If Schofield was a care facility, then it had been designed to be disguised as a prison. The red brick of its construction resurrected memories for Arthur of rescuing John from the penitentiary. The carriage rolled through the open gates and he couldn't tamp down the uneasy response of feeling caged.

To knock off his edginess, Arthur turned to Charlotte to comment about the place and distract himself. Before he could say a word, she faced away, trying to discreetly swipe at her eyes.

Arthur slid closer to her in the seat, alarmed in new way. "What's wrong, darlin'?"

Charlotte looked up at him, eyes brimming with unshed tears, which increased his tension further. "I'm now thinking we should have never come to Chicago."

Was that why she'd grown so quiet since they'd left the house? While he couldn't argue with her, making this trip had been important to her. He gathered her up in a protective hug. "Hey, now. It ain't all been bad."

"My eagerness to visit the family put you at risk."

"It ain't no matter and the worst of it's done now." He hoped.

"But you shouldn't have been put in such a horrible position in the first place."

He'd warned her a long time ago of the risks by involving herself with someone of his past. That had been back when it'd still been possible to untangle their relationship and walk away with only hurt feelings.

"We did alright. And I'd say we came to a reconciliation of sorts."

Her nose crinkled. "Father asked for too much. Now that we're distanced from him, I regret the promise of a yearly visit."

Arthur shrugged, not too concerned. "If you want, we can negotiate more when we're on sturdier ground and further away, when he ain't got the police at his back door."

"I never thought he'd go so far." She blew out a breath and Arthur was glad to see the tears were gone. "But I must say, I certainly can't wait to hear the story of how an outlaw became deputized."

Arthur told her, "Just the result of a drunken town sheriff meeting the wrong conman."

"Oh?" She sat up, too innocently curious to hear what would amount to all the wrongs of his soiled past. For the moment, Arthur was saved from elaborating by the coach starting to slow.

Charlotte sighed. "For the first time, I am as eager as you to be back. If not for Aunt Rosie, I'd have Mr. Godfrey driving us straight to the train station right now to avoid any more conflict with Father."

Arthur squeezed her shoulders in encouragement, but held his tongue. She knew well his opinion on the city. Even with the nervous prospect of coming fully clean ahead of him, he was ready to leave Chicago.

The carriage stopped in front of the main entrance of Schofield. As they exited, Charlotte said, "I'm sure I've eluded to it, but I'll give you a formal warning about Rosie before we head in."

Arthur hadn't heard anything negative about her aunt. "I thought we were past all the hang-ups with your family."

"There's nothing to worry here," Charlotte assured. "Aunt Rosie is just a bit...well. Frank, I suppose is the delicate term."

"Sounds preferable than all that word-dancing the rest of them other rich folk do."

Charlotte continued, "Truly, the best policy with Rosie is honesty. She'll toy with you if she suspects deception."

"Great. Ain't like I got a thousand lies and more behind me."

Charlotte smiled. "You'll be fine. Usually, she doesn't mean her insults. Rosie delights in shocking new company." Charlotte stopped at the top of the entrance stairs and bit her lip. "Actually, perhaps I should go in alone."

At her sudden change in tone, he said laughingly. "I've faced worse, I'm sure. Your daddy included."

Dorsch got under his skin, but he'd been more than belittling. He'd threatened Arthur's second life and the lives of his woman and child.

"You're right, of course. I think I'm still a bit keyed up after confronting Father."

"I understand."

He was on edge too. Which was why, when Charlotte provided her name at the front desk and the woman's eyes widened and she skittered away, Arthur watched her exit with a suspicious frown. "What the hell was that about?"

"I'm not certain. That was quite odd, wasn't it?"

A few minutes later, the desk clerk returned, following behind a man in a suit and a matronly nurse in an apron.

The man strode up to Charlotte, hand outstretched. "Hello, Mrs. Balfour. I'm Dean Young, the facility's director."

Charlotte took the hand, confused, but kept up her polite nature. "Good afternoon, Mr. Young."

"I'm afraid we've had a bit of a mix-up. Another young lady was here to visit Ms. Dorsch and she was mistaken for you."

"You mean Miss Jones?" said Charlotte. "Yes, I asked that she come ahead so we wouldn't miss our reservation."

"So you know her?" asked the desk clerk with a sigh of relief.

"Of course," Charlotte reassured the woman and turned to the director. "What is this about, sir? My aunt isn't in trouble, is she?"

"We wouldn't know," the nurse mumbled, speaking for the first time.

Arthur and Charlotte both cut looks to the nurse and Charlotte demanded stiffly, "I beg your pardon?"

"That is to say..." The director glared briefly at the woman in his employ before he admitted, "Ms. Dorsch is missing."

"Missing?" Charlotte's mouth dropped open. "How do you mean?"

"She isn't in her room and she hasn't been seen for awhile."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Did she go missing before or after Miss Jones arrived?"

The nurse replied confidently, "Ms. Dorsch was in her room when I left Miss Jones there hours ago."

Shit. What had Karen done?

"With that information, we could only assume that woman had targeted Ms. Dorsch in order to ransom the family. I was headed to the phone to ring the police when you walked in, Mrs. Balfour."

Arthur tensed. Goddamn. Another run-in with the police already?

"That is absurd. All of this," Charlotte stated firmly. "Karen is not an accessory to such a thing and my aunt wouldn't have left so quietly if she was."

"We considered that, ma'am," said the director. "But nothing else explains—"

"What is all this ridiculous hubbub in here?"

At the entrance doors stood a dark-haired woman with a straight spine and a high, arched eyebrow. Behind her emerged Karen, trying to control her features into an innocent expression. Arthur saw right through it, but maybe the others were fooled.

"Aunt Rosie!"

The flabbergasted director stated, "You're here!"

"Well, of course I'm here. I'm always here," Rosie snapped as she approached them, loosening her gloves. "If my brother has his way, I'll die here too."

"No one's seen you on the grounds for two hours, Ms. Dorsch."

"Have your nurses get their eyes checked. Miss Jones and I have only been out for a stroll."

The nurse protested, "We scoured the grounds and you were nowhere in sight."

Rosie raised a condescending brow. "And what are you suggesting, Mildred? That I, a suffering invalid, traipsed across the lawn, bounded the fence, trudged through the woods and spent the afternoon leisurely promenading the boardwalk?"

As bizarre as it was, to Arthur's ear it sounded like Rosie was admitting to just that.

"I am terribly sorry to worry you, Mrs. Balfour," the director turned and apologized to Charlotte. "It seems all was well."

"Indeed," Charlotte allowed in a calm voice, but Arthur saw her eyes were swirling with questions.

"Charlotte, escort me to my bedroom," Rosie demanded. "I'm weary."

"Of course, Aunt." Charlotte obediently went to her side. As they left the attendants behind, Charlotte murmured, "That was positively awful, Rosie. Those nurses had real concern for you."

"Piffle," retorted Rosie. "The residents here are nothing more than a paycheck to them. The less there are, the less work they have to do."

Charlotte's brow furrowed. "That's rather cynical, even for you. Are you alright?"

"Don't listen to me. The sight of the abominable Mr. Young always sets me off." Rosie continued brusquely, "Tell me about Clark's wedding party."

Charlotte did so as Arthur followed, Karen falling into step beside him. While Charlotte held a conversation with her aunt, Arthur asked Karen, "What kinda trouble you two makin' without us?"

"Nothing," she said evasively.

"Uh huh. Why do I get the feeling it is something?"

"Like the lady said, we only went for a stroll."

Arthur waited a beat and then informed her with humor, "You got brambles on your sleeve."

She hastily picked at them. "I got the lady back in one piece, didn't I?"

"Yeah, yeah. Back from where, I'm almost afraid to ask."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, it was just some harmless fun, Arthur."

"Sure. I'll take your word for it."

"...and dear Arthur?"

Hearing Rosie say his name, he turned his head and paid attention to the conversation in front.

"Has Howard made the decision to be reasonable this time around?"

Charlotte sighed. "I'm afraid not, though I believe we've managed to reach a compromise."

"Hrmph. I've heard that before." Rosie cast her piercing gaze his way. "There's no way it doesn't eat at my brother every moment to be playing host to a hick in a suit."

Karen snorted, and Charlotte scolded, "Aunt!"

"Settle down," Rosie said, unruffled. "I only meant Arthur has the knowledge to live in the wild, as it were. I didn't say there was anything wrong with him being a hick."

Charlotte said unhappily, "The negative implication is in the term."

Rose lifted a delicate shoulder with nonchalance. "He doesn't mind it, do you?"

Arthur had heard worse and he suspected by the way her eyes slanted slyly his way, she was only testing him. "The way you mean it, ma'am, there ain't no offense taken."

"Gracious of you to side with a poor old woman," she murmured.

He couldn't help but notice a hint of disappointment in the response. It was like she'd expected more fight out of him. What the hell. He was feeling reckless.

They'd reached the outside of her room so when he faced her, he added cheekily, "Might just be me, but I'd rather be a hick than a soft-bellied, city slickin' snob."

Karen cackled while Charlotte's mouth dropped open in shock. "Arthur!"

"Oooh, he's feisty, isn't he?" Rosie's expression had livened up and she said almost giddily, "Howard really must hate him so."

Charlotte shook her head in a helpless way. "You two are impossible."

"No, we're incorrigible," Rosie corrected as she opened the door to her room. "And as much as I'd like to continue our back and forth right now, Arthur, I wish to speak with my niece privately a moment." She made a shooing motion at him and Karen in a rude dismissal. "You two find somewhere else to be for half an hour."

"Auntie—"

"It's alright," Arthur conceded to Charlotte and tipped his hat at Rosie. "Be back in a moment."

Arthur had wondered for a time at the origin of Charlotte's direct nature. She hadn't learned it from her momma, who liked to skirt issues and sniff in displeasure when she disliked the conversation. The old man was confrontational and twisting with his words. While she had a softer approach, Rosie was similar in her brisk manner as her brother. But she was more playful about it, without the personal jabs thrown in to intentionally insult him.

"What took you two so long by the way?" Karen asked him as she led him down the hall. "I woulda thought you would have been here ages ago."

He scratched his beard. "Busy with some bullshit with Charlotte's daddy."

"Really? What happened?"

"He bushwhacked us and nearly got me arrested with his interfering."

She whistled. "Damn. You were busy."

"We got out of it somehow, but now the whole family knows about the pregnancy."

The news didn't seem to surprise her. "It was bound to happen, Arthur. Like I told you before, it was a pointless secret."

"Yeah, yeah. Turned out to be our ticket out of that mess. It convinced her daddy to call off the dogs. At least, for now."

"Wish I'd been there." She patted at the jacket pockets at her waist. "I ain't even met the bastard yet, but you can bet the girls would've made an appearance."

"Those derringers?" Arthur asked in surprise. After they'd received the invite to Chicago, Karen had purchased the little pistols at the general store in preparation. "You got those with you? Here?"

She scowled at him. "'Course, dummy. The world ain't kind to unattached ladies, especially in a big city like this. I ain't goin' nowhere without 'em. You ain't got your guns too?"

"No." He had a knife on his person, but his revolvers in a suitcase. Sounded stupid now, but the last thing he'd wanted was to get caught slinging, in case someone put two and two together and recognized his ugly face with a pair of shooters. "And I'm a fool for it."

"Don't worry. I'll protect you, sunshine," she responded with a mocking wink.

"Thanks," he answered dryly. "But I reckon you'll need to reserve all that skill for yourself."

Able to sense from his tone he meant something more, she asked, "Why?"

"Mighta told Dorsch you got medical experience so he'd get off our backs about Charlotte having the baby at home rather than here. He's gonna grill you after we're done with this visit. We got an appointment downtown for Charlotte to be examined."

Karen didn't seem angry with him or worried at the news. She tapped her chin with consternation. "Hmm. I ain't never had much contact with doctors and the like. It might be a hard sell."

"Well, you're gonna have to sell it," Arthur warned her. "If not, we won't be leaving Chicago unless it's in cuffs."

Karen rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to be the dramatic one, Arthur. Calm down."

"Dorsch don't mess around. If he suspects you, he'll look into your past too and he might be lucky enough to dig something up."

"Have some faith, Arthur," Karen reprimanded. "I got this."

The phrase had his eye twitching because it reminded him of all the times Dutch dismissed his concerns. But he didn't say nothing more on it. If she was so confident in herself, he wasn't gonna break it. A lot of times confidence was all they'd used to get a job done. That, and a gun or two.

He and Karen strolled the park twice before the sun started to set. Most of the residents began heading for dinner after a call from an orderly. He and Karen followed the crowd before breaking off and making their way back to room number twelve.

They knocked and Karen opened the door after Rosie called for them to enter.

"Your turn, Mr. Callahan," Rosie said upon their entrance with no additional formalities. "Run along with your friend, Charlotte. Bring me back a dinner tray."

"Your tone has been quite imperious this afternoon, Aunt," Charlotte chided. "There's no reason to speak to us so."

"My apologies, dear girl," Rosie said sincerely. "I blame the lack of sufficient company here to keep my domineering ways in check."

"Hmm." Charlotte narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. As she passed him, she laid a hand on his arm. She said under her breath so only he could hear, "I was going to warn you to take it easy, but she's inexplicably energized today. Don't let her push you around."

"Enough mumbling over there, Charlotte, and carry on," Rosie ordered. "One of the nurses will soon cut our visit short and I want some time to speak with Arthur in private."

"Come on, sister," Karen encouraged, pulling on Charlotte's arm. "Help me take notes on the quirks and lingo of these nurses. Apparently, I've got a performance to make after this."

Charlotte squeezed his arm as an extra assurance before she left the room with Karen.

"So." Rosie sat at her writing desk, spine straight as she gave him her undivided attention. "You're the one then?"

"I'm the one," Arthur agreed, though as to what, he weren't too sure.

"Let's speak directly."

"Usually is the best course."

"To start, how did you meet my niece?"

Arthur stuck with Charlotte's advice. He told her of stumbling upon Charlotte at her husband's grave, of teaching her to skin an animal, to track and hunt, to shoot. He kept the explanation brief and made no mention as to the gang or where he came from. When he reached the point in time of Charlotte rescuing him from those damned cliffs, he hesitated for the first time. It was difficult to not go into detail without revealing all.

"I was in a bad way," he finally said vaguely. "Got into a fight for my life. Thought I was a goner for sure. Then Charlotte..." Saved him, healed him, loved him. "... took me in. The rest leads us up to today."

Rosie listened without comment until he was done. "If no one else in the family has expressed it to you, I thank you for being around for my niece when she needed support."

The honest gratitude after the rest of her cutting conversation surprised him. "I didn't do much of nothin'."

"From her letters, Charlotte credits you explicitly for her survival. Is she wrong to do so?"

Arthur paused and studied the woman, at once realizing her line of questioning had been done to verify facts she already knew, to test him for lies, as Charlotte had predicted.

"No."

"You were her friend and provided her the tools to continue her independence. For that, I am grateful. I can see Charlotte has flourished under your guidance."

"Sure." Arthur shifted, uncomfortable. "But she did most of it herself."

"What have you to offer my niece then?"

Truthfully? "Not a damn thing more than my own miserable company."

She clucked her tongue. "That attitude won't do at all. And Howard will certainly never let up if he knows he can get under your skin so easily. I heard he was speaking with the Balfours. I assume he threatened you in some capacity?"

"He did his damnedest."

"As pompous and self-righteous as he can be," Rosie continued, "Howard does love his children."

Arthur shook his head, thinking of all the times Dorsch had tried to ensnare Charlotte into returning to Chicago. Of Christmastime, when he'd canceled the family's plans last minute, devastating Charlotte and provoking Ben into practically running away from home. Lastly, how resentful Clark had grown after the wife of his choice had initially been denied.

"He sure has a funny way of showin' it."

"You're right," Rosie agreed before she commented mildly, "Interestingly enough, it was Charlotte's own birth that softened up Howard from his more stiff-necked ways."

Arthur stared at her with uninhibited disbelief. He couldn't imagine Dorsch as any more of a bastard. However, it did have him wondering for the first time if the ambush had been something beyond gloating or a show of power. After all, there had been no reason for the cops to not be waiting in that room too.

"He lacks the ability for outward compassion. It originates from our parents, of course. Nothing to do for it now since they're long dead, but showing affection was always discouraged."

"Why you tellin' me this? It don't change the shit he's tried to pull over and over again."

"For you to understand, I suppose." She tilted her head, "Your opinion of him doesn't need to improve, but if you should ever decide to offer an olive branch, I've now given you the groundwork for it."

Arthur couldn't imagine a scenario where any of that information would come in handy. If amends were to be made, Dorsch was going to have to make the first step. Even then, Arthur didn't know how he'd trust any of his actions to ever be sincere at this point.

"Enough of my brother. Now I'd like to hear more of you." The interest lightened the green in her eyes. "Charlotte wrote of you, of course, but imagine my confusion when the letters she penned spoke of Arthur Morgan, a decent and kind man who came to her aid. But then later I hear Martha grumble about a man staying at the house named Arthur Callahan."

Shit. Surely he ain't fallen into another trap.

"Are there two of you or is my sister-in-law the one who's confused?"

Rosie looked more humored over his grimace than smug so he kept his tone easy-going rather than defensive. "These days, I try to stick to one."

"Hmm." That seemed to be the end of that line of questioning as she asked next, "And what of Miss Jones?"

"She's a friend."

"And staying at the house with the two of you," she stated. "For what purpose?"

"She weren't in a good place around Christmas so Charlotte and I asked if she'd stay on to...help."

Her eyes narrowed on him with a sharp precision. "With what?"

"Whatever she wants in order to keep on the straight and narrow." He elaborated, "I know Karen well enough. She ain't gonna wanna be tied down out there for long, away from any action. Especially, when the time when we can manage on our own."

"Has Howard spoken with Miss Jones?"

"Not yet."

She nodded, looking thoughtful "I shall provide her some advice so she doesn't run her mouth the wrong direction."

"Mighty generous of you."

She smoothed her skirt down and didn't meet his eyes. "She paid me a kindness today, even if it wasn't her intention. It's only right that I repay the favor."

Rosie fell into contemplation for a few moments and Arthur waited patiently to see what she wanted to interrogate him over next.

Rosie didn't delay too long as soon enough she raised her head and asked directly, "The two of you come from a life of crime, don't you?"

The sudden question threw him off guard. "How'd you guess that?"

She listed without mercy, "The hidden pasts, your two names, and Karen's intriguing penchant for picking locks with ease. It's all out of a dime novel."

Seemed to be obvious when she pointed it out like that. "Look, we ain't been into any trouble for months. I've given it up for good and I hope Karen has too. It all led to too much loss in the end anyway."

"Oh, I don't care about any mischief of your former lives. It's irrelevant. I've seen and heard enough from you and Charlotte to not bother dissuading either of you. My greatest concern is your commitment to my niece. Do you love her?"

Arthur had no hesitation in that answer at least. "Yes, ma'am."

"You've told her this?"

"Yes."

"You comfort her when she's upset?"

"I do my best."

"Care for her when she's sick?"

"Sure, but mostly it's the other way around."

Her eyes alighted before rolling over him assessingly. "You've been dragged through the trenches, haven't you?"

Arthur wasn't sure if she meant specifically his body with his illness or his life in general, but the answer was the same for both. "Yeah."

"What ails you?" she prompted.

He exhaled and told her matter-of-fact, "TB."

She didn't seem surprised so she must have known or guessed at it already. "How unfortunate."

"It is what it is." He couldn't help confessing, "Just wish it weren't. If only for Charlotte's sake."

"Oh? Just for her?"

"I worry for her situation after...I'm not here no more."

Her gaze pierced him but he kept eye contact. "Are you afraid of death?"

The words spilled out on their own, as if she were using witchcraft to draw a confession from him. Then again, it had always been easier for him to open up to strangers. "I ain't gonna lie. I died once already so it ain't all no great mystery." From what he remembered of it, darkness, pain, a few regrets. "But, at the time, I didn't have much left. I knew it was coming. I helped who I needed to and said my goodbyes to those I could. The second time around..." he swallowed, suppressing a lump in his throat. "I know it ain't gonna be as easy."

"I see," she answered, pursing her lips. "No. It isn't pleasant waiting impatiently for your doom every passing day."

Oddly, this woman understood his situation more than most people. "How did you get past knowin' death has a firm hold on you?"

"I'm hardly the person to turn to for an optimistic outlook." She laughed without humor. "There were times I couldn't be bothered to leave this room at the early stages of my diagnosis."

"Oh," Arthur responded, unsure of what else to say.

Her gaze went to the window, unseeing as a fleeting vulnerability appeared. "Most days, it seems it would be preferable to drift away in my sleep rather than continue another wasted minute here."

He dropped his chin to his chest in disappointment and his heart sank. She couldn't have made a bleaker statement.

"However, you have something I do not."

He lifted his gaze. "Yeah?"

"A solid future in which to look forward." A thin gray-laced eyebrow rose with inquiry. "A child on the way?"

Arthur scratched the back of his neck. Charlotte must have told her. "So it seems."

"You spoke of a hard life. Do you consider yourself totally and utterly reformed?"

He couldn't resist a twitching smile. "Hardly, ma'am."

"Good." At his confusion, she explained, "Charlotte needs someone tough. Strong-willed."

"I mean, sure, but—"

"Keep this between the two of us, Arthur," she interrupted and leaned forward. "Charlotte's husband was a decent man with gumption, but that boy had no common sense. All that time he spent in Maine with his grandparents gave him a false sense of security to live on his own in the wilderness." She sat back again. "I won't speak any ill of the boy, but I certainly feel at more ease knowing you'll be at her side."

Arthur didn't know how much she'd guessed, but he needed to voice his fears out loud anyway. "But I'm an outlaw with nothin' to my name and death hoverin' over my shoulder. She deserves better."

Every time he spoke Rosie listened to every word, watching him as a cat, unblinking and intense in her stare. Breaking the silence between them, she stated crisply, "If you consider yourself so unworthy of Charlotte, how do you expect me to see any differently?"

The question made his head hurt. Arthur said quietly, "I reckon I don't."

"You think too much, country boy," Rosie told him in a ruthless manner. "You seek approval, but it truly isn't up to me or Howard or anyone to find you 'worthy'. Charlotte has already chosen you without reservation and that should be all that matters in the end."

It took him a long time to see some things clearly, Arthur could admit that. Hell, it'd taken the threat of a slow death to make him see the truth in his own lawless life. But all Charlotte's earnest declarations to him of the past few months cultivated in his mind in that moment.

"Your company is all I need."

"I believe we can protect each other."

"You are my partner in all things. I'm committed to that, to you."

Charlotte's devotion humbled him. She'd been at his side from the start and it wasn't just talk. Time and time again she proved her willingness to defend him, even against her own family. Too much lately, he'd been letting Dorsch's words and his own doubt cloud his mind to the peaceful life Charlotte offered.

The short of it was, he was an idiot.

Arthur lifted a half smile her way. "I reckon you might be right, Miss Rosie."

"Of course I am." She twisted in her chair and opened a drawer of her desk. "Now, before I forget, I have something for you, Arthur."

"Now that ain't fair." Arthur was feeling less burdened and a little more light-hearted. "I didn't bring nothin' for you, ma'am."

"An oversight you can remedy upon our next meeting." She pulled from her desk a small, unassuming box wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.

She held it out and he took it. The box fit in the palm of his hand, square, thin and near weightless. His first instinct was to open it, but she covered her hands over his. "Not here, dear. Unwrap it when you have a moment to yourself, when you three have returned home and are settled."

She released him and he turned the box in his hand. "Why the secrecy?"

"You'll see," she said vaguely. "And you'll understand when you've opened it."

Arthur pocketed the box, burning with curiosity over it, but forced himself to push it from his mind for now.

"Ah." Rosie's attention moved to the door. "If I'm not mistaken, I hear Charlotte and Miss Jones returning."

She was proven correct when there was a knock on the door a moment later. Charlotte carried in a tray with a baked potato and milk, setting it down on the bedside table.

Arthur's heart pounded at the simple sight of her serving dinner. It hadn't been long since his conversation had started with Rosie, but he was ready to have her in his arms again.

Rosie thanked her niece and then added dismissively, "Charlotte, Arthur, leave the room. I wish to speak with Miss Jones in private a moment."

"No more escapades," Charlotte joked while they obliged to her aunt's whim. She stared at the shut door. "What do you think—"

Unable to hold himself back, Arthur swept Charlotte up in a kiss, startling her for a moment before she rested her hands on his shoulders and responded in kind.

He could've gone on, but a shocked orderly passed through the hall and issued a sharp reprimand. They separated, smiling sheepishly at each other.

Charlotte's cheeks were flushed pink as she asked, "What was that for?"

That she questioned it made him want to kiss her unexpectedly and with more frequency on a daily basis. He blurted out, "I'm a blind fool."

Charlotte laughed lightly, clearly puzzled. "What did my aunt say to you?"

"Nothin' I didn't need to hear."

She reached up and cupped his jaw, her thumbs smoothing his beard in a way he'd found unmatched in its ability to soothe him. "Well, you're not a blind fool, no matter what she claimed."

Whatever Rosie needed to discuss with Karen only took a few minutes. Soon enough, the door was opening again. Somewhere in the building a clock struck, the chimes announcing the six o'clock hour.

With obvious regret, Charlotte said, "I'm afraid we must end our visit, Aunt."

Rosie had a brief flicker of disappointment before straightening. "Inevitable, but yes, you're correct." She turned and gripped Karen's hands. "Thank you for the lovely time, dear girl. And you think on my words, won't you?"

Karen nodded, remaining oddly quiet and almost contemplative.

Rosie moved to him next. "Keep your strength and take care of my niece and the little one."

"Happily, ma'am."

"Most of all, take time for yourself," she said with a meaningful look.

"I will," Arthur promised.

"Auntie," Charlotte laughed. "Why do I sense a conspiracy behind my back?"

Rosie chortled along with her. "Because there is one." She patted her cheek lightly. "All for your benefit, my dear. Take care and write often."

Charlotte hugged her. "I may not travel for awhile, with the pregnancy and the baby. I wish you could be there for the birth."

"I wish it also." Rosie's gaze met Arthur's over Charlotte's head, full of heart. "But I am confident you're in capable hands."