7
Now, I know we’ve been awful busy these past couple weeks and the doctor had you laid up for a week just to be sure everything was okay, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Mrs. Johnson wiped down the bread table with gusto and gave Cassidy the look that meant she was in for an interrogation.
Cassidy smiled and finished scrubbing the other prep table. “I’m all ears.”
Mrs. Johnson harrumphed. “Now, don’t you go sassing me, Cassidy Faith.”
“Never.” Sarcasm oozed with each syllable.
The older woman ignored her comment but gave her another telling look. One Cassidy had seen a lot over the past few years. “We’ve only got a little time left alone while the others are at tea. And it’s too delicate a subject to broach in front of anyone else.”
“Goodness, now you really do have my curiosity piqued.”
Mrs. Johnson placed both hands on her hips and shook her head. “You better watch your tongue, missy, or I’ll have to demote you to washing dishes.”
“You couldn’t make it without me, Mrs. Johnson, and you know it, so threaten all you like.” Cassidy continued to wipe down the other kitchen prep areas. “Besides, who else could you find to put up with your bossy ways?”
The head chef gasped and then started chuckling. “I boss everyone around. And they have to take it because I’m the boss.”
“Maybe I do it because I love you.”
“Well, then, maybe I won’t demote you after all.”
“All right, then.” Cassidy winked. “Didn’t you have a question you wanted to ask?”
Mrs. Johnson tossed a rag at her assistant. “You are exasperating, you know that?”
“Well, if that’s your question, I guess I would have to agree. Most people used to get aggravated because I was too happy. And I do recall someone accusing me of thinking that life was all gumdrops and rainbows. . . .”
“Cassidy,” Mrs. Johnson groaned. “We’ve come a long way since then.”
“Yes, ma’am. We have.” Cassidy went over and kissed the beloved woman’s cheek. Mrs. Johnson might seem prickly and harsh to everyone else, but to Cassidy Brennan, she was like a mother. The two had a bond forged by hard work and tragedy. They’d laughed together, cried together, and worked their fingers to the bone together.
“Now, if you’ll let me finish.” Mrs. Johnson lowered her voice. “How on earth did you not know you were in a family way all this time? We talked about all of this before you married Allan.”
Cassidy smiled at the blush that crept up the older woman’s neck. “I noticed my waist was getting firm and maybe a little thick, but I thought it was just from all that good food we cook around here. You’re always having me try one of your new creations.”
“Well, now we know it wasn’t that. Honestly, now it makes me understand your moodiness.”
“Moodiness? I haven’t been moody.” Cassidy frowned. “Have I?”
“Well, let me see. A few months back you were sobbing like a baby over the northern lights.”
“They were incredible and all I could think about was the glory of the Lord shining down.”
“Then last month you yelled at poor Thomas because he hadn’t told you the piglets had been born. Then you cried and cried when he took you to see them.”
“Well . . . they were . . . precious.” Cassidy shrugged. “All right, so I’ve been a bit . . . emotional.”
“It’s typical of your condition. I was a sobbing mess for months.”
Everything stopped. What had Mrs. Johnson just said? Cassidy tried to keep her voice low. “You . . . had a baby?”
The cook nodded. “Two. A boy and a girl.” Sadness edged her voice. “I lost them with the others.”
“When you said you’d lost all your family, I thought you just meant your husband, siblings, and parents. Oh, Mrs. Johnson, I never thought of you having babies. You never told me . . . in all these years.” Tears came to her eyes. “Here I go again.” Cassidy wiped her eyes with her apron. Now that she thought about it, she had been crying at the drop of a hat. “What were their names? How old were they?”
Mrs. Johnson looked for a moment as if she wouldn’t answer. She picked up a dish towel and began drying a large glass bowl. “Jonathan was twelve and Deborah was fifteen.”
“I’m so sorry.” Again the tears came. How terrible to lose a child. Cassidy had only just learned of her own baby, but the thought of losing it was more than she could bear.
“Now, don’t be crying,” Mrs. Johnson commanded. Her gruff tone returned. “I already cried a lifetime of tears over these past seven—almost eight—years.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cassidy couldn’t help herself. She came and wrapped her arms around the older woman’s shoulders. “I’ll bet you were a good mother.”
“I was a bossy mother, as you can well guess.”
Looking up, Cassidy smiled. “And you probably had the cleanest kitchen in the world.”
“I did.” She patted Cassidy’s arm. “Now stop all this. I didn’t share it so you would feel sorry for me. I shared it because I wanted you to know that I am here for you to talk to. I can help you with any questions you have about . . . your condition. Usually a girl has her mother to talk to about such things, but since yours is gone, I thought I might offer.”
This only caused Cassidy to hug her all the tighter. “Oh, you sweet woman.” The sound of voices coming down the stairs caused Cassidy to release her hold. She stepped away and picked up a couple of potholders. “I’d better check the pies.”
Two of the kitchen maids burst into the room, laughing and whispering about something. One look at Mrs. Johnson quieted them, however. The girls hurried through the kitchen and disappeared.
Cassidy closed the oven door. “I appreciate that you care enough to share all of that with me.”
“Well, just so you know, I plan to keep a close eye on you.” Mrs. Johnson stabbed a finger in the air. “And I will brook no argument when it comes to this, all right, Mrs. Brennan?”
“When it comes to what?”
“Keeping your health and the baby’s as my utmost concern.”
“Mrs. Johnson, please, the doctor says that—”
“Pishposh, I know what he said, I was there. But he is not here with you every day. I am.”
“Really, I appreciate it, I really do, but I think I can handle us going at our regular pace. I don’t see that anything needs to change. I feel fine.” So maybe the older woman was a bit overprotective of her. She could handle five more months of that, couldn’t she?
“Like I said, I will not tolerate you arguing with me on this point. Besides, Allan and I agree. And we already have a plan.”
“A plan? You and Allan have a plan?” Cassidy rarely got angry. But she felt the emotion burning in her gut now. So much for not being moody. “When, exactly, were you going to let me in on this plan?” And why was she so fired up about it?
“As you needed to know.” Mrs. Johnson grabbed several loaves of bread and started slicing them.
As she needed to know. As if she was a child incapable of taking care of herself. Why all of a sudden did everyone think they needed to tell her what to do? “I cannot believe this. My husband and my boss have conspired against me! They’ve made a plan without even talking to me.”
“You forget, I know how you are. You think nothing of hoisting up fifty-pound bags of flour or running up the stairs two at a time. You need someone to keep you in line so you don’t hurt yourself. Mr. Brennan agrees with me.”
For the first time since Cassidy could remember, pure rage flowed through her veins. Never mind that she might be overreacting. She threw that thought out as soon as it entered. Maybe she should’ve gotten angry ages ago. She untied her apron and slapped it down on the table. “I believe Mr. Brennan needs a good talking-to!”
Cassidy stomped from the room, feeling quite satisfied that she’d shocked Mrs. Johnson speechless.
Thomas joined Allan and John in the dining room after dinner. It was now or never. He had to tell the men the truth. It was only three years ago that he’d shaken the hand of the President of the United States. He’d had his picture taken with him, and the First Lady had commended him. He could definitely face the two men he respected most in the world. Couldn’t he?
John’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled at Thomas. “Come on in. We’ve been waiting on you so we could discuss the schedules for tomorrow.” Cassidy’s father had taken Thomas under his wing when all the boy seemed capable of doing was invoking the wrath of Mrs. Johnson with his clumsy ways. But Thomas had grown out of that, and John taught him well about being a guide around these parts of Alaska.
Allan was all smiles these days. But Thomas guessed that any man would be when his wife was expecting their first child.
Oh, how he hated to wipe the smiles off their faces. He inhaled deeply. “There’s something I need to tell you both.”
John leaned in and propped his elbows on the table. “Have a seat, son. It can’t be all that bad.”
Allan simply relaxed back in his chair. “Thomas, you should know us by now. We won’t bite. We promise.”
Thomas nodded and took the chair next to Allan. He had so much respect for these men. He never wanted to let them down. “I’ve made a mess out of something, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Well, we can definitely help with that. We’re good at fixing things.” John reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Go on.”
“Um, well, that is to say . . .” He cleared his throat, but the knot lodged there wouldn’t move. “You know that Mr. Karstens asked for me to help for a few days up at the park headquarters?” The superintendent of the Mount McKinley National Park was a great man, but he didn’t think it at all amusing when Thomas apparently locked him in the storage room for several hours.
Allan chuckled. “Let me stop you there, Thomas.” He picked up a piece of paper off the table and waved it. “Mr. Karstens telegrammed earlier.”
Thomas stood up. “So you already knew that I messed everything up? Is that why you were laughing?”
“We couldn’t help ourselves,” Allan admitted. “We were just imagining you locking poor Harry in the storage room.” He burst into laughter anew.
“Allan Brennan!” Cassidy’s voice screeched across the room. Thomas had never heard her screech before. Nor had he ever seen her quite so red in the face. “How dare you laugh at Thomas! Don’t you pick on him.”
Allan stood.
Then John stood.
Thomas looked between the two at their shocked faces and then back to Cassidy.
She charged into the room in a way that spoke volumes. Someone was in big trouble. He just hoped it wasn’t him. He’d never seen Cassidy in such a state.
“I was not picking on Thomas.” Allan lifted his hands as if surrendering a battle. “I was about to tell him that Mr. Karstens’ telegram states that he was the one who made the mistake that resulted in his being locked in the storage room, not Thomas. He’d given our young man quite the tongue-lashing earlier and wanted to make sure we apologized for him.”
Relief flooded Thomas at those words.
Cassidy seemed to calm a bit, but then she started shaking her finger at Allan. “Well, that’s all well and good, but it doesn’t explain why you and Mrs. Johnson feel the need to plan out my life. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“What are you talking about?” Allan’s forehead scrunched.
“The two of you making plans about keeping an eye on me—figuring out what I can and can’t do like I’m some sort of child.”
Thomas waited for Cassidy to explode, but instead she sank into the nearest chair and began to cry. Thomas eyed her and wondered what could have caused such a change. For him, he only felt relief that what he’d thought was a huge blunder wasn’t actually his fault.
Allan moved toward his wife.
John looked over at Thomas. “Maybe we should make our way quietly to the kitchen.”
“Don’t leave!” Cassidy wailed. “I know you need to discuss tomorrow’s schedules and I interrupted you and I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.” She gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Then she withdrew it. “I was quite short with Mrs. Johnson too.”
Allan turned back to them and appeared to be pleading for help with his eyes.
John took a tentative step forward. “You know, Cass, your mother was quite . . . um . . . emotional when she was expecting you. I think that’s normal? Maybe? Or we could call for the doctor?”
“No, Mrs. Johnson already explained this to me.”
“If you’re sure. I know Thomas would go fetch him.” John looked worried.
Thomas just nodded as he looked from face to face. He knew his eyes were wide, but the shock of it all scared him. When did sweet, sunshine-smiling Cassidy get a temper?
Allan gripped his wife’s hand as she started crying in earnest. “We will figure this out, sweetheart. We will. Just how short were you with Mrs. Johnson?”
Cassidy squinted her eyes at her husband. “Quite. But it’s all your fault. Apparently, the two of you have a plan to keep me contained these next few months. A plan that you didn’t discuss with me!” Her voice rose.
“Now, honey. Calm down. The only plan we had was to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t overdo it and collapse again. There is no plot against you. And definitely not any plan to keep you . . . contained. As if anyone could contain you.”
Cassidy began to cry again. This time in great heaving sobs. Allan shook his head and looked back to Thomas. “Would you mind fetching the doctor?”
“I’ll go right now.” Thomas was pleased with the excuse to leave the room. That wasn’t a sight he ever expected to see—Cassidy losing her temper and then bursting into tears. Women sure were odd creatures.
He shook his head as he ran to the doctor’s quarters. The incident with Mr. Karstens was nothing compared to the outrage of an expectant mother. He made a mental note to not anger Cassidy Brennan for the next few months.