Page 87 of Montana Groom of Convenience
“It’s your turn.”
He knew what she meant. They had played this game every evening. “My happiest memory was the year Johnny was born. I remember how Ma placed him in my arms. She said he was my baby, and I should always look after him. I failed to do so.” He couldn’t go on.
She reached over and found his hand. “You did for five years.”
“I wish he was still alive.”
“So many deaths. Your mother. My mother. Your brother. My baby brothers. Now, your father and Jill’s mother. It’s overwhelming at times.”
He longed for a way to comfort her and grabbed at another sweet memory. “My ma used to read to me at bedtime.”
“Mine, too. When I grew too old for the Bible storybook, she read from the Bible.”
He sat up, her hand still in his. “We could do that.” He released her hand, shuffled toward the bedside table, and lit the lamp. “Where’s your Bible?”
She opened the drawer of the little table and pulled it out.
He took it. “What shall I read?”
“A psalm?”
He found the place and read the first psalm, closed the Bible, and returned it to the drawer. He lay down.
“That was nice. Thank you.”
He squirmed about, trying to settle himself so none of his bones protested about the hard floor. He could feel her eyes on him. “What?”
“You don’t look very comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable on the inside.” He smiled at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Reading from the Bible is like having a bit of Mama back.”
“I know. I miss my mother.”
“Me, too.”
“Poor Jill,” they said in unison and turned to each other.
He reached for her hand. “We must do what we can to make up for her loss.”
“Agreed.”
At that moment, something as solid as rock bound them together.
Later, after the lamp was out and they had settled down for the night, he realized it wasn’t just that moment that had forged the bond, it was the accumulation of nights they’d spent together, talking and sharing.
Carly layin the darkness of her bedroom. Sawyer’s deep breathing indicated he’d fallen asleep. She felt close to him, and she didn’t mean because he lay on the floor inches from the side of the bed. It was far more than that. Over the past few days, or rather nights, he’d allowed her to see into his heart, and she liked what she saw. A man with many sorrows counterbalanced by his strength and kindness. A man worthy of her admiration.
And her love? She shifted about carefully so as not to awaken him.
Love was not part of their agreement.
She stiffened as he moaned. She lay tense, listening for an indication that she might have disturbed his sleep.
He moaned again and mumbled.
