Page 43 of Montana Bride By Christmas
“Why aren’t I suitable? Tell me where I’ve failed.”
He couldn’t come up with a single response because she had not failed in any way. Did that make her ideal?
“I’m tempted to say it would serve you right if you replaced me with someone with a sharp tongue and a critical spirit.” Her anger fled, replaced with a look of regret. “But that little boy in there deserves much better.” She returned to the kitchen, leaving Hugh feeling like he’d been hit by a flying boulder. He hadn’t said he would replace Annie. He didn’t know what he wanted, and he grabbed his coat and hat and hurried from the house, his steps not slowing until he reached the frozen creek at the edge of town. He stopped there and stared at the ice formations. Why was he letting himself get so worked up? All he needed was someone to help care for Evan. What he did not need was someone who would expect more from him than he could provide.
Was Annie wanting more than he could give...or more than he wanted to give? She’d confessed she was afraid of love. Was he any different? Seemed to him that love came with a lot of expectations.
A galloping horse thundered toward him. He recognized John Lewis whose wife, Ida, had been ill for some time.
“Preacher, can you come right away? My wife is doing poorly and asks for you.”
“I’ll be glad to come. I’ll need to get my horse.”
“I won’t wait for you.” And John galloped away.
Hugh jogged back to town, pausing at the livery barn to get his horse saddled. He rode back to the church and went into thehouse through the office. He took his Bible in hand and went to the kitchen.
Annie’s expression shifted from welcome to studied indifference. He might have been looking into his son’s eyes for all the emotion they revealed. However, he didn’t have time to deal with the matter. Not that he knew of any way to do so.
“I have to go to the Lewis place. Ida is doing poorly.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear it. Wait, I’ll wrap a cake for you to take. And if I can help in any way...”
Their fingers touched as he took the cake from her. His hand froze in midair. She didn’t pull back either.
“Be safe.” She dropped her hand into the pocket of her apron.
“I will. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“We’ll be fine.”
He knew they would. He went to Evan and knelt in front of him. “I have to go and help a sick lady. Grandfather and Annie will be here while I’m gone. They’ll take care of you.” The boy didn’t look at Hugh, but Hugh knew he listened and understood.
He hated to leave, but he didn’t have a choice. “Goodbye.” He touched Evan’s shoulder, grateful when the boy didn’t jerk away. He said goodbye to Grandfather and lastly, to Annie, his gaze clinging to hers. There were things that he needed to say, but now was not the time.
Nor did he know what it was he thought he should say.
Annie walked with him to the door and watched until he swung into the saddle.
He saluted and then rode away. He turned for one last look and told himself he wasn’t disappointed that the entrance had closed.
Annie leanedher head against the door. She should have told him she wasn’t angry with him. No, she was angry with herself for letting it matter so much that it hurt to hear him say that he still considered replacing her. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t care about him. And she must not. For several seconds, she remained in that position, pulling every errant thought back into submission.
Only then did she return to the kitchen.
Grandfather watched her. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”
“Yes, I’m sure he will.” And to prove it didn’t matter to her, she checked the clothes drying behind the stove, taking down the few items that were done. Determined not to feel sorry for herself, she challenged Grandfather to a game of pick-up sticks. He chortled when he won game after game.
“Could be you’re not concentrating,” he said. “At least not on the game.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She did not reply to his teasing comment.
The afternoon trudged by on leaden feet. She was more aware of the outside sounds than usual, hearing the wind pick up in velocity, hearing a piece of wood rattle against the side of the house, perking up at the sound of a horse passing. Not that she listened for Hugh’s return.
They played the game for a bit longer, and then she announced she must make supper. She’d make something special to welcome Hugh home. Not for any other reason, she informed herself, than to make him see that she would make a perfect wife.
The chops were cooked, the potatoes done, and the pie crust golden and he did not return.
