Page 16 of Mail-Order Bride Mommy
As Gwen read the story, he suddenly remembered where he’d seen the picture before. It was one of the illustrations in his mother’s Bible. Well, this whole business must be all right if one image had been there. He smiled at his faulty reasoning. And yet it changed his mind about the story.
Lindy turned her face up and studied Gwen.
“I like this book. Thank you.”
Gwen cupped her hand around Lindy’s head. “I’m glad and you’re welcome.”
Lindy turned back to the page open on Gwen’s knee and touched the picture.
Matt was about to ask the child what she was thinking when she closed the book.
“It’s time for you to go to bed,” Gwen said. “Can I tuck you in?”
Matt held his breath. He should have warned Gwen that Lindy had refused to let him—indeed, any of them—accompany her to bed since her parents’ deaths.
“Sure.” Lindy got to her feet and waited for Gwen to accompany her.
Matt stared after them a moment. “Can I come?”
Lindy shook her head. “Just Auntie Gwen.”
He sat back, trying not to take her refusal personally. From the bedroom came the murmur of their voices. A few minutes later, Gwen returned to the living room and sat on a wooden chair across from him.
“She’s already asleep.”
“She hasn’t slept well since…well, since the accident. She often wanders around in the night.”
Gwen’s gaze went to the bedroom. “Poor child.”
“She hasn’t let anyone help her into bed either.” Matt didn’t know if he was surprised by Lindy’s choice or maybe a little put out that she would allow a stranger to tuck her in but not her Uncle Matt whom she’d known all her life.
“I’m glad she let me.” Gwen’s gaze circled the room. “Do you have any objection to me decorating the house as I wish?”
“None at all.” But he wasn’t ready to change the subject so completely. “Where did you find that book you gave her?”
“At a bookstore back in Kellom. Do you disapprove?”
He shook his head. He hadn’t meant for uncertainty to creep into his voice. “I wasn’t sure what to think at first. But that one picture where the angel is reaching out to touch a sick man…well, I recognize it from my mother’s Bible.”
Gwen smiled. “That’s nice.”
He nodded. What had become of his mother’s Bible? It must be in the big house somewhere.
“Tell me about your mother. All you said was she died nine years ago. You’d have been sixteen at the time. Am I right?”
The illustration and Gwen’s words triggered a flood of memories. “She was a patient woman. Pa could sometimes be careless about things. I remember one time….” He stopped. He hadn’t thought of that particular incident in years and wasn’t sure now was an appropriate time to mention it.
“I’d like to hear.” Gwen’s voice was gentle, inviting.
It was a memory he’d never told anyone, but in the interest of getting to know each other better, he should tell her. Besides, it threatened to explode from his thoughts. “I haven’t remembered this in years but one day I saw my ma crying because Pa tracked mud all over her clean floors. She didn’t know I saw her. She hurried to her room. I watched through the crack in the door. She fell to her knees and cried softly. Then she murmured some words.”
He remembered them as clearly as the day he’d heard them. “‘Lord, I know he doesn’t mean to overlook the things I do. But sometimes I get tired of not being noticed. I grow weary of my work being of no importance to him. Truth is, I’m tired.’” He swallowed audibly, the memory carrying more power than he expected.
He forced himself to continue, grateful he was able to keep his voice strong. “She pulled her Bible close and ran her finger along the page. After a bit, she said, ‘Yes, Lord. Not my will but thine.’ I hurried away lest she discovers me spying on her.” How could he have forgotten the impact of observing her?
He continued. “I learned a worthy lesson. Don’t overlook the good things people do. I was naturally neat and organized but after that, I went out of my way to be so, and I often commented on things Ma had done. I said I appreciated the bread she’d baked. I thanked her for fixing our clothes for Sunday. I noticed and said so when she cleaned the porch of winter muck.” He’d promised himself not to overlook what others did for him. He’d forgotten that over the years. He could change that right now. “Thank you for bringing that book for Lindy and reading it to her. Thank you for coming out and taking a chance on the unknown.”
Her eyes widened then crinkled at the corners. Her pleasure spread across her face like the dawn of a new day. She chuckled. “You’re welcome. And I thank you for offering me a home and a child to take care of.” Her smile flattened and her eyes darkened. He felt the intensity of her study clear to the pit of his stomach.
