Page 40 of The Cowboy Who Came Home

“Edee,” Alex said.

“I just—I’ll be right back.”

“Edith.” Finn’s voice made her heart sing and her cheeks flame even more, but she couldn’t look at him.

“Just one minute.” She nodded and left the kitchen, not sure where she was going or why. She went down the hall and instead of turning right to go into her bedroom, she went left and into the spare bedroom where Levi had lived until she’d had to take him to the hospital because he’d become paralyzed along the entire right side of his body.

He’d died there, thankfully, and Edith didn’t have to think of him here, in that way. She did pick up the picture of him from where it sat on the shelf by the door. She smiled back at him, and then, without thinking, she replaced the photo face-down on the shelf.

She took a breath and looked out the window. You need the help, and he’s offering the help. Take it.

Edith didn’t like accepting help, she knew that. And yet, she stood there in the sunlight streaming in through the front of the house, and she felt the Lord gently chastising her. Humbling her. Whispering to her that it would all be okay. Accepting help from Finn didn’t mean she was weak.

“How many times will I have to do hard things?” she whispered.

God didn’t answer her, and Edith knew she’d already gotten the answers He had for her. Now, she had to act on that.

She wiped her face, embarrassed all over again that she’d been found crying. Finn would think she was such a crybaby, and Edith didn’t want that. After a steeling breath, Edith held her shoulders back as she walked back into the kitchen.

Both Alex and Finn looked at her, her brother without much emotion in his expression but Finn’s held nothing but hope. He got to his feet and came toward her. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s fine. I don’t have to come help.” He folded her into his arms, and oh, how Edith just wanted someone to hold her and protect her from the outside world.

From sinkholes, and photographs that reminded her of hard times, and floods, and everything else that could—and did—go wrong.

“I just thought of it yesterday when we found those sinkholes, and I haven’t been able to let go of it.” He pressed his lips to her temple, then further down, closer to her ear. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” she whispered.

“Alex said you’ve never left the lunch table when there’s bacon in the vicinity.”

Edith burst out laughing, and that somehow made all of the tension and frustration and sadness inside her flee. She leaned back and looked at Finn, her gaze dropping to his mouth and rebounding back to his eyes.

He smiled softly at her, and he was the most handsome man on the planet. He knew how to hold her; he knew exactly what to say and when; he simply knew.

Edith smiled back at him and said, “We sure could use your help at Coyote Pass with the sinkholes.”

“I don’t want you to be too tired to write at night,” he whispered. “I promise, you won’t see me any more than you want to.”

“I want to see you, Finn.”

“Great,” he said without missing a beat. “Because I want to see you too.”

“Please wait until I’m done eating to start making out,” Alex called, and Finn turned back to him. He shielded Edith from her brother in another protective move, and Edith appreciated that too.

She took a moment to wipe her face, and then she slid to Finn’s side. “Alex, we can have Finn come help with the sinkholes, right?”

“I already said yes, Edee.”

She smiled as she slipped her hand into Finn’s. She squeezed, and they went back to the kitchen table. “Great. Then maybe I can make out with him later.”

Finn coughed and choked, his whole face turning a ruddy shade of red. Alex laughed too, and Edith calmly picked up her fork so she could finally eat breakfast-for-lunch.

Later that evening, Edith left the stable after the nightly feeding of the horses. This time, Finn followed her, and he took her hand the moment he came to her side. He didn’t say anything, and Edith didn’t know how to tell him that she sure had enjoyed spending the afternoon and evening with him.

Maybe the golden silence around them could convey it for her, and she simply basked in the warmth and light of Finn’s hand in hers.

“What time do you guys get going in the morning?” he asked as they rounded the barn and the farmhouse and backyard came into view.

“I get up when I want,” Edith said. “I do the morning feeding, but it’s not until eight.”

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