Page 10
“Evan, that was my brother. I have three brothers, and they are all married, and all of them have children. We’re a big family. The reason my brothers come to see me is because they care. They would do anything for me. That’s what families do.”
She prepared a pot of soup for the noon meal and described everything she did from peeling carrots to chopping onions.
“Onions make me cry.” She wiped her eyes on the corner of a towel.
She looked directly at the boy and caught a hint of concern in his face before he jerked away.
“Not because I’m sad but because they give off a juice that stings my eyes.
” The fact that he showed emotion over her tears so encouraged her she wanted to run to the office and tell Hugh.
The office door remained ajar. How much could he hear? She half considered raising her voice so he wouldn’t miss a word but instead, she’d make an opportunity to tell him of Evan’s reaction.
While the soup simmered on the stove, Annie swept the floor and then got down on her hands and knees to wash it. Not because it was dirty. Mrs. Ross had seen to that. But in order to have an excuse to get to Evan’s level. As she worked, she continued to talk.
She told him how Grandfather had started the Marshall Five Ranch, and Grandfather told of his early days. She spoke of the first horse she could remember riding.
Soon enough, it was time for dinner, and she went to the office. Hugh sat with a fan of papers before him. He held what looked like a photograph in his hands. She observed for a moment, then rapped on the door.
“Dinner is ready.”
He looked at the picture a moment longer before he let out a long breath and laid the picture face up on the desktop.
Curious, she tried to see it.
He noticed her interest and tipped the picture toward her. “Evan’s mother.”
She studied the likeness of a very pretty young woman. “Bernice?” Why was he showing her now when he’d refused to talk about her last night?
“Do you remember me mentioning Stewart Caldwell?”
“Wasn’t that the preacher who took you in when your parents died?”
“Yes, after my mother died. My father had disappeared before that.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve had a lot of loss.”
He drew his finger along the edge of the frame holding the photo. “Stewart warned me not to marry Bernice, but I thought I knew better.”
“Why did he warn you against her?”
“I suppose he saw things I refused to see.” Hugh’s gaze slammed into Annie so that she gripped the door to keep from falling back.
“She had a reputation for wildness. I put it down to her youth. I discovered it was more than that. She couldn’t seem to get enough of.
..” He hesitated as if searching for the right word.
“Life, I suppose. She lived in a permanent state of excitement, and when I could no longer offer that, she sought it elsewhere.”
“She left you for more excitement?” It was so much like Dawson’s first wife, Violet, that she could barely keep the shock and anger from her voice. She’d watched Dawson and Mattie suffer when Violet sought what she wanted elsewhere. At least Dawson had his family to help him.
Hugh stared at the picture. “She left, and she took Evan.” The agony in his voice echoed inside Annie. The little boy had paid a heavy price for his mother’s foolishness.
She took the three steps to Hugh’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath her palm.
“It’s an answer to prayer that you found him.
My whole family prayed daily that you would, and now you have.
Evan has you and me and Grandfather and my whole family to teach him what life should be like.
” She stood there, quietly waiting and silently praying for healing for both father and son.
The tension eased from Hugh’s shoulder, and she removed her hand lest he think her too forward.
He slipped the picture into the right-hand top drawer and closed the drawer firmly. “I have to trust God that Evan can be helped.”
“I’m positive he can be. He sees everything. I believe Evan understands what is being said around him, and even more important, he is aware of other people’s feelings.” She told him how she’d seen concern in Evan’s eyes when she cried while chopping onions. “It’s a very good sign.”
He pushed to his feet and stood facing her, barely eighteen inches between them. She was overwhelmed by his nearness and felt his strength and his powerful personality just as she had the first time she saw him.
“I hope you’re right, and I admit I’m willing to believe anything that offers me hope about my son.”
She smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile, though inside, she trembled just a little at all the longings rushing through her.
She did not want to care about this man any more deeply than as a partner sharing concern about Evan.
“How can he fail to get better with so many people on his side?” Her words were meant to make her remember she was here only to do a job of caring for Evan and his father.
He caught the door and pulled it wider, waiting for her to go ahead of him. They walked side by side to the kitchen. And Annie told herself it meant nothing but common courtesy. Perhaps also mutual concern over a little boy. But nothing beyond that. It was something they both agreed on.
After they ate soup and thick slices of bread, followed by the remains of a cake discovered in the pantry, Hugh announced he was going to visit Mr. Barret.
Grandfather, who had spent the morning reading or snoozing in his chair, looked up. “Would you like me to go with you?”
Hugh looked about to say yes, then shook his head. “It’s bitter cold out there. You’re better off staying inside and keeping warm. Thanks for offering.”
Grandfather looked so relieved that Annie’s estimation of Hugh rose several notches.
She followed him to the door as he donned a heavy woolen coat.
“Thank you for realizing it’s best for Grandfather to stay home.
” Home stuck momentarily on her tongue. She gave a decisive nod.
She’d soon get used to this place being home rather than the ranch house.
Hugh seemed surprised at her words. “I’m not about to take advantage of an old man.” He studied her a moment. “Or of a young woman.”
Before she could challenge his assumption, he stepped outside and closed the door, a cold blast sweeping across the floor. She reached for the knob, about to call out a protest but pulled her hand back and turned away.
She’d given up on love and meant to keep her heart safe from emotional involvement, but she had not given up on this arrangement. Surely, four weeks would be long enough to prove to him that it should be made permanent.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10 (Reading here)
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
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- Page 21
- Page 22
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- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
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- Page 34
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- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39