Before the Dawn (Truly Yours Digital Editions) by Erica Vetsch Page B

him Your love.
    She wiped at the tears on her cheeks and moved to the desk in the corner. A quick check of the drawer revealed stationery and pen and ink.
    Dearest Aunt Hattie,
    There is so much I need to tell you, that I feel a letter can hardly hold it. The first thing you must know is that I am now married.
    Karen tried to explain about the accident and David’s blindness and thus the quick and quiet wedding. As she wrote, she could almost feel her aunt’s arms encircling her. What wouldn’t she give to be able to see her aunt now, to petition her for advice?
    Hattie had been Karen’s lifeline, her only family after her father passed away. Hattie, who had accompanied her brother to the mountains to help him raise his daughter, who had waited until Karen was grown before moving back to Kansas City, her much-loved and much-missed hometown. Perhaps, if Hattie was fully recovered from her illness and back to full strength, she could come to visit them. Maybe for the Christmas holiday.
    When David awakened some time later, Karen knew a measure of peace, though she was no closer to knowing how to reach her husband. “Did you have a good nap?”
    He rubbed his hands over his face and rolled his shoulders. “Have I slept long?” He reached into his vest pocket and retrieved his watch, his fingers whispering across the face.
    “Almost two hours. Are you hungry? A porter brought a tray, but you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t wake you.”
    “I’m not hungry.”
    “You hardly ate anything at the wedding breakfast. You need something. There’s chicken and biscuits and some apple pie.” She lifted the cover on a plate. “I had some. It’s really good.”
    “I told you I’m not hungry. Stop hovering.”
    She replaced the lid and tugged at her lower lip, considering him. “I believe I’ll excuse myself for a while. If you change your mind, the tray is on the table beside you. I’ll just be down the hall, so if you need me, call out.”
    “I’m quite capable of sitting here alone without your help, Karen.”
    Her steps swayed with the movement of the train, and she kept her hand on the wainscoting as she edged down the narrow passageway. She passed a bedroom where a double bed took up almost all the space then another small compartment with two chairs facing one another and a bed folded up into the curve of the ceiling. Beyond that a tiny galley and a washroom.
    She splashed water on her face and patted it dry, then took pains to re-pin her hair. When she’d wasted nearly ten minutes, she made her way back to the salon.
    He’d eaten at least a little, confirming her suspicion that his proposed lack of hunger was a ruse to avoid eating in front of her. A few biscuit crumbs dotted his vest, but his face was clean.
    “This is the most beautiful railcar I’ve ever been in. There are green velvet drapes and stained-glass transoms overhead. The woodwork—I’m not sure what kind—is stained a honey-gold. And the chairs and davenport are a deep blue. There’s a patterned carpet on the floor in greens and blues and golds that harmonizes everything. There’s the most cunning little bathroom about four doors along the passage. Though the tub is so small I imagine you’d have to step outside to change your mind.”
    His hand caressed the armrest of his chair, and his shoe moved slightly, as if picturing in his mind all she said and testing it for himself.
    Because he remained silent, she found the courage to continue describing things. “I’m wearing a dark burgundy dress. It has a high-standing lace collar and white cuffs. The skirt is full, probably too full for traveling, but I wore it because you once told me you liked it.” She picked up the catalog. “Your mother told me to order some new clothes for the winter season while we’re in Denver.”
    “I’d rather not talk about my mother right now.” He stretched his legs out and laced his fingers across his vest. His brows puckered and he brushed the