Chapter Twenty-Three

“Come in; I have something to tell you.” Frannie snagged Lisbeth’s arm and virtually towed her into the Beckers’ kitchen, out of the gray morning.

Lisbeth had something to tell Frannie, as well; it was why she had come by. If she could express to anyone her feelings for Rab and the confusion that dominated her heart, it would be to Fran.

But, as usual, cheerful madness reigned at the Becker household. Ed had already left for work—Lisbeth had seen him go—and Bess squealed in Frannie’s arms, no doubt wanting to be fed. Little Eddie ran around the kitchen like the wild creature he so often resembled. Frannie, wearing a stained apron over her nightdress, did not appear to have combed her hair for days.

Despite her misery, Lisbeth smiled. Frannie might have a mad look in her eye now, but she would at some point in the future look back on these days as her happiest.

“What is it?” she asked obligingly.

But Frannie, ever the good friend beneath her distraction, looked Lisbeth in the face. “First, tell me what’s amiss with you? You haven’t slept.”

No more had she. After Rab left, Lisbeth had struggled between anger and uncertainty. She still wanted him so much it shocked her, and she feared he would not return.

Indeed, he had not put in an appearance before she left—not even to the forge. She wondered half frantically if her desire had ruined their long friendship.

What had possessed her, tossing away her modesty like that, thrusting her hands into his trousers and wrapping her fingers around him? She had never once behaved that way with Declan.

Declan. She had to discover whether she was, in truth, his widow, if only for the sake of her sanity.

“I had a bad night. Can we talk?”

“Of course.” Frannie visibly thrust her own concerns aside. “I’ll make tea.”

She placed Bess in the highchair Ed had built when Eddie was born, now much scarred.

“Eddie, for mercy’s sake go and play with your wooden soldiers. There’s a good boy.”

Wondrously, Eddie did. The kitchen, replete with piled dishes and sticky floor, settled into as much peace and quiet as it ever attained.

Lisbeth sat at the table. Now that she had a chance to speak, she didn’t know quite what to say even though she usually shared her troubles, hopes, and dreams with Frannie. Frannie had been the first she told when Declan asked Lisbeth to marry him—or more precisely when he offered her marriage.

I’d be willing to wed you, Lisbeth, if you want. I know you, and I expect it’s the only way I’ll be after getting you to the bed.

She compared those words with the ones Rab had spoken last night, delivered in a voice hoarse with longing. I want to wed you, Lisbeth. All his heart had lain in those words, and Rab Sinclair’s heart beat strong and true.

“What is it?” Frannie asked again. “What’s happened?”

How much could she confide in Frannie, after all? Nothing about what had happened last night; that must stay between her and Rab. But Frannie knew so much about how things had been with Declan—the times he had worried her, failed to come home, disregarded her feelings. And all the while she had loved him.

Or had she? Had it in truth just been infatuation? For it seemed a pale shade compared to what she now felt for Rab.

She tangled her fingers together and said, “Frannie, I think I’ve fallen in love with Rab.”

“Really?” Frannie’s face lit. She sat down opposite Lisbeth, everything else forgotten. “But surely that’s a good thing. You’ve been widowed a year; there’s no reason you can’t start courting.”

“No.”

“No? But people all over town are talking about you, anyway—best to make it official. Have you told Rab? You know, I suspect he’s been a little bit in love with you a long while. And he’s a fine catch. Emily Cooper’s been after him like mad.”

“Has she?” Just what Mignon had said, and Lisbeth didn’t like the way that made her feel.

“She’s always taking broken items to the blacksmith shop. I think she breaks them herself. But shouldn’t you look a whole lot happier than you do, if you’re in love?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it, though?” Frannie studied Lisbeth with her soft, brown eyes. “If you love him and he loves you, the way I see it you could be wed by spring.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something? Declan.”

Frannie looked uneasy. “What about him? Oh, honey, you’re not harking back to that story you told about seeing him on the shore? That was imagination, surely, and the effects of the storm.”

“Was it? Frannie, I found his hat, held it in my hands.”

“You’ve been overwrought. Happen that hat was in the cottage for months and you only just noticed it. That place wasn’t healthy for you, but things are better now. And with Rab to look after you…”

“I don’t need anyone to look after me,” Lisbeth denied. Hadn’t she been the one looking after everything during her marriage to Declan? Though the idea of surrendering herself body and soul into Rab’s big hands, to his strength and care, left her breathless.

“It’s time for you to snatch some happiness,” Frannie declared.

“Rab and I—we quarreled last night. He went off and didn’t return this morning.”

“No wonder you didn’t sleep. I never do if Ed and I have quarreled. I always tell him he’s my peace of mind, which is a funny thing when he so often drives me to distraction. Listen to me; I’ve known Rab Sinclair since he arrived here in Lobster Cove. He’s not the sort to stay angry or hold a grudge.”

“This was no ordinary quarrel.”

“So tell him you’re sorry; he’ll be willing to forgive.”

“Maybe. But that’s not why I’m here. Will you do something for me?”

“If I can.”

“I want to go out to the cottage, but I don’t want to go alone. Do you suppose Ed’s mother would watch the children so you could go with me?”

“I don’t see why not. How about this afternoon? Only it looks like rain.”

The last thing Lisbeth wanted was to get caught up the shore in yet another storm. But she said, “I’d appreciate it. I promised Rab I wouldn’t go alone.” Or at all.

“Fine, then, I’ll speak to Ed’s ma and come by after lunch.”

Frannie got up to pour the tea. In the corner, Eddie giggled with Kelpie. Bess sucked on her fist.

“Thanks, Frannie. Now, what’s your news?”

Frannie paused and lifted the tea cup she held higher, affording Lisbeth a view of her silhouette. “See if you can guess. Only, in this loose gown, you probably can’t.” She set the cup in front of Lisbeth and lowered her voice. “I think I’m expecting—again.”

“Oh, my! That’s wonderful. But I thought you were determined to wait.”

“I was. It’s awfully soon after Bessie, but I swear, all that man has to do is look at me and I’m expecting.” Frannie giggled, sounding like Eddie. “Well, maybe he did more than look at me.”

Lisbeth glanced around the small kitchen, trying to imagine how another babe would fit. But she smiled, “Congratulations.”

“I honestly don’t know how I’ll ever manage. But a family’s always been my dream.”

“I know.” Lisbeth leaned her elbows on the table. “I suppose you are sure? It isn’t a false alarm?”

“As sure as I can be. I have all the signs: I’m hungry all the time, especially for sweets. I baked a cake yesterday and ate the whole thing myself. And my clothes are already getting tight. In fact, I was going to ask you to let out some of the seams if you can.”

Lisbeth stared at her friend as a light suddenly flared in her mind. “Hungry for sweets?” she repeated.

Frannie laughed. “You must remember how it was with these two.”

She chatted on, but for once in her life Lisbeth failed to listen.

It couldn’t be. Yet, in her heart, Lisbeth knew it was: Mignon’s high color, her penchant for sweet cakes, the expanded measurements for the new wardrobe… Lisbeth must have been a fool not to see.

Mignon carried someone’s child.

But whose?