Page 21 of Montana Bride By Christmas
“Just figured you should be doing your job as the preacher and paying us poor old folk a visit more regularly.”
Of all the people Hugh served, this man made him feel the most inadequate. He supposed God had put the old fellow in his life to remind him of his failings and shortcomings.
He shared a Bible verse with Mr. Barret and prayed for his well-being before he took his departure. Back on the street, he turned immediately toward home, anxious to know how Annie had managed without him.
Not that he had any real doubts about her abilities. At least until she was distracted by something beyond the four walls of his house. No, his concern was more because of not knowing how Evan would react to any given situation.
He slipped into the house through the office door, hung his coat on the nearby hook, and hurried across the room. He ground to a halt at the sound of laughter. The deeper chuckle must be Grandfather, the lighthearted merry sound that drew longing and happiness from his heart would be Annie.
How long since he’d heard laughter in his home? Had he ever heard it? Not in this house where, until a few days ago, he’dlived alone in somber silence. Perhaps before his brother Kenny died, he’d heard it in his childhood home. Certainly not after that unfortunate day. There had been smiles and chuckles at the Caldwell house, but not this kind of overflowing amusement.
He remained at the door, purposely eavesdropping on the moment. What were they laughing about?
“My turn,” Annie said, and silence followed her words.
Hugh tiptoed into the next room, drawn by something stronger than he could explain. A need, a desire to witness what made her laugh.
She leaned over the table, the picture of concentration as she studied a pile of thin straw-like sticks stacked in the middle of the surface. They were playing pick-up sticks. Angled away from where Hugh stood, she didn’t notice him watching. Grandfather sat with his back to him.
“You know I’m better at this game than you are,” the old man said. “Always have been.” He turned to his right. “She thinks because I’m an old man, she can beat me.” He chuckled. “You watch me prove her wrong.”
Hugh realized Grandfather talked to Evan. The boy pressed his back into the corner but had shifted about so he could watch the game.
Hugh’s heart warmed to see his son responding even this much. Up until now, he’d avoided looking at anyone. Not wanting to spoil the moment, Hugh remained motionless.
Evan’s attention shifted to Annie, whose hand hovered over the sticks. With poised finger and thumb, she gingerly touched a stick, and the whole pile shifted.
“Well, phooey.” She leaned back, her arms crossed in disgust.
Grandfather chuckled. “Tried to warn you.” He rubbed his hands in glee. “Now, my turn. What do you think, Evan? Can I get a stick? Which one would you choose?”
Hugh held his breath, waiting, praying for some indication the boy understood and wished to participate. But Evan turned his head away, and Hugh swallowed hard as disappointment and discouragement clawed at his insides.
Grandfather studied the pile, chose a stick, and slowly lifted it off the stack. He crowed with victory when none of the sticks moved. “Beat that, young missy.”
She ticked her finger on the old man’s elbow. “Don’t be a gloating winner. Isn’t that what you and Pa and Mama always told us?”
Evan was again watching them, and Hugh thought he saw a flicker of amusement in the boy’s eyes. Then he noticed Hugh in the shadows and jerked away so quickly that Annie turned to see what had startled the boy.
“You’re back.” She pushed to her feet. “How was your visit? Do you want tea or coffee, or did they serve you some?” She glanced back to the table, pink rushing up her neck and stalling at her chin. “We were playing a game. Supper is in the oven. It will be ready on time.”
She thought he would disapprove of how she spent her afternoon? She couldn’t be more wrong. “Annie, you’re free to do what you like. I’m not judging you.”
Her eyes darkened. “Ah, but you are.” Before he could argue otherwise, she turned to fill the kettle and set it on the hottest part of the stove. “Tea or coffee?”
“Thank you. I’ll have whatever you and your grandfather want.”
“I feel like coffee,” Grandfather said. “I take it the Barrets didn’t offer you anything?” He must have meant the question to be rhetorical because he didn’t wait for Hugh to answer. “How are they?”
Hugh gave a few details of his visit, reminded again of how unfair this arrangement was to Annie. He should end itnow, but how could he? He needed someone. And not just anyone. Someone who related to Evan as well as Annie and her grandfather did.
Annie sweptthe pile of sticks off the table and dropped them into a tin. Why should she feel guilty to be seen playing a game with Grandfather, especially when it created another way to draw out Evan? And yet she did because he was judging her. Four weeks—minus a day—to prove to him that she was right for this job. Only it wasn’t a job. If he found her satisfactory, it was a lifetime agreement. For better or worse. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. That would include the sickness or health of his son. Evan had watched her and Grandfather play pick-up sticks. She considered that well worth any censure with which Hugh viewed the pastime.
Perhaps she needed to be less critical of herself, too.
She made coffee and served it with cookies she’d baked that very afternoon while Hugh went to visit the Barrets. Grandfather finished his coffee and retired to his chair with a book, but soon, the book fell to his lap, and his head tipped to one side as he napped.
Annie watched him for a moment. She hated to think that he was getting old, but last year, he had gone out every day, no matter the weather, to check on the ranch activities. This year, he seemed content, maybe even relieved, to stay indoors, close to the fire.
