Mail Order Devastation (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 4) Read online

  “But Deming took that away,” Noah said, “by confirming that he intended to leave Montana, and go somewhere Mollie would never find them.”

  “Exactly. It was the hope of seeing Nell, possibly even reuniting with her someday, that was keeping her going. We have to help her find that hope again.”

  “But…how? Deming will never speak to her, or to me for that matter. I think talking to him would only make things worse.”

  “Not hope of seeing Nell again, my dear. Hope for the future. She could have other children someday. That’s not the same, I know. No one could ever replace Nell in her heart. But there is room in her heart for other children too. Loving other children doesn’t mean that she has to stop loving Nell. Somehow, we have to help her understand that.”

  “I don’t see how we can. She barely hears anything I say. She’s in some kind of a stupor.”

  “I think her mind is just overwhelmed. She needs rest, and time to grieve. If she’s still the same in a week, we’ll resort to more extreme measures.”

  ***

  Sunday, March 15, 1891

  Nell awoke to the sound of voices. She had no idea what day it was, or what time—she only knew that around the drawn, heavy curtains, sunshine leaked in, brightening the room. It must be late morning.

  A growl in her belly told her that for the first time in many days, she was hungry. The days had blurred into one long, vague memory. All she could remember was Noah coming and going, and trying to push food on her when all she wanted to do was sleep.

  She pushed back the covers and stepped out onto the cold floor, padding across it to the bedroom door, which stood open a crack. She reached to open it when the murmur of voices made her hesitate.

  “So you don’t think you’re coming to Mass?”

  It was Lettie. Is it Sunday morning already?

  “I don’t think I should. I’m afraid to leave her alone. I think God will understand.”

  “It’s ironic, isn’t it, that we only started going to church again because of her, and here I am, going alone? Maybe I should just stay home, too.”

  “No, don’t. She’d want you to go, Mother. I know you’ve developed a distaste for established religion over the years—a bit of which has rubbed off on me—but let’s face it, we it hasn’t been terrible attending church again. In fact, I like to think it’s helped me become a much more forgiving and understanding person.”

  “Not to mention, more responsible, and a little less spoiled.”

  He chuckled. “True enough. But I think Mollie deserves part of the credit, as well…as do you, for setting me straight. But you go on to Mass without me. Tell me how the sermon is.”

  “That’s one thing I do like—that Father O’Brien gives a marvelous sermon.”

  “Mollie says the same thing. I wish she could go—I think it would help her.”

  Mollie leaned her head against the doorframe. Why go to church? To pray to God? He let my child be stolen from me. I’m not ready to talk to Him, yet.

  “Have you told her yet?”

  Lettie’s words caught her attention. Told me what?

  “No. She’s still not really communicating with me. I think it would just make it worse.”

  “It’s been two days. Don’t you think she has a right to know?”

  “What good could possibly come of telling her that Vera is dead? All it will mean to her is that Mr. Deming will be taking Nell away even sooner. Who knows what that will do to Mollie?”

  Mollie doubled over, as if she’d been punched in the gut. Vera Deming is dead? No…that can’t be! She’s supposed to be Nell’s mother! How can she be dead?

  Hobbling over to the bed, she crawled in and curled up into a ball, her mind whirling. Would her daughter grow up with no mother at all? She imagined Nell being raised in an enormous mansion, with no brothers or sisters, brought up by nannies and governesses, and with cold Mr. Deming as the sole parental figure. What a bleak future!

  This isn’t what I wanted for her! I was giving her up so that she could be happy! She tilted her head upward, directing her anger at God. How could You do this? It’s bad enough that I have to suffer, but does Nell have to suffer too? What purpose is there in all of this?

  She pounded her pillow, pulling the covers over her and weeping softly until she had no strength left, and no tears left to cry.

  A short time later, Noah entered the room. “Mollie? Are you awake? How are you feeling?”

  The last thing she wanted was to face a day with Noah hovering over her, worried and trying to force food down her throat. She felt her cheeks to be sure the tears had dried, before pulling her head out from under the covers. “I…I’m better.”

  “Do you feel like eating something?”

  “I think so. Was that your mother’s voice I heard?”

  He paused. “Yes. She stopped by to see if we were coming to church.”

  “You should go.”

  “No! I’m staying with you. You need me.”

  “I could go, but I’m a wreck, and in dire need of a bath. You go. You can tell me about Father O’Brien’s sermon when you get back.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right…”

  “I wouldn’t feel right, making you miss church. You go, and I’ll stay here and eat something. I promise.”

  “You do seem much improved.” He looked at her for a long moment, then agreed. “If you’ll eat something, then fine, I’ll go. I’m just glad to see you up and about.” He stepped toward her, reaching out to brush a finger across her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  Mollie tried to force a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Ten minutes later, Noah was dressed and leaving for church. As soon as she heard the buggy pull out down the alley, Mollie slid back under the covers, pulling them up over her head. She was grateful to have the house to herself…to be able to think, without interruption. But instead of thinking, a heavy weariness settled over her, and the last thing she remembered was wondering if she should have taken Nell when she had the chance.

  ***

  Nell was a newborn again.

  Cuddled in Mollie’s arms, amid layers of soft pink blankets, Nell’s tiny little strawberry blonde head nestled against her breast. It was if she had never left her side, the feeling was so familiar. Mollie sat up in her bed, dressed in a crisp white dressing gown, with fancy embroidery along the collar. It was a scene of perfect, peaceful domestic bliss. She had never felt such joy in all her life.

  Without warning, Noah rushed into the room.

  “Shhh, Noah, you’ll wake the baby.”

  “She’s here again.” His tone was low and sharp.

  “No!” Mollie gasped, cuddling Nell closer. “Why? What does she want?”

  “What do you think she wants? She wants Nell!” Noah flailed his arms, filled with anger and bitterness. It was a side of him Mollie had never witnessed. “My mother is on her deathbed, and that selfish woman circles us like a vulture, waiting to swoop in while we’re at our weakest, and try to steal away our child?”

  “Surely Vera wouldn’t be so heartless! I know she misses Nell, but she must understand that this is Nell’s home now. It would be cruel to tear her away from the only family she’s ever known.”

  Noah crossed his arms. “I don’t think she cares. She’s only thinking of herself. She’s got it in her head that she’s the rightful mother, and I don’t think she’ll stop until she gets her.”

  “Oh, Noah, you have to stop her! Please, you must do something. I couldn’t bear to lose her again!”

  Movement by the window caught Mollie’s attention, and a dark figure loomed first, tall and imposing, while a second appeared beside him, thin and frail. It was the Demings.

  “They’re here!” she shrieked. “They’ve come for her! Do something!”

  In her arms, Nell began to feel lighter and lighter. When Mollie looked down, she realized her daughter was fading before her eyes.

  Noah reached into
the hallway and retrieved a rifle, which he raised and aimed at the window.

  “Hurry, Noah! Stop them, before she’s gone!”

  Noah ratcheted a round into the chamber and aimed. The blast was deafening, and Vera Deming clutched her chest and fell away from the window. Nell began to cry, but she was fading so fast that her cry faded along with her.

  “No! My baby…not again! Please, no!”

  Noah took aim again, but Alexander Deming melted away from view.

  Moments later, the Demings were gone, Noah was gone, and Mollie sat alone, her arms outstretched and cuddling nothing but empty air.

  “No!” Mollie cried out in anguish, reaching out to grasp for her daughter, and finding only empty air.

  “Shhh, it’s alright. I’m here.” Noah sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her toward him. “It was just a nightmare. You’re alright.”

  She held fast to him, sobbing. “Nell…she was gone. I held her in my arms, and then she was just…gone.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never should have left you.”

  She wept for a long time, until the choking sobs gave way to sniffling and hitching breath. At last, with a long, shuddering sigh, she pushed away from Noah and sat up. “I need to go see Mr. Deming.”

  “Go see—? No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. He just…I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you yet, but he just lost his wife—”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “I overheard you earlier. That’s why I need to see him.”

  “After the fiasco at the hospital, and now his wife’s death, I don’t think he’s in any state to be reasonable. I told you I’ll support you if you want to get Nell back, but I think we go through the courts, and avoid Deming altogether.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I want to tell him that I’m letting Nell go. And,” her voice broke, “and I won’t be bothering him anymore. I know I said I was letting her go before, but I don’t think I really meant it. Not completely. As soon as I heard earlier that Vera was dead, I began seeing it in my mind as a justification for taking Nell. I shouldn’t have allowed my thoughts go there. And I wouldn’t have, if I truly had let her go. Then I had that awful dream.”

  “I could hear you screaming all the way back in the kitchen, as I came in the door. I thought someone had broken in.”

  “In the dream, I had Nell again. She was a baby in my arms. But then the Demings showed up at the windows, looking to get in and take her. And she started to disappear in my arms. You shot Mrs. Deming, trying to protect Nell…but she disappeared anyway.”

  “That’s horrible.” He rubbed her arm. “Are you alright?”

  “It was awful. It felt so real, holding her in my arms. Then when she disappeared—it was like the day she was taken, all over again. But this time, I knew it was forever.”

  “I never should have left you.” He took her hands in his, squeezing them.

  “No, I’m glad you did. That dream was awful, but it made me realize how the Demings must have been feeling through all of this. Vera Deming must have been terrified that she’d lose her…her daughter. I’m sure it looked to them like I was up to no good. I feel terrible that her last days on earth weren’t spend joyfully holding Nell, but were spent in fear and anguish, because of me.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. You never meant to frighten them.”

  “No, but they didn’t know that. And I’m sure Mr. Deming is still afraid I’ll take Nell. And if his mother passes away, Nell will be all he has left. So I have to go to him, and tell him that he doesn’t need to be afraid. That I realize how much pain he must be in, and I don’t want to cause him any more. I’ll write him a letter to that effect, in case he won’t see me.”

  “Do you think he’ll even read it?”

  “I don’t know. But I have to at least try. I’m not even going to ask him to send me photographs, or tell me how she’s doing. I owe him a true and final ending on this situation. I only hope that he will tell Nell about me someday. At least, that I didn’t give her up by choice, and that I loved her more than anything in the world. I want her to know she is loved. I want her to know…” she held back a sob, “…that she was wanted, and not abandoned.”

  “She’ll know. If he loves her at all, he’ll let her know that.”

  “It’s not only for him that I’m doing this, you know. I’m doing it for Nell, too. She has lost the woman she thinks of as her mother. It’s the second mother my poor little girl has lost! How could I tear her away from Mr. Deming, too? If I tried to take her, she wouldn’t understand. She’s only a year old. She won’t know what’s happening, or why. She’d only know that all the people she has cared about have left her. How could I do that to her? It’s the very opposite of what I want for my daughter. She must never feel abandoned, or alone. If that means I have to give her up, so be it.”

  “Then you write the letter, and we’ll bring it over there this afternoon.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged him close, dreading the task ahead.

  Chapter 29

  They walked up to the Deming’s door, hand in hand. Mollie couldn’t raise the courage to knock on the door, but Noah did it for her. He squeezed her hand, and she took a shaky breath.

  The door opened a sliver, revealing one beady eye. “You don’t know when to give up, do you, Mrs. Jamison?” the butler sneered.

  “I’m not here to disturb Mr. Deming. Only to convey my condolences, and deliver this.” She held out the envelope.

  The door opened wider, showing most of Jefferson’s face. “Is that a legal document? Are you actually going to pursue this in court?”

  “No,” snapped Noah. “She’s relinquishing custody of Nell.”

  Jefferson raised his eyebrows. “Well, you do surprise me, Mrs. Jamison.”

  Mollie was tired of the man’s superior tone. “Why? Because I love my daughter? Because I’m willing to make sacrifices for her happiness? Mothers do that every day, Mr. Jefferson.” She stuffed the envelope through the door, forcing the startled butler to take it. Then she grasped Noah’s hand again, squeezing it hard. “We can leave now.”

  As they turned and walked away in silence, the man called out. “Not so fast!”

  Mollie looked back, incredulous. Surely the man isn't planning to call the authorities again!

  “Come in,” he said, standing back and holding the door open.

  Beyond Jefferson, they saw Alexander Deming standing in the shadows of the foyer. Mollie and Noah exchanged glances, then turned back and went inside.

  They weren’t invited into the parlor. Mollie wasn’t surprised.

  Deming stepped forward from the shadows. “So you brought me a letter?”

  She nodded, wishing she had just left. As much as she wanted—needed—to like the man who would be Nell’s father forever, she just couldn’t muster any feeling for him at all. Nothing other than sympathy for his grief, which carved deep lines in his face, and cast shadows under his eyes.

  “And it says you’re giving up Cordelia?”

  The name rankled, but Mollie nodded again. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “Why?” His voice was flat. Emotionless.

  Mollie opened her mouth, ready with a sharp retort. Then she closed it again, and sighed. “I don’t want to disrupt Nell’s life, or yours—not after all that you’ve both been through. I love my daughter. I want her to be happy. She’s suffered enough already, and so have you. The least I can do is leave you both in peace.”

  He rubbed a hand across his face, and looked away. When he looked back, he looked as weary as a man twice his age. “Come with me.”

  He turned away, and they followed, their heels echoing on the terrazzo floors until they reached the soft pile of the Oriental rug at the edge of the parlor. They stopped inside the threshold, unsure how far into the room they should go, while Jefferson stood guard just behind them.

  Deming kept going, past the elegant chaise longue and the two settees that
faced each other, until he stopped at the carved mahogany mantel over the large fireplace. No fire burned within it, and a chill hung in the air. The room was cloaked in shadows, with all the heavy damask curtains drawn against the light.

  They waited, listening to the grandfather clock ticking endlessly in the foyer behind them. There were no other sounds of life in the home. Either the entire house was deep in mourning, or there was no one else at home.

  The seconds turned into minutes as Deming braced his hands against the mantel, leaning heavily upon it. “My wife died,” he said at last, looking back toward them. “As I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  “We have,” Noah answered. “We’re sorry. It was…tragic.”

  Deming nodded, with a twisted smirk. “Tragic…yes. Well, at least the bastard who did it got what he deserved. He’s already met his Maker by now, and I hope he gets what’s coming to him. I know that doesn’t sound very Christian, but I haven’t worked my way to forgiveness yet.”

  Mollie didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept quiet.

  “I went to church today. I’m not sure why. Vera and I stopped going to church years ago, when…when our third child passed, long before it had the chance to enter the world. I was angry at God, and Vera…I think she felt betrayed. Three stillbirths in fifteen years—that’s a lot for any woman to take. That’s why I finally gave in to her pleading, and considered adoption. I didn’t want someone else’s child. I wanted my own. Well, to be honest, by that point I didn't even want a child at all. The years had hardened me. But she wanted a child, regardless of origin, and I wanted to save the last vestige of the happy young woman I had once married.”

  “I had no idea,” Mollie murmured. “That must have been difficult for her.”

  Mr. Deming released the mantle and turned fully to face them. “As soon as Vera saw Cordelia, she lit up. She wouldn’t consider any other child—Cordelia had claimed her heart. She was ecstatic. She wanted to enclose herself in our home and spend all her time with the child. But I got word that my mother was gravely ill, and it was necessary for us to move right away, at least for a time. Vera begged me to let her stay behind—she worried for Cordelia’s health on the trip, and that a ‘Wild West’ town would be too dangerous for a baby.” He laughed bitterly. “And I suppose now she was right. It was only sheer luck that Cordelia and the nanny were home that day. Actually, not luck. It was you.”