll just keep an eye on him for now."
"Good. I don't want Clay to…" Kitty stopped mid-sentence at a knock at the front door.
Quint's eyes suddenly lit up. "Hmm…wonder who that could be? Why don't you go check, Kitty?"
She eyed him warily, "Me?"
"Yep." He rose from the table and pulled out her chair, placing his hand on her back. He remarked lightly, "I'll go with ya'."
Her brows crept toward her hairline as she walked a bit nervously with Quint to the front room.
He expansively drew open the door. There stood a stocky man in workmen's clothing, his ruddy face friendly. Tipping his hat, he announced, "Good day to you both…I have a delivery from Crawford & Co." He turned and gestured behind him. There on the porch sat a beautiful white wicker baby carriage.
Kitty's mouth dropped open. "Where on earth…?" She turned to Quint who was quietly beaming. "Quint! Did you do this? Oh, Quint, thank you!" She impulsively threw her arms around his neck and he happily squeezed her right back, winking at the delivery man who turned, smiling, to give them a little privacy.
The amiable Crawford and Co. deliveryman had occasionally been witness to public displays of affection in his job throughout the years, and it never bothered him one bit. He rather enjoyed it, as it invariably reinforced his faith in the goodness and sweetness of his fellow mankind. He cleared his throat, asking, "Would you like me to move it into…?"
Quint shook his head, grinning while digging quickly in his pocket for a coin to hand him. Kitty finally let go of Quint's neck, swiping at the corners of her eyes. Quint explained, "I'll take care of it. Thank you."
"Thank you, Mr. Asper. Mrs. Asper, have a lovely day. And congratulations."
She laughed, sniffling a little. "Thank you!" Holding the door, she watched as Quint steered the baby carriage inside.
"Well, where do you want it?" he asked. "We can store it in the carriage house until…"
Kitty declared, "No, you will not put that out in the carriage house. It's beautiful, Quint. I want it in my room." Suddenly she appeared embarrassed. "I mean…in your room. Quint, I'm sorry for puttin' you out. You need to take back your own room and I can…"
Quint firmly held up a hand. "No, Kitty, that is your room."
"But…"
"No, I mean it." He stepped forward, taking hold of her arms. "I…I wasn't there for Bella, Kitty. But I wanna be here for you. This is important to me."
"Oh, but Quint…"
"Just hear me out. You can stay here for the duration. You can stay as long as you need to." He slid his hands down her arms, clasped her hands to his chest. "For as long as you want. Okay?"
Kitty took a breath. Her head was spinning. Quint was such a kind man. A thoughtful man. She tiptoed and brushed her lips against his cheek. "Okay," she answered and hugged him tightly again.
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Kitty tossed in her bed, the sheets tangling around her. Her back ached, her breasts were sore and tender, and she felt like she needed to get up and use the water closet. Again. Her mind was racing, contemplating, assessing. She realized Quint was trying to right a wrong he felt he'd done to his wife Bella and their unborn child. But she also fully realized what a kind, caring man he was. She believed that he was genuine in his sentiments. Even now, she could feel the warmth, the regard, in his face, in his arms as they embraced her safely.
But how serious was he? How far was he willing to commit? How much of her was he willing to accept? At this point, she was entirely uncertain what her future would bring. And who might be in it…
tbc
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