Very hard to find places to break chapters so they don't go on forever…sorry about that.

PENNSYLVANIA

Scylla and Charybdis

(Part 2)

"How long did you stay?"

"Hm?" Ben started, jerked from his reverie. He had, in truth, forgotten she was there.

"How long did you stay in the mining town?"

"Oh. Oh, a few weeks. Most of what I made went for keep, so it took a little time to be able to put any cash aside. The work was easy enough, though, and Adam was good about playing quietly behind the bar. The piano was a terrible temptation but a little - er - warming of his posterior eventually convinced him to leave it alone. At least when poor Barney was playing."

Mrs. Chambers chuckled. "Poor Adam."

"Yes, well, curiosity always was his downfall - and, as it turned out, he's very musical, but I had no reason to suspect that at the time. I think he actually liked the hustle and bustle of people around us for a change." He shrugged. "As you can see, he didn't exactly have an orthodox childhood."

Mrs. Chambers was quiet. "He had you," she said at last.

Ben swallowed a sigh. "Yes," he said slowly, returning his eyes to the window. "He had me."

It had continued to rain for three more days, so three days passed before he actually got a look at Fernley, the patch town the Griffin Tavern existed to service. He found himself liking the miners right away, though - they reminded him of sailors - rough and blunt but honest, hard working, loyal and opinionated. And like sailors they spent their days in small, tight, confining quarters, always one step away from death and at the whim of providence and nature. Ben admitted to himself that it was in no way an existence he cared to return to - he craved the wide open spaces with a bright sky above. Even now he wasn't completely sorry that he had been unable to go to work in the mines. The tavern didn't pay much and the dark, smoky interior was hardly the wide-open spaces, but the hours before and after could be spent outdoors, and he could stand and move about freely - and walk away when he wanted.

The hours were long, though, and he did worry that the fetid interior of the bar room was not a good place for Adam to be spending his days. But at least, he reasoned, he was fed regularly, which had started to become a challenge on the trail, and at least they were out of the elements for a while. And he seemed content enough. Still, working all day and keeping an eye on a small child was by no means easy. Lillibelle was happy to help where she could and seemed very fond of Adam - an affection he apparently returned - but somehow Ben could not escape the image of his pristine Elizabeth looking down from heaven to see the kind of company her little son was keeping. The mental picture never failed to make him wince.

So he struggled to do it all himself and found himself falling onto the straw pallet he and Adam shared at night asleep almost before he lay down. He was barely roused from one of these deep slumbers early one morning by a persistent sound on the edge of his hearing…the strident whistle that called the miners to work shrilling over and over. At first he thought he was dreaming it - surely he had only gone to bed a short time before, and after a particularly late and difficult night - he could distinctly remember having to break up a fight between a couple of drunken miners - then, as he woke a little more, he realized the sound had been going on and growing for some time - much too long to be the work whistle. He turned over and sat up just as the sound rose to a wail. Adam!

Adam was sitting on the pallet next to him, howling at the top of his voice. Ben grabbed him and stumbled to his feet, jiggling him to settle him. "Sssh, Adam…there's other people sleeping…" People who also had had a late night - might, he thought ruefully, still be having one for all he knew. Adam pushed away from him, his cries growing louder. Ben put a hand to his forehead. He felt warm. His cheeks were flushed, too. Oh, God, what if he were coming down with something…he jiggled him again helplessly. "Did you have a bad dream, son? Does something hurt? Tell Papa."

Adam nodded, rubbing at his face. Ben bit his lip. The rain seemed to have stopped and unless he was going to wake the whole tavern and probably lose his job he needed to get Adam out of here and find out what was wrong. "Well, let's go outside and get some air, shall we? Won't that feel nice?" He already had his pants on so, shrugging into his suspenders and grabbing his shirt and a blanket to pull around Adam against the early morning chill, he bumped down the stairs as quickly as he was able, all but running out the door. He took Adam a decent distance from the house and paced with him, making ineffectual shushing noises.

"He hurt himself?" He nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice. Lillibelle stood behind him with a blanket pulled around her shoulders over her nightgown and her hair in wild disarray.

Ben shook his head, raising his voice to be heard over Adam's screams. He'd never noticed before what a piercing voice Adam could have once he got started. "He's warm, though, and something is hurting – he keeps rubbing at his ear and his cheek."

"Want me to take him?" Adam shook his head frantically, his cries growing louder, tightening his two-handed grip on Ben's suspenders and burying his face in his neck. Lillibelle shrugged. "Guess not," she said dryly. "Just thought maybe you could at least get your shirt on. He been drooling like that all along?"

Ben tried to get a peek at Adam's face. "I think so – last couple of days."

"Uh-huh," Lillibelle tried to turn Adam's face toward her, but he yanked his head away. "Easy, there, heart breaker, I just want a look – I won't take you from your Daddy. He got his teeth?"

Ben jiggled Adam desperately, wincing at the unabated sound now right at his ear. Whatever was wrong, it certainly wasn't with his lungs. "Of course he has his teeth! You can see that he has!"

"I mean them big, back ones…" she reached for Adam's head again, this time turning it toward her and pinching his jaw open. He tried to pull away again and failed, wouldn't release his grip on Ben to bat at her. She stuck her finger unceremoniously into his mouth and rubbed along his gums. And grinned. "Oh, yeah – they're comin' in all right. Hurt like bedamned, too. My Ma used to ladle a little whiskey down us – quieted us right down."

Ben felt as though he were teetering on the brink of a yawning black hole of parental failure. Not only was he keeping his son in – let's call it what it was – a Cat House, but he was using a swearing doxy as a nurse, and if that doxy hadn't been around, he would never have figured out what was wrong with his own child. On top of it, he was short on sleep, worn to the bone, and now probably deaf in one ear. He felt that he had to draw the line somewhere or lose his mind. "No whiskey!" he roared, trying to be heard over Adam. "I am not giving whiskey to a two year old boy!"

"Yeah, well, it worked fine fer Ma! You got somethin' he can chew on?"

Ben ran through his small list of possessions in his mind. "I have an old teething ring…"

She shook her head. "Never get way back there without choking him. We got a little ice – I'll get some."

She disappeared in a flurry of skirts. Adam's cries were falling off to a persistent whimpering, his chest heaving against Ben's shoulder. Ben patted his back, rocking him a little.

Lillibelle was back quickly, with a small chunk of ice wrapped in a handkerchief that reeked of scent. Ben tried not to notice.

"Open up, sweetheart." Adam turned his head to her and gave a hiccoughing sob that shredded Ben's heart. "That's my good boy – now suck on this." Adam cautiously released one hand from Ben's suspender and took it, biting down hard. He sniffed. "There you go – don't that feel better?" She looked at Ben. "I still say a little whiskey'll get you both back to sleep."

"I said NO," Ben's voice came out more harshly than he'd intended, and he saw Lillibelle eye him speculatively. He sighed wearily, rubbing a hand over his face. "Miss Lillibelle, I didn't mean – "

"Never mind," she cut him off abruptly. "I get it, Ben."

"I just – I'm – very grateful for your help…"

"Right." The smile she gave him was not warm. "There's a doctor down the hill in Fernley, if you want something fancier. Quite a wait, usually, but do what suits you." She looked at Adam gnawing on his chunk of ice, and her face changed. "Hope you feel better, honey."

Before Ben could say anymore, she turned on her heel and disappeared back inside the tavern, leaving Ben standing alone with his heart feeling heavy and cold.

Ben could never remember how long he looked after her, trying to sort out his confused feelings. He liked Lillibelle - he did - he had had no intention of offending her, but…Adam was something separate. He had been left solely responsible for his care and upbringing, and sometimes the weight of that burden terrified him and all but brought him to his knees. Not burden - he corrected himself quickly. Never that. But…it was hard. He was so…unsure.

The icy dribbles of water running down his shoulder from Adam's improvised teething ring brought him back to himself, and he reached for his shirt. "Come on, son," he said quietly. "Let's get you to the doctor - just in case."

The tavern overlooked Fernley, and he could see it spreading out below him as he followed the well-worn path down the slope. A patch town indeed - from above, the tiny, square gardens that backed each small clapboard house resembled a patchwork quilt, with larger houses at either end of the straight street that ranged through the town - the owner's house, judging by its grandness, and maybe the supervisor's? Or perhaps that was the doctor's. Someone would be able to tell him.

There were women about already - in their gardens, or drawing water from the public pump house, but as it turned out, there was no need for directions. Clear, simple signs marked the public buildings, and they were few - the Company Store, and next to it, a sign that read "Doctor - In". Ben tentatively put his hand on the door and pushed.

Lillibelle had been right - the small, barren room was already filled with people, ranged in uncomfortable looking, mismatched chairs along the walls – a man with his hand wrapped in a bloody rag, a child leaning listlessly against its mother, a woman whose belly was swollen with pregnancy. Ben found an empty chair and sat down to wait. Adam pushed himself up from Ben's shoulder to look around, only sniffling occasionally now. Ben fumbled for his handkerchief to wipe his nose and chin. He felt a little foolish being here suddenly, among these more seriously hurt people – perhaps Lillibelle had been right. Not about the whiskey – he was NOT giving his child whiskey – but about the doctor. Adam seemed to have calmed down, and while he still rubbed irritably at his face, he seemed much less distressed and even interested in his surroundings. Ben touched his forehead experimentally. Still warm, though. Probably just the teething, but…well, he'd feel better if he were sure. Memories of Elizabeth's final, fatal fever danced before his eyes, and he tugged Adam a little closer.

Adam looked up at him and pointed. "Tsairs."

"Yes, those are chairs."

"Door."

"Um hm. The doctor is behind that door. We'll see him soon."

"Dottor," Adam rolled the word around on his tongue.

"That's right – he's going to do something about those teeth hurting you."

"Down?"

"No, Adam, not here. You stay with Papa."

Surprisingly, Adam didn't argue. He leaned back against Ben instead, chewing on what was left of Lillibelle's handkerchief. Ben curled his hand protectively over the small abdomen. Probably all worn out. He was feeling a little worn himself. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, just for a minute.

The next thing he knew, there was a gentle tap on his shoulder. He stirred slightly, rubbing soothingly at Adam's stomach. "Sshh…"

The tap came again, though – firmer this time. "Sir?" He jumped. Adam jumped in response and tilted his head back to look up at him questioningly. The handkerchief in his mouth was in shreds. "You can see the doctor now."

"Oh…" Ben pinched his fingers into his eyes. "I'm sorry – I must have dozed off…" he glanced around the room. He and Adam were the only ones left.

"Well, it's as productive a way to shorten the wait as any." He could hear the smile in the voice and turned his head to look. "Are you the patient, or is it the child?"

"Adam is – my son."

"All right. Do you want to come to me, Adam, or stay with your father?"

Adam blinked and pushed himself more firmly back against Ben.

"I'd better keep hold of him." Ben rose slowly to his feet, hefting Adam onto his shoulder and stretching his aching back. "I'm Benjamin Cartwright." He offered his hand.

The woman took it and shook, a surprisingly firm grip. "I'm pleased to meet you – you're new here, yes? I'm Barbara Chesterfield – my brother, Charles, is the doctor. If you'll forgive my forwardness, Mr. Cartwright, you sound like my home town."

Ben smiled back. "I might say the same. Boston?"

"Yes. I'm a teacher there, actually – I come here to help my brother out a couple of months out of the year."

Ben felt himself relax. He couldn't suppress a nostalgic glow at the sight of Miss Chesterfield – this was the sort of woman he was used to. Oh, he'd seen plenty of the other kind at port when he was a sailor – he wasn't a naïve stripling, after all – but he missed the company of women of breeding and education. He studied Miss Chesterfield in her neat maroon skirt and crisply starched shirtwaist, ornamented only by a watch, and thought that he would have known her for a New England girl even if she hadn't spoken. Liz would have approved of her. He wondered how on earth she kept her shirtwaist so white in this town where coal dust pervaded the very air. He had even given up sleeping with their one small window open when he'd discovered both he and Adam were waking up with a ring of black edging each nostril.

Miss Chesterfield gestured him ahead of her through the door.

"Door," Adam murmured into his neck as they passed through.

"That's right," Ben agreed absently.

Dr. Chesterfield looked much like his sister – neatly kept brown hair and friendly brown eyes behind wire spectacles. He also shook Ben's hand, though Ben thought he looked tired. Well, no wonder, if he was the only doctor around here. "Well, what have we here?"

Ben shrugged apologetically as he set Adam down on the table that filled most of the room. "Lillibelle thinks he's getting his molars. I'm inclined to agree, but he's so warm…" he glanced at Adam, who suddenly, he thought ruefully, had never looked more well. "Really, he was screaming his head off just a little while ago."

The doctor chuckled. "Yes, they all do that – intentionally to aggravate their parents, I think. You know Lillibelle?"

Ben felt himself flush. "She – I – work at the Griffin Tavern."

The doctor nodded, not looking particularly shocked. "I had heard that Henry had a new bar man. Try to keep my fighting injury list short if you can, since the mine injury list is long enough, will you?" He smiled at Adam, who returned his gaze warily, and placed a gentle hand on his head. "Want to give me a look inside there?"

Adam politely offered him his drool-soaked handkerchief. Ben groaned inwardly, but Dr. Chesterfield thanked Adam and took it, handing it in turn to his sister. He kept his hold on Adam's forehead and pulled down his jaw with his other hand. Adam's uncertain eyes sought Ben's, and Ben took one tiny hand in his fingers and ran his thumb over the knuckles reassuringly.

"Uh-huh…" the doctor let go of Adam's jaw and smiled. "Lillibelle's diagnosis would seem to be correct. All four at once, poor little fellow, but at least he'll get it over with. I've got something you can rub on his gums that should help you both get some sleep. Barbara can take your information while I get it."

Miss Chesterfield went over to a small cabinet and took out some papers. "Just a few questions while he mixes that up for you – can you write? Would you rather fill it out yourself?"

"Yes. I can write," Ben tried not to sound affronted.

"Good," she handed him the papers, watching as he began to fill them out in a neat, copperplate hand. "Most of my patients can't. What on earth brings a man like you to Fernley?"

"Oh, just passing through…"

"Down," Adam announced, turning to climb off the table.

Ben dropped the pen and grabbed him. "No, Adam," he said firmly. "Stay put until the doctor is done with you."

Adam twisted in his grasp. "Down," he repeated, more insistently.

Ben frowned. "Adam, I said "no"."

"I'll bet I have something that will keep him occupied," Miss Chesterfield went back to the small cabinet and returned with a faded cloth book. "Why don't you look at this while you wait, Adam?"

Adam's face lit up. "Book!" he informed Ben.

"Yes, I see – be careful with it…" Ben watched for a minute to be sure he had settled back down, then returned to his paperwork.

"So, where were you passing through to? Boston?"

"Hm? Oh, no – coming from Boston. Going to California."

Miss Chesterfield's eyebrows pushed together. "California. Well…what a long way." She glanced over at Adam. "Is his mother…?" She trailed off. Ben could almost watch her put together that he would not be living at the Griffin Tavern with his son if Adam's mother was alive. "Then it's just the two of you."

"Yes." The word came out as a hiss, and Ben noticed that he had left a blot on the form. Wordlessly, Miss Chesterfield handed him a blotter, and he applied it with more violence than was really necessary.

"Forgive me, Mr. Cartwright, but – you and Adam are both going all the way to California – just the two of you?"

"No, I suppose we'll put in with a wagon train at some point. I understand that's how it's done."

"You know that's not what I mean."

Ben set his jaw grimly. "You mean is he coming with me. The answer is "yes"." God, he wished people would stop asking him that. What did they expect him to do with Adam – leave him at the side of the road like a stray cat and hope that a good family found him?

"Forgive me - I didn't mean to be personal."

"Then don't be."

Ben's tone was polite even though the words weren't, and Miss Chesterfield surprised him with a smile. "Spoken like a true New Englander - no mincing of words."

Dr. Chesterfield re-entered, carrying a small, cobalt blue bottle. "I'll show you how to apply this - just rub it right on the gum when it's sore - I recommend before bed, too…" He slid his hand under Adam's chin, tilting his head away from the book in his lap. "What do you say, little friend - going to open up for me again?"

Adam looked at Ben and puckered his forehead.

Ben nodded. "Go ahead, Adam - the doctor just wants to help you feel better."

Adam cautiously opened his mouth, and the doctor briskly inserted his finger all the way to the back gums and rubbed them vigorously. Adam choked and coughed, but if he was going to bite, the doctor was too fast for him - he pulled out his finger, and Adam was left shaking his head and trying to spit away the unpleasant taste of the medicine. When he didn't succeed, he gave the doctor an indignant glare.

Dr. Chesterfield laughed. "It's just as well that looks can't kill, little one." He put his hand back on Adam's forehead, his smile fading some, then felt the back of his neck as well. "He really is warm. It's most likely just teething, but…does he tend to run high temperatures?"

"Yes. Well - they seem high to me. I can't pretend to be an expert. You think he's all right?"

"Oh, probably. I like to err a bit on the side of caution, though…do you have to get right back to work, or could he stay for a bit? I wouldn't mind keeping an eye on him for a little while, just to be sure."

"Well, it's early, I don't - but you must be very busy…I could bring him back if he seems worse."

"Oh, do stay," Miss Chesterfield coaxed. "The waiting room is actually empty for the moment, and I was just going to fix tea. I would love to have a fellow Bostonian to chat with, and, frankly, you look as though you could use a bit of a breather yourself."

Ben rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Go ahead," agreed Dr. Chesterfield pleasantly. "I have a new medical text I want to look at - we can read our books together."

Ben turned back to Adam to ask him how he would feel about being left alone with the doctor, then stopped. Adam's eyes had drifted closed, and he was sound asleep on the table, still clutching the book. Ben rested a hand lightly on his head. "Well…I suppose it couldn't hurt…"

"That's right – let him get a little nap in – probably the best thing for him. Go on – I'll come get you if he wakes up."

Ben hesitated. "What about your tea?"

"I always take it here, in case a patient shows up. They're shy about coming to get me during meals, unless it's a near amputation or something equally dire. Go on – I'll enjoy reading my text without Barbara buzzing about, and it will be good to know that she has company for a change."

"Yes, you can see how fortunate it is that my brother is a talented doctor, because he is clearly NOT a diplomat," Miss Chesterfield retorted. Charles looked at her, and they laughed together.

Ben gave Adam's head a pat and straightened. "All right – I'd enjoy that very much."

Miss Chesterfield led him to a trim house next door with a bright, well kept kitchen and moved the kettle to one of the front stove covers. Ben watched, feeling suddenly vaguely sad. He'd missed these little civilities, he realized: the companionship of being part of a community and all the small rituals that entailed.

"Your brother seems like a good man," he said at last, to break the ice.

"Oh, my, yes – a bit of a saint, really – that's why I try to come here a couple of times a year. Like most saints, he's impractical – I like to make sure he's getting mended and laundered and fed properly."

"Well, he seems to have a heavy caseload."

"Very. He visits a couple of the smaller mining towns once or twice a month, too. He provides a valuable service for them, but I can't help feeling sometimes that it's a shame – he could have had a practice anywhere he wanted."

Ben smiled slightly. "I'm going to guess that you tell him that, too."

She laughed, placing a teacup and a plate of scones in front of him. "You read me well."

"It's not difficult. I don't think you hide much."

"That's true. Never saw the point of it – waste of energy, if you ask me. Yes, I tell him he could have a practice anywhere, and he says, 'And so I have, Barb – and so I have'. How on earth do you reason with a man like that?"

"Very carefully, I'd say."

"Well, you know how siblings are - no hiding of teeth among them. How do you like your tea?"

Ben thought about his own brother, John, and wondered if he agreed. Somehow they had never been very close, and now years had passed since they'd seen each other. "Oh!" he started, realizing Miss Chesterfield was waiting for an answer. "Cream, please, if you have it."

Miss Chesterfield poured cream from a can into a small pitcher and put it on the table next to the scones. The kettle began to rattle, and she emptied the water into the teapot. "So," she said conversationally, setting the pot on the table to steep and taking a seat. "Why California?"

"I don't know," Ben poured a dollop of cream over the fragile china cup. "It's a dream I've had for a while - a place where a man can work with the earth and build from the ground up. A place to spread out - set down roots and create something for future generations."

"For Adam."

Ben nodded. "That's right."

"Seems like a hard journey to be taking with such a young child."

"I suppose."

"I don't really know how you manage."

"I manage."

"Mr. Cartwright - "

"Ben. Please."

"Ben…I wonder…"

Ben watched her pour a steaming stream of amber liquid into his cup. "Miss Chesterfield, it's clear you have something you want to say to me. You're a plainspoken woman - why don't you just say it?"

Miss Chesterfield looked at the cloud of steam rising off of her tea and nodded. "Very well, then. Ben. I truly don't mean to pry…or perhaps I do; it does seem to be a habit of mine, but…it seems to me that caring for a small child alone is difficult enough - doing it without the support of friends or family of some kind, I can't imagine. And now you're saying you're going to continue to try to do it in what amounts to the wilderness - a daunting undertaking for a man who has only himself to worry about, never mind…I just have to wonder if you've really thought this through. It seems like…madness."

Ben picked up a scone. "Now you sound like Lillibelle."

"Well, Lillibelle's no fool. And she knows quite a bit about children."

"So I've seen."

"I hope I haven't offended you - I just can't help wondering if you haven't considered other options."

"How interesting. And those would be...?"

"Well, waiting until Adam is older, for one."

"You mean back in Boston."

"Yes, certainly."

"I promised Elizabeth - my wife, you see - that I wouldn't abandon my dream. The dream we had together. She made me promise…that I would still head west."

"I see."

"She was dying…and I promised. I couldn't break my last promise to her."

"No, of course not. What did she die of?"

Ben felt as though there were a wire twisting in his heart. He hadn't really talked about this to anyone since…He ducked his head to take a sip of his tea. "She died giving birth to Adam - I'll never believe that she meant for me to leave him behind."

"No…" Miss Chesterfield spoke very carefully. "Of course, it's possible that she didn't mean for you to leave right then, either."

Ben looked at her quickly, looked away. Possibly not, but…how to explain? How could he explain to anyone his desperate need to quit Boston, where every sight and sound reminded him of Elizabeth - of all they had had together…of all he had lost? He had fled like a man pursued by demons - indeed he had felt like one - the demons of his past. "I saw no real reason to wait," he stammered at last.

"There's…another option, of course…"

Ben stared hard at her. "I hope you are not going to suggest me giving up my son."

"Of course not. Not - permanently, anyway." Ben's face grew set. "Mr. Cartwright - Ben. I was just thinking that, if you had family in Boston…"

"I have none."

"Your wife, perhaps?"

He paused, reluctantly. "Her father. He's not young any more, though. Miss Chesterfield, what are you getting at?"

"I was just thinking…what if you left Adam in Boston and went ahead west yourself? You could stake your claim, get a start on building a home, get settled, then send for him. In the meantime, you'd know he had a good home and was well fed and well taken care of - even educated, depending on how long all that takes."

Ben was aghast. "That could take years!"

Miss Chesterfield shrugged. "How long has it taken you so far?"

Ben reddened. "About a year and a half…but…"

"Then surely this would be faster in the end? If you were traveling without Adam? If it's taken you nearly two years to make it from Boston to Pennsylvania, how many years will it take to make it to California?"

"I don't know- it doesn't matter how many, as long as we're on our way."

"It doesn't matter to you, you mean. What about Adam? No friends, never knowing where his next meal is coming from…no medical care if he needs it. I don't know if you've noticed, Ben, but he's underweight."

Ben swallowed. "He…just had a growth spurt."

Miss Chesterfield sighed. "I'm not telling you what to do, Ben. I'm just saying you should consider your options."

He would forget me. Ben just stopped himself from saying it aloud. I'm his father.

He picked up the spoon to stir his tea. It evaded his grasp, clattering softly against the saucer. He let it lie there, staring at it.

Miss Chesterfield's voice softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought you ought to consider it. For Adam's sake."

Ben shifted his eyes painfully back to her. Suddenly the tea didn't look the least bit appetizing. Suddenly talk of Boston held no charm. "I'd better get back to my son." He rose awkwardly to his feet.

Miss Chesterfield looked apologetic. "Ben…"

He nodded briefly. "I do thank you, Miss Chesterfield, for everything. I - know your heart is in the right place." Miss Chesterfield rose with him, reluctantly. "No - I know my way back."

He made his way blindly out the neatly painted door and back toward the clinic. There were one or two patients in the waiting room now, and he nodded politely in their direction as he walked to the examining room.

Dr. Chesterfield looked up with a smile as he entered, a smile that changed quickly to a look of concern as he studied Ben's face. "Eh, dear - don't tell me. Has Barbara been managing again?"

"Your sister is very kind," Ben said distantly, resting his hand on Adam's shoulder and giving a little squeeze. "Come on, Adam - time to go home."

Barbara appeared behind him in a rustle of petticoats. "Ben. Forgive me if I intruded. I warned you I was a plainspoken woman…"

"Not at all." Ben helped Adam sit up and watched him blink about him, trying to orient himself.

Adam saw what he was still clutching and blinked at that. "Book," he stated drowsily.

"Yes, I know. Leave it here, Adam - it's not ours."

Adam looked from Ben to the book. "Wead," he suggested hopefully.

"Perhaps Miss Chesterfield will let you look at it another time. Right now we have to go."

Adam rubbed absently at his cheek. "Book," he repeated more insistently, as if he didn't think Ben was getting the point.

Ben took a breath. "Adam, give the book back to Miss Chesterfield, please, and thank her - we're leaving."

Adam looked back at the book, then at Miss Chesterfield. He smiled a bright, angelic smile. "Book?" he wheedled ingenuously.

Miss Chesterfield smiled back. "He can borrow it, if you like. Bring it back tomorrow."

Adam beamed.

Ben shot her an exasperated look. "Very well…" he lifted Adam from the table.

"Walk."

"All right," Ben set him on his feet. "Don't forget to thank the doctor and Miss Chesterfield."

Adam gazed contentedly at the book. "Sank you," he chirped politely.

Miss Chesterfield ran a hand over his curls. "That's fine, Adam. Enjoy the book." And in a softer voice, to Ben, "I hope I haven't caused trouble again? He might just as well enjoy it."

"No, no…" Ben took another deep breath, trying to settle his tumultuous feelings. "I just don't want him going through life thinking he can get whatever he wants just by smiling."

"Yes, well…" Miss Chesterfield studied the small, upturned face and shrugged with rueful humor. "Maybe he can."

TBC

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