The boys would be home in a little while, so she set fresh-from-the oven oatmeal cookies on a plate. She admired the effort. Her baking skills were improving. Within minutes four boys came charging into the kitchen from the back door.
“Hi, Mama.” Luke reached for a cookie.
“Hi, yourself.” She turned and gave him a hug.
Not to be outdone, John also reached for one, and shoved it into his mouth.
“Sit down and eat your cookies like little gentlemen. I’m going upstairs to get your sister.”
Julia-Rose stood in her crib, blonde curls framing her face, blue eyes shining. She smiled brightly, and held out her hands. “Mama, up now.”
“So, we’re expanding our vocabulary, are we?” Angel picked her up and quickly changed her soaking diaper, throwing the dirty one in a bucket of water.
The boys had gobbled up the cookies by the time she returned with Julia-Rose. She set her in a chair, no longer using the strap since she sat up much better. Angel thought about asking Nate to build a high chair. She’d seen a picture of one in a catalog. When the new baby got old enough to sit up, a high chair would be much safer than having to deal with pillows and straps.
How to tell Nate about the new baby still worried her. They had never discussed more children, and she honestly didn’t know if he would be happy or not. Knowing him as she now did, she opted for a happy reaction. Still, six children . . . Given how long they’d been married, at least she wasn’t as fertile as Amy.
“Time for chores, boys.” She placed dirty glasses in the sink. Mark immediately ran out the back door, much to Angel’s surprise. He usually dawdled, the last one when it came to chores. Before the others moved, a knock sounded at the front door.
“Watch the baby.” She tossed the comment over her shoulder as she hurried to open the door.
Lucy Benson stood on the doorstep. Her eyes were bloodshot, her green linen dress a wrinkled mess, as if she had slept in it. She wore no hat or gloves, but carried a reticule. She attempted to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.
“May I come in, Angel?” She swayed slightly.
“Yes, of course.” Angel stepped back.
A small kernel of fear settled in her stomach. Lucy had been her nemesis for a long time, but at the moment, this woman looked dangerous. An
gel quickly glanced at the clock, but it would be another hour or so before Nate would be home.
Lucy stumbled into the house, her steps none too steady. Her gaze roamed the parlor, she sneered. “This junk will have to go.” She turned and smiled at Angel. “But then, the whole damned house will go.” She laughed, and entered the kitchen.
“What can I do for you, Lucy?” Angel said. The remarks she’d uttered increased the size of the kernel of fear. She edged toward Matt, planning to have him go for Nate.
“You can go away and never come back. That’s what you can do for me, Angel Hardwick Hale.”
Julia-Rose let out a wail and reached for Angel. She headed toward her little girl.
Lucy glared at her. “Stay where you are.”
Angel ran her sweaty palms down the front of her skirt. “Boys, go on out and start your chores. Matt, take Julia-Rose with you, she could use a bit of air.” Her eyes never leaving Lucy, she snatched the baby up.
“No. Everybody stay here.”
Fear shot through Angel’s body. This was not good. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. “Lucy, why don’t you sit down? I’ll make a pot of tea and we can talk.”
“No.” The one word came out at the same time Lucy reached into the reticule dangling from her wrist and pulled out a gun. She held it with two hands, and aimed it directly at Angel’s chest.
Luke, John and Matt sat like three stone statutes, wide-eyed at the gun pointed at their mama. Too young to understand, but picking up the tension in the room, Julia-Rose cried harder. Angel quickly deposited her into Matt’s lap. She didn’t want to be holding the baby with a gun pointed her way.
“Shut that brat up.” Lucy gestured with the gun in Julia-Rose’s direction. The child sobbed harder, her face a bright red.
“I think you should put the gun down, Lucy,” Angel said quietly.
“I don’t think so.” Lucy waved it around.
Angel sucked in air, petrified with a drunken Lucy handling a gun with the children in the kitchen.