Page 69 of A Forgotten Heart
He held his breath until he heard “It’s us.”
A relieved sigh whooshed out of Nick’s lungs, and his eyes closed.
“Uncle Nick,” Eli said. Nick peeled his eyes open to see the boys’ drawn expressions. “We’ve got a problem.”
Nick had been gone for too long.
Elsie stood at the counter, looking out the darkened window, even though it was impossible to see.
There was nothing left to clean in the kitchen, but Elsie kept up the pretense of scrubbing the spotless countertop anyway. Kaitlyn and the girls had gone up to bed. For a while, Rebekah and Clare had sat in the living room, making last-minute adjustments to Christmas gifts that had begun to appear beneath the decorated tree. Their voices had faded some time ago, and Elsie couldn’t help but wonder whether she was the only one left awake in the entire house.
She missed Nick.
Somehow, over the last few days, she’d become keenly aware of his nearness. When he glanced up from across the room as she passed through, their eyes met. When she brushed past him as she served lunch at the table, she felt the shiver of awareness, knowing he was there, that he was watching her.
And now that he’d been gone so long this evening, his absence was like a pulsing heartbeat.
Where. Where. Where.
Where was he?
Faint light came from the front room. Elsie had left a lantern in the window, just in case. A beacon to cut through the dark night and guide Nick home. Should she light one here in the kitchen too? If only she knew which direction he would approach the house from.
Fabric rustled from the doorway, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Rebekah looking around the kitchen.
“I thought I left my mending basket in here.” Her gaze landed on Elsie. She hesitated. “You all right?” Rebekah asked.
Elsie forced a smile. “I put it over here. I’m sorry, I should’ve brought it up to you.”
She turned back, but Rebekah’s attention had fixed on the window. Elsie saw the other woman’s weariness in the drooping of her shoulders and her worry in the way she bit her lip.
Elsie handed her the basket. “Can I help with any mending?”
Rebekah’s focus returned to Elsie. Her brows crinkled. “What are you—are you still cleaning up?”
“Not really…”
Rebekah accepted the basket as she glanced around the room. “You’ve cleaned up every little bit of the mess Tillie made helping with supper.”
Elsie smoothed her empty hands down the pleat of her skirt. “It wasn’t much?—”
“And the paper scraps from Jo cutting snowflakes. And you’ve swept up David’s pencil shavings.” There was a note of exasperation in Rebekah’s voice.
“I—” Elsie had done all of that. It hadn’t been a hardship. She’d wanted something to keep her hands busy, even as her mind was busy worrying over Nick.
“You’re a guest in our house, and this is how we’re treating you?”
Elsie picked up the rag she’d abandoned on the counter and folded it. She didn’t want to rile Rebekah any further.
“I didn’t mind,” Elsie admitted. “I actually?—”
She clamped her mouth shut as a beat of awareness swept through her. How could she have forgotten who Rebekah was? These past hours as they’d wrangled the children together and shared concerns over what was happening with the other McGraw brothers, Elsie had begun to feel as if Rebekah was a friend.
But she wasn’t.
Rebekah was a reporter. One who might spill Elsie’s secrets to the entire town…and that could have disastrous consequences.
Rebekah must’ve seen her hesitation. Something shifted in her expression, a minute change that resulted in a fine tension in the air between them.
