Page 28 of Montana Bride By Christmas
His lungs started to work again. Noble? And preacher? They were fine words, but he was disappointed in them. What more had he wanted?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
“I’ll clean the kitchen, then go to the store.” She rose and paused to look at Hugh again. “I’ll be just fine.”
Before he could think of an answer, she turned to Evan. “Would you like me to bring you a candy stick?”
Hugh stared as Evan’s gaze jerked to Annie, and his eyes lit with eagerness. Then he ducked his head and pulled back into a tight huddle.
“Evan,” Annie continued. “Look at me.”
The boy kept his head down, but his eyes went to her.
“If you want one, nod like this. And if you don’t, shake your head like this.” She illustrated and waited patiently. Evan didn’t do either. “Evan,” she said. “I won’t buy you a candy unless you say yes.” She waited, revealing nothing but patience.
She expected too much. The boy’s only communication had been grunts and wild noises. When Hugh opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand.
He was aware that Grandfather watched with interest and a bit of pride in his eyes. He thought his granddaughter could persuade Evan to respond.
Hugh wished it could be that simple. That change would come that easily.
As he watched Evan, the boy nodded his head once. So slight a movement he might have missed it. Perhaps even imagined it, but no, he had not. The boy had indicated his choice.
Annie laughed softly. “Good. I’ll bring you two for being such a good boy.”
Hugh stared at his son, hope and gratitude welling up like an artesian well. He shifted his attention to Annie, who was making short work of cleaning up.
He could so easily fall in love with this girl.
He almost bolted from his chair. That must not happen. If he allowed it, both of them would be hurt, and worse, so would Evan. She’d be disappointed when she realized he couldn’t provide her with fun and excitement. He would be when she left.
She dumped the dishwater and grabbed an old coat she wore going outdoors. “I’ll be back later.” And with that, she slipped out the door with three people staring after her.
Grandfather eased his way to his armchair and settled in for a nap.
Hugh studied Evan. What could he do to amuse the child? Annie read to him and told him stories. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He hurried to his office and gathered up his sermon notes. Back in the kitchen, he was rewarded to see that Evan watched the door for his return, but as soon as Hugh appeared, the boy shifted away.
“Would you like to hear my Sunday sermon?”
The boy’s shoulders twitched enough to inform Hugh that he heard. Satisfied this was a good way to pass a bit of time, he began to read his notes aloud, distracted slightly byGrandfather’s snores. His message was about the prodigal son. It had seemed fitting, considering the return of his own son. Not that Evan was a prodigal. Merely an innocent victim. A lost son. His throat tightened as he read the Bible verse of the father’s response. “‘Let us eat, and be merry: For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.’” He faced Evan but the boy did not look at him. “You are my son. You were lost, but now I’ve found you. I couldn’t be happier.” That gave him an idea. He should have a celebration. But his enthusiasm died—Evan was not ready for any kind of merrymaking.
Unless it was just the four of them. Perhaps he’d bring it up with Annie.
He couldn’t still the little bubble of anticipation at presenting his idea to her.
What would she think? Perhaps that he wasn’t old and uninteresting? He sighed. One silly suggestion wasn’t likely to change anything.
Why was he so foolish to even think it might?
CHAPTER SIX
Hugh finished reading his sermon notes aloud, half-distracted by the plans circling in his head. He supposed he should have something more to suggest than a celebration. What form would it take? Shuffling his papers together, he saw that Evan had fallen asleep on the mat Annie had provided. That didn’t say much for Hugh’s delivery, even if the boy was only four.
He pulled the warm blanket over the boy and took the papers to his office.
He didn’t immediately return to the kitchen. Instead, he went to the window overlooking the street and scratched a hole in the frost to peer down the road. From the manse, it was impossible to see the store. He saw the church next door and the bare-limbed trees in the town square formed by the intersecting two main streets in town. He saw the hotel and the corner of Miss Daisy’s Eatery but not beyond that to the mercantile, where he guessed Annie had gone for her errands. A wagon rolled by. The occupants were so bundled up he didn’t recognize them except to know it was a man and a woman. A cowboy rode downthe street, a scarf pulled around the man’s face and a fur coat protecting him from the weather.
It was cold out. Hugh knew that without leaving the house. He shouldn’t have let Annie go. He gave a little shrug. It wasn’t as if he could have stopped her. He hadn’t been in the area long before he understood that Annie Marshall, like the male members of her family, did not allow herself to be unduly influenced by the wishes of another. It was one of the reasons he told himself she was unsuitable. Didn’t a preacher’s wife have to be prepared and willing to accommodate the opinions of others rather than do things that would bring criticism down on them?
