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They arrived back at the boardinghouse just in time for dinner. Joining Hazel and Harrison at one of the tables in the small dining room, Raven chuckled inwardly at their passionate antics and hoped that if and when she married, it would be to a man she’d be still making the bed creak with at their age.
Brax had been right to tout Freddie’s kitchen staff; the food offered that evening included stuffed crabs, honeyed carrots, well-seasoned green beans, and soft, warm yeast rolls running with butter. Everything was excellently prepared. It was the first real meal Raven hadn’t had to cook herself since leaving New Orleans and it was all so delicious, she wanted to stuff herself until Christmas.
After dinner, the parents retired to their room. Their train to Boston would be leaving first thing in the morning and they wanted to get some rest. Neither Raven nor Braxton believed that for a minute, but wished them a good evening.
Braxton said, “Freddie has a gazebo out back. Would you like some fresh air after that great meal?”
“Anything to keep from hearing our parents through the wall.”
He laughed. “Then let’s go.”
It was a nice evening. He was hoping the gazebo wasn’t already occupied. It wasn’t, so he and Raven sat together on the bench inside. He placed an arm over the bench’s back, and as she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, he smiled with contentment. Although their time together alone that day had been limited, he’d enjoyed himself. “So did you decide whether I am to be fussed at about my purchases from Mrs. Wells?”
“I have. No fussing warranted.”
“I’m relieved.”
She gave him a smile. “Lord knows I don’t have many things to wear, and you helped put money in her coffers, so there’s nothing really to be upset about.”
“Good. I like her very much and hope she stays in business as long as she wants to.” He wondered if what he felt for Raven was love. Having never been in love before, he had nothing to go by. If wanting to be with someone the way he did with her was any indication, then he guessed he was head over heels. His fatherhad encouraged him to tell her. Brax was afraid it would alter their relationship, and he didn’t want that. For now, he’d keep his feelings to himself, especially since he’d no idea where she stood on the matter or how she’d react to his declaration.
“It’s nice out here,” she said, looking up at him.
“I agree.” The gazebo was set in the middle of a wide field. Off in the distance, large trees swayed in the breeze. It was a quiet, peaceful space.
“How long will it take us to get to Boston?”
“On a perfect trip it takes anywhere from twelve to fifteen hours. Baltimore is roughly four hundred miles way.”
“Okay. So possibly by this time tomorrow you’ll be home.”
“Yes.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing your city.”
“Are you?”
“I am. Home makes us who we are. At least that’s what I believe. I’d not be who I am were I not born in New Orleans. I want to see the city that made you—not during the winter though.”
He chuckled. “I will enjoy showing it off, then.” He thought back on Dorrie and her ice-skating dream. Would that really come to be? More importantly would he actually marry the incredible woman by his side? Logic insistedthe predictions couldn’t possibly be true, but apparently logic knew very little about New Orleans. “The last night we were in New Orleans, your mother said the family was getting out of the business.”
She looked surprised. “She did. I wonder if she forgot you were in the room, because you weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“She may have.” He didn’t tell her he knew about Fanny’s Plan, and asked instead, “Do you have a plan for what you want to do in the future?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. My grandmother left me a small inheritance I can use to buy a place of my own, so I’ll concentrate on that first. It won’t be big or fancy but it’ll be mine, and I might be able to forgo being a domestic, at least long enough until I figure out some other kind of employment. Not that I have skills for anything else.”
She went quiet as if thinking before continuing. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find a man who’ll enjoy my gift for apoplexy and we can make a passel of babies and I’ll be a mama for the rest of my days. There’s value in that. The race needs all the strong-minded children we can raise. And I’ll make sure they can read, too—from the time they’re little. I think I’d make an excellent mama.”
“I think you’d make an excellent mother, too.”
“I had a great example in my own.”
He agreed. He didn’t agree with the part about her having another man’s babies though. He wanted her babies to be theirs—hers and his.
She smiled at him. “And when you and your prizewinner come to New Orleans to see Mama and Harrison, you’ll be Uncle Brax and she’ll be Aunt Lottie to my children, and I’ll be Aunt Raven to yours. For the Moreaux there’s no such thing as having too many cousins.”
Brax had already decided he’d be having a conversation with Lottie. It might be a difficult one, but he wouldn’t be marrying her; not after being with Raven. Because of Raven, he’d learned that passion and spontaneity and laughter far outweighed settling for evenly yoked. He assumed Lottie would be disappointed and he’d apologize profusely for the whispers his decision might cause. Because he hadn’t officially asked her mother for her hand, maybe the gossip wouldn’t linger and she could move on with her life.
