Page 83 of Montana Groom of Convenience
“I dinnae think so,” Father said. “Leave the little bed in your room.”
“Don’t you feel guilty about what you’re doing?”
“Nay, daughter. Sometimes, a little push is necessary.”
A little push? Is that what he called this manipulation?
Too upset to deal with her father, she continued to the small room and quickly arranged Jill’s things. She took longer at the task than required, even after Jill decided it was okay and left.
Sawyer came to the doorway. “Are you all right?”
“Father is playing games with us.” She kept her back to him, afraid he would read far more in her expression than she cared for him to see.
“We don’t have to play along.”
“Seems we do.”
“Except we decide the rules of the game.”
She nodded. Stiffened when he crossed the room. Fought an urge to turn into his embrace when he planted his hands on her shoulders.
“Carly, I will never expect more from you than you want to give. You can trust me.”
She trusted him. She knew he would keep his word even when she wished otherwise. Her heart echoed with impossible longing. “You can trust me, too.” She slipped away and returned to the kitchen. It was past time to make dinner.
The rest of the day she kept busy, weeding the garden, mending the chicken-yard fence, and fixing a tear in the trousers Jill wore. But avoiding her bedroom and the evidence of Sawyer’s presence in it was impossible, no matter how frantically she worked.
How were they going to handle this situation and remain true to their promises?
You can trust me. She wasn’t sure if she meant his words or hers.
After supper, Sawyer disappeared outside. Shewatched out the window as he traipsed toward the river. She longed to join him...to ask what he really thought of sharing her room. But he seemed to prefer his solitude, so she and Jill cleaned up the kitchen together.
“Beth said I did almost as good as she does,” Jill said.
Carly smiled at the sweet child, recognizing her yearning for approval. “Jill, honey, you are so helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Jill beamed. “Mama would be proud, don’t you think?”
Glad that her father had retired to the other room so Carly could relax, she hugged the child. “She would be so proud.”
Would Carly’s mother be proud of her?
She straightened and looked out the window. Mother had always praised her and always told her how much she was loved. Now, she saw something she had not been aware of before. Not until Mother died had Carly tried to be a son to her father.
Why did it matter so much at that point?
She found the answer: because she missed her mother’s approval and sought her father’s instead.
“It’s time for bed,” she told Jill a short time later.
“Are you still going to read to me?”
“Of course I am. You get washed up and into your nightie, while I get the book from my room.” She retrieved the storybook and joined Jill in the little room. It still held hints of Sawyer’s presence—a worn brown shirt he’d overlooked hung on a hook behind the door, and most telling of all, his scent. She tried to ignore it as she lay beside Jill and read her a story. The kitten lay inthe crook of Jill’s arm. At least it was content with the arrangement.
Jill said her prayers, then crawled into bed. Carly pulled the light covers up to Jill’s chin and bent to kiss her.
Jill wrapped her arms around Carly’s neck and held her. “I liked being in your room.”
