Page 12 of Silver Lining
But … good Lord. Suddenly she sort of had a family. The revelation amazed her.
"I've been thinking about this," Max said, frowning at her across the flames blackening the bottom of the new coffeepot. "You and I know what we've agreed to. But I doubt others would understand."
"You don't want your family to know we're going to divorce after I get pregnant," Low Down stated bluntly.
A flush of discomfort climbed his throat, or maybe it was only the flames reflecting on his skin. "I explained the circumstances in a letter to my mother, but I didn't mention a divorce as we hadn't agreed to that yet." He ground his teeth hard enough that knots ran up his jawline. "My family will expect us to treat this as a genuine marriage."
Picking up a stick, she jabbed at the fire. "What exactly does that mean?"
"We'll move into my house," he said, turning his head away from her. "And set up housekeeping."
The house he'd built for Philadelphia .
"My family will expect us to attend Sunday dinner, and other family events. They'll expect us to make the best of the situation and try to make a success of our marriage."
"We made our bed and now we have to sleep in it? Like that?"
He circled his coffee cup with his hands, his face turned toward the growing darkness beyond the fire.
"I'll understand if you don't want to mount a pretense for the sake of my family. But I'd appreciate it if you would."
"We'd be living in a real house," she said, thinking about that. Her fingers dropped to the letter in her pocket, and she remembered everything he'd written. He had wanted to surprise Philadelphia with the house but hadn't been able to resist describing it. To Low Down, his description had made the house sound like a palace.
Living in a real house … she'd been camping out of a tent for so many years that the idea of a house enthralled her even if it had been built for another woman. She thought about upholstered chairs and a mattress to sink into and maybe even rugs between her feet and the chill of a winter morning.
"My place is about three miles north of the main house. If you need advice about housekeeping chores, my mother and Gilly are both near enough to help."
Her chin stiffened. "Well, hell. I guess I can cook and scrub a floor without asking for instructions."
Immediately she thought of the old saying about the devil wiping his buttocks with poor folk's pride, and she swallowed hard. "On the other hand, there might come a time when I could use a little guidance."
Years had passed since she'd done any housework. Maybe there were things she'd forgotten. Still, how would it look to Max's mother and sister, her new family, if she had to request assistance with chores they would assume every woman knew? What kind of impression would that make?
Dropping her head, she rubbed her forehead. How had she jumped from refusing to pour his coffee to wanting to impress his mother and sister? This was getting complicated.
"I'll cook our supper," she announced abruptly. She had intended to open a can of beans for herself and leave him to fend for himself. A small slap back for his refusal to share her trout last night. But this news about his family changed things. "It won't be anything fancy, just beans and bacon and biscuits."
"There's something else we need to discuss." This time there was no doubting the color rising in his face.
He ran a glance over her, starting at the crown of her new hat and traveling down to her scarred, old riding boots. "I think we should stop for a day in Denver ." Tilting his head, he studied the stars starting to poke holes in the sky. "I think we should buy you some dresses and hats. And give you a chance to have a bath and clean up a little."
Pride scratched her ribs, and her cheeks flamed. He was ashamed of her. Well, what did he expect? He hadn't plucked her out of some sweet-smelling parlor, after all. A mining camp didn't exactly offer the best facilities for cleanliness, and no one cared anyway.
More to the point, she thought suddenly, what would his mother and sister expect? She was beginning to form two definite impressions about her new family. First, their opinion mattered greatly to Max. And second, her newly acquired mother and sister were probably cultured ladies with fancy dresses, fancier manners, and high standards that Low Down couldn't possibly reach up to.
Her heart sank. If there was one thing worse than having no family at all, she suspected it would be having a family that was ashamed of her. A glimpse of the future flashed across the back of her mind, and it didn't feel good.
Well. Time flies. His fancy family wouldn't have to put up with her for long.
Silently she fetched her skillet and a slab of bacon and the biscuit fixings. She didn't say anything while she worked on supper. But she peeked at him, wondering if his family resembled him.
If so, the McCords were a handsome bunch. If she'd been the type of woman to swoon over a good-looking man, Max McCord would have been the man. She guessed she'd never shared a campfire with one who was better-looking. The summer sun had tanned his skin to a golden bronze that made his eyes seem bluer by contrast. His nose was thin above a wide stubborn mouth with sharply defined contours.
As she'd always thought of wrinkles as the punctuation marks of life, she studied his face carefully. The dashes radiating from the corners of his eyes suggested that he was a serious man, but the broad commas framing his mouth also told her that he could laugh.
The next thing of interest was his hands. Max's hands were hard and square, work hands, she noticed with satisfaction. She had work hands, too.
Finally she considered his overall impression, recalling the first time she'd noticed him. She hadn't been surprised to find him in a gold camp. He was tough enough to hold his own, not afraid of hard work. But there was also a hint of the dreamer about him, a man who could imagine gold in rushing water, who might see pictures in a puffy sky. A man who could describe a house to a woman and make it sound like a poem.
