Page 213 of Conveniently Wed
Stella crossed her arms and held herself still. Poor little Blossom was learning early about men who had what Stella’s mother called ‘itchy feet.’ At least Blossom wouldn’t have time to grow fond of the man or count on him to consider her feelings.
Blossom smiled, and her blue eyes brightened. “I like you. You stay.”
Mr. Reynolds chuckled. “You say it and that makes it so?”
Blossom nodded.
Stella studied the man at the table. What was there about him that had Blossom declaring affection? He was lean, hardened looking, his blond hair cut short, his shirt sleeves soiled. She blinked. Ashes from caring for his aunt. Was it something about his relationship to his aunt that Blossom saw?
Stella moved forward. The three in the kitchen looked at her. The man’s eyes were blue, dark blue, like the sky just before dawn. She blinked. What difference did it make what color his eyes were? She had only noticed because of Blossom’s unusual interest.
“Your aunt is resting comfortably at the moment.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
His stomach rumbled loudly, sending Donny into a fit of laughter.
“Sorry. Guess in all the drama we didn’t eat.” His stomach growled again.
Blossom covered her mouth to hide her giggles.
Stella glanced at the clock. “It’s almost suppertime. We’ll be eating soon. You’re welcome to join us.” She knew the Kinsleys would have offered the invitation if they were there.
“I didn’t expect?—”
“I know how you feel,” she said. “I’ve felt the same way, but this is what the Kinsleys do. They care for the ill and injured and open their home to those who need shelter.”
“That’s what I was told.”
Stella continued, feeling a need to avoid any silences. “Right now, there is a family of eight in the addition. I’m not sure what’s wrong with them, but they are very ill.” Mrs. Kinsley had wondered if they had food poisoning or perhaps some contagious infection. She’d insisted on everyone but herself staying away from the family in case it was the latter. The mother and the youngest child were the worst off, and Stella knew Mrs. Kinsley worried if they would pull through. “There’s a woman with her two half-grown daughters upstairs. She’s come to join her husband, but hasn’t been able to locate him.” Stella and her two children had moved up there as well. “They are away at the moment, searching for his homestead. There’s two bedrooms down the hall. The preacher and his wife sleep in one. Right now, there is an elderly woman in the other.” Old Mrs. Sears could no longer take care of herself. She slept most of the day and ate very little.
“I’ll be going on as soon as my aunt’s leg is set.”
This man was just like her pa. Couldn’t wait to be on the move. Even if it brought pain to someone. Traveling in a wagon across the mountains would surely cause his aunt unnecessary pain. But what he did wasn’t Stella’s concern. She’d let Mrs. Kinsley warn the man about the dangers of traveling with his aunt in this condition.
A pot simmered on the stove—stew she had made earlier in the day. Another pot full of broth simmered. Mrs. Kinsley would need that for those who were ill but able to take a little sustenance. It was about all Mrs. Sears would take too.
Stella shooed the children over to the basket of toys to play, then she quickly mixed up a large batch of biscuits and put them to bake.
Mrs. Kinsley hurried into the house.
The man was instantly on his feet, and Stella introduced them.
“I appreciate your hospitality,” he said.
“Let me have a look at your aunt, and then we’ll talk.” Mrs. Kinsley indicated he should wait while she checked on his aunt.
He stood at the doorway, tension evident in the way his jaw muscles bunched. It was good to know he was concerned for his aunt. Just not concerned enough to postpone his travel plans.
Memories of her pa’s restlessness tugged at her mind. His impatience to be on the go after a few months in one place. His refusal to hear any protests. Stella knew she too often judged other men by how her father had been. How could she not? Her life had been one of constant moving and uncertainty. Even marriage, she learned, had not given her the stability and security she had vowed she would give her children. Not that she could blame Frank for dying. He’d fought hard to get over his pneumonia. But now she must provide for her children. Give them the roots she’d never had. However, if she didn’t soon return to her homestead, she stood the risk of losing it.
Was she strong enough to take care of the place on her own?
2
Bruce heard the noises behind him as if from a distance. The clang of dishes being set on the table. The bang of metal against metal. A chair scraping across the floor. A child’s voice. Blossom’s. He knew from the silvery tones. A smile comforted his heart for the space of one breath. There was something about that little girl that charmed him. But mostly he strained for a word or sound from the front room to indicate how his aunt was doing.
