Tilting her head, Angie gazed up at a miracle-work of stars, suppressing a gasp of wonder. In Chicago the lights of the city blotted all but the brightest planets. But here in the mountains, with less space and light between man and heaven, millions of tiny stars winked and sparkled, strewn thick across a field of black satin.
“Tell me about Daisy,” she said quietly.
“She was born with a clubfoot.”
Angie nodded. One of her friend’s babies had been born with two clubbed feet. Now she understood Daisy’s gait. A clubbed foot twisted inward and up, forcing the victim to walk on her ankle and the side of the foot.
“It’s my understanding that the longer the condition goes untreated, the harder it is to correct,” Angie commented. “Also, I’ve heard that the skin on the ankle can break down since it wasn’t meant to be walked on. Is there some reason why Daisy didn’t have corrective surgery earlier?”
“The doctor wanted to wait until she was a year old. Wanted to try manipulating and casting the foot first. It was painful for Daisy, and twisting and casting didn’t seem to be working, so Laura discontinued that option. Then, every damned time I’ve saved enough money for the surgery, something has happened and I’ve had to spend it on other things.” He paused. “Daisy’s surgery is what I was talking about when I told you I had an obligation that had to come before the divorce.”
She would have guessed even if she hadn’t eavesdropped on his conversation with the girls.
“Daisy’s surgery is my number-one priority. This time nothing is going to get in the way. Absolutely nothing.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw his arm move, raising the beer bottle, then heard him swallow.
“Is there a qualified doctor in Willow Creek?”
“The doctor who treated her and agreed to do the surgery is in Colorado Springs. The bastard wants fifteen hundred dollars for the operation.”
Angie sucked in a breath. “That’s a lot of money.”
“A king’s ransom.”
“How close are you to saving that amount?”
“I’ve got almost six hundred dollars put aside,” he said after a lengthy period of angry silence. “Every time I get my hands on a little extra, there are forty other places demanding payment. The grocer, the iceman, the coal man, my attorney, my tab at the saloon, Molly, the laundry, the stables, and a half dozen other bills in arrears. Last week, all I could add to my savings was twenty dollars.” Frustration shook his voice.
Angie hesitated then blurted what leapt to her mind. “I have about a hundred and thirty-two dollars.”
Instantly she felt a scald of anger directed at her back. “The day I take money from a woman is the day I might as well shoot myself because I’ve ceased to be a man. Whatever money you have, it’s yours and I don’t want it.”
“I’m not offering it to you,” she said, stiffening. “I’m offering it for Daisy.”
“I’ll pay for Daisy’s operation.”
Hurtful words stung her tongue. It would have been easy to point out that Daisy was five and he hadn’t yet managed to save enough for the operation. And she could have mentioned that Daisy was still young, but eventually the bones in her foot would become permanently misshapen and set in a position difficult to correct. But there was enough ill-feeling between them without emphasizing painful facts that he already knew.
At least not tonight. Not while she saw so clearly that her misfortune had compounded his misfortune. When Sam had resented her for adding another mouth to feed, she hadn’t understood. Now she did.
“All right,” she said, studying the dark silhouette of the tent he had pitched in the backyard. “We’re agreed that we won’t get the divorce until after Daisy’s operation.”
“That’s how it has to be.”
“I’m not arguing.” She hoped she possessed the patience to put up with him during the time they were forced to remain together. He might be good with children, but when it came to communicating with wives, he stank. “I’ll do everything I can to hold down the household expenses and save money.”
“I hope so.”
Angie ground her teeth and glared at the stars. Laura—undemanding, uncomplaining, that flawless paragon who was everything Angie was not—must have been a saint. It said a lot for the woman that Sam was still alive.
Chapter 3
To give her the benefit of doubt, Sam reminded himself that Angie had no reason to be an early riser. The Bertolis had employed household help to see to breakfast and the morning chores. She hadn’t had children to get off to school or the responsibility of arriving at a job site. Still, he glanced at her closed bedroom door with annoyance. If nothing else, how could she continue to sleep through the girls’ chatter and the noise they made setting the table?