Free Wild Innocence by Candace McCarthy Page A

have a baby, Suze,” her mother said as she released her.
    The child studied Amelia with wide eyes. “You are?”
    Amelia nodded. “I hope you’ll help me take care of him.”
    Susie frowned. “You’re having a boy?”
    Her uncle chuckled. “We don’t know that, Susie,” Daniel said. “We won’t know until the baby is born whether it’s a girl or a boy.”
    â€œBut you want a boy?”
    â€œNo,” Amelia said. “I’d love a little girl like you, but I’d love a little boy as well. Either way I’ll—Daniel and I will be happy.”
    Susie didn’t look too pleased. “I can still come over to visit whenever I want?”
    Amelia saw her husband’s expression, and quickly put her hand on his arm to keep him quiet. “Yes,” she said, “you can still come over to visit anytime you want.” She ruffled the child’s hair. “What would we do around here without you? You know we love you very much.”
    Rachel watched the child’s radiant smile return, and she thought what a complex but loving family her sister had with Daniel’s family ... and now there would be a new baby to warm their hearts further. Would she—I Rachel—one day feel an accepted, loving member of this family?
    She looked away from the group with the sting of tears in her eyes. She rose and quickly began to clear up the supper dishes, wanting only to escape for a few minutes in order to regain her composure. Her sister had everything that she’d always wanted. She wasn’t jealous of Amelia. Well, maybe a tiny bit. Mostly, she fought to banish the pain left in the wake of Jordan’s betrayal.
    For so long, she had imagined herself as Jordan’s wife, bearing his children. It was hard still, at times, to accept the fact that she would never have him ... that Jordan had chosen the widow, a woman several years his senior, over Rachel, a woman a few years younger than he was.
    She stacked up the dinner bowls and placed the eating utensils they’d used on top of the pile. With her arms loaded with dishes, Rachel left the great room for the kitchen workroom. She had to blink against wetness as she hunkered down to carefully set the stack on the worktable near the wash basin.
    I’m happy for Amelia. I really am. But I’m miserable for myself. I won’t ever love again. I won’t give away my heart only to have it broken again. And her heart was a long way from being healed.
    Rachel heard someone come in behind her. She didn’t turn; she didn’t want anyone to see her misery. The person, whoever it was, set a small stack of pie plates on the table directly to Rachel’s right.
    She knew she should acknowledge the presence, but she didn’t want anyone here. She wanted to be alone.
    The person didn’t leave. She could sense that he or she remained. Rachel figured it was Jane, who would be concerned by Rachel’s silence but wouldn’t push for conversation. She kept quiet, hoping that Jane would take the hint and go.
    â€œThank you,” Rachel managed to choke out after several long seconds.
    â€œYou are sad?”
    The deep male voice surprised her, and she spun toward the sound. There, just inside the kitchen doorway, stood the Indian.
    Rachel blinked and shook her head. “I’m fine.” She forced a smile before she turned back to the dish basin. She had helped Amelia put a pot of water to warm on the stove in the great room earlier. She reached for a mitt, then extended her hand toward the kettle where it now sat on the worktable. She closed her eyes and prayed the Ojibwa brave would go away before she made a complete fool of herself.
    She wrapped the heavy quilted cloth around the iron pot handle and started to lift it. The pot was heavy, but Rachel refused to ask for help. She had failed in her relationship with Jordan; she refused to fail in this simple