Page 15 of Chloe's Christmas Escape
Jackson.
Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.
A fire burned low in the hearth; the wash pitcher placed in front of it to keep the water warm. Jackson sat at the table by the window. His dark eyes softened as she pushed back the coverlet. She tried to sit up, wincing at the stiffness in her limbs that came from sleeping for too long. When his gaze drifted towards her, she saw the soft smile playing on his lips and she felt her pulse quicken.
It should be a punishable offense to have such a powerful effect on someone.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pushed up from the pillows, feeling each movement with a dull ache of fatigue. “How long did I sleep?” she asked.
“Most of the day. I brought you a sandwich, but I ate it.”
She gave a little laugh. “I’m sure you needed a snack if I slept so long. I am sorry I missed lunch.” Kicking the crumpled quilt out of the way, she pushed her feet to the edge of the bed and felt something fall to the floor. Bending over to investigate, she saw a medium-sized package with her name scrawled in loopy ink on top. She lifted it back onto the bed and gave it a gentle shake. “What is this?” she whispered.
“Mac called it a wedding present. He said it has all the crafting things you asked for, plus a few things you didn’t.” His gaze shifted to the fireplace; his brow furrowed in agony. As if to ease his tension, he rubbed his fingers along his thigh, unaware of its comforting gesture. She watched him from across the room, her heart aching with sadness.
“How’s your leg?” She pushed the package further on the bed so it wouldn’t fall. It intrigued her, but right now she needed to seek the facilities with some haste.
“My leg is fine. Don’t trouble yourself about it.” He waved her off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, and she felt her face flush. She grabbed her short leather boots from the corner of the room, slid them on, and hurried to the door, slamming it shut behind her.
“You’re awake.”
Chloe turned to see Marshal Masters in the hallway. “Yes. I was just looking for the facilities.”
“Go down the stairs and make a sharp right to go behind the building and out back. Is Jackson in there?”
“He is. He’s sitting next to the window. You can go in.” She didn’t wait for a response, instead racing down the steps towards the back of the boarding house.
Once she’d taken care of her needs, she let herself back into the boarding house, but instead of going right back to her room, she ducked into the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” Chloe said, announcing herself. There were three women in the room, each busy working on something different.
“Yes, miss?” The younger girl who had been at the table polishing silver stood up as Chloe moved closer.
“Could I possibly get a cup of tea?”
“Of course, ma’am.” The girl hurried to do her bidding, and Chloe let her eyes skim the room. She loved being in the kitchen. It brought a peace to her she rarely found elsewhere. Her gaze lingered on the large brick oven where bread was baking, and the smell of fresh bread wafted up to her nose.
“You’re a new guest?” asked the older woman, who was kneading dough.
Chloe nodded. “Yes, I am. I arrived this morning. My name is Chloe.”
“I’m Emma. That’s Alice. Maggie is making your tea,” she said, nodding towards the other two women. “You just let one of us know if you need anything and we can help you. Mostly we cook and clean, but if we can’t do it, we’ll find someone who can help you.”
“Cooking and cleaning are much-needed services,” Chloe said, offering a warm smile.
Alice nodded in agreement. “Yes, they are. We are fortunate to be employed. It’s been a hard time for everyone, and now that the war is over, most jobs are scarce, but we do our best to help.”
“I can see that. Thank you for your hospitality. The food has been delicious.”
Emma smiled. “It’s the least we can do. You just let us know if there’s anything you need.”
A moment later, the girl brought back a cup of steaming tea, the scent of bergamot mingling with the smell of bread.
“Here you are.” The young maid offered the cup, which Chloe gratefully accepted. “Do you need anything else?”
“Could I also get a mug of coffee for my…,” she paused, shaking her head, “I’m sorry. For my husband. Coffee for my husband.”
The women in the kitchen chuckled, and her embarrassment eased as the younger woman’s face lit up. “You’re the new bride! The missus is planning to celebrate your nuptials at dinner this evening.”
