Page 52 of Wagon Train Dreams
Laughing, she flattened her palms to his chest. “It seems to me you have forgotten Ma, my sisters, Louise, the Millers?—”
He laid a finger to her lips to silence her. “I haven’t forgotten.” His gaze searched her face, and he grinned. “I’d kiss you, but your mouth is all purple.”
“Hmm.” She trailed a fingertip along his lips. “So is yours, but I don’t mind.” Lifting her face to his, she met his kiss halfway. He tasted of berries.
The saskatoons were forgotten as they climbed the hill again and sat on the slope, looking out at the rolling landscape. His arm encircled her, and she rested against his shoulder.
They talked about their childhoods and how different they had been. She’d grown up near town, attended a regular school, and had a variety of stores to shop in. He’d grown up on the frontier, been taught to read by his parents, and had only known his trading post store. As they relayed information, she got a picture of a growing boy who adored his father and enjoyed working with him. She understood the pain of losing the person who had been part of the foundation of one’s life.
“At least I was grown up when I lost my father.”
“But a young widow with a child. It must have made you feel very vulnerable.”
Sitting up to look into his face, she nodded. “I never admitted it before, but that’s exactly how I felt.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I shouldn’t have said that. Now you’ll think I’m weak.” It was the last thing she wanted, and she adjusted her skirts to form a nice flare as an excuse to avoid his look.
Joe caught her chin and tilted her to face him. “It’s not weak to want other people in our lives.”
“You mean like I need you?”
“And I need you.”
Overcome with emotion at his confession and the dark intensity of his eyes, she hugged him hard.
He held her, his cheek pressed to her hair. Her breathing synchronized with his.
For a time, she couldn’t say how long, they remained in each other’s arms. Sounds drifted up to them. The clanging of traincars being loaded. The chuff-chuff of the steam engine. Then, a long whistle and the train clacked down the tracks.
“Bertie is safe with your ma and the others.” Joe’s words whispered through her hair.
“How did you know I was concerned?”
“Maybe because you always are. Or because I’ve seen how he reacts. Or it might be because you stiffened like you were getting ready to jump to your feet and run after him.”
“Oh, Joe. You understand me far better than you know.”
His answer was to hold her tight. And it was more than enough. His actions spoke far louder than any words. Though both combined to sweeten her heart.
The train puffed into the distance until they no longer heard it.
“Our picnic!” She jerked upright. “I almost forgot.”
He got to his feet and pulled her up. They climbed the hill back to where he’d left the basket, and they sat on the soft grass as she folded back the lid.
“I’ll pray.” He took her hands and bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, creator of everything, we thank You for the food we are about to share. Bless us with Your peace. Amen.”
Hazel breathed deeply, blessed by his words, and united to him in a way that defied explanation.
He released her hands. She spread a dark blue cloth on the ground and set out the things she’d prepared. Boiled eggs, slices of cheese, sandwiches stuffed with roast pork from last night’s supper. Cookies and bits of candy ended the meal.
“This looks wonderful.”
“If I had a regular kitchen, I’d make savory biscuits and little sweet tarts.”
He bit into a sandwich. “Hazel, the food is excellent, but it’s not what makes this picnic special. It’s sharing it with you.”
Heat stung the corners of her eyes at the look he gave her, and joy warmed her heart. Life with this man promised wonderful moments each day.
They lingered over the food. Once they’d eaten every crumb, they lay side by side, looking into the sky and talking.
