“We’re almost there, do you need to stop?”
“No, I’m fine.” The wind blows, and she inhales deeply, drawing in the smell of fresh grass.
“Oh Mama, look at all the trees!” Delaney shouts, startling Anika.
“Delaney those are apple trees. They are part of the Orchard,” Clara explains. Soon they come to a turn and travel a few hundred feet down the lane and pass under a wooden sign. “Ward Farm and Orchards.” In the distance at the end of the dusty road is a large two-story brick farmhouse. Two large dogs run alongside the wagon, barking and leaping at them as Dr. Parker slows the cart before stopping and leaps down. He rushes to the back of the wagon to grab his medical bag and turns to help his wife down.
“Dr. Parker, thank you for coming.” An older woman with white hair, nods to them and guides him inside as her husband snaps at the dogs and orders the stable hands to take care of the horses.
“Allow me to help you, ladies.” Tall, muscular and silver-haired, with skin aged from the sun and life, Allen Ward greets them with a warm smile. When he reaches out a hand, Delaney cowers back away from him and into her mother’s side.
Clara puts a hand on his arm and smiles, “That’s very kind of you Allen, but I haven’t gotten to hug this sweetheart all day.” She adeptly steps in front of him and reaches out for Delaney, who instantly reaches for her.
Allen glances back at Anika with a small frown and notices the bruising and widow attire. “Allow me to introduce Mrs. Coltrane and her daughter Delaney Coltrane,” Clara says making the introductions.
Anika takes his hand and is thankful for the help. When he grips her waist to lower her to the ground, she hisses and pales at the pain in her ribs. Swaying on her feet, he steadies her and waits for her to gather herself.
“Steady now,” Allen murmurs.
“Thank you,” she whispers, too ashamed to look him in the eye.
“Welcome to Ward Farm. Let’s get you inside. How does a glass of juice fresh from our orchard sound?” Allen asks Delaney. Her hazel eyes light up, but she waits for her mother to speak.
Anika smiles softly. “That would be lovely.” Pain is rippling down her back and legs from the trauma of the last few days. Tentatively, she follows them inside, thankful that he chatters and teases a smile from Delaney.
“Daisy will have my hide if I don’t settle you in the parlor. Please have a seat.” Allen glances worriedly at Anika. “Refreshments, coming up.”
“Let me help, Allen,” Clara offers, and they move into the kitchen. As soon as they are out of earshot, he glances at her with a question in his eyes.
“That woman has been sorely mistreated,” he states. Clara doesn’t bother denying the obvious.
“We were at the funeral for her husband and newborn daughter, Allen. The baby… came early and it was too soon.” Protective of Anika’s privacy she doesn’t fill him in on the details, but he doesn’t need her to. Only a blind man would miss the evidence of her face and movements.
“I’m sorry to call you away from that, have you had lunch yet?” He asks.
“Not yet, Allen, but don’t concern yourself.”
Allen is already calling to the housekeeper who comes instantly from the garden out behind the house. “Ms. Pearl, we will need luncheon served for four more, please.”
“Of course, Mr. Ward.” Pearl hurries to prepare lunch while Allen grabs a tray and glasses for the juice.
“Tell me, how are the boys?”
“They grow weaker every day,” Allen replies hoarsely. “She can't feed them, and they reject every kind of milk we offer. I fear it is in God's hands now.” He adds biscuits to the tray, and they walk back to the living room.
Anika glances around the grand foyer and is instantly reminded of home. Born in Virginia, she grew up on a smaller version of this farm. From the heart of pine floors to the beautiful fireplace, she runs her hand over the mantle and sighs. Her parents died during an outbreak of smallpox. She was already married and a new mother when they passed. The pain in her body draws her from her memories, and she is thankful for the moments of privacy to relax. The wagon ride didn't help her ribs, though walking seems to help. A noise filters in through the pain and causes her to frown.
“Mama, do you hear that?” Delaney stands up and moves towards a hallway. Meowing, like the sound of a kitten in pain. Anika turns slowly, ignoring the waves of exhaustion and follows the sound.
Her heart clenches at the familiar sound pulling her out of the sitting room and down a corridor. The cries grow stronger causing her feet to pick up pace. Delaney follows her Mother, watching her stop outside of a door. It is cracked open and the cries have grown louder now. Trembling, she pushes open the door and watches as Daisy, Allen’s wife, struggles to calm twin infants.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Anika says, “It’s just that we heard the cries.”
Daisy sighs and places the baby back in his bassinet. “That’s alright. I’m Daisy Ward, Grandma to these tiny bundles.” Daisy’s hands are shaking, and she struggles to keep back tears as the baby whimpers and hiccups, finally sucking his fist.
“I’m Anika Coltrane, and this is my daughter Delaney.”
Anika steps to the side of the wooden cradle and glances down. Two tiny dark-haired babies,
