FIVE DAYS AND CHARLES MORGAN hadn't come.
The morning after little Charlie's birth, Joshua had gone to the Morgans’ grand home in the center of their three hundred acres to privately deliver the news. From Joshua's report, Charles took the news with a smile, asked after Kizzie and the baby's welfare, and promised to arrive as soon as he could get away.
Of course, as the son of the prominent Morgan matriarch and heir to his father's property, Charles had responsibilities to attend to. So she shouldn't nurse any disappointment that he failed to arrive.
And of course, the action meant nothing as far as Charles’ real care. Kizzie couldn't expect him to drop everything to visit her when he'd sent her to stay with her parents for the birthing.
Kizzie stared at the sleeping baby wrapped tightly in a sling against her chest, a sliver of hope still entwined with Charles’ last words. Just maybe—she smiled down at her little one—Charles took his time because he was making plans of his own.
Plans for a wedding.
The faintest wish, inspired by the few fairy tales her mama spun to her and her siblings, unraveled within her breast, much like the feeling she'd had the first time she'd seen Charles Morgan.
He'd appeared in the doorway of his grand home, late afternoon sunlight at his back and a laugh in his voice. Every daydream she'd ever conjured about a handsome man settled directly on his head as she peered around the corner from behind a chair where she knelt, cleaning up a broken vase Mrs. Morgan had thrown in a fit of temper.
That woman lived with as much of an unpredictable nature as Kizzie's daddy, and Mrs. Morgan didn't even take whiskey.
It hadn't taken long at all for Charles to notice Kizzie among the servants, finding her in various places throughout the house. First complimenting, then encouraging her to talk, then kissing her … and by slow degrees, she gave herself, heart and all, to him.
The small size of the Chappells’ house kept the little family nearly on top of each other when they were all home together, but the love between the five of them came through in their interactions. Joshua held a more quiet, strong presence, teasing Nella and the children in his own way, and Nella fueled the life of the house with her energy and “sass” as she called it.
Kizzie had been known for her own “sass” back home as the fourth young'un of a large family, but somewhere along the last several months, she'd lost her fire. Had it been from her shame? Or the tension circulating under Mrs. Morgan's heavy hand? Or maybe she was afraid if she got too fiery Charles would up and leave her be?
Too much quiet time sent her thoughts in dark places, so once Nella allowed, Kizzie joined in with the chores. As Nella and Ruth washed laundry in the barn, Kizzie cleaned the house. Nothing too taxing, but some simple sweeping or washing dishes, sometimes even helping with the meals, much like back home. And, just like Mama, Nella knew which herbs to use for healing and made up some tea to help with Kizzie's afterpains and aches. She even offered guidance with caring for Charlie, just as Kizzie's mama would have done.
It was a mercy Kizzie didn't deserve after the trouble she'd caused the Chappells, but her options proved incredibly small at the moment.
Kizzie's throat tightened as she scrubbed an iron pan, the renewed ache of her last view of her parents slicing through her chest. When the drink wore off, her daddy would regret his actions, but he'd never go back on them. ’Twasn't the way of mountain men.
Their word hardened like steel, even if their hearts softened.
She couldn't return home.
Her attention lowered to the sleeping babe at her chest, and she firmed her will against the weakening grief. Someone else relied on her now, and she needed to think about him. And the future.
Though she wasn't too sure what that future looked like.
She couldn't stay with the Chappells forever.
If only Charles would arrive, she'd have a better idea. He'd sent her home to be with family during the final stages of her pregnancy, but since home hadn't taken her—her throat tightened at the flicker of another memory—surely, Charles would do right by them.
The front door opened, and a rush of heat rose from her stomach into her face.
Could it finally be Charles?
A stomping sound accompanied the doors creaking, and her pulse slowed.
Not yet.
Isaac Chappell emerged from around the corner, book and papers in hand. With a heavy sigh, he crashed down into a chair at the little kitchen table, his books colliding with the wood. Thankfully, not loud enough to wake Charlie, though, if what Nella said about babies feeding often was true, her little one was due to wake soon.
“What's got you all flustered, Isaac Chappell?”
“Cipherin’.” The boy raised dark weary eyes and pushed a book across the table towards her. “It's gonna kill me dead.”
Kizzie twisted her lips tight to keep from grinning. “I ain't never heard tell of addition and subtraction leading to someone's demise, but I know it's caused my little brother, Isom, a heap of trouble.”
“Ain't nobody can learn it. If we was meant to need more than ten fingers for countin’, why didn't God give us more?”
“ ’Cause I reckon He figured you'd be able to do without them fingers for countin’ once you learned how to use your mind for it.” Kizzie slid into the chair next to him and drew the book close. “I always liked math in school. Not too bad at it either.”
“You like it?” Isaac looked at her as if she'd grown an antler from her head.
“Well enough.” She leaned toward him, offering a smile. “We could study on it together, if you want?”
He raised a doubtful brow, his frown deepening before he heaved out a hefty, “All right.”
Kizzie moved closer, careful not to squish little Charlie, and asked Isaac to point out his current assignment.
“Ah, division.” Kizzie nodded at the place he marked. “It can be a little tricky, and that's a fact.”
“Don't make no sense a'tall.” His voiced raised in protest. “Numbers cain't just disappear, no matter how you put ’em on the page.”
“They ain't disappearing like magic. They're disappearing like when your mama makes some good corn bread and there's nary a piece left at the end.”
“That ain't because of math.” His nose crinkled with his frown. “That's ’cause we're hungry.”
“And your mama cooks real good corn bread.” Kizzie nodded and raised a brow. “But there's math happenin’ too.” She reached over and took a clean sheet of paper from his notebook then ripped it into smaller squares.
“That's what I want to do to my math page every time I see it.”
Kizzie pinched her lips against a chuckle, attempting to show appreciation for the boy's struggle. “Well, I'm pretending our paper is corn bread.”
He nodded. “Then that would be Granny's corn bread, ’cause it kinda tastes like paper.”
Her laugh escaped. “Well, let's pretend it's your mama's corn bread for this example, all right?”
“I ain't gonna eat it.” He crossed his arms. “Especially for math.”
Her laugh burst out again, and it felt good. How long had it been since she'd laughed? And just within a minute she'd done so twice. Maybe she needed more folks like Isaac in her life. “I wouldn't want to eat paper for math's sake either.”
“Good.” He nodded, studying the papers on the table. “But I don't see how we're gonna get math from paper corn bread.”
“You pretend acorns are grenades.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you can dip down in that smart head of yours and pretend paper is corn bread.”
A slight twinkle deepened his dark eyes along with a flicker of a dimple at the corner of his right cheek.
“Now, let's say we got five pieces of corn bread here.” Kizzie counted out five pieces of paper. “And there's the five of y'all wanting the share equally. How many pieces can each person get?”
“I'm giving Daddy that one.” He tapped one of the largest pieces. “ ’Cause he been workin’ all day long and's gotta keep up his strength.”
“That's a fine answer for sure,” Kizzie said. “But no matter the size, it's still just one piece. Size smarts'll come in handy when you're learning fractions.”
“Small folks is faster than big'uns.” He pinched his lips tight at the declaration.
Kizzie's eyes narrowed as she tried to follow the conversational turn. “Usually so.”
“Which means I already got some size smarts.” The glint resurfaced in his eyes. “And I'm faster than Grandpaw.”
Another chuckle bubbled up. “I bet you are, but back to the corn bread. How many pieces does each person get?”
“That's baby math.” He smirked. “Five pieces for five people. Each get one.”
“And …” She placed more pieces with the current papers. “If you have ten pieces of corn bread, how many does each person get?”
“That's baby math too.” He rested his chin on his hand. “Two.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Baby math or not, you just did division.” His dark eyes rounded. “I did not.”
“You sure did. Division is just how numbers are divided by other numbers like how you divided that corn bread for people.” She gestured toward him. “What if your mama made a whole bunch of corn bread. Twenty-five pieces for your family. What then?”
He studied on the idea a minute, murmuring under his breath. “Now four would only get to twenty, wouldn't it?” His face lit. “Five. We'd each get us five.”
“That's right. So it's multiplication backwards.” She nodded, embracing the warmth of doing something to give back to this family who'd done so much for her. “Five times five is—”
“Twenty-five,” he shouted. “Well, I'll be! It is like multiplication backwards.”
Kizzie grinned and stood as Charlie began to squirm awake against her chest, likely helped on by Isaac's enthusiasm.
“What you say to Miss Kizzie helpin’ you out, boy?”
Kizzie glanced up to find Nella leaning against the doorway, her smile soft.
“Thank you kindly, Miss Kizzie.” Isaac tagged a grin onto his gratitude, and a gentle warmth swelled into Kizzie's face.
“It's no trouble a'tall, Isaac.” She stood, dusting her hands off on her skirt. “I'd be happy to help any time.”
Kizzie stepped toward the other room to adjust Charlie against her for a feeding, and Nella followed, tugging off her soiled apron from the washing. “You have a way with young'uns.”
Kizzie sent her a smile. “I reckon I ought to be used to ’em. I got five younger siblings.” She ran a hand over Charlie's little fuzz of golden hair. “Though brothers and sisters ain't nothin’ like caring for your own child.”
“But it's a good trainin’ ground so you ain't caught off guard quite as often as you would be if you hadn't had those siblings.” Nella nodded toward the kitchen. “I'm glad you was here to give him some help.”
“It's the least I can do for all y'all have done for me and Charlie.” Kizzie patted Charlie's back as he made happy eating sounds. “I don't know where we'd be if not for your family.” A chill skittered up her spine. “Food for coyotes, I reckon.”
Nella's brows bunched, and she gave her head a shake. “I ain't never had a good mind for figures.”
“We all got our different smarts.” Kizzie grinned. “I ain't no good at writing letters, plus my penmanship is rotten. But math?” Her smile quivered a little, the recollection softening her response. “Well, I reckon I got it from my daddy. He has a good mind for math and measuring, like no one I've ever seen. He can just see the numbers in his head for a piece of furniture or buildings and … make it.”
“You any good with working figures for business?” Nella sent Kizzie a measured look. “Like managin’ a business or savin’ for one?”
Kizzie's thoughts flitted to a conversation she'd overheard between Joshua and Nella the day before about saving to buy their own land instead of being beholden to the Morgans. And Joshua had plans to start his own mill with skills he'd learned from working in Virginia a few years back.
“Nothing as big as my own business, but I helped manage a little grocery back home and learned a heap about tending a store. Me and my sister Laurel would take turns stayin’ with Mrs. Cappy, and she had no trouble giving us as much responsibility as we wanted.” Kizzie grinned. “Or didn't want, but she used my love of math a lot with keeping her books and helping with inventory.”
Nella studied Kizzie a little longer and then dipped her chin. “You know, we ain't expectin’ nothin’ in return for you bein’ here, Kizzie. Ain't never expected nothin’. But if you've a mind to help us out, I think I know a way.”
“You mean about wanting your own place? Opening up a shop of your own too?”
Nella nodded. “But Joshua and me, well, we didn't get school as young'uns. Wasn't no place for us.” She gestured to the kitchen. “Not like we're givin’ to our own. We could both use some learnin’ with numbers and plannin’.”
Kizzie's jaw dropped a little. “You want me to teach you math?”
Nella's gaze never wavered. “If you're willin’.”
“I ain't no teacher, Nella.” Kizzie drew in a breath. “But if there's something I can teach you, I'll be happy to try.”
“We'll take whatever you can give us.” She waved around the little house. “Workin’ your whole life for somebody else's property ain't where we want to stay. The world's a changed place since my parents came out of the war betwixt the states. If we can have our own home and land, and even shop, then we're willin’ to work hard for it.”
Kizzie had never put much thought into working for another person without having ownership of your own place. People in the mountains valued their land, their homes. But tenants gave part of their hard-earned produce or skills to the landowner in exchange for a place to stay.
Not their own.
“I don't have one doubt about that.” Kizzie's lips tipped. “And I'd love to see you have your own place.”
“That'd be mighty fine indeed.”
The sound of men's voices came from the front of the house, breaking into their conversation. Kizzie's body stilled. Her attention focused on the familiar timbre of one of the voices. Her attention flew to Nella, heat draining from her face.
She should be excited.
Charles had finally come.
She gripped the side of the chair, her breath lodged in her throat.
Why was she so skittish?
Nella's gaze dropped to the sling, and Kizzie turned her back to the door, gently tugging little Charlie from his meal, covering herself, and placing him up on her shoulder.
“You stand tall, girl.” Nella touched Kizzie's arm. “You ain't got no reason to hang your head to that man. He's your baby's daddy, and you ain't done no more wrong than him.”
The front door opened, and in walked a smiling Charles Morgan, looking as wonderful as the first time Kizzie had seen him with the sunlight behind him and his hair blowing wild about his head. He reminded her of a picture she'd once seen in a book at school of a Greek god. Until she caught sight of Joshua behind him. Kizzie blinked. Next to Joshua, Charles really wasn't so tall and those broad shoulders she'd always admired seemed narrow and small in comparison.
Charles came to a stop in front of her, a look of wonder softening his entire expression as his focus shifted from Kizzie's face to the little bundle wiggling against her shoulder.
Yes. This was what she'd hoped to see. This awe at the sight of his firstborn son. The look any good daddy ought to show in light of such a sweet miracle.
He shifted a step nearer. “This … this is …”
“Charlie.” Kizzie tipped her chin up at the announcement, her palm tightening on the baby's back.
Charles’ gaze shot to hers, the faintest tip to one corner of his mouth. “Charlie?”
He stared at the baby like he'd never seen one before as Joshua and Nella silently slipped from the room.
The warm glow of the hearth cast a soft light on Charles’ features, drawing Kizzie closer to him. “He's been sweet so far. Hungry often, but so sweet.”
“I'm glad.” Charles leaned in, looking down at his son. Charlie stared right back with similar intensity. “My son.”
The whispered response squeezed through Kizzie's heart. Yes. His son. And their little family. Kizzie shifted the baby in her arms. “Do you want to hold him?”
Without a word, Charles drew in a deep breath and wiped his palms down the sides of his slacks in answer. Kizzie's smile softened. He proved quite the sight, fumbling around like a schoolboy, when all she'd ever known was the confident landowner or dashing suitor. Perhaps the future wasn't so terrifying after all. All Charles needed was time to adjust to the idea of a wife and child.
Kizzie transferred the baby into his arms, taking in the wonder of Charles’ response. “He … he has light hair like me,” he said.
Warmth branched through Kizzie's chest. Hope, all the way from Charles’ voice to her heart. “He sure does.”
“But blue eyes like you.” Charles glanced up, holding her gaze, his smile crooking in the way it did when she remembered first falling beneath his spell.
She'd never had a man look at her the way he had.
Speak to her the way he did.
She'd felt every bit like Cinderella in the presence of her handsome prince.
Heat flooded her face, and she lowered her attention to their baby, slowly bringing her palm up to cup little Charlie's soft head. “Nella says he's strong, even though he's small. He eats like he's trying to catch up though.”
Charles took hold of one of Charlie's fingers, the connection creasing the man's smile even wider. “He is strong.” Charles caught Kizzie's gaze. “Like you, I hear.”
She raised a brow.
“Joshua told me about your daddy and the coyotes.”
“Yes.” Kizzie looked away. “The Chappells have been real good to me and Charlie.”
He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry I didn't come sooner.”
She searched his eyes for any hint of deception. “Are you?”
“I should have come as soon as I heard.” He nodded. “I'd hoped your family would help you for however long necessary, but … I spent yesterday making a plan, one I should have thought of from the start.”
She held her breath, her smile on the brink of unfurling in anticipation of the one question she'd wanted him to ask since kissing him. “Plan?”
“It's the perfect plan.” His eyes sparkled as he reached out to run a thumb down her cheek. “I've already given the Petersons notice.”
Kizzie blinked out of the fog his touch started in her head. The Petersons? The family that lived on the far side of the Morgan property? What did they have to do with her future?
“They'll be out of the house by next week, which means you and Charlie can move there as soon as I make some improvements to make it suitable for you and my boy.”
The words failed to make sense.
“That house is in the best location for you. Nearer to town, only a few miles from the Chappells’.” Charles nodded back toward the way Joshua and Nella disappeared. “I've already asked Joshua to help keep an eye on you.”
“You … you want me to take Charlie and live in the Petersons’ house?” The statement came slowly, still not making sense even when spoken.
“Well, it's not really the Petersons’ house. It's mine.” Charles urged Charlie back into her arms. “And it will be yours once you move there. It's one of the best pieces of land I have on the property.”
“And …” Realization began to dawn, a slow, sinking feeling curling in her stomach. “You won't be there with us.”
“Of course I'll be there when I can.” He ran a hand through his hair and stepped back. “But the land requires me to work from the main house to take care of things.”
Her jaw tightened. “Then why can't me and Charlie come stay with you there?”
“Kizzie.” He ground out her name, nothing like how he'd said it earlier. “We've talked about this. There's no way I can marry you until my mama dies.”
Pain pulsed in her chest, but she stepped forward. His mama was closer to Kizzie's granny's age than her mama's but still, not too old. “I didn't say marry. I said stay with you.”
“You know that can't happen, since we're not married. And if I marry you …” He waved toward her, and the action stung, dismissive. “Somebody without any money or status, my mama will disinherit me, and then we'll have nothing.”
“But …” Her desires and expectations wrestled against his offering. Didn't he, at least, offer her something? A home? “When will we get married, Charles? I can't stay unmarried to you and sharing your bed forever.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, his smile resurrecting but not reaching his eyes. “I've wanted to marry you since the first day I saw you, but without my inheritance, I can't offer you anything.”
“Your heart is a good start.”
His gaze softened. “You have that already. You always have, but to live the life I want to give you, we need money.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You and Charlie are mine, and I'll take care of you, but right now, the only way I can do that is to provide you a home.”
Home? But without him?
She looked down at the baby in her arms. Her heart swelled with need, hope. What choice did she have, if she wanted to be near Charles and take care of her baby?
“Isn't that enough for now?”
He rushed ahead, giving no time for an answer. “And just wait until you see what I have planned for the house, Kizzie. A new cookstove, a fence around the backyard. And I've already planned to have rugs on the floors to keep you warm through the winter.”
His apparent pleasure curbed a little of the ache growing inside her for something she couldn't quite define. She ignored it and embraced his offering. “Sounds mighty nice.”
“It is. Just wait and see.” He looked over his shoulder toward the door. “Which reminds me that I need to make sure a new bedstead is ordered for you too.” His attention dropped to Charlie. “And a cradle.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped to the door, cramming his hat down on his head as he went. “I'll be back to help you move soon, all right?”
She nodded, breathing in the cold air the open door swept into the room.
“See you then.”
Kizzie stood in the quiet of the room, the crackle of the fire the only sound.
The bridge of her nose tingled, and her eyes stung. The strangest sense of … what? Lostness? Loneliness? Something ached through her chest. Why? Wasn't she getting so many things she wanted? Time with Charles. A place for her and Charlie?
She looked at the baby in her arms. He returned her stare as he sucked his fist. Kizzie ran a finger down his cheek, the ache branching deeper. “We'll be all right, little one. I'll make sure we are.”
But the admission failed to find its way to her trembling heart. She wasn't strong enough to make a promise like that. Hadn't they almost been killed by coyotes only a few days ago? Wasn't she living off the kindness of someone else?
Voices pulled her attention back toward the kitchen, Joshua's boots beating across the floor. He rounded the threshold in front of Nella, his dark eyes zeroing in on Kizzie.
“Mr. Charles just left here, and I don't like what I heard, Miss Kizzie.”
Kizzie's body tensed at the edge in Joshua's voice. Would they cast her out too? When they knew she'd soon be living in sin in a house Charles made for her?
“I can't just stay here with y'all.” Her words wobbled out, and she looked to Nella for some help.
“You got a place here for as long as you need, girl.” Nella stepped forward, her attention moving from Charlie back to Kizzie's face. “But did we hear right by Mr. Charles that you'll be moving to the Peterson place?”
The look in Joshua's eyes paused her immediate response.
“He said he's giving the Petersons notice and moving them elsewhere.” Joshua's voice lowered, strained, as if he was making some attempt to keep it low. “Is that what he told you?”
Kizzie swallowed then nodded. “Said it'd be a few weeks till me and Charlie could move in.”
“It ain't right.” He shot Nella a look. “This ain't good, Nella, and I mean to tell him so.”
Joshua cast another glance to Kizzie before turning and marching from the room.
“What … what does he mean, Nella? I … I gotta go somewhere, me and Charlie. We can't just keep stayin’ here.”
Nella released a long sigh, taking her time before meeting Kizzie's gaze. “Girl, it ain't got nothin’ to do with what you've done, but everything to do with Mr. Charles movin’ one of his tenants before the lease is up, especially the Petersons.” She pressed her fingers to her temples before meeting Kizzie's eyes again. “There are some folks you can swindle, and they won't do much about it. The Petersons ain't those kind of folks.” She stepped forward, placing her hand on Kizzie's arm. “You keep up your guard, girl. Mr. Charles may have just started trouble you and little Charlie weren't meant to fight.”