Titus leaned back against a post and shoved his hands into his pockets. A lazy smile tilted his face. “So…you volunteering, Gideon?”
Chapter 13
Here. I’ve got it.” Gideon nudged Miriam to the side and hefted the kettle of oatmeal. He thumped it onto the center of the table.
“I’m fine, Gideon. Truly.” Ever since she’d burned her arm, he’d hovered over her. That day when they went to town, he’d bought material for two dresses for her—two! As if that wasn’t enough, he’d gotten the one and only bit of lace Mrs. White had in the store. Each time he was in the house and Miriam got near the stove, he acted antsy. “Gideon, that little burn is long since healed.”
“Nonsense.” He swiped the coffeepot from the stove and headed back to the table. “You got singed from your wrist to your…” He made a slashing mark across his own upper arm.
Miriam let out a silent sigh of relief. It wouldn’t have been proper for him to mention her elbow or upper arm. He and the older brothers seemed a bit better about such matters. Bryce and Logan often said things that weren’t suitable for mixed company.
“She’s kept it hidden ’neath her sleeves. Even if it was hurting, I doubt she’d tell us.” Titus sat down at the table.
“You can show me, Auntie Miri-Em.”
“It’s fine, Polly. Now would you like butter and sweetening in your porridge or cream and cinnamon?” Miriam thought she’d successfully steered the conversation in a different direction until breakfast was over and the men headed out to work.
Gideon alone remained. He waited until she’d wiped Ginny Mae’s sticky face and put her down to crawl, then he towered over her.
“Did you need something?”
He gave no warning. With surprisingly nimble fingers, he unbuttoned her cuff and started to carefully roll up her sleeve.
“Gideon!”
“Don’t get all prissy on me. You roll up your sleeves to wash dishes and do laundry.” He ruched the sleeve higher and made an exasperated sound. “It’s still red.”
“Auntie Miri-Em’s arm isn’t all better?”
“Not yet, dumplin’.”
“I know why.”
Oh boy. She’s going to blab about what I’ve been doing.
“Why?” Gideon didn’t look at his niece. His blue eyes narrowed and grew icy as he stared at Miriam.
“ ’Cause nobody kissed her better.”
“I’m a big girl. I don’t need—”
“Of course you do. You kissed me all better when my eye was hurt.” Gideon took hold of her hand and lifted it. Instead of planting a quick peck on her hand, he slowly turned her hand over and brushed his lips on the inside of her wrist.
Miriam gasped and tried to pull away.
Gideon kept hold. “Still tender, sweet pea?” Instead of letting go, he pursed his lips and blew across her wrist. “There. That’ll make the sting go away.”
“Unca Giddy? That maded Auntie Miri-Em’s face get all burny-red.”
“Tell you what, half-pint. I’ll lift you up. You kiss one cheek, and I’ll kiss the other. Think that’ll make Miriam all better?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Just fine.” Desperately Miriam tried to make her voice sound breezy, but it came out in nothing more than a croak.
Gideon ignored her protest. He scooped up Polly and held her out to give Miriam a kiss. Miriam leaned forward, figuring she could play along this far. Polly gave her a sloppy peck and giggled.
Though Gideon put their niece down, Miriam was stuck because Ginny Mae was clinging to her skirts. “Virginia,” Miriam said, stooping at once to lift the unsteady toddler. “Come on up here.”
Gideon crooked a brow at her, then glanced at Ginny Mae. “You’ve got things topsy-turvy, Miss Miriam. Usually kids hide behind a woman’s skirts.”
His words echoed in her mind as he walked out the door. Miriam wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
By suppertime Miriam still hadn’t managed to think through the situation. She’d pulled weeds in the garden with a vengeance, hoping that might relieve the tension. Ginny Mae and Polly got so filthy “helping” her, she had to bathe them both. Grinding meat and then squishing it to make meatloaf only managed to weary her body. Her mind still returned to how Gideon kissed her wrist after breakfast.
It was the oddest thing. Gideon had acted…well, different. Attentive. Since the day she arrived, Miriam had appreciated what a stalwart man he proved to be. Dependable. Good-hearted. Rough around the edges but hardworking. Then, too, after she scratched the surface, she’d come to understand he feared the Lord and did his best to live an upright life. Is he paying more mind to me, or is it just my imagination?
The Lord knew the desires of her heart—a husband and a family of her own—but the way things had worked out, those didn’t seem to be in His will. She figured she would become a spinster aunt to little Polly and Ginny Mae. I’m doubtlessly making a fool of myself. Gideon was just being kind, and I could ruin what’s turned out to be a pleasant arrangement. I won’t get to wed anyone, but at least I can count myself blessed to have a man like Gideon to champion me and to have these darling little girls to rear.
All during supper, she tried to act normally, but sitting next to Gideon made her nervous. Finally, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her still. “Stop popping up and down like a jack-in-a-box. If someone wants something, he can just go fetch it for himself.”
“But I’m in a chair; everyone else is on a bench.”
“Forget it,” Gideon ordered.
“Yeah, Auntie Miri-Em. It’s your turn to forget. Unca Gideon had his turn to forget already today.”
“What did I forget?” Gideon gave Polly a look of mock outrage.
“You was ’posed to give Auntie Miri-Em a kiss. Look—see? Her face is all burny-red again. Hurry up and kiss it all gone.”
Mortified, Miriam couldn’t imagine a more awkward situation. Every last Chance at the table stared at her—not that she could see anything more than the napkin she crushed in her lap, but she felt their stares all the same. Bryce and Logan were hooting. Titus snickered, and Paul seemed to be choking back laughter. Daniel—he huffed like a ready-to-charge bull. Worst of all, Gideon. He dared to crook his forefinger and hook it beneath her chin.
I’m not going to look at him. I can’t. I won’t.
His nearness enveloped her, and warm lips brushed not her cheek, but the arch of her cheekbone. Miriam forgot how to breathe.
“Stop messing around,” Daniel growled.
How she made it through the rest of the meal, Miriam didn’t know. Rattled, she managed to put applesauce on her mashed potatoes instead of gravy—not that it mattered much. She couldn’t seem to eat more than a few bites. Daniel took the girls off to their cottage as soon as he gulped down his last bite, and Miriam practically raced out to her little cabin on his heels.
She lay in bed and stared at her cabin. The fancy, scrolled, wrought-iron bedstead creaked as she rolled to her side. All three dresses hung neatly on pegs Bryce had whittled for her. The washstand held her toiletries and a water pitcher and bowl. The little drop-leaf desk lay open, its support chains gleaming dully in the beams of moonlight that sneaked through the gap between the top of her window and the top of the feed sack curtain.
Beside her Bible on the desk lay a handkerchief—a used one. She’d come to her room, seeking solitude and solace. Confused by her response to Gideon’s really-nothing-to-it kiss, she sought wisdom from the Word of God, only to end up in the last chapter of Proverbs.
Why, God? Why did I have to read about the qualities of a good wife? I thought I’d accepted my spinsterhood. You know how much I adore Ginny Mae and Polly. I even have this sweet little home of my own. Instead of feeling grateful, I feel empty. Lonely. How can I feel so alone when I’m surrounded by these rowdy men? How could I possibly sense such a lack when I have Gideon’s friendship? Was this how Hannah felt? She had a husband, but she was so unhappy and restless. Help m
e, heavenly Father. Help me accept what I do have, to praise Thee for the life Thou hast set before me, and to exercise gratitude instead of this sadness. Amen.
“Something wrong?” Gideon stepped closer to Miriam at the sink as they did the breakfast dishes. She’d been subdued today.
She shook her head.
“If you’re mad about that little kiss at the table last night—”
“You never told me how my sister died.”
Gideon set down the plate he’d dried and draped the dishcloth over his shoulder. So that’s what’s troubling her. He leaned against the cupboard and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I didn’t realize that I hadn’t given you the details. Sorry if it’s been bothering you.”
“I’ve wondered.”
Her confession sounded almost tentative, and Gideon decided he’d give her the truth as simply and gently as he could. “We don’t have a doctor here. Reba came to help Hannah with the first birthing; she was back east, putting her daughter in a fancy finishing school, when Ginny Mae was born. Dan—well, he did his best. Hannah pulled through, but she never perked up afterward. Fact is, she stayed abed for almost three months. A doc came through and said she had the ‘punies.’ He prescribed a tablespoon of blackstrap molasses followed by a belt of rum twice a day, but Hannah wouldn’t do it. She didn’t suffer, Miriam; Hannah just faded away in her sleep.”
Tears streaked Miriam’s face. Hands wet with dishwater, she tried turning her face to the side and brushing her cheeks against her shoulder to dry them.
“Feelin’ blue, sweet pea?” He dried her tears with the corner of the dishcloth. A thought shot through him and made him look at her more closely. “Are you ailing? Is that why you asked—”
“No. I–I just needed to know.”
“Well, I think you ought to have a few days to ease off on work.” She opened her mouth, but he pressed his fingers to her lips. “We already laid Mama and Hannah to rest, Miriam. Women aren’t fashioned for this life. Remember me warning you of that?”
She spread out her arms, shook her head, and spun around. “Do I look feeble to you, Gideon?”
He looked at her shimmering green eyes. Miriam was the picture of good health. In fact, she looked better each day—far better than when she’d first come. The sun had kissed her cheeks, making them a fetching rose color. Never had he seen such a vibrant woman. Contentment and energy radiated from her.
“We’re not taking any chances.” He’d do everything in his power to be sure she stayed this bright and healthy. “You’ll just have to rely on my judgment here. Today you just nap and stitch some fancywork—nothing essential. Maybe tat yourself some lace or something.”
Gideon knew the minute he turned his back, she’d do a chore. He inspected a knife she’d just washed. “I’ll get a whetstone and sharpen this while you tat.” Pleased with himself for coming up with a way to keep her company and have her relax, Gideon nodded. It didn’t take much to concoct a plan to court her.
Once he got going, he liked the opportunities that slipped into his mind. He didn’t want to woo her with his brothers hovering around. Having them watch each step he took and judge every last word out of his mouth just plain didn’t settle well. He could swipe her away and start to sweeten things up a mite so she’d start warming up to the idea of marriage. Pleased with his decision, Gideon announced, “Tomorrow, I’ll take you into town so’s you can have a visit with Reba.”
“I just—”
“Tell you what. I’ll teach you how to drive the buckboard tomorrow. That’d be grand, don’t you think?”
Grand doesn’t begin to describe this. Gideon smiled to himself the next day as he sat so close to Miriam on the buckboard seat that a blade of grass wouldn’t fit between them. He had his arms about her in order to guide her hands on the traces. She’d washed her hair last night, and the little wisps of windblown hair teasing his cheeks were soft as could be.
“I think I can do it.” Miriam fidgeted.
“I’ll let you drive on your own after we make it around this next curve.” Gideon wasn’t in any hurry to stop holding her close. Still, he needed to mind propriety. If they pulled up to the mercantile with her tucked this closely to him, Miriam’s reputation would be ruined. He cleared his throat and braced her left hand. “There’s a nasty rut just at the bend.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
She’s a sweet armful of woman. Tenderhearted, hardworking, and sweet-spirited. Marrying up with her won’t be a hardship at all.
“You’ll have to show me how to hitch the horses next time, Gideon.”
He looked down at her. “Not that you couldn’t, sweet pea, but there’s no need. One of us will see to that task.”
“The horses are beautifully trained. I imagine it wouldn’t be very difficult.”
“Bryce need only work with a horse a day or two, and it’s a dream. He’s hopeless with people, but with beasts, he’s a wonder.”
“God gives us all different gifts.”
Her smile could make the sun look dim. “You always look on the good side of things?”
“Most of the time.” She shrugged, and the action only served to remind him of his hold about her. “Bryce has a heart of gold, and he’s never shy about volunteering to help out. He needs some direction, but that’s just because he’s yet a boy. He’ll grow out of his awkwardness and into his manhood.”
“He’s halfway between grass and hay.” Gideon sighed. “Some days, I wonder if he’ll ever mature.” The wagon rounded the bend, and Gideon slowly let go of Miriam. He didn’t want to, though.
“He will. So will Logan.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
Matter-of-fact as could be, she nodded. “I do pray for each of you every night. I trust in the Lord, Gideon—but I also trust you. Believe me. They’ll become remarkable men. You’re a fine example.”
Boom! The rifle kicked so hard, it threw Miriam back into Gideon’s vast chest. Had he not been bracing her, she would have ended up in the dirt.
“Well,” he drawled from over her shoulder as he continued to hold her, “you just drilled some gopher a nice new hole.”
“You saw where it went?”
“Yeah. I keep my eyes open. It’s a helpful trick you might want to try.”
The rifle grew far too heavy to hold, so she lowered it.
“Hey, now.” Gideon stepped around and frowned as he watched her rub her shoulder. “That recoil can be nasty. Why don’t we change over to something lighter? Pistols, maybe.”
“Pistols?” she squeaked. “Gideon, those are for killing people.”
“We already talked this to death, Miriam. My brothers and I have been working farther from home, and if a snake slithers into the yard, you’ll need to protect the girls.”
“I could just take them inside.”
“Sweet pea, you scare the ever-lovin’ daylights outta me. What did you do back home with snakes?”
Though she wanted to continue rubbing her sore shoulder, she stopped. “There weren’t any snakes on the islands.”
“Oh, so it was paradise before the fall, huh?”
Miriam shook her head. “Not at all. Between the natives and the sailors, it was like Sodom and Gomorrah. That’s why God placed us there—so we could let our light shine.”
“Your light?”
“From Matthew 5:16. ‘Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.’ The islands are full of darkness, Gideon. They need the light.”
“But you came here.”
“I did. The day I left, Daddy told me that my light would shine wherever God placed me. He and Mama are where the Lord intends for them to serve, but they’d prayed and felt God had someplace else for me to be.” She looked around them, then back into his deep blue eyes. “I feel as if I’ve been sent to paradise.”
“That’s a tough one to swallow. Hannah always spoke of how beautiful the islands were.”
&nb
sp; “They are—in their own way. Here, the colors are more subtle and muted. The scents aren’t cloying; they’re earthy. Instead of the beat of the ocean, you have the soughing of the wind. The islands are a testament to God’s imagination. Your land is a show of His majesty. Being there was like…holding a fistful of jewels. Here is like…kneeling in God’s presence.”
Gideon’s intense gaze made her laugh uncomfortably. “Oh dear. I’ve dithered on, haven’t I?”
“Not at all.” He slipped his arm about her and took away the rifle. Toting it over his shoulder with ease, he still kept his other arm about her waist and headed toward the house. “Those are some of the nicest words I’ve ever heard.”
Being sheltered in his arms is the nicest feeling I’ve ever had. Miriam fought the urge to snuggle closer and tried to lighten the conversation. “Speaking of words, can you believe little Ginny Mae? All of a sudden, she’s started babbling. She’s growing up so fast, Gideon! When I got here, she could barely take a few steps, but now she’s toddling everywhere and getting into everything.”
“She’s a handful, all right. I don’t know how you understand her, though. Other than Daddy and ‘Pieee’ for Polly, I can’t make sense of anything she says.”
“She calls you ‘Geee.’ ”
Gideon snorted. “She’s also called every one of my brothers and the barn cat that.”
“She spends most of her waking hours with me. Of course I understand what she means.”
He halted at once and gave her a piercing look. “I thought you wanted to mind the girls. We men can start—”
“Gideon Chance, don’t you dare tromp down that path! My only regret is that I wasn’t here to help with Polly when she was younger.”
“You sure?”
“You know I adore those little girls! I know you all did your best for them, but they need a woman’s touch. It tears me apart, knowing Hannah isn’t here to mother them. But you have to know I’ll love them with every fiber of my being, and I’ll care for them as if they were my very own.”
The Brides of Chance Collection Page 11
