“We won’t!” Owen turned to Aaron with a smile as large as the sun. “Which pond are we going to?”
Aaron pointed to the shimmer of water nestled down in the trees. “The one up front. There’s a path right behind that huge hackberry on the drive.”
“Let’s go, then.” Robert flicked the reins, and Buttons turned her head to look at Aaron as if he’d just sentenced her to purgatory. But at Owen’s impatient “Giddap” and Robert’s gentle flick of the reins, she picked up her hooves and begrudgingly started forward.
The farther Robert drove with Owen chattering nonstop at his side, the more Aaron’s insides jittered. He put his hands in his pockets and forced himself to walk alongside Mercy. He’d invited her on this walk, so it was his duty to come up with something to talk about, but his tongue felt like sawdust.
Mercy looked back at the carriage house before they turned onto the path behind the pony cart. “Jimmy didn’t complain about hitching up Buttons. The improvement in his behavior is one reason I believe Owen will do well with you. I think you’ve done Jimmy good.”
Aaron stopped for a second. “I think his improvement has little to do with me—surely it’s despite me.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit. I’ve seen you work with him.”
“You’ve forgotten what happened in the root cellar. He hasn’t acted like himself since then, and who could blame him? I’m very happy you’ve forgiven me, but I’d have thought my loss of control would’ve made me go down in your estimation, not up.”
“You need to stop chastising yourself for that.”
He nearly tripped on a tree root. Had she already pushed the incident off into the past and forgotten it—after she’d done her best to convince both Nicholas and the school board not to hire him because of how he’d treated people a decade ago? “Easier said than done.”
She sighed. “I understand that.” She forged forward on the path, suddenly silent, and he followed her lead. The light rustling of the trees, the cool breeze, and the break from work should’ve made a pleasant walk, but something was obviously weighing heavily upon Mercy, if her expression was any indication.
Robert had stopped at the edge of the pond, where Buttons happily ripped up lush grass by the mouthfuls. By the time they caught up, Katelyn had fallen asleep.
Owen squirmed in his seat. “Can we go around the pond?”
Aaron nodded and Robert started off, but Mercy moved to sit on the roughhewn bench under the willow tree instead.
Squirrels nattered in the trees above, and Aaron tried to enjoy the smell of mud, cedar, and honeysuckle. Robert prodded Buttons to ignore the deep green grasses, and Owen whistled at birds, but Mercy’s silence was disconcerting. Had asking her on a walk been a bad idea?
Bringing up what had happened in the cellar seemed to have been.
“Why don’t you sit with me?” she called from behind him.
He swallowed and turned to look at the tiny bench. Did she not realize how big he was or that her skirt covered more than half the seat? He walked over and lowered himself onto the edge, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
She didn’t say anything, just watched the children make their way around the pond and disappear behind a stand of trees.
The longer he couldn’t think of something to say, the sweatier his palms got. What did she think of him, asking her to walk but sitting silent as a stone? “I want to thank you for giving me another chance. You could’ve easily gotten rid of me.”
She turned to look at him, that soft smile causing his heart to trip again. “That’s not my goal anymore.”
He fidgeted. This bench truly was small. She was the same distance away from him that time he’d kissed her. All it would take to touch her lips was to lean.
She ran her tongue between her lips, and he quickly turned to check on the children’s progress.
“I . . .” The way his voice cracked made his neck heat. He cleared his throat. “I’m grateful you’ve changed your mind about getting rid of me, but I’m not so sure my taking Owen is a good idea anymore.”
“I don’t agree. In fact, I’ve been praying he quickly sees you’re nothing to be scared of, and that you two become a family sooner rather than later.”
He shook his head, not knowing what he’d done to make her change her mind so drastically. “I overheard Henri talking about how a mother and a father were ideal for these children. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to provide that.” He glanced over at her and was taken in by the strange look in her eyes. Worry? Sadness? Longing?
His breath caught. Longing? For him? Surely not. He wasn’t worthy of her.
He looked back at her lips, and they were moving—mesmerizingly so.
“You haven’t asked to kiss me,” she breathed.
He tore his gaze off her mouth and looked up into her green eyes, her pupils large and less than a foot away. How had he gotten so close? He jumped off his seat as if a clinker sizzled beneath him. “Sorry.” His face felt as if he’d leaned into a fire. He’d not meant to lean forward. What was wrong with him? He’d almost gotten slapped a second time. “I guess I ought to leave. . . .” And yet, he couldn’t just abandon her here with the children.
She tugged on his sleeve near the elbow.
He tensed, anticipating a narrow-eyed, singeing glare when he turned, but instead she was grinning.
“Well, why don’t you ask?”
He blinked. Ask what? His heart was racing too much to think straight.
She stood up beside him, her smile pulling hard to one side. “Well?”
She couldn’t really be inviting him to kiss her.
His throat turned as dry as tinder, and his feet felt as heavy as lead. “Would you . . .” His heart hammered so hard he couldn’t hear his own words. What had he been saying?
The wind ruffled her hair, and the noises of the woods disappeared. He didn’t want to hurt her again, didn’t want to send her off running like before. He didn’t—
“I hope you aren’t still mad at me for slapping you.”
He blinked, her moving lips breaking his trance. “What? No.” He blew out a long breath. “I was never mad. I deserved it.”
“No you didn’t.” She looked down at the ground between them. “I didn’t want . . . Or rather, I hadn’t wanted my one and only kiss . . .”
No man had ever kissed her?
“. . . to be from a man like you—or rather, from the man I thought you were. . . .” Her words petered out, but she looked up at him as if lost and expecting him to help her find the way.
His kiss had been her one and only? All vestiges of heart flutterings disappeared. “Then I definitely shouldn’t kiss you again.”
“You shouldn’t?” Her voice squeaked.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. Because your first good kiss should be with someone far better than me.”
“It’s too late for that.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “No other man could give me my first good kiss.”
He opened his eyes and frowned down at her. “But I thought you said—”
She put a finger against his lips. “I didn’t slap you because you kissed me poorly, or whatever excuse I came up with to justify myself in the moment. I slapped you because . . . you made my heart speed up and my arms tingle and . . . I was more upset you’d created those reactions in me than anything else. Reactions I was afraid would run through my mind over and over, and they did. Because, though the kiss was short, I . . . I’d never felt like that before.”
She’d enjoyed his kiss? Thoughts of their kiss had repeated in his mind as well, yet if he could replace it with one that didn’t end in a slap, so much the better. Unable to help himself, he took her hand from his mouth, pulled her closer, and took one last breath before he gave in to his desire to kiss her again and hope for a better ending.
Her mouth yielded to his, as it had in his dreams.
The softness of her skin, the silkiness of her hai
r, and the sweetness of her breath made the world around him go dark.
She pulled back a little, and he moved with her, desperate to show her something he couldn’t even begin to articulate. She pulled farther away, but he couldn’t help but steal one last second of her lips, slap coming or no.
She tipped her head down, and the flat of her hand pressed atop his heart. Her gaze stayed locked on his chest. “Aaron—”
“I know.” He forced himself to step back. “I should’ve asked.”
“Uh . . .” Owen’s voice startled him, and Aaron quickly jumped to put distance between them.
The boy looked mildly repelled. “Didn’t you hear us? I asked if we could go around the pond again.”
Mercy released a nervous-sounding giggle, her freckles disappearing under the pink color covering her cheeks. “I’m sorry we were . . . I mean, I’m sorry you saw—”
“We’ve seen worse.” Robert shrugged.
They’d seen worse? Aaron put a hand through his hair, his own cheeks likely as red as Mercy’s now.
“Well, maybe not that exactly.”
That? Robert had seen a worse kiss than that? He’d thought it had gone pretty well compared with the last one.
“I mean, I never saw anybody kiss my mother like . . . like he loved her. I bet Owen didn’t either.” Robert’s voice went soft. “What we saw . . .” He turned his head and looked out over the pond, his throat working extra hard.
Aaron turned cold. No boy should ever have seen what these two had. Aaron swallowed. Just like no boy should’ve ever gone through what he’d endured as a child. “I’m sorry about your mother, but she had the love you gave her, right?”
Robert nodded, though he seemed more interested in staring at the reins in his hands than continuing the conversation.
Aaron turned to Mercy, who was staring at him.
Kissed her like he loved her.
Was she waiting for him to deny or affirm Robert’s assumption? He rubbed his hands against his trousers. Those feelings and emotions crept in before one voiced the words, right? It wasn’t as if he didn’t love her, but could he say it?
Katelyn began fussing, and Mercy headed over to comfort the baby. “I think it best we return so I can help upstairs.”
Right. The auction.
Owen sighed and poked out his lower lip.
“We can come down another day, darling.” Mercy patted the boy’s leg and motioned for Robert to head up the hill in front of them.
Robert started Buttons up the slight incline, and Katelyn’s cries quieted with the swaying of the pony cart.
Mercy glanced over her shoulder at him as she followed the boys up.
He made his feet move forward.
Love.
Had Robert seen something in him he’d not yet recognized himself?
27
“Miss McClain, what can I do for you?” A. K. Glass’s manager and Max and Robert’s boss, Mr. MacDonald, came into his office, where Mercy had been sitting for the last ten minutes.
She stood and turned to face him. “I’m sorry I came without an appointment, but Max said you weren’t coming to the auction tonight.” She couldn’t keep from fiddling with her reticule’s strings. So few townspeople could buy Henri’s car, or anything expensive for that matter. But Mr. MacDonald had money enough, and an interest in the boys, so his sudden decision not to attend was concerning. Had the loss of Mrs. Sorenson’s donations gotten around town? They’d collected enough in the past three days to feel good about continuing, but what if Mrs. Sorenson’s reason for leaving had come to light? What would happen to Sadie?
“I’m sorry.” He walked behind his desk and dropped the papers he’d been carrying. “I’d planned on coming, but the wife is sick. We’ve got five kids at home, three of which are down with whatever she has. She’s been miserable for the last two days.”
Mercy let out the breath she’d been holding. It seemed he’d not heard of Sadie’s past. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is it something serious?”
“No, I don’t think so—just what’s going around. Head congestion, pain, malaise. But I wouldn’t feel right leaving for the night after she’s struggled all day.”
The symptoms sounded similar to what Katelyn had come down with yesterday. Mercy sighed. She was thankful he had a noble reason for not attending, but his presence would definitely be missed. “If she’s still unwell after the weekend, let me know. I could come by for an hour or two to help.”
“Thank you, Miss McClain, but the worst seems to be over. She’s just exhausted from the lack of sleep, but I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
“All right, then.” She forced herself not to frown. “I am sorry you won’t be at the auction tonight to hear Max and Robert’s speeches. They do admire you.”
“They’re good workers, considering their upbringing.” He dug into his pocket. “Before you go . . . I was planning to drop this off once Amelia got better, but you could take it now.” He pulled out a money clip. “I’d planned to find fifty dollars’ worth of stuff to buy, but I’ll just donate it.” He pulled out several bills.
Fifty dollars? Why, that was more than a month’s wages. “I-I don’t know what to say, besides thank you.” Evidently, she was just as bad as the children about letting a lecture go in one ear and out the other. Hadn’t she reminded herself after Henri donated his car that God would get the boys what they needed, with or without her effort? And yet she’d gotten so anxious over one man’s nonattendance, she’d walked across town hoping to convince him to come, worrying that if he didn’t, the whole auction would end up a disaster.
Mr. MacDonald handed her the money. “My pleasure. Max will do us proud, I’m sure.”
She left with a lightness in her step, yet she took her time walking down the glass factory’s stairs. She’d been antsy to leave the mansion, not only because she’d heard Mr. MacDonald wasn’t planning to come but because she’d also needed to get away from Aaron. Not because he was pestering her, but because she was overly aware of where he was at all times.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what Robert had said after catching them kissing.
Was he right? Did Aaron love her?
Unfortunately, Robert’s sad story about never seeing a man kiss his mother with any sort of affection had turned the happy moment into a sad one.
Nicholas preferred the children be adopted by a husband and wife, and of course she agreed, since that would be the most financially stable option. But she’d never thought about the orphans’ need to observe a loving couple. If these children never saw a healthy relationship, they might believe good marriages were nothing but fairy tales and forgo waiting to marry someone who loved them, or even treated them well.
And yet she’d agreed to let Aaron have Owen, for it was the boy’s mother’s wish. Since Aaron had grown up with a distorted sense of family, did he too know nothing about healthy relationships?
He’d mentioned he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to provide Owen with a mother. Did he not think about her as a future wife? Did he just kiss any and every woman he felt like kissing?
And to think, he was the last man on earth she ever thought she’d be worrying about why he was kissing her.
She pushed open the factory’s side door and stepped into the fresh air, taking a huge draught of it into her lungs.
And here she was, still thinking of Aaron. Time to think about something else. Caroline had asked her to check on Lily White while she was in town. The dove and her children had been sick for a week now, and were likely how Katelyn had caught her cold.
Taking care to make sure no one was around, Mercy slipped the fifty dollars into her boot. Having money on her person made her even more nervous about heading toward the red-light district, even if Lily lived on the edge of it, but she couldn’t deny the children medicine.
Mercy walked as quickly as she could. The faster she checked on them, the faster she could get back to somewhere she felt comfortable.
At the Whites’ little cabin, she knocked but got no answer. Well, besides a hacking cough.
Not wanting to stand on the street too long, she turned the knob and found the door unlocked. She opened it a crack. “Hello?” No answer. “I’m Miss McClain. I’ve come with medicine.”
Another cough and the soft screech of someone trying to talk without a voice.
She opened the door slowly and stepped inside the mess of a cabin, quite dark despite the afternoon sun. All of the shades were pulled, and no one had lit any lamps.
The sound of a child whimpering made her heart hurt, so she searched for a lamp and lit it.
In the corner, a large bed looked to have the mother and her children huddled up under a blanket that should’ve been sufficient for this muggy day, but they were all shivering.
“Who are you?” a woman’s voice croaked from the bed.
“Caroline’s friend.” She came to the bedside and reached over to feel the woman’s head. Hot, but not frightfully so. The child beside her tossed and turned fitfully, but the baby in the woman’s arms was quite still. With a tremor in her hand, Mercy felt the baby’s head. Thankfully the infant was hot rather than cold.
“Who are you?” This time a different voice sounded behind her. A boy about Jimmy’s age stood in a doorway.
“My name’s Mercy, and I’ve come to check on your family. Are you not sick?”
“I’m the first one over it, though I still don’t feel too great.” The scratchiness in his throat became more noticeable as he spoke.
At least he could help her find things she needed. “Would you get some water for me?”
He shrugged but went off without a fuss. Seemed he was better at obeying than Jimmy.
Taking the infant from the mother’s arms, she changed the babe’s diaper. The fact that the cloth was dry was quite worrisome.
Mercy swaddled the little girl back up, coaxed her into swallowing a spoonful of medicine, then attempted to encourage the mother to nurse her.
Neither of them seemed to have the strength or desire to do so.
The boy returned with a full pitcher, and she helped the mother and little girl in the bed take a dose of medicine and a glassful of water. Before either of them finished drinking, they sank back down under the covers.
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