Silently this time.
Daniel did not ask her to stop.
Several minutes passed.
Then Emily remembered the folded paper she had seen near his gloves earlier.
“Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“What is that telegram?”
His hand became still.
Emily turned her head.
Daniel looked toward the bedside table.
For the first time that evening, something like uncertainty crossed his face.
“You noticed it.”
“Yes.”
“When did it come?”
“This afternoon.”
“During the wedding?”
“Just after.”
Emily waited.
Daniel sat up slowly.
“I was going to tell you tomorrow.”
Fear tightened her chest again.
“What happened?”
He reached for the folded telegram.
“My sister Abigail died last winter.”
Emily nodded.
She knew that.
Daniel had spoken of her often.
Abigail Mercer had married a carpenter named Nathan Cole and moved east toward Nebraska nearly fifteen years earlier.
Emily had never met her.
“Her husband died three weeks ago,” Daniel said.
Emily’s hand went to her mouth.
“Oh, Daniel.”
“Sawmill accident.”
“I didn't know.”
“Neither did I until yesterday.”
He stared at the telegram.
“They had two children.”
Emily remembered.
“A girl and a boy.”
“Clara is ten.”
“Samuel is six.”
“What will happen to them?”
Daniel gave a humorless laugh.
Then handed her the telegram.
“They reach Cheyenne on Tuesday.”
Emily looked from the paper to him.
“Tuesday?”
“I’m their closest living relative willing to take them.”
Her heart beat faster.
Daniel watched her carefully.
“The county official in Nebraska contacted me weeks ago.”
“The letters were delayed.”
“I sent word immediately.”
“They're traveling with a minister and his wife as far as Cheyenne.”
Emily looked down at the telegram.
She could not read every word in the low light, but she understood enough.
TWO CHILDREN ARRIVE TUESDAY.
EXPECT GUARDIAN SIGNATURE.
MERCER FAMILY NOTIFIED.
Her fingers trembled.
Daniel said quietly:
“I didn't know before I proposed.”
Emily looked up.
“What?”
“I want that clear.”
He leaned toward her slightly.
“I did not marry you because I suddenly needed somebody to care for Abigail’s children.”
“I proposed before I knew Nathan was dead.”
“I know.”
“I need you to believe it.”
“I do.”
Daniel looked relieved.
Then ashamed.
“I should've told you this afternoon.”
“It was our wedding.”
“That’s not reason.”
“You received news your brother-in-law died while fifty people were asking you to dance.”
“That is a reason.”
He smiled faintly.
“Maybe.”
Emily looked at the telegram again.
Two children.
Coming Tuesday.
Her secret sat between them beside another truth neither had expected.
“I cannot be their mother,” Emily whispered.
Daniel’s expression hardened with concern.
“I didn't ask you to.”
“No.”