Page 48 of Montana Groom of Convenience
Intent on fulfilling her decision to provide more sweets, Carly had spent a few hours each day baking and discovered that Jill enjoyed helping. They’d made cookies and a yellow cake. They’d baked cinnamon rolls. They’d worked together on preparing meals.
Every evening, after Sawyer brought the horse to the barn, he washed at the pump before coming to the house. From her station in the kitchen, Carly could watch his every move. Every day, her pleasure grew at knowing this man was her husband.
After they had supper and the kitchen was cleanedup, they went for a walk. Carly told herself she was teaching Sawyer intimate details about the ranch—where the boggy area would appear after a heavy rain, the place where she’d discovered a buffalo rub, the pine tree hidden among the cottonwoods along the river.
She shared the details of her day. “Jill talks about her mother as we work. I think it’s getting easier for her to remember the good things and less painful to think of her being gone. Not that I expect that pain will ever leave. But I don’t need to tell you that. I’m sure it’s the same for you.”
They had gone to the river, where they walked along the shore. He stared ahead.
She waited, having discovered that he considered his words carefully before he answered.
“So much changed when Ma and Johnny perished.”
“You lost your home, too.” She pressed her hand to his arm. She’d grown more at ease with touching him and had discovered something reassuring and steadying about the strength beneath her hand as his muscles flexed.
“In a way, I lost my pa, too. He stayed lost until he met Judith.” A beat of consideration. “I guess if there’s one thing to be grateful for, it’s that he didn’t survive without her. I don’t think he would have—” He shrugged as if uncertain what he meant.
She understood that he didn’t think his pa would be able to go on without Judith at his side. “Poor Jill. I can’t imagine losing both parents.”
“Even worse, she acted so badly that no one would keep her.”
Carly chuckled. “She was hurt and fighting her pain. That little girl is a fighter.”
“I can never hope to replace the home she’s lost.”
Carly tried not to let it bother her that he spoke as if he were alone in this. She gently corrected him, wondering if he would even notice. “No, we can’t. But we can give her something else. A new beginning. A chance to learn that love is still an option.”
They stopped walking and faced each other. He searched her gaze so intently that her eyes stung. She didn’t look away. Didn’t want to end this moment and prayed he would see that she included him in her hope of a happy future.
A smile began in his eyes and spread to his mouth. “Love is an option. That sounds very hopeful.”
She sensed an unasked question. Did he wonder if love was available to him? She’d married a stranger. Their agreement was to remain businesslike. But did he sometimes want more? “I remember something my mother would say. Love is not a feeling. It’s an action.”
He studied her some more, then turned away. She couldn’t tell whether or not he was disappointed with her answer. She wanted to explain what she meant...that feelings didn’t need to exist in order for a person to show loving actions.
That was what she wanted to show when she baked treats for everyone partly because she’d entered into this arrangement with honorable intentions. But partly because she wanted them to know someone cared about them. It sprang from the decision she’d made at Mother’s grave to be a mother to Jill. And a wife to Sawyer, though she wasn’t sure what that would look like.
They returned home a short time later. It was Saturday, and she’d left water heating for baths. She brought the washtub into the kitchen.
Sawyer, seeing her intent, looked startled.
“Tomorrow is Sunday and church. Tonight, we bathe.”
“Aye,” Father said. “My own mother, God rest her soul, said washing the body reminded one that there should be a regular cleansing of the heart.”
“I’d forgotten what day it was,” Sawyer said. “I’ll go to the river to wash.” He grabbed a bar of soap and a towel and left before anyone could say anything.
“Jill, you can go first.” She covered the windows. Father went outside to sit in the cool evening air.
“Get undressed, and I’ll wash your hair for you.”
Jill stared at her. Her throat worked. Carly understood she struggled with emotion and waited for the child to say something.
But Jill turned away and stripped off her clothing, then climbed into the tub.
Carly let her relax in the warm water for a few minutes and wash herself, then knelt beside her. “I loved it when my mother washed my hair.” She lathered up Jill’s hair as she talked and rinsed it well, then wrapped a towel around her head.
Jill sat up. Tears flooded her eyes.
