Page 63 of Mail-Order Bride Substitute
They sat side by side and sorted through the receipts. Many were indecipherable. Others lacked a dollar amount. Still others he had to recall from his memory because the business had been conducted with nothing more than a handshake. But bit by bit they went through the stack of paper.
He closed the ledger and sat back with a grin on his face. “I thought that would take all day. Now we have the afternoon free. What shall we do?”
“I suppose we should eat dinner?”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
She carried the cup and plate back to the kitchen and caught up her basket. Together they left the house and returned home. It took her only a few minutes to serve the stew. They enjoyed the last pieces of cake.
“Olivia, you saved me hours, so the rest of the day is yours. Whatever you want to do, name it and we’ll do it.”
A glow filled her insides at his eagerness to spend time with her. She considered her options. She could ask to go to town to mail the letters she had written to Sylvia and her aunt and uncle, but that could wait.
They could go down the road to their nearest neighbors, the Dixons. She’d met them at church and been extended an invitation to visit any time and hopefully soon. But she didn’t want to share the afternoon with people she hardly knew. There was only one thing that she could think she wanted to do.
“Can we go back to the waterfalls? I’d like to do more sketches.”
“That’s a great idea. Can you prepare a picnic, so we don’t have to rush back?”
“I can.”
“I’ll get the wagon.” He trotted from the house happiness evident in every step.
Olivia hugged herself and chuckled. She couldn’t wait for the outing. She scurried around cleaning the kitchen and preparing a picnic meal. She put her sketching things in her shoulder bag.
Riley returned, rubbing his hands together with obvious satisfaction. He put the lunch basket and quilt in the wagon before he lifted her aboard. She covered his hands at her waist with hers. It was almost as good as a hug. She stood in the wagon and looked down at him.
His smile filled his eyes. He eased his hands from her waist and slowly, his gaze still locked on hers, he backed away, then broke the connection and ran around to climb up beside her and they began their journey.
Although she’d been in this direction before, she noticed each detail as if it was the first time. She pointed out the flowers, the birds, the clouds. He indicated the mountains and admired the things she noticed. They reached the place where they would leave the wagon and walk.
“I’ll come back for the picnic.”
This time she would not argue about him helping her and without a speck of reluctance, took his hand. They climbed the rocks and navigated the narrow trail, a sense of anticipation making her insides dance.
He left her at the cliff overlooking the falls. She sat on a rock, pulled out her sketch pad, and began to draw. The rumbling sound of the water excited her. Memories filled her with sweetness. They’d kissed yesterday. Would they do so again? Would he make the first move? Or would she have to? Her pencil sat idle as she contemplated the many possibilities.
15
Riley swung the bundle of wood to his back and carried the quilt and picnic basket in his hands. Even this heavily loaded, it took three trips to get everything up the hill. Remembering how much his mother had enjoyed spending time in the little shack overlooking the falls, he’d decided to restore it. Maybe someone else would like to spend a night or two there in honor of Ma.
He climbed the hill, deposited his final load, and joined Olivia. She showed him the picture she was drawing. This was more than a sketch. “That’s very good.” Detailed with touches of color.
“Thanks. It’s simple but I hope it allows the power of nature to shine through.”
“It does.”
She stopped sketching. “There are times I get lost in my work. Don’t be afraid to interrupt me if that happens.”
“You go ahead and draw. I brought wood. Thought I’d fix Ma’s little cabin.”
Olivia turned to see his supplies. “That’s a lovely idea.”
“I’ll leave you and get to it.”
He examined what remained of the walls. He’d be able to salvage much of it and he straightened them and nailed them into place. He added boards where they were needed. He cleaned out the interior and then studied the roof. Either he could bring more boards or make a roof out of branches. The latter sounded more practical, and he set about gathering suitable branches, using the axe he’d brought to cut them and trim them.
As he carried an armload back to where he needed them, he glanced at Olivia. She bent over her paper, her pencil dancing across the page. Even in profile, he could see her concentration. And joy.
