A Knight in Central Park(70)

A hint of a smile played at Rebecca’s eyes.

“Let’s see,” he said holding the toy high as if to see it better in the firelight. “Her hair is as fair as newly spun silk. And look at that skin of hers, would you? A flawless complexion...like that of a swan princess, wouldn’t you say?”

Rebecca’s eyes widened and a faint twinkle shone there, but as usual, not one sound came forth.

“Does she have a name?”

Rebecca squirmed, but said nothing.

Sir Joe selected a dry stick from the firewood near the hearth and lightly touched it to both sides of the rag doll where the arms should be. “I dub thee Princess Hildegard.”

Rebecca wrinkled her nose.

Alexandra snorted, giving herself away.

Sir Joe looked over at her, showed no sign of displeasure at seeing her there before he turned his attention back to Rebecca. “What? That’s not her name?”

Rebecca shook her head.

He peered back at the doll again. “Then her name must be Euphemia.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened, and she shook her head wildly.

“Esperanza?”

No such luck.

“I’ve got it! Xavier Victoria Dagmar.” He grinned at the toy as if he’d finally guessed correctly. “A truly fine name, I must say.”

Rebecca tugged on his shirt and when he finally gazed upon her, she shook her head.

“Come on,” he pleaded, “the suspense is killing me. What is your doll’s name?”

“She used to call it her baby,” Alexandra informed him.

“Oh, so maybe that’s the problem. She’s not your doll at all. She’s your baby.”

Rebecca scooted closer to the wall and fiddled uncomfortably with the hem of her tunic. He handed her the toy and said, “So, you can’t talk, huh?”

Tempted to fill the silence with her own words as she had been doing for over a year now, Alexandra had to stop herself from interfering.

“My guess is that you can talk just fine,” he said to Rebecca. “You just don’t want to talk. When I was small,” he went on thoughtfully, “I didn’t talk much either. Why bother talking when nobody has time to listen.”

The silence loomed between all three of them.

Sir Joe sighed. “Probably more than you wanted to know, huh?”

Rebecca gazed at her baby, her expression unreadable.

“I want you to know,” Sir Joe continued despite Rebecca’s silence, “if you ever want to talk...” He pointed to his chest, “I will listen. Just come right out and say whatever it is that’s bugging you and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing, okay?”

Although Rebecca did not look his way again, they both knew she was listening. Sir Joe came to his feet, brushed his big hand over Rebecca’s small head, and then came to stand before Alexandra.

“Don’t think for a moment that I’m getting soft in the head,” he said low enough so Rebecca would not overhear, “or that I suddenly like children. Nothing has changed.”

“No, naught has changed,” she said, a knowing smile playing at her lips.





Sir Joe looked about the room, then cocked his head toward Susan and the boy she was sitting with. “Who’s the kid?”

“That’s Sebastiano Bellini, also a patron of the inn. He’s a charming young man and I do believe Susan is smitten by him.”

Joe guessed the young man’s age to be close to twenty. His hair was a dirty blonde shade, the ends touching his bony shoulders. Peach fuzz covered most of his jaw. “Isn’t Susan a little young to be smitten?”

“Nay, she is six and ten.”

Joe followed Alexandra to the end of the trestle table where Susan and the boy chatted.

“So the next thing I knew,” the boy said, “the farmer was coming after me with his pitchfork, his wife directly behind him with an iron meat hook aimed at my head.”

“And all because of a kiss?” Susan asked.

“Which is why,” Alexandra cut in to their conversation, startling Susan and making her blush, “a young man cannot go around kissing every farmer’s daughter.”

“Ahh, but she wasn’t just any farmer’s daughter, my fair lady,” Sebastiano said. “She was a vision to behold.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “A vision to behold with lips of roses and hair of gold.” Then he winked at Susan who only stared up at him as if he’d embarrassed her beyond reason.