Did he?
Amanda didn’t know.
She needed a way to show Hiro what he meant to her, and to her family. She needed him to see that they could still be together.
Over on the rug, Amelia was trying to teach Benny the words to one of their favorite Christmas carols.
“No, no, love. Seven swansa-swimming. It’s thelordswho leap!”
And an idea—a wild, ridiculous idea—settled in Amanda’s mind.
She met her sister-in-law’s gaze and spoke the words which would seal her future: “I need a fruit basket.”
CHAPTER 8
Hiro hummed under his breath as he paced, the baby’s sobs slowly turning to cries, then to hiccups, then to soft murmurs. She was overtired—at least, that’s what her mother, Hiro’s middle sister had claimed—and he’d volunteered to come out here in the garden and walk with her.
He’d said the fresh, cold air would do her good, but he suspected everyone could seehewas the one who needed a break.
Tonight had been…more difficult than he’d expected.
It was December twenty-seventh, and when the three cooked hens—dressed in the French style—had been delivered this afternoon, they’d sentOkaasamainto a frenzy. She’d sent for Hiro’s siblings and their families, and they’d enjoyed an impromptu dinner party.
His brother, a successful cobbler here in York, had been determined to get to the bottom of the mysterious birds, moreso whenOkaasamamentioned the silver turtledove ornamentwhich had been delivered the day before, and the basket of fresh pears delivered Christmas evening.
Fresh pears! In late December!
Hiro had pretended to be as confused as the rest of the family, but he’d known who sent them.
There was only one person passionate enough, and rich enough, to make such an extravagant statement.
Christ Almighty, Amanda still made him smile.
“She shouldn’t,” he whispered to the now-sleeping infant. “I should stay far away from her.”
The wee lassie didn’t answer, of course. This was his sister’s youngest, born six months ago, and this visit was his first time meeting her. He hadn’t been here in York foranyof the births of his nieces and nephews, but he loved them all.
He just wished he knew them better.
“Little May,” he whispered, bending closer to rub his chin against the knitted cap she wore as protection against the cold. “Just remember that your uncle loves you, aye?”
Listen to you, sounding like Alistair.Sounding like a Scotsman.
Well, why not? Amanda wouldn’t mind.
Amanda.
Hiro stared down at the tiny baby as he paced. His middle sister had married ahakujin, a white man who owned a successful wool-weaving factory. May and her older brothers were a perfect mix of their parents; his sister’s black hair and their father’s round eyes.
Your daughter would look like her.
Closing his eyes on a curse, he whirled about to stalk down the length of the garden again, but pulled up short when he saw the hunched shape in the path before him. “Otuo-san! You startled me.”
Hiro’s father had already been old when he’d married, and now he seemed positively wizened. But his frail body was still strong, his hair still full, and when he smiled, everyone could see he had all his own teeth.
As always, Hiro was struck by a wave of fondness for the older man, who’d coached him through so much as a child. Belatedly, he inclined his head in a small, respectful bow. “I expected you to be indoors, in the warmth.”
“And miss this picture of domesticity?”Otuo-sangestured to the baby sleeping on Hiro’s shoulder. “Bah.You look good with a baby in your arms, son.”
