Page 53 of Wild Spirit Revival

She shot him a glance. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

As they settled onto chairs at a table in the middle of the room, Elijah found himself studying Molly. There was something different about her. Her eyes danced with suppressed joy, and she couldn’t seem to sit still.

“All right. What’s got you so stirred up?”

Molly fidgeted with her napkin. “Is it that obvious?”

Elijah’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “About as subtle as a stampede.”

She bit her lip, debating whether to spill her news. “It’s silly, really. You probably won’t even care.”

Elijah leaned back, crossing his arms. “Tell me.”

She laughed, the sound bright and clear in the bustling restaurant. “Oh, very well. If you must know, Faith Goodell made me an offer today. She wants me to contribute articles and photographs to the Mystic Gazette.” Her eyes shone with enthusiasm.

His gaze narrowed, but before Elijah could respond, a waitress bustled up to their table. “What’ll it be, dears?”

Molly glanced at the chalkboard menu. “The elk stew sounds wonderful. And some fresh bread, please.”

“Make that two,” Elijah added.

Moments later, two steaming bowls arrived, accompanied by thick slices of crusty bread still warm from the oven. Molly dipped her spoon into the hearty stew, watching the steam rise. She took a bite and closed her eyes in bliss.

“It’s perfect,” she murmured. “The meat melts in your mouth.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow at her poetic description but said nothing as he tucked into his own meal. As they ate, Molly couldn’t contain her excitement any longer.

“During my travels, I’ll be mailing articles and photographs to Faith for the Mystic Gazette, and to my contact at the Chicago paper.” She paused, her spoon hovering midair. “What do you think, Elijah? Isn’t it a wonderful opportunity?”

His stony eyes fixed on Molly with such intensity she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The enthusiasm bubbling within her began to waver under his serious gaze.

“It’s certainly an opportunity,” he said finally, his voice measured and devoid of the excitement Molly had hoped to hear. He set down his spoon. “How often would you be sending these articles?”

She searched his features, trying to read the emotions behind his impassive features. “Well, I was thinking maybe once or twice a month to start. It all depends on what I find fascinating enough to write about, with photographs, so people can visualize the story as they read.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “And these photographs you mentioned. What sort of things would you be capturing?”

“Oh, all sorts.” Her voice rose with renewed enthusiasm despite Elijah’s lack of it. “The beautiful landscapes, the daily life of the townsfolk, maybe even the troubles faced with ranching work.”

“I see,” he said, his tone flat. “And you’d be sending these pictures back east as well?”

Molly’s heart sank at his continued lack of excitement. She found herself desperately wishing she could peer into his thoughts to understand what was going on behind those inscrutable eyes.

“Yes, that’s the idea. Elijah, what do you really think about all this? I can’t quite tell how you feel about it.”

The waitress approached their table, her arrival a welcome interruption to the growing tension. “Can I interest you folks in some dessert? There are peach pies cooling on the rack.” Her cheerful voice was a stark contrast to the atmosphere between them.

Molly seized the opportunity, forcing a smile. “Yes, please. I’ll have a slice of peach pie and coffee.”

He didn’t shift his gaze from Molly’s when he spoke. “I’ll have the same.”

As the waitress bustled away, he leaned back in his chair, his posture rigid.

Molly clasped her hands in her lap, fighting to retain her enthusiasm. “Peach is my favorite.”

Silence descended upon them once more, broken only by the clinking of cutlery from nearby tables. She cleared her throat, desperate to break the unease.

“You didn’t answer my question, Elijah. What do you think about Faith’s offer?”

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