Next, I knelt by Josephine’s bed. She was asleep with a book open on her chest. I took it from her, ever so gently, but my eldest had a sixth sense when anyone tried to pry her away from a book. Her eyes fluttered open. “Hi, Papa.”
“Hello there. I’m sorry to wake you,” I whispered, conscious of the other two.
“It’s all right.” Her green eyes stared at me with her usual intensity. “Has Miss Cooper gone?”
“No, I’ve invited her to stay. I didn’t think the boardinghouse was the best place for her. She’s in the guest room on the other side of the bathroom.”
“Will she live here all the time?” Josephine asked.
“For the winter, most likely,” I said. “Until she can find a suitable place. A young lady isn’t safe on her own.”
“She’s pretty, isn’t she, Papa?”
“I hadn’t noticed, really.”
She looked up at me with widened eyes and a hint of a smile. “It seemed you did—the way you couldn’t stop looking at her.”
My daughter had sensed my attraction to Miss Cooper. Well, I’ve never been accused of being a subtle man. “I wasn’t staring at her, you little goose.” I tweaked her nose, knowing full well she was onto me.
“It would be all right if you liked her,” Josephine said. “We’d like to have a mother.”
“You would?” This struck me in the middle of my throat, as if someone had punched me. They’d never once said anything about a new mother.
She nodded. “We all discussed it. I don’t really need one, but the others do.”
I smiled despite the pang in my chest. My sweet Josephine needed a mother most of all the children. I’d spent the last several years watching her try to step in as a mother to the little ones when she should have been enjoying her own childhood.
“Is it true that Nanny Foster is leaving?” Josephine asked.
“You know about that?” Surprised, I inched backward to get a better look at her.
“I heard her talking to Jasper. She was very rude to him, and she said horrible things about Cymbeline and Flynn. She called them wild animals.”
“That was very rude,” I said. Damn that w
oman. Jasper’s assessment was correct. She had no idea of how to look after children. Yes, they were untamed, but only because they’d grown out of the earth. The forests and meadows had mothered them, taught them their ways. Fresh air and exercise had made them robust and strong.
“We all hated her anyway,” Josephine said.
“Darling, that’s not nice to say.” I felt something akin to hatred toward Nanny Foster, too, but kept that to myself.
“Sorry, Papa.” Josephine pressed her lips together as if it were a great sacrifice to hold her tongue.
“Good night, my love. No more reading.”
“Yes, Papa.”
I kissed her on the forehead and unfolded my long legs to stand. At the doorway, I picked up the lantern to take one more look. Josephine had curled onto her side and closed her eyes. She looked young and vulnerable there in the flickering light, and I wished for the millionth time that she had less of a burden.
The boys’ room was across the hallway. They slept in twin beds pushed just inches apart, preferring to mimic what it must have been like in the womb. Each morning, Nanny moved the beds farther apart. Somehow, they were back together by the time the boys fell asleep. Tonight, their hands touched. I had no idea if they started this way or if they naturally gravitated to each other in sleep. They were quite different in temperament and interests, yet their bond was more profound than any discrepancies of personality. This was another understanding that had come from fatherhood. Love was both immense and simple, mysterious yet clear.
I pulled the covers up from where they had fallen to the twins’ mid-chest, then kissed them both on the forehead and crept silently from the room.
I passed by Miss Cooper’s room. The space between the door and floor was dark. Hopefully she was warm and able to rest. I hesitated for a brief time, fighting the urge to stand guard at her door. Miss Cooper didn’t need my protection here in my home, yet I felt responsible for her.
In my room, I undressed and put on my wool pajamas. The nights this time of year were frigid. Without my wife to warm my bed, I often woke cold, having thrashed about and knocked off my quilt.
I blew out the lantern and lay on my back. The fire shed some light into the room, enough that I could make out objects. So many nights I lay awake, wishing for sleep that never came and watching the fire die down slowly until it was nothing but red embers.