Now, as she watched Gwennie cradle one of the stick bundles tied with a piece of string she’d unraveled from the edge of an old towel, she felt like a horrible mother. Was her pride doing more damage than good to her children? To her?
Her head swam as her thoughts tumbled one over another.
What had Jemma said about Grady? That they’d been sure he was about to marry some woman who ran off with a salesman. The woman had to be a nitwit to leave Grady, but that wasn’t what concerned her. It was what Jemma said about Grady holding her in high affection. Could he so quickly shift his attention from one woman to another? Was he that mercurial?
She wondered what, exactly, she was to him. A project? A point to prove he could charm a female? Or did he truly care about her?
And what did she feel about him? It had only been a week that she’d known without a doubt that Rocco was dead. In the past seven days, she’d spent more time thinking about Grady than she had mourning her husband. Truthfully, she’d known Rocco was never coming home since the day he left. She had a feeling he was gone and it had proven true. Still, it didn’t excuse her interest in another man, especially when she hadn’t been sure if she was still married or a widow when they first met.
Guilt assailed her and made her wish she could go for a long walk in the woods, alone, to clear her head.
Instead, she made supper, courtesy of the food left from the bounty Jemma had brought, and listened to the excited chatter of her children. If nothing else, the visit today had been good for them. Gwennie had never played with anyone other than her brother.
On occasion, Matty mentioned missing the cousins he barely remembered because they’d been playmates from the time they were old enough to crawl.
Keeping her children isolated in a cabin barely fit for human habitation was no way to raise them. Yet, they’d been as mannerly as the Jordan children today. Once Gia got over her initial shock and surprise of having a real English lady in her home, drinking her weak herbal tea, she’d enjoyed her visit with Jemma. The woman was intelligent, funny, and kind. She was well read, a caring mother, and Gia had an idea she would make a dear friend, if she had time for such things as forming relationships with others.
Since Rocco had left, Gia had been alone except for her children which wasn’t the same as having an adult to talk to, to share with, to care about. Being a mother was so different from being a friend, which is what she and Rocco had always been. Friends.
Yet friendship wasn’t the first thing that popped into her head when she thought of Grady. No, what she felt for him was so different from anything she’d ever experienced. There was longing. Yearning. Passion.
And he’d given her hope.
Because of him, the days no longer blended one into another mired in the drudgery of struggling to exist. He’d given her hope that she could survive the winter with her children. That she could carve out a life for them. That she was still a woman who garnered the notice of men.
It was that last thing that made guilt wash over her anew.
The proper thing to do was to spend time in mourning for Rocco, even if she had already spent the better part of the year doing that very thing. The next time she saw Grady she’d do her best to send him on his way without hurting his feelings or destroying her own heart.
Chapter Nine
Gia had just set supper on the table when a thump on the porch drew her gaze toward the door. Either the cow was loose and trying to get in the cabin, or they had a visitor.
She leaned to the side, trying to look out the window, but couldn’t see anything beyond the enveloping darkness outside. At least it had stopped snowing. It had snowed so much the past few days, she was afraid Gwennie would get lost in it on the way to the outhouse.
A sudden rap at the door let her know it wasn’t the cow trying to break in. Of their own accord, her hands went to her hair, tucking in errant strands, then she whipped off the stained apron covering her worn calico dress.
The sight of Grady’s grinning face when she opened the door somehow didn’t surprise her in the least, but the small Christmas tree he carried caused a smile to burst across her face.
“A tree!” she said, stepping back so he could carry it inside.
“Hello,” he said in a low rumble that made her stomach flutter. His gaze locked with hers and the sparks snapping between the two of them became a palpable, sizzling thing. Afraid of it, of her feelings for Grady, she dropped her eyes and focused on the tree.
“Look what Mr. Gaffney brought,” Gia said as she closed the door then looked to her children.
“Why is there a tree in our house?” Gwennie asked, climbing off her chair and hurrying over to lean against Gia.
“It’s a Christmas tree, darling girl.” Gia picked up her daughter and held her as they leaned toward the three-foot-tall tree and breathed in the aromatic fragrance.
“It smells good,” Gwennie proclaimed, sniffing the air.
“Thank you.” Gia glanced at Grady again, aware he continued to hold the tree. “I’ll grab a pail to put it in.”
“I have one ready on the porch,” he said, moving aside as Gia opened the door. She grabbed the pail and stepped back into the cabin. Once Grady had the tree situated in the bucket, he filled it full of rocks he’d brought in another pail then they poured water around the base to keep it from drying out.
“I thought you could set it on the table. I know it will take up some of the space, but it should look nice there.”
“It will look wonderful,” Gia said, watching as Grady set the tree on the table, pushing it back so it stood in front of the window. It would block some of the daylight, but it would be worth it to have a Christmas tree. Even more giddy than her children, Gia wanted to clap her hands and dance around the cabin. Instead, she tipped her head to Grady. “Thank you for thinking of this.”
“You’re most welcome. I saw that little tree today and thought it would be perfect for you.” He removed his gloves and moved close to the stove.
“Have you eaten supper? Would you care to join us?” Gia asked, glad she’d made a pot of venison stew. There was plenty of it and thanks to the flour Grady had given her, she’d made biscuits, too.
“I’d be happy to join you,” he said, shucking off his coat and leaving it, with his hat, on one of the pegs he’d installed by the door.
Everywhere she looked, she saw Grady. In the weeks she’d known him, he’d become a part of their family, like he always belonged there, belonged with them.
Which was exactly why she needed to keep her distance from him.
Yet, with Grady holding out her chair and grinning at her with such rugged charm, she didn’t know how she could possibly send him on his way. Not when she so desperately wanted him to stay.
“Did you come all the way here to bring the tree?” Gia questioned after Grady said grace.
“I did. And I wanted to check on you all. We’ve had so much snow lately, I couldn’t get away. I was able to wrap up my work early today and decided to bring the tree.” Grady buttered a biscuit and smiled at her. “You make the best biscuits, Gia. They taste just like the ones my mother used to make.”
“Will you be able to see her for the holidays?” she asked, realizing she’d never asked him about his family.
“No. Mama died when I was sixteen.” A haunted look crossed his features and he clenched the spoon he held tightly in his fist.
Gia reached out and placed her hand over his, giving it a gentle pat. “I’m sorry, Grady. I didn’t mean to stir painful memories.”
“No, it’s fine. I think of her quite a bit this time of year. She loved Christmas. My whole family did.” He took another bite of his stew.
Although she knew she should change the subject, she wanted to know more about him, about his past. “What happened to her?”
“I think she worked herself to death.” Grady sighed and leaned back in his chair while a faraway look settled in his eyes. “My father was the pastor of a small churc
h in a quiet town. My older sister was talented at playing the piano. When I was nine, Juliet and Papa had gone to the church to practice with the choir then stayed after everyone left to ready the church for services the next morning. On their way out the door, they were gunned down by a gang of outlaws who’d robbed the bank. They just happened to walk out of the church at the wrong moment. If they’d left five minutes later, they probably would still be alive. After that, it was just Mama and me. She cooked, did laundry, took in mending, sold vegetables and eggs—whatever it took to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. When I was sixteen, her heart just stopped working. So, I struck out on my own.”
“Oh, Grady.” Gia felt her heart breaking for the little boy who’d lost his father and sister, and the young man who’d watched his mother work herself into an early grave. He’d had such grief to endure, yet he’d turned out to be a giving, caring, cheerful man. One Gia realized she had come to love very deeply and dearly.
He gave her hand a reassuring pat and picked up his spoon again. “I thought about following in my father’s footsteps for a while, but I guess I’ve always been a little too wild to be good pastor material.”
“I think you’d make a fine pastor, or a fine whatever you want to do. You’re a good, strong, intelligent person, Graydon Gaffney.” Gia’s gaze collided with his across the table and she felt the impact of it all the way from her head to her toes. Now was not the time to examine or explore their feelings, though. Maybe there would never be a good time, but it certainly wasn’t when her children were watching and there was a Christmas tree blocking part of her view.
“I heard the Jordan family came for a visit. Did you enjoy meeting Jack and Lily?” Grady asked, directing the question to Matty. The children happily talked about playing with the Jordan children and how much they wanted to do so again.
Gia really should make an effort to figure out a way to take the children for a visit to the Jordan ranch, or at least take her children to town, but she hated to leave the cabin when it was so cold out.
If she cared to admit it, it wasn’t the threat of the cold weather that kept her at the cabin now that she knew Rocco would never return. With Grady nearby, she didn’t want to leave in the event he came to visit. Annoyed with herself, with her thoughts, Gia reaffirmed her decision to tell Grady he needed to stay away to give her time to mourn Rocco. Surely, he’d understand that.
The traitorous way her heart and head pleaded to draw closer to Grady, she realized he wasn’t the one who needed to be convinced. It was her. Out of respect for Rocco, to the friend he’d been to her, she wouldn’t rush her mourning, wouldn’t do anything to tarnish his memory or his love for his family.
After supper, Grady kept the children entertained with a story while Gia hurriedly washed the dishes. When she finished, Grady stood in front of the tree, eyeing it. “Do you have any decorations?”
“No, but I’ll think of something,” Gia said, wishing she had ribbon, or even extra string, to drape on the tree. If she had old fabric, she could cut strips and tie it on the branches, but every scrap had been used to make or mend clothes for the children. Just yesterday, she’d taken out Rocco’s clothes and began cutting them down to make a new shirt and pair of pants for Matty and a dress for Gwennie. She planned to use the ribbon Grady had left on his first visit to add a bit of adornment to the dress. Maybe when she finished her sewing projects, there would be material left to decorate the tree.
She really hoped to find enough little pieces of fabric to make a rag doll for Gwennie for Christmas. She’d already used sticks and a glue she made from beeswax and tree sap to fashion a little cabin for Matty to play with along with four stick figures. Although the toys wouldn’t be anything like the nice things the Jordan children had, Gwennie and Matty would enjoy anything she gave them.
“I’d be happy and honored, actually, to take you all into town. The Jordan family has friends who own a boardinghouse, the Greenfields. They’d love to have you stay with them for the holiday. We could go to the Christmas service at the church. Pastor Eagan and his wife are quite wonderful and welcoming. The church ladies serve punch and cookies after the service. Thane and Jemma have extended an invitation to their house for Christmas dinner. Or, if you didn’t want to go out to the ranch, we could dine with the deputy and his wife,” Grady said, rambling.
If she didn’t know better, she would have said he was nervous. He sat in the rocking chair with both children on his lap, but forked a hand through his hair as he gave her a pleading look.
It was on her lips to say yes. To agree to whatever he suggested. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. The practical part of her knew the cow would need to be milked, the chickens fed. If she was gone, no one would be there to take care of the livestock. Not only that, but if she let Grady take her to Baker City, she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to come back to the cabin. It would be so easy to let him arrange things, to take care of her, but her pride wouldn’t allow it.
Besides, she owed it to her children, and the memory of their father, to stay where she was. At least for now. Until spring.
“No,” she said in a quiet voice, unable to meet his gaze.
“Pardon?” he said, stopping the motion of the chair.
“No, Grady. We won’t be going into town. It’s best we stay right here. Alone.” There. That should make it clear she didn’t expect him to come around for Christmas. Despite her words, a big part of her hoped he ignored her protests and came anyway. And the fact she was considering how much she’d miss him if he didn’t come made her edgy and annoyed.
“I see.” He set the chair back in motion and continued rocking her children, looking so much like he belonged there. Gwennie and Matty were both curled against his solid, broad chest. It seemed like mere moments before they both fell asleep.
When she lifted a limp Gwennie from his arm, his forehead furrowed into a frown, but he remained oddly silent. While she changed Gwennie into her nightgown and he undressed Matty, he didn’t so much as even brush her arm. The way the two of them worked in such harmony to tuck in her children for the night left her even more distraught and unsettled.
Once the children were nestled in bed, sleeping soundly, Grady crossed the room and yanked on his coat.
Gia walked over to the table, wondering if he’d speak to her before he left. She couldn’t blame him if he refused to say a word to her. Guilt assailed her, especially when he’d been so kind to her and the children. Softly, her fingers ran down the length of a branch of the tree, releasing a decadent aroma that filled the cabin with a delightful fragrance.
The deep breath she drew in nearly choked her, though, because Grady’s unique, masculine scent mingled with that of the fir tree.
He wrapped a scarf around his neck, picked up his hat, and turned toward the door.
Her heart screamed for her to stop him. To wrap her arms around him and beg him for forgiveness for being so curt and harsh and prideful. But she didn’t.
Instead, she stood rigidly, back straight and chin lifted as he glanced at her. His gaze clashed with hers. She could see heat simmering in the deep blue depths, along with pain and anger. Then she saw defeat. His shoulders bowed slightly as he looked away and reached for the door.
“Dang it all to pieces,” he muttered, dropping his hat on the table as he spun around and took her in his arms.
One moment, Gia was considering how best to apologize and the next, she was being kissed more thoroughly and passionately than she’d ever been in her entire life. With Grady’s mouth tantalizing hers, demanding and hungry, giving and generous, she lost the ability to think.
Her arms slipped around his neck and instinctively she drew closer to him. She heard a low moan, but had no idea if it came from her or the magnificent man who rendered her senseless with his kisses.
Finally, Grady pulled back, snatched his hat off the table, and gave her a long, cool glare. “You are the most stubborn, prideful, selfish woman I’ve ever met. Even if you
don’t want to spend the holiday with me, you could at least think about what’s best for your children. And while you’re at it, I hope you’ll think about that kiss when you’re enjoying your holiday. Alone.” He opened the door and strode out into the darkness before Gia’s wobbly legs gave out on her.
She somehow managed to shut the door and sink into a chair before she crumbled into a weeping mass of regret.
Chapter Ten
Grady had never been so all-fired angry in his entire life. He mounted Happy and rode back to the mine so frustrated and full of fury, he was surprised the snow didn’t immediately melt into puddles around him.
By the time he returned to the Lucky Larkspur and settled the horse in a stall in the barn, he was fit to be tied. Giavanna DeVille was the single most pigheaded, mulish, unbending female he’d ever met.
Maybe he’d been a little presumptuous with his plans, assuming she’d be happy to go into Baker City for the holiday. But did she have to be so blunt in her refusal? Besides, from what he could tell, she had nothing to give the children. Oh, he’d found the little stick building she’d made for Matty in the barn. The first time the rambunctious boy played with it, he was sure the sticks would fall apart and end up in the kindling pile. And little Gwennie, packing around those ridiculous sticks tied with bits of string, pretending they were dolls. It near to broke his heart.
He knew Gia didn’t have money or resources for gifts, but surely she could do better than that. He’d seen Maggie MacGregor make dolls from bits of fabric scraps. Couldn’t Gia part with something of Rocco’s to make a gift for her daughter? Was she still so in love with her dead husband that she couldn’t even think of her children?
Gift of Hope Page 10
