A Change in Plans
An ATC for "The Foundling"
by Lilyjack
Chapter 41
"First Noel"
Posting this extra little chapter tonight for Bette Maury. 😉
A warm fire crackled soothingly from the hearth as Kitty relaxed on a velvet settee nursing her baby girl. Mo lay softly snoring on his side, his dark head resting on Kitty's foot. Occasionally, the dog pumped his legs slowly, apparently chasing squirrels in his dreams. Kitty's own eyelids mutinously fluttered shut after indulging in a rich Christmas dinner of baked ham with cloves, candied sweet potatoes, and pecan pie. Over in the corner, flickering candles dotted the fragrant balsam pine that Kitty and Violet had decorated just yesterday. It was laden with strings of cranberries, painted glass ornaments, and small colorful birds decorated with real feathers they'd purchased on a quick shopping trip to bustling Franklin Avenue. The comforts of home combined with a lack of sleep born of feeding a hungry infant every three or four hours was more than enough to begin lulling the tired new mother to sleep.
Kitty didn't make a habit of nursing her newborn downstairs in the sitting room, but it was already dark outside, and she and Quint weren't expecting company, especially at this late hour. Even their housekeeper Violet had gone for the day. She'd stayed late, happily sharing the Christmas dinner she'd helped cook with her new employer. After they presented her with a generous Christmas bonus, she bade them a fond farewell and headed home.
Kitty had invited Violet to stay for dinner after discovering the elderly servant had no relatives living nearby with whom to celebrate the holidays. Violet's late employer had actually been the closest thing she had to family. Then Kitty found that the forthright and stalwart Violet harbored a secret sorrow. The older woman had revealed it to Kitty fairly quickly in their budding relationship, due to the former saloon owner's uncanny ability to listen, intuit, inspire confidence, and ultimately draw out even the most reticent of humankind.
Violet's employment with the Aspers had been a stroke of good luck for the newlyweds, for Violet was a veritable fount of knowledge regarding the care of babies and efficient running of a household, that much was sure. Kitty reckoned her neighbor Lottie was indeed helpful as well, but it was mighty convenient having the comforting presence of the savvy Violet in Kitty's own home for at least a portion of nearly every day.
Admiring the older woman's expertise earlier in the week, Kitty had inquired as to whether Violet had any children of her own. The unfortunate answer had grieved Kitty, made her hold little Lucy tighter as she rocked the child in her arms, kissing her soft, pink cheek tenderly.
"Yes, my dear, I did have a daughter, once upon a time."
Kitty had gazed at her inquiringly with great concern, and Violet Dowdy's voice had trembled. "A woman never gets over losing a child, for sure and certain. My dear Mr. Dowdy and I lost a beautiful little girl to the measles when she was but four-years-old." Violet's eyes had held a faraway look as she folded and put away Baby Lucy's laundry. "My little girl had golden curls and brown eyes, and she sucked her thumb, especially when she was tired."
Kitty's brows had drawn together even as her heart constricted tightly in sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Violet. That must've been a terrible loss for you and your husband."
"It was, Miss Kitty. It nearly tore me to pieces." But then Violet straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath, declaring, "It makes a body appreciate life, what you have, who you have…and makes each day more precious."
Kitty had watched as Violet resumed folding her laundry, reckoning nearly everyone had a secret sorrow buried somewhere inside. Why, when people looked at Kitty, they'd never dream of some of the things she'd endured, events that made her shudder even now if her mind strayed to dark days, violent times. Violet was right…those hard times made you appreciate the good ones a hundredfold more.
Kitty had planned on laying little Lucy down for a nap after feeding her, but Kitty found she needed to hold her tiny girl longer, watch her little chest rise and fall with each breath. Kitty needed to touch her lips to Lucy's downy, red gold wisps of hair and inhale her sweet, baby soft scent. It all made Kitty's heart squeeze in her chest with the bittersweetness of life.
And now it was Christmas, and Kitty wanted so badly to stay awake and soak it all in, to store up these memories in her mind and in her heart. She sat up straighter and took a deep breath, blinking her heavy eyelids. Her movements caused Lucy to stir from her eager suckling, a tiny mewl escaping her miniature rosebud mouth, a grimace overtaking her delicate features. "Shhh…" Kitty soothed, helping the baby to latch back onto her breast. "I'm sorry, little sugarplum." The child's blue eyes locked with Kitty's, so small, so trusting.
Kitty's fingers lightly traced over Lucy's beautiful, smocked gown with embroidered rosettes and satin ribbon. Quint had purchased it on their first trip to the Dry Goods Palace while they shopped for dresses to fit Kitty's burgeoning figure.
At the memory, she cut her eyes up at Quint who sat relaxing in an armchair near the fire, contentedly watching Kitty feed the baby. He smoked a smooth, polished beechwood pipe, dark and elegant. It was a Christmas gift from Kitty along with a tin of fancy tobacco, its spicy yet sweet scent wafting pleasantly in the air.
Until just a short time ago, Kitty used to always wonder why she never saw Quint smoking his Indian pipe. Then one day she'd woken at sunrise to find his side of the bed empty. Venturing downstairs still in her nightgown, she finally spied him in the backyard, sitting cross-legged on the ground in his old work clothes. He was smoking his pipe, the one with the carvings that Kitty had first found in his bedroom. His gaze was to the east and the rising sun, pink and orange suffused with gold, setting fire to the horizon. Quint had one hand on Mo's back who sat companionably next to him. Kitty bit her thumbnail and smiled happily at the image they presented. But then she'd heard a tiny cry and quickly headed upstairs to feed and change Lucy.
Later that day, Kitty had remarked to Quint that she didn't mind at all if he smoked in the house. She told him that she had seen him outside, and it must've been a mite cold out there. That's when he explained that this wasn't the kind of pipe that he'd smoke in the house. That it was a ceremonial pipe, used for what you might call praying if you were in a church, and that he'd been sending up prayers to the heavens, to the Great Spirit, for little Lucy and their new family. Kitty's eyes had teared up and she'd squeezed him tightly, thinking how lucky she was. But then she'd gone to a tobacconist's shop and bought him an in-the-house kind of pipe that he could enjoy whenever he liked. Apparently, Quint liked it, she thought as he sat smiling softly at her with it clenched between his back teeth.
As she attempted to smooth Lucy's red swirls of hair, the silver charm bracelet Quint had given her shone in the firelight. He'd been so proud when he presented it to her all wrapped up in a fancy little red box tied with a gold ribbon. She was astonished at how thoughtful the gift had been. Mind you, Kitty was pretty sure some nice lady salesperson at the jewelry store had helped him pick it out, but the choice of charms was all Quint. One was a miniature silver locomotive to signify their chance reunion after many long years apart. Another charm was a small treble clef to remind Kitty of their night at the ball, the night when they'd had their first passionate encounter. Next was a tiny ring to mark their marriage. Finally, there was a wee heart made of turquoise, Lucy's birthstone. Quint said there was room on the bracelet to add plenty more charms over the years as they made more memories together. Kitty had kissed him tenderly and then kissed him again at the thoughtfulness, the sweetness, of his gift.
Kitty looked down at Lucy's eyes as they drifted closed again, her little belly finally full. Kitty sat up straight and attempted to fasten her nursing corset one-handed. Quint rose, setting his pipe on a small table next to his armchair. He stood before Kitty, his hands outstretched. One corner of his mouth curved upwards in a wry smile. "You want me to hold the baby? Or fasten you up?"
"You'd better hold the baby, Quint. I don't wanna get somethin' started if you know what I mean." She carefully handed over little Lucy, and he cradled her delicately in his arms.
Gently, he protested, "Started? Who me?" He arched a dark, bushy brow at her. "Besides, you remember what Lottie told you. That we needed to wait a while before we, uh…"
Kitty latched her corset flap and began buttoning her dress. She sighed, "Yeah, I remember."
Quint sat gingerly with the baby in his arms on the settee next to Kitty, leaning back and looking squarely into her eyes. "Exactly how long is a while?"
"You got me. I guess my body will tell me. Lottie did mention a few weeks…"
"Weeks?" His mouth hung open a little.
"Yeah, sorry Hot-Blooded Comanche, but your squaw is bein' forced to take a little vacation."
Quint snorted a laugh, stirring Lucy from sleep. She gave a delicate yawn and stretched her tiny arms. Kitty reached to tuck her blanket more snugly as Quint kissed her wrinkled little forehead. He declared, "She's the spittin' image of you, honey."
"You think so?"
"Red hair and blue eyes? She's gonna be a beauty just like her mama."
Kitty replied drily, "I just hope she doesn't grow to be as tall as Matt."
Quint tossed his head back in silent laughter this time so as not to wake the baby.
Kitty grinned and leaned into his side as he wrapped an arm around her. She kissed his cheek and then stroked the palm of her perfect little girl. Lucy latched onto Kitty's finger in her sleep. Kitty and Quint exchanged a quiet smile.
At her mention of Matt, Kitty's thoughts returned to Dodge and her friends there. She wondered how they were celebrating their Christmas, acutely missing them as she spent her first holiday season in years without them. Her gaze shifted to the dancing flames of the fire as she spoke. "Now that the baby's been born and the dust has settled, I've been feelin' awful guilty, Quint."
Quint looked surprised. "Guilty?"
The corners of her mouth turned down. "It was bad enough that I couldn't rustle up the nerve to tell Matt about the baby, and then he came to St. Louis and saw it firsthand himself before I could mail that letter."
"Kitty, you were afraid to tell him. You knew how he felt about havin' a family."
"I know…" She sighed, sliding her arm atop Quint's arm that was holding Lucy, lacing her fingers in his. She watched Lucy's soft breathing, those rosebud lips and small pink tongue occasionally making soft suckling sounds as she dreamed of her mother. Kitty continued, "But Doc… And Festus… Even Newly. I never wrote or wired to tell 'em where I was, that I was okay."
"You don't think Matt told 'em?"
Kitty stared up at him, one brow delicately raised, her mouth a thin line.
Quint answered her unspoken reply. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I don't reckon Matt told Doc and Festus that you'd run off to St. Louis to be with me."
"Yeah, I hurt his pride, Quint." Tears sprang to Kitty's eyes. "I didn't mean to, but I did." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "And I felt betrayed by Doc, by what he said about me havin' a baby, but…"
"But Doc is like family."
She nodded. "Yeah, no matter what, he's family. I owe him and Festus an explanation. Cause Matt will never give 'em one, I'm sure."
"Kitty, you do whatever you think is right. I'll stand behind whatever you decide to tell 'em."
She murmured, "I'll write that letter." Kitty lay her head on Quint's shoulder, slid her other arm around the back of his waist, squeezing him tightly. "I'll write it tomorrow."
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