“You’re delusional, Hunter Mitchell.” At last, Mattie looked at him. “Ask any of the churchgoing folk in this city, they’ll tell you who and what I am.”
Annabeth had never seen her mother like this. She looked and sounded so...so...beaten.
Was Mattie ashamed of the profession she’d chosen? She’d never let on, not once. And if she really was ashamed, why not change her ways?
“You might not live a clean life,” Hunter agreed. “But the Lord knows who you are, deep down, under all that bluster. He sees all of you and still loves you.”
Mattie gazed up at the ceiling, her eyes blinking rapidly. “You can keep your fancy church words and charming smile for some other fool woman. I remain unmoved.”
Hunter’s lips twitched, but his tone remained serious, low, meant only for the people at their table. “Because of your example, Annabeth has grown into a strong, good-hearted woman of integrity who knows her own mind. She’s an excellent role model to the children at Charity House, and to my daughter. I’m grateful to her.” He paused. “And to you.”
“Me?”
He took her hand, holding steady when she tried to wrestle free. “Thank you, Mattie.”
“Oh, honestly, you are such a man.” She swiped at her cheek. “Full of balderdash and too much charm for your own good.”
Chuckling softly, he pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss just above her knuckles. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one, you big, handsome brute.”
Winking at Annabeth, he let go of Mattie’s hand. “Are we friends again?”
Clicking her tongue at him, she made a grand show of adjusting her collar. “You’re a pushy, pushy man with no sense to stop while he’s ahead.”
“I like to think of myself as determined.”
“I have another term for what you are.” She plucked at his sleeve, then smoothed her hand across the length of his forearm. “But it isn’t fit for mixed company.”
“Best keep it to yourself, then.”
She pursed her lips. “Naturally.”
It was Annabeth’s turn to blink in astonishment. Hunter had calmed Mattie’s temper and had kept her from revealing...well, much of anything.
He really was a sweet, wonderful, dangerous man.
And she needed to turn the conversation back to the important matter at hand. “Mattie, I’m sorry you found out about my arrangement with Hunter from someone other than me.”
“As you should be.”
“Yes, well, the point is that I didn’t tell you because he only asked me to leave with him and Sarah yesterday.” And now she was rationalizing. Badly done, Annabeth. “I haven’t yet decided if I will take him up on his offer. There are certain factors to consider.”
She looked at Hunter then. His gaze appeared impassive, but there was something explosive contained in all that stillness.
He needs me.
The truth settled in her heart. And that was how she knew. She knew she would go with him. Not only for Sarah’s sake. But for his, too.
And maybe, Annabeth realized with a start, even her own.
* * *
Caught in Annabeth’s gaze, Hunter felt a rush of some strong emotion he couldn’t define, didn’t dare define.
Attraction? Definitely.
Guilt? Most definitely.
He reminded himself she wasn’t the woman he should be thinking of, yearning for with every breath, as though he’d been waiting for her to come into his life and she was finally here. The dream of finding a woman to love—as a man loved his wife—was over, dead and buried, murdered by Cole Kincaid.
Jane had been Hunter’s last hope of marital bliss, his one chance to get it right. He’d lost everything when he’d lost her.
He’d failed two women already. He would not add a third to the list. Marriage to a good woman, a partner who’d stick by his side as they navigated through life, was no longer possible for him. Stability was the best he could hope for now.
He felt a pang of regret.
He could still love, though, as evidenced by his feelings for his daughter. Love as Christ first loved you. That, Hunter could do. But romantic love? A ruined illusion.
So, why this strange new emotion running up against his resolve? Why now? And why Annabeth?
She was beautiful, to be sure, with a lovely oval face, haunting blue eyes, a color so rich and deep it seemed to take on a purple hue. And that silky dark hair, pinned up with tendrils teasing free. Under different circumstances...
No. There were reasons that made anything beyond friendship between them impossible. One in particular came to mind. Sarah.
The other sat at the table with them, watching their every move. His every move.
“Stop looking at one another like that.” Mattie threw her hands up in exasperation. “It’s making me ill.”
Just then, the waiter arrived with their meals. After he left, the steaming plates of food sat untouched.
“Tell me your concerns, Mattie,” Hunter said. “And I’ll do my best to address them.”
“Annabeth cannot live with you and your daughter, no matter the reason. You must realize it isn’t proper.”
The irony of Denver’s most notorious madam speaking on the subject of propriety was priceless. Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t absolutely correct. “I plan to hire a housekeeper to live with us, as well.”
He glanced at Annabeth, waiting for her to join the discussion. But she’d become overly fascinated with her plate of food, moving a lone apricot around with her fork.
“A housekeeper, indeed.” Mattie dismissed this suggestion with a toss of her head. “What decent man will have her after she’s lived under the same roof with you?”
“Our living situation will be completely aboveboard.” He reiterated his point with force. “It’s no different than if she took a job as a governess in any other home in Denver.”
“It’s completely different.” Mattie spoke with equal force. “Because of who you are and the nature of your past, she’ll be ruined the moment she steps into your home. Guilt by association.”
He wasn’t insulted by the statement. Well, only a little.
The comment, coming from Mattie Silks of all people, drove home the reality of his situation. Although some people would give him the benefit of the doubt, most would assume he was still a man of many sins, capable of killing in cold blood.
The dream of starting over was always just ahead of him, always just out of reach. He was lying to himself if he pretended otherwise. He would never be able to atone for his sins. Compelled, he touched the pocket where he kept his Bible, reminding himself that atonement wasn’t necessary. In God’s eyes he was already forgiven.
But not in the eyes of men.
Mattie was right. Annabeth’s reputation would be ruined the moment she left town with him. Guilt by association.
He opened his mouth to rescind his offer.
“Now you listen to me, Mattie Silks.” Annabeth slapped her palms on the table and leaned forward, her eyes taking on a fiery glint. “Anyone who judges Hunter for his past lacks Christian charity.” She waited for her words to settle over the table. “I would never want to be with a man who held Hunter’s past against him. And you shouldn’t want that for me, either.”
Mattie stiffened in her chair. “That is beside the point. You will not agree to his job offer. I forbid it.”
Hunter cringed. Mattie had just made a big mistake. Annabeth didn’t seem to be a woman who caved to ultimatums.
Proving his point, she swung her gaze to his, mutiny in her eyes. “When do you want my answer?”
“I...” Hunter swallowed, looked between the two women, swallowed again, then did what any wise man would do under the circumstances. He dodged the question. “I have found it’s never smart to make a decision out of emotion.”
“Very wise advice, Hunter, darling.” Mattie patted his hand in commiseration. “Very wise, in
deed.”
Annabeth persisted. “When?”
“I—”
“When?”
All right, then, since she asked. “I’d like to have your answer as soon as possible. If you decide to refuse me, I will need sufficient time to make other arrangements for Sarah’s care.”
“Very well.” She gave him one, firm nod. “I will let you know my decision tomorrow afternoon.”
A day. One day to find out whether Annabeth would be a part of his and Sarah’s lives. One. Short. Day.
All he had to do was dig in his heels and hold on for twenty-four measly hours.
Chapter Eleven
The next afternoon, Annabeth arrived home from church ahead of the others. With the children several minutes behind her, the house was quiet, eerily so, the silence broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the main hallway.
Tense and full of indecision, her breathing caught the rhythmic tick, tick, tick.
This moment of peace wouldn’t last long, she knew. She had precious little time to sort through her thoughts. Running a hand over the banister of the main stairwell, she tried to picture her future outside this house.
The task proved easier than she’d imagined. She’d always wanted a home of her own, populated with a lot of children, a husband that took care of their family and provided a safe environment for them all.
If she closed her eyes she could almost envision walking along the rolling hills of a valley, the mountains in the distance, the sound of cattle lowing behind her. There was a man by her side, tall, with sandy-blond hair and golden-amber eyes. The haunted look was gone from his expression, no more loneliness, no more sorrow, only peace, and love. Love for her, for their children...
Annabeth quickly snapped open her eyes. Hunter Mitchell was not allowed to be the center of her dreams. She wanted a respectable man, maybe a banker or a lawyer, not a former outlaw.
But perhaps she wasn’t being fair. Hunter had proved himself a good man already, kind, considerate, accepting of others, including Mattie. Yet, even if he proved dependable, Annabeth had to remember he was a man who’d been so in love with his wife he’d willingly gone to prison for avenging her murder.
Her mouth tightened around the edges. Despite the sunlight streaming in through the windows, she felt a shadow pass over her soul. Was she jealous? Of Hunter’s dead wife?
Yes. Sadly, she was.
The thought of Hunter married to another woman—any other woman—made Annabeth sick at heart. For whatever reason, no matter how illogical, after a mere handful of days she was beginning to think of him as hers. It was as though they’d always belonged together but only now was the timing right.
God’s timing was always perfect. Annabeth believed that truth. He makes all things work together for our good. That, too, she believed with all her heart. So if the Lord’s hand was in this situation, if He was guiding Annabeth toward Hunter, and Hunter toward her, then everything would work out in the end. Oh, how she wanted...
What? What did she want?
She let out a small sigh.
Hunter. She wanted Hunter. In her life. Forever.
She was going to accept his offer to accompany him and Sarah to his family’s ranch. Moving into the parlor, she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten minutes past noon. She would forever think of this moment as the one that changed her life forever.
Now, all she had to do was tell Hunter her decision. Then they would begin making plans.
Mattie wasn’t going to like this, not one bit.
Of course, her mother hadn’t blessed Annabeth’s decision to move to Charity House, either, and look how that had turned out. The thought produced a small smile of satisfaction.
The sound of running feet alerted Annabeth her solitude had come to an end. Seconds later the front door swung opened with a bang. Children of all ages and sizes spilled into the orphanage, shouting, laughing, making their way to various parts of the house.
Since the parlor was considered off-limits for anything other than formal occasions and important visitors, Annabeth enjoyed an additional two minutes of solitude.
Sarah, always attuned to Annabeth and her whereabouts in the house, sauntered into the parlor, her smile wide. “I knew I’d find you here. Why’d you leave church ahead of the rest of us?”
“I simply wanted a moment to catch my breath.” Annabeth returned the child’s smile with a quivering one of her own. “It’s been a busy three days.”
Sarah angled her head, her brows knit tightly together. “You mean since my father showed up.”
The child was far more perceptive than most nine-year-olds, a trait she shared with the other Charity House children. “That’s precisely what I mean.”
“Oh, Aunt Annabeth, it’s really wonderful, isn’t it? I have a father of my very own.” The child twirled in a circle, arms outstretched, her entire being filled with unspeakable joy. “I have a father of my very, very, very own.”
“Yes, you do.”
“God is so good.”
Out of the mouths of babes.
He makes all things work together for our good. A wave of peace spread through her confusion.
“Will I see my father soon?” Sarah asked.
“Very soon. Today, actually. He’s planning to stop by this afternoon.” Annabeth didn’t go into further detail, primarily because she didn’t know exactly when he would arrive. They hadn’t set a specific time yesterday when he’d dropped her off after lunch.
“Oh. Oh! He could be here any minute.” Sarah shuffled her feet, turning in small, tight circles. “I had better hurry and change my dress.”
“You look more than presentable at the moment.”
Her words rolled off Sarah’s retreating back. The girl was so excited, so happy, even if Annabeth had wanted to prevent Hunter from claiming his daughter, she wouldn’t have the heart.
Sarah already loved her father.
That makes two of us.
No. No. Annabeth stumbled back a step. Her knees gave out and she fell into a chair. No. No. She couldn’t be in love with Hunter Mitchell. Not this soon. This was only an echo of her schoolgirl infatuation with the man.
Yes. That explained this strange sensation. She was merely overwhelmed from the stream of shocks she’d endured over the past three days. Hunter had been nice to her, and to her mother, treating them both no different than anyone else he met.
How could Annabeth not be dazzled by his charm, his large presence, the way he looked her straight in the eye?
This will pass, she assured herself.
So why did the room suddenly become a confusion of sights and sounds? Why did her breath knock around in her lungs in a series of hard puffs?
And why was the floor moving beneath her feet?
“Miss Annabeth?” A feminine voice broke through the haze in her mind. “You don’t look so well. Have you taken ill?”
She swatted at the buzz in her ear. She needed time. Time to analyze what was happening inside her. Time to sort through the emotions that were bursting inside her very soul.
“Miss Annabeth.”
She looked up.
Molly Scott frowned down at her.
“Oh, Molly,” she breathed the girl’s name on an exhale. Tension continued to coil in her shoulders. Focus, Annabeth, focus. “I didn’t hear you come in the parlor.”
Molly’s lips quirked at a perceptive angle, amusement dancing in her eyes. Even at fifteen she was a startling beauty with her coal-black hair, clear blue eyes and creamy porcelain skin. Boys were already falling at her feet, much to her parents’ chagrin.
The girl was also a handful, always one step away from crossing a line, and one of the most likable people Annabeth knew. Although Molly wasn’t officially one of the orphans anymore, and hadn’t been for years—not since her half sister had married Sheriff Scott and they’d adopted her—truth be told the girl was one of Annabeth’s favorite students. And her most challenging.
�
��I’ve been told I’m light on my feet. By, well—” Molly grinned “—you, actually.”
“I’m aware.” On several occasions Molly had managed to sneak out of class, always on a sunny day when the outdoors called to her rebellious nature. “Did you need something from me?”
“Actually, I was looking for Sarah.” She held up a satchel Annabeth hadn’t noticed before now. “I was going to help her redesign another one of her bonnets this afternoon.”
An activity that would keep the child busy until her father arrived. “What a lovely idea. She went upstairs to change her dress.”
This seemed to confound Molly. “Whatever for?”
“She’s expecting a visitor later this afternoon.”
“Oh. You mean her father.” Molly frowned. “Should I come back another time?”
“No, no. Now is good.” Better than good. Annabeth could use a distraction herself. “Why don’t you go fetch Sarah and bring her back downstairs?”
“You want me to bring her here? In the parlor?” Molly looked intrigued, and more than happy to dive in for the sheer sake of breaking the rules.
Oh, yes, the girl was definitely a handful.
“Not here, no.” Annabeth tried to sound stern but she gave in to a quick spurt of laughter. Molly had such a crestfallen expression on her face. “We’ll work in the dining room this afternoon so we can spread out the ribbons, scraps of material and pins on the table.”
Molly still looked displeased at this explanation, as if Annabeth had ruined a rather fun, if somewhat innocuous, rebellion on her part.
“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Annabeth offered.
“That’ll be fine.” Molly lifted a shoulder and gave in good-naturedly. “I’ll get Sarah now.”
Twenty minutes later, the two of them—plus six other girls—worked at the dining room table. Ribbons of varying widths, lengths and textures were scattered across every available spot.
Laughter abounded, while suggestions for possible designs flew between various groupings of girls. But as the afternoon passed, instead of enjoying what was usually her favorite activity, Sarah grew more and more agitated. She kept shooting glances toward the doorway, her heart in her eyes.
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