Page 66 of Mail-Order Bride Substitute
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Riley hurried out immediately after breakfast. He was spending far too much time in Olivia’s company. And enjoying it entirely more than was wise. He trotted to the barn and saddled King.
Matt and Luke sauntered over before Riley had a chance to leave. Seeing his intent they stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the door.
“Where you off to, big brother?” Luke’s voice carried teasing.
Riley didn’t have time or interest in listening to Luke. “When was the last time anyone checked the south pasture?”
“Andy did a few days ago.” Matt squinted at Riley. “What’s eating you?”
Riley led the horse toward the door even though he suspected the pair wouldn’t budge until they felt like it. “Nothing’s eating at me. Someone’s gotta make sure the place isn’t falling apart around us.”
The twins looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Sounds to me like you’re saying we’re neglectin’ our work.” Matt’s words carried more than a hint of warning.
Luke jabbed his brother with his elbow. “Nah. He’s feeling guilty because that’s what he’s been doing.” Luke fixed a challenging look on Riley. “Spending too much time with Olivia.” He paused. “And enjoying it too much maybe?”
The words echoed his own thoughts and edged too close to the truth. Riley pushed his brothers aside, swung into the saddle, and galloped from the yard, failing to block the mocking laughter that followed him.
He rode all morning, pausing only to drink from a stream and let King rest. He had neglected to bring any food and picked a handful of wild raspberries that did little to assuage his hunger. Several times throughout the day he turned toward home and then instead, rode in the other direction.
The sun was low in the west, his stomach growling demandingly when he finally gave in to his longing and returned home. Thankfully, no one was in the barn to greet him or harass him. This time of day they had all gone to their respective homes for supper. Matt and Luke had wives and children waiting for them. Wally lived in his own little cabin and seemed content with his own company. If he was in the need of someone to talk to, he went to the big house and joined Andy who had lots of people to share his home—Mrs. Bennet and usually Alfred.
Olivia was alone and waiting.
His conscience stinging, Riley jogged down the path to his house. He stepped inside, welcomed by the smell of food that made his stomach growl loudly.
And welcomed even more warmly by Olivia’s smile. “You’re back. I wondered—” She didn’t finish. “Supper is ready.”
His stomach growled again.
She chuckled. “Sounds like it’s time to eat.”
He rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving.” Why had he stayed away so long when food and a smile awaited him? No answer came. At least not one he wished to acknowledge. He washed and took his place at the table. She spread before him roast venison, boiled potatoes, turnips, carrots, and green beans.
After a hurried grace, he loaded his plate and began to eat. He was on his second helping before he slowed down enough to talk. “What did you do all day?” Although he’d done his best not to think of her, his thoughts had constantly circled back to her. He’d tried to imagine how she would spend her time.
“We picked beans and canned them. Honor says they are about done for the season. Mrs. Bennet says our cellars are looking ready for winter. She has shelves full of supplies. I drew a colored picture of it.”
“Can I see it?”
She went to her room and returned with the drawing. Row upon row of jars full of vegetables for the winter. Orange carrots, green beans, paler green peas, bright green pickles, and red tomatoes.
“It’s like giant jewels.” He heard the smile in her voice without looking at her but still, he looked. Her eyes shone with joy. “There is color and texture and beauty everywhere I look. A cornucopia of God’s gifts.” She slid another drawing toward him. A basket laden with vegetables and then another of the garden.
“You make it look so—” He wasn’t sure what to say. Her heart of love shone through both on these pages and in her eyes. A warm and gentle feeling slipped through the cracks in his heart and scrubbed at the pain and fear staining it. He swallowed past the tightness clawing at his throat. Unwilling, unable to believe healing was possible.
She waited for him to finish what he’d begun to say.
“Pretty.” It was a weak word and he regretted being so guarded when disappointment clouded her features, but he’d spent the afternoon reminding himself that he didn’t trust love. Wasn’t prepared to open his heart to it.
He had to remember to protect his heart.
Olivia took away the drawings and served him a butterscotch pudding. “Honor taught me how to make it. I hope you like it.”
“I do. Ma used to make pudding like this. In fact,…” His voice trailed off as memories washed over him.
