January 13

It was not such a glorious day after all. Rosemary rested her chin on her hand and huffed at the dreary mess out the bedroom window. The full, white skies had decided to pour unrelenting slush down from the heavens, ruining her chances of getting out to her new, glorious home. Even after her argument for braving the elements, Lee held onto the fact it was too muddy, perhaps even icy, and much too cold. He had peppered her with kisses and promised to return for lunch with a gift to cheer her. Usually just the mention of such a thing would cause a dramatic boost to her mood, but today even the promise of a surprise held little appeal. With her wondrous outing postponed, she now was stuck at home with absolutely nothing to do. Today was hardly worth getting out of bed for. She pulled a new dime novel onto her lap and decided to pass the time reading. After a moment or so, she sighed. None of the words had registered. What she needed was something to do. Something productive. This was enough of this lollygagging about.

She pulled the thin veil of sheets from her legs, and edged her right foot out onto the cool wood floor. After pushing up off the bed, she hopped on her good foot to the wardrobe. Flinging it open, she decided that a simple dress just simply would not do for today. "Dress for success" is what she'd always told herself and her clients. Well, today she would take her own advice to heart. No, she wouldn't be found lounging in her nightclothes all day. Not even a housecoat would suffice. She was getting dressed to the nines. Not sure what for, especially on such a dreary day as this, but at least it would boost her mood and perhaps help her find something productive to do. She'd been longing to visit Elizabeth and see how she was faring after Jack's departure; she ached to take walk into town and sip tea at Abigail's just for the fact of getting out of the house. Obviously, that would not be happening any time soon, but she would dress in anticipation for an event. It would just have to come find her.

Ah, yes! That one. She fingered her finest dress, the magenta one Lee had bought her in New York on their honeymoon. It always had been a favorite. Her fingers caressed the folds of satin fabric, transporting her to another time and place. She quickly dropped her nightgown and held onto the side of the dresser while stepping gingerly into the dress. It was already tight on her hips! Her cheeks flamed hot. She hadn't a hope of pulling it the rest of the way on. Oh, dash it all! She lowered the dress and stared at her body in the long mirror. Her skin, white and cold, was beginning to stretch. The little pouch at her midsection was growing day by day until she almost didn't recognize herself. A tear pricked at the corner of her eye. No one had prepared her for this: the joy of a new life growing in her also came with such drastic changes and major insecurity. For the thousandth time since her initial visit with Doc Carson, the vines of doubt wove into her heart. How could she be a good mother to this baby? What was God thinking giving them a precious miracle? She had no idea how to handle a bouncy baby, and honestly, would she ever truly desire to be a mother? Or was it just something thrust upon her? But here, now, these thoughts were too late. What was done was done. They would just have to figure it out. As much as she wanted to run away, she couldn't. Wouldn't. She knew the pain that caused. She took one last look at her changing form and cupped her midsection with the palm of her hand.

"You little dear, are quite the upset, do you know that? I thought I had it all planned out. But here you are." She rubbed a circle on her belly, feeling a bit silly for talking to herself while alone in the bedroom, yet she still looked back down at the swell in her midsection. "Oh, not that you aren't a part of my plan, well, I guess I wasn't coming around to it quite yet… but I guess it is you and me. I promise I will try to be the best mother I can be. You see, I just don't know how. It's something I'll try. I can't promise I won't fail…" She reached up to swipe a tear away and then placed her hand back on her belly. "But your father, oh, he is the world. A better man I could never find. One look at you and his heart will melt. He already thinks you are a girl— Oh!" She gasped at the little kick that caused her hand to jump. "Why look at you! Did that mean you are a girl or was that a resounding 'no' from my boy?" She stayed still, scarcely breathing, awaiting another kick. But that was all. A smile sprouted from her lips. Her heart lighter than it had been moments before. "You know what? It doesn't matter. You are absolutely perfect just the way you are." She gave the baby one more gentle pat before turning back to her wardrobe.

After pulling on a deep blue skirt she had just let out at the waist last week and one of her favorite crisp white shirt waists, she realized that new apparel should be at the top of her to do list. Even now, there was probably only a good small handful of clothing that actually fit. Perhaps she could put in an order for fabric and have Hickam bring it by later this week. Today, she would get out her design pad and create some of the most stunning maternity wear seen on this side of the Northern Territories. She smiled at her reflection in the dresser mirror and gently stroked her blonde curls. Would her baby favor her blonde tresses or Lee's dark locks? She opened her jewelry box searching for her mother of pearl clasp, why it would complete her classy ensemble perfectly. Florence had returned it here, had she not? Her fingers rooted through the box, until they landed on the cool clasp on the opposite corner of the jewelry box than she usually kept it. Her fingers brushed over brittle paper, oh yes, the telegram from Harriet. She'd forgotten she'd placed it here. Every day that passed was a day nearer to Harriet's arrival. Her forehead creased. Hopefully by the time Harriet's stage rolled in, she would be able to walk on her foot and meet the coach and stop it before her news got all over Hope Valley. It just had to work that way, didn't it?

After securing the clasp in her hair, she applied a thick coat of bright red "Candy Apple" lipstick. If she was going all out, why not go all out? There, perfect. She nodded at the image before her. That would do.

She shuffled to the stairs, and thankfully, with the help from the handrail, was able to hobble down the stairs. Lee had brought her breakfast in bed, the sweet dear, and now, a spot of tea would be just perfect. She busied herself in the kitchen, all while balancing on one leg.

There was a slight tap at the door. "Mrs. Coulter?"

A guest in this dreary weather? Was the poor dear daft? It sounded like Katie Yost.

"Come in." She sang from the kitchen where she stood over the kettle.

The door rattled and sure enough, a dripping Katie Yost entered.

"It is dreadfully wet out there." She pulled off her overcoat and hung it by the stove in the living room. "Oh, look at you! I wasn't expecting to see you standing. I heard you had quite an upsetting. I do hope you are feeling better."

"Do come in. Have a spot of tea with me." She gestured to the table.

"Oh I'd love to, but I have to return to the mercantile immediately. I just wanted to bring these out to you." She flashed three envelopes her way. Letters? Immediately, she felt her throat tighten. The last news she'd received wasn't good. Could these be from Harriet? She wouldn't contact her again through letters before coming out on the stage, would she?

She took a step towards Katie and then winced, forgetting to favor her injured ankle.

"Here." Katie met her and handed over the letters.

She grabbed them, her eyes scanning the letters for a return address. There it was—Hope Valley. Immediately her breathing slowed. Each of the three letters was simply addressed to Mary Rose. Letters for her article. Relief coursed through her. No, they were not unwanted letters with contents from her past, but instead letters for her article. Her face relaxed.

"Is everything okay, Mrs. Coulter?"

"Oh yes, I am just surprised is all." And surprised she was! She had a three-week period where not one letter had come in for her article. In fact for her last article, she had to fake the letter, something about a husband who was concerned at the price of a fur coat for his wife. She'd assured him it was worth a month's wages and to go ahead and purchase it for her. "You only live once" she had ended the article with.

"Well, I better get on." Katie moved towards the door.

"Katie, it was just wonderful of you to deliver these to me. I know just what I should do this dear day. Before you go, would you mind bringing my typewriter to the kitchen table?" She gestured towards the typewriter that was perched on a small table in the corner of the room. Katie nodded, and soon returned with the heavy apparatus in hand.

"Right here." She patted the table so Katie would know where to place it. "Oh these fingers are just itching to write. This brightens my day so. There has just been nothing, absolutely nothing, of good report lately."

She felt Katie's questioning eyes on her. "But I thought you received news of a visitor. Visitors are always good news are they not? Especially with the baby on the way, perhaps she can be a help to you. Perhaps she could assist you in getting ready for the baby's arrival."

She looked at Katie as if she were crazy. "Visitor? Oh I wish I had some family—" The words rose up and constricted her throat. Why, she did have a visitor, but no one knew about Harriet's impending arrival. It was impossible! Was Katie just guessing? Or did she somehow know the news of Harriet's upcoming visit? The telegram had been delivered to the mercantile. Perhaps the assistant had read her private letter.

Her eyes narrowed.

"I thought telegrams were privileged information, Miss Yost. Do you already know what these letters say as well?" She waved the letters at Katie, the venom rolling off her tongue.

"I'm not sure I'm following you. What exactly are you insinuating—"

"Aren't letters confidential? How else could you know of a visitor coming this way? If there was a visitor— per-say."

She watched as a realization dawned on Katie's young face.

"Oh Mrs. Coulter, I would never read your letters. Pa and I take very seriously the confidentiality of all the mail and would never break that trust. Ever. I just heard wind of your news this morning in the shop. I believe it was Florence talking to Dottie? Or perhaps it was Molly?"

She felt embarrassment rush to her cheeks in assuming it was dear Katie who spread the news. But just as quickly, ice course through her veins. Florence? How would she know? Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. Perhaps Florence was speculating about someone else and a secret visitor. But something didn't sit right in her gut.

She swallowed and composed herself. "Thank you, Katie."

"I hope you continue to regain your strength, Mrs. Coulter." With that, Katie retrieved her coat from the stove, shrugged into it, and ventured out into the cold.

As the door closed, creating a gentle stir, a wisp of hair fell across her face bringing her thoughts back to her large problem at hand. How would Florence catch wind of her news? She had been careful not to breathe a word of it the other day. How vexing this whole situation was. She reached up and tucked the wayward curl back into her hairstyle, her hand falling on the mother of pearl clasp, the cool metal triggering a memory—She gasped and held her hands to her mouth. The day of her fall, Florence, had delivered her clasp back to its original spot in her jewelry box, which housed the secret letter. Why… Florence must have read her telegram! The ice in her veins turned to fire. Not only had Florence read it, she was spreading its news all across the town. She had probably assumed it was good news, but now everyone knew she awaited a visitor from out East, going by the name of Harriet. Oh! What was she to do now? Even if her ankle healed on time, there would be no more stopping the stagecoach. Too many people already knew. She wondered how far the gossip had spread? Had Lee heard?