Tomorrow's Dreams (47 page)

“No,” Seth replied honestly, then mouthed to Penelope, “Thanks to you.”

“Good. Now, I'm leaving some salve, which I want you, Mrs. Tyler, to rub into his arm and rump wounds,” the man continued, handing Penelope a jar. “Think you can manage that?”

Penelope slanted Seth a saucy look. “Believe it or not, Doctor, I do have some experience in applying salve.”

When the doctor had cleaned his instruments and neatly packed his bag, he took one final peek at Tommy.

Seth started to rise then, but the doctor laid his hand on his shoulder and urged him down again. “Whoa there, son! Not so fast. You're in no shape to be gadding about. You need to rest, sleep if possible. You won't be doing your missus or your baby any good by getting up and making yourself sick.”

“He's right, Seth,” Penelope concurred with a nod. “Besides, there's no reason for you not to rest awhile. Tommy's asleep, and there's nothing that needs doing that can't wait.”

“Except pay the doctor and Caleb,” Seth reminded her.

She shook her head. “You stay put. Just tell me where the money is, and I'll make sure everyone gets paid.”

He lightly touched one of their son's curls. “He looks so comfortable, it seems a shame to disturb him.”

“He'll be even more comfortable lying next to his papa,” she declared, carefully laying the baby next to him. Tommy made a feeble mewling noise, but didn't wake.

There was something homey and comfortable about lying next to the baby, a new feeling that Seth found he liked immensely. Propping his head up on his arm to study his son, he said, “All right. You win. Bring me my saddlebag.”

After draping a crocheted lap robe over his naked lower body, Penelope did as instructed. When he'd doled out portions of gold for both the doctor and Caleb, he eased onto his side and curled his tall body around his son's diminutive one. Laying his aching head next to the baby's, his cheek resting lightly against his soft curls, he closed his eyes and savored the simple pleasure of feeling his child's heart beating close to his.

He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard Penelope come back into the cabin and kneel by the bed. He cracked his eyes open to look at her, smiling his contentment. She returned his smile, a smile that faded as she touched Tommy's cheek.

“He's so hot,” she whispered, her hand drifting upward to feel his forehead. “If only there were more I could do for him. I feel so helpless.”

Seth knew exactly how she felt. While he knew almost everything about making money, he was completely ignorant about child care. Except, of course, for the bits of information he'd gleaned from being around Jake and Hallie's brood. He related one of those bits now in hopes of easing Penelope's mind.

“I remember when your niece and nephews had the measles last year. Little Reed was as sick as Tommy is now, and he recovered just fine. Hallie said children are like that, on their deathbed one instant, and whooping it up like Indians on firewater the next. I'm sure it'll be the same with our son.”

Penelope shook her head pessimistically. “Tommy has never been able to whoop it up, or do anything else children his age are supposed to do. He's been sickly since the day he was born.”

Seth looked at the tiny swollen face so near to his, realizing in a rush of regret just how little he knew of his son's birth and short life. Suddenly anxious to know every detail, he asked, “Would you mind telling me about Tommy?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything. Where he was born. What he looked like the first moment you saw him. What makes him smile.” He glanced up from the baby then to meet Penelope's gaze. “I'd also like to know how you got involved with Adele du Charme.”

She looked away and was silent for so long that Seth was beginning to think she wouldn't reply, when she began.

“Adele du Charme and her services were legendary among the New York theater set. She was the one an actress saw if she wanted to prevent conception; she was the one to take care of the ‘problem' should those methods fail. Several women at the Academy of Music had used her services and spoke highly of her skills.”

She paused a beat to stare at Tommy's face. “I went to see her because I felt I had no other choice. I was too ashamed to turn to Jake and Hallie …” She glanced up at him quickly, shaking her head. “Not because I was afraid they would scold me or treat me like a fallen woman, but because I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing them. They had been so supportive of my career, so proud of my accomplishments, that I just couldn't show up on their doorstep pregnant and in disgrace.”

“I wish you'd done just that,” Seth interjected quietly. “Your brother would haye put an end to my nonsense and dragged us both to the altar. We'd have avoided this whole mess.”

“Actually, I was afraid Jake would shoot you if I told him. Or even challenge you to a duel. As much as I hated you, I still couldn't bear the notion of you being hurt or killed.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “I deserved to be at the smoking end of a pistol for what I did to you.”

“I would have agreed with you while I was in labor.” She grimaced wryly. “I can't recall ever hating anyone as much as I did you while I was in the throes of my birthing pains.”

“My poor, brave Princess,” he murmured, caressing her thumb with his. “It must have been hell giving birth without the comfort of your family around you. Yet you chose to do so instead of ridding yourself of the baby. Why?”

“I fully intended to go through with the abortion when I went to Adele.” Her face became pleading then, her eyes begging for understanding. “You have to realize how terrified I was … how shamed and alone.”

“I don't condemn you for what you did,” Seth murmured, drawing her hand to his lips to kiss it. “Granted, I was shocked and hurt at first, but I've had time to think things over and now understand your desperation. In truth, I blame myself for driving you to Adele. If I hadn't been such a bastard in New York, you could have come to me and we'd have been married on the spot.”

She shook her head slowly. “We're both to blame. I should have gone to my brother the moment I knew about the baby.”

“Perhaps. But wherever the blame falls, the most important thing is that you didn't have the abortion.”

“No, I couldn't. I was lying on an old table, all prepared to go through with it, when it struck me just how much I wanted our child. Despite everything, I still loved you, and our baby was all I had left of you. When I told Adele of my decision, she offered to find someplace where I could give birth in secrecy, and then find someone to foster the baby until I could claim it as my own. It seemed the perfect plan, so I agreed.

“And everything was perfect at first. Adele found me a pleasant house just outside the city, where I stayed from my fourth month of pregnancy on.” Her face was pale now, her expression bleak. “But then, a week or so before Tommy was born, I fell ill. My legs swelled terribly, and I was in so much pain that I couldn't move from my bed. I begged Adele to send for a doctor, but she refused. I couldn't understand why, but, of course, I know now. She'd already planned to use the baby to blackmail me and realized that her scheme would be almost foolproof if no one knew I'd given birth. Consequently Tommy was delivered by a midwife with at least three pints of gin in her.”

That she'd suffered so much because of his stupidity made Seth loath himself almost beyond bearing. Choking on his remorse, he croaked, “You and Tommy are both lucky to be alive.”

“Yes. As I mentioned this morning, he was a breech birth. Unfortunately the midwife didn't realize it until she'd sobered up … almost twenty-two hours later.” Penelope shuddered as she remembered her agony. “When she did discover the problem, she tore me up so badly trying to turn him that I began to hemorrhage. He came out four hours later, all purple and bruised-looking with the birthing cord wrapped around his neck. The midwife told me he was dead … strangled in the womb.

She shook her head. “I lost consciousness after that. All I remember in the hours following Tommy's birth is Adele showing him to me and boasting how she'd brought him back to life.”

She paused, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “He was so beautiful. He looked exactly like you. As wretched as I felt, I'd never been happier.” Her dreamy expression turned somber. “A day later the birthing fever set in. By the time I regained enough awareness to ask for him again, almost three weeks had elapsed and Adele had already taken him away. It was then, while I lay too weak to even sit up, that she informed me of her scheme.”

“If only I had been there … I
should
have been there,” Seth agonized, torn up with self-reproach. “If I weren't such a—”

“Don't, Seth,” she cut in gently. “Don't blame yourself. I don't. I'd rather forget the past and concentrate on our future.”

Seth stared into her soft green eyes, his heart so filled with tender emotion that he was certain it would burst. Never had he loved Penelope as much as he did at that moment, never had he felt so loved. That she could so generously forgive him his grievous wrongs was nothing short of miraculous.

“I love you,” he groaned, aching to hold her close but reluctant to disturb their son. “Say you'll stay with me forever, that you still want to marry me.”

“Of course I do. I love you and so will Tommy.” She tilted her head to one side and peered down at their son. “What do you say, Tommy?” she murmured to the sleeping baby. “Do you want to be Thomas Albert Tyler?”

“Van Cortlandt,” Seth corrected. With the intimacy of the moment came the impulse to tell her about Louisa.

She looked up in surprise. “Van Cortlandt?”

He nodded. “My mother's maiden name was Van Cortlandt, presently Vanderlyn. Louisa Vanderlyn is my mother.”

Penelope couldn't have looked more shocked if he'd told her he'd been hatched from an egg. “The same Louisa Vanderlyn who's building the orphanage? The one who's a staunch advocate for the humane treatment of children, and contributes pieces to the
Rocky Mountain News
lambasting business owners and mining companies for their child labor practices? That Louisa Vanderlyn?”

“The very same.”

“Are you certain? I mean, it seems inconceivable that a woman who loves children as much as Mrs. Vanderlyn does could have ever done something as heinous as abandon her own child.”

And even more far-fetched that she'd order him killed, Seth admitted silently. Indeed, the more he learned about Louisa the more he doubted her capable of such an act. Yet what about the caretaker's story and the Pinkerton agent's report? Could he disregard them? He looked at Penelope in helpless confusion.

She disengaged her hand from his to lay it against his cheek. “Did you ask your mother about those charges last night?”

He closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yes.”

“And?” she prompted firmly.

“She denied them.”

“And?”

God, his head hurt. “And nothing. I decided she was lying and left.”

“You left? Just like that? You didn't even bother to discuss the matter or let her explain?” There was a rising note of amazement in her voice. “Why?”

He shrugged the shoulder he wasn't lying on. “I guess I was confused. She wasn't at all what I expected. She was warm and kind, and when I told her who I was, she seemed genuinely glad I was there. Hardly the cold-blooded murderess I'd envisioned.”

“Murderess?!” she echoed, drawing her hand from his cheek.

“Yes. Murderess.” He slitted his eyes open to peer at her, gauging her reaction. She was sitting back on her heels, her expression positively dumbfounded.

“I don't understand,” she finally whispered.

“No, I'm sure you don't,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “But if you're willing to listen to a long story, I'll explain.”

At her nod, he spilled everything. He told of his visit to Van Cortlandt Hall and the caretaker's tale, then went on to detail his vengeance against the Vanderlyn family. By the time he'd given a full account of his confrontation with Louisa, her eyes were the size of saucers. He finally finished: “I don't know what to do. I want to believe my mother's innocence, yet it's hard to erase two years of hatred.” He met her gaze then, his eyes mutely pleading. “Please help me. Tell me what to do. I'm so afraid of making the wrong decision.”

Without hesitation, Penelope advised, “Talk to her. Give her a chance to explain. I think it possible that she had nothing to do with your abandonment.” She gestured to their son. “I mean, just look at my situation. If Adele had abandoned Tommy at an insane asylum like she was always threatening to do, I would have been thrust into a position much like your mother's.” She shook her head. “Talk to her, for your sake and Tommy's. It's only fair that he have a real name and perhaps even a doting grandma.”

Seth stared down at the baby, who was twitching restively in his sleep. “All right. As soon as Tommy is better, I'll tuck my tail between my legs and go see my mother.”

“Good,” she said, feeling their son's forehead. Frowning, she fetched a basin of water and began sponging the baby's body. As she worked, she asked, “Where did you get the name Tyler?”

Looking at his son, Seth replied, “Remember me mentioning an old fellow who liked peanuts and reminded me of an elephant?”

Penelope nodded.

“That man was Wilbur Tyler. I met him in Virginia City when I was nineteen. I had just drifted into town looking for work, and he was at a saloon where I stopped for a drink. For some reason he took a liking to me and offered me a job helping him work his claim. Over the course of the next couple of years, he not only taught me the mining business, but became the father I'd never had. We became so close that one night when we were sitting by the campfire getting drunk, he pointed out that I had no last name. He said he'd be honored if I'd be his son and offered me his own. Of course I accepted. When he died a year later, he left me the mine. It was that mine that eventually made me wealthy.”