by Linda Ford
She would not admit he had a longing look in his eyes. Because that simply made no sense.
Soon the entire household gathered for the meal. Nate came in from outdoors. “What’s this I hear?” he asked. “I’m busy in the harness room and miss all the excitement.”
Eddie chuckled. “Turns out it wasn’t as exciting as it might have been, for which we are all grateful.”
A murmur of agreement came from the other adults at the table. Seeing the growing resentment in Joey’s eyes, Missy looked at Wade and tipped her head to the boy.
He nodded in understanding. “Do you think it will snow?” he asked Eddie.
The rancher gave his answer a great deal of consideration, but his look indicated he understood the need to change the subject. “It’s been a while since we’ve had any substantial amount. I suppose we are due for more.”
“We ran into a storm on our trip here,” Missy added. “Did you happen to get the same storm?”
The conversation shifted to record snowstorms, previous winters and then the experience of Eddie’s first winter in Alberta.
Joey’s eyes lost their hardness and he listened to the stories with interest.
Missy allowed herself a long, inquiring glance at Wade, intending only to signal her relief over Joey’s change in attitude. But within two seconds she felt a pinch in the back of her heart at Wade’s probing, possessive look.
She quickly diverted her attention. Possessive? The last thing either of them wanted was to belong to anyone. No, both of them were clear on their desires—he wanted to live the life of a lonesome cowboy; she wanted to gain her independence.
She told herself she’d only imagined the look. But when she slid her gaze back to his her breath caught in the back of her throat at the longing she glimpsed. Then he blinked and it was gone.
It was only a trick of lighting coming through the window and catching his eyes.
She knew a rush of gratitude when the meal ended.
Annie jumped up. “Can I help do dishes?”
Linette laughed. “When was the last time I heard anyone so anxious to do the dishes?”
Annie sighed. “Missy said we’d make candy after dinner, but I know she won’t let us until the kitchen is clean.”
Missy joined the others in laughter.
Grady and Joey jumped up and began to gather the used dishes.
Missy pushed herself back from the table. “I better get to work or they’ll have it all done without me.” She glanced around at the half-empty cups of coffee. “Take your time. There’s no rush,” she said to the adults, then laughed at the protest on three little faces. “Come on, you three, let’s get this done.”
Soon the last dish had been dried and put away. The table didn’t have a single crumb on it. Linette and Louise had gone to the sitting room with their babies. Nate had left with a comment about more harnesses to clean and repair. Eddie had departed after kissing his wife and baby. He had things to do.
Only Wade remained, his presence making Missy’s nerves tingle. He had a newspaper open before him but she couldn’t help notice he had not once turned a page, and every time her eyes darted toward him, he was watching her.
What was he thinking?
If they’d been alone she might have had the courage to ask him. Did he question her ability to take care of the children if Joey could so easily run away? Or was he thinking it had been pleasant to hold her in his arms? Was she the only one who had found it so?
It didn’t matter what he thought at the moment. She had children to entertain. “Who knows how to make hard rock candy?”
The three shook their heads.
“My mama used to make it every year for Christmas.” This was the first time since her parents’ death she’d attempted to make it, but she could hear her mama’s sweet voice instructing her. Thank you, Mama. “First, we measure the sugar. Annie, you’re the youngest, so you go first.” She supervised as the child measured and poured sugar into the big pot.
“Next is the syrup. Joey, you can measure that.” The sticky liquid was a little more challenging to handle, but he managed with her assistance. She found her attention distracted by Wade’s watchfulness and almost measured out too much. Why must he sit there, making her nervous, watching every movement she made?
But if he left she’d wish him back.
So he could share the time with the children, she told herself.
“Good job,” she said, as the last drop of syrup dripped into the pot.
“Now it’s your turn, Grady.” He measured in the water.
She carried the pot to the stove and pulled a chair close. “Who wants to stir it?”
Three hands shot in the air. Annie bounced up and down on her feet. Grady managed to looked patient and Joey hovered between a scowl and a plea.
Missy smiled at how each of the children’s personalities was so clearly revealed.
Wade grinned. “The face reveals the heart,” he said.
If that was so, did the fact that his expression showed interest and his eyes longing mean he wanted to be part of their lives?
The children’s lives, she quickly amended. But her thoughts had flown immediately to imagined scenes of sharing other occasions around a kitchen table where they all belonged. Together.
She slammed the door of her mind against those thoughts with such vigor she shuddered. She knew it was impossible. Not what either of them wanted.
“You can take turns again.” Annie climbed to the chair and Missy stood at her side, making sure she didn’t burn herself.
“The nice thing about this candy is you don’t have to stir it all the time.” She recalled her mama saying the same thing. “The bad thing is it takes a long time to boil to hard ball stage.”
“How long?” Joey asked, as she indicated he could have a turn.
“I can’t say. It takes its own time. We just have to be patient.”
She helped Joey down and Grady had his turn. The sugar had all dissolved. “Now we let it boil.”
The trio lined up before the stove, waiting anxiously.
Wade rattled his paper, drawing her attention to him. He said, “Waiting is hard.”
Losing parents was hard. Not knowing where they’d live or with whom was hard. Making candy was not.
The look between Wade and Missy went on and on, his gaze dark like deep, still waters, as if he read her thoughts. As if he agreed. It was strange how they concurred on many things, yet not on something as major as whether he should keep the children or give them up for adoption.
Not that it was any of her business. Except she’d made it so simply because she identified with what the children felt, and because she knew he could give the children the love they needed.
He was a man with a deep capacity to love and yet he shied away from it.
Why? What was he afraid of?
The candy mixture boiled. The children waited, rocking on the balls of their feet.
Missy tried to reassure them. “It will take time, but it will be worth it in the end.” It was the same message she wanted to give to Wade. Keeping the children might require some changes in his life, but it would be worth it.
She had the children grease two cake pans, and after a few minutes she scooped a bit of syrup from the pot and dropped it into a cup of cold water to test it. “Not hard enough yet. Who wants to taste it?”
Receiving three eager replies, she repeated the process twice and made three tiny samples.
They savored the sweet treat.
“Ahem.” Wade cleared his throat.
“Do you want some, too?” Her words croaked from a throat that had grown tight.
“I like sweets as much as anyone.”
“Very well.” She made another sample, then carried it to him
on the tip of the spoon.
She expected him to take the spoon, but he opened his mouth as the children had done.
She gulped. There was something about feeding him the treat that threatened her barriers. But he waited, his eyes watchful, perhaps a little challenging.
Pasting on a smile, she leaned in close and put the spoon in his mouth. He sucked the candy off.
She pulled the spoon back and stood there immobile, trapped by a thousand warring emotions. Awareness of his powerful presence, wariness of his secrets, longing for something she felt here in this room.
Something that was impossible for her to have. She thought of the advertisement for secretarial school and reminded herself of her goals.
Missy turned back to the stove, ignoring the reluctance in her heart to end the moment.
“What color shall we make it?” she asked the children.
They agreed on red and she added the coloring. A few minutes later it was done. She added peppermint flavoring.
“We need to pour it into the pans.” She grabbed pot holders and prepared to pick up the pot.
Wade scrambled to his feet. “I’ll do that.” He took the mitts from her hands and gripped the pan, but didn’t lift it.
She met his look, saw something fleeting. Like concern. Like home... She jerked away, her feelings confused by the memories triggered by candy making, memories of her mother, of her childhood. Missy did not expect to ever again have that sense of security and love. But for the moment she could not understand why, any more than she could force herself to recall why she meant to go to secretarial training.
Wade hoisted the pot and poured red candy syrup into the pans.
“Now we wait for it to cool,” she said. “It will take a while. Why don’t you go play? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Not until the children left the room did she realize she’d arranged to be alone with Wade. She twisted her hands together.
“Is there any coffee left?” he asked.
She shook the coffeepot at the back of the stove. “Some, but it’s been sitting here since dinner. I’ll make a fresh pot,” she said, grateful for something with which to occupy her hands and mind. Even after she set it to heat she remained at the stove, staring at the pot.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you a watched pot never boils?” His words jangled through her head.
If she didn’t watch, then would he expect her to sit and visit with him? And why should she find the idea so frightening, and at the same time alluring.
“My experience has been that the minute I turn my back on a pot it boils over.”
“So you’d sooner be safe than sorry?”
Something about his tone of voice—as if he meant far more than making coffee—made her turn to confront him. He still sat at the table, the paper folded neatly at his elbow, his chair turned at an angle so he could stretch one leg out before him. There was no mistaking the challenge in his eyes.
“Always!” she said, meaning so much more than a watched pot.
“In everything?”
“I’d say so.”
“So you make a plan and stick to it, taking no risks?”
The seconds ticked by as he searched her face. What did he see? Could he read her reasons for following her plans and avoiding risk? Could he even begin to guess how painful it was to be the victim of life’s tragedies?
“I don’t care for the result of things not planned.”
He nodded, “I think the coffee has started to boil.”
She jerked around, grabbed a towel and pulled the pot to the side just in time to keep it from boiling over.
She poured him a cup, then touched the side of one pan of candy. “Still too warm.”
“Might as well sit down and rest your feet.”
She could think of no reasonable excuse to say no and sat across the corner from him.
He shifted so she was directly across from him.
She should have poured herself a cup of coffee even though she didn’t want one. At least it would have given her something to do with her hands.
“No aftereffects from this morning?” he asked.
Too many to count, she silently replied. An awareness of him that had grown to overwhelming proportions. A remembrance of his arms about her that would likely last for days. Confusion of her thoughts.
“Your legs are working okay now?”
Of course he only asked about the physical effects of sitting on the cold ground. “They’re fine, thanks. Good thing you came along to rescue us.”
“Yes, good thing.”
At the husky tone of his voice, her gaze found his.
Neither of them spoke and yet she read volumes. A portion of her brain—the little that remained rational—warned her it was only her imagination causing her to think she saw an invitation in his eyes.
Missy turned to check the temperature of the candy.
“It’s ready.” She called the children. “Now we go outdoors.”
They all marched outside. Wade followed on her heels. “I gotta see this.”
Missy grinned at him. “Have you never made hard rock candy?”
“Not that I recall. Like Joey said, our family liked fudge.”
“It’s not near as much fun to make as this. Wait until you see the children break it. It was my favorite thing about the candy.”
“Even better than eating it?”
She nodded, her eyes warm with challenge. “Some things are better than candy.” Would he realize what she was implying?
“Is that a fact?”
For a moment she thought he was going to ask her to tell him what.
Love, home, belonging. They would answer the question, but she didn’t want to say the words aloud. He would think her an impossible dreamer. And perhaps wonder if she was a bit confused, when her plans included none of those things.
She put the pans on the ground and handed the cloth-wrapped hammer to Joey. “You can break the first pan.” He swung the hammer down and crowed with delight when it fractured the candy like broken glass.
Grady and Annie took their turns, then slowly, hesitantly, Missy handed Wade the hammer. “Give it a try.”
He grinned as widely as any of the children and broke the corner pieces of the second pan.
She glowed with satisfaction at giving them all this simple pleasure.
He tapped the candy again and again as the children cheered him on. He grinned at her. “You’re right. This is fun.”
She tried and failed to ignore his wide smile. Swallowed hard and reminded herself of her goals. Somehow she managed to gain balance. “It might surprise you to know I’m right about a lot of things.”
His smile faded. “I guess it would depend on the situation.”
She didn’t want to be the first to end the look between them. Seemed he didn’t want to be, either. Her heart rattled inside her chest as the seconds passed.
“Missy, now what do we do?” Annie asked.
Missy couldn’t say who broke away first, but no doubt he was as relieved as she to be free of the moment.
“Now we taste it.” She handed a piece to each of them. Wade, too, though her fingers burned from touching his palm.
She tasted a piece as well, and added her sound of approval to those of the children.
Wade quietly watched her as he savored his share. “Nothing sweeter than good candy,” he said, as if he’d understood all the things she hadn’t said, and wished to inform her he didn’t agree.
He had not changed one bit in his plan to give away the children.
Her heart sank like a stone.
As she turned away from him she remembered a saying her father had often repeated. A man convinced against his will is of the same opini
on still. She’d do well to remember that. If she wanted Wade to realize he could provide a home for the children, it would take more than words. She needed to prove it.
“Let’s put the rest in a bowl to serve to your guests tomorrow.”
The children turned to follow her back inside.
She glanced over her shoulder. Wade still stood in the yard. He looked at the hammer in his hand as if surprised to see it there. “I’ll put it away.” He tossed her the cloth and trotted past her to stow the hammer in the nearby toolshed.
Then, to her surprise and disappointment, he strode down the hill.
Telling herself she hadn’t expected him to follow her or to spend the afternoon together with the children, she returned inside.
After all, she was being paid to take care of them.
* * *
Wade did his best to not hurry away. Not that he was anxious to leave Missy and the children behind. Quite the opposite. He was enjoying their company far too much and beginning to picture them in his life for more than a few days.
He reached the barn and grabbed a fork. The floor was clean but he spent an hour cleaning it even better.
Brand entered the barn and leaned against a wall. “You trying to get away from your thoughts?”
“Just trying to help out.”
He grunted. “Looks like more than that to me. Let me tell you something.”
Wade thought to tell him not to bother, but despite his casual manner he guessed Brand kind of said what he wanted whether or not the listener cared to hear it.
Brand continued, “There’s three things you can’t run from. Your family. Your thoughts.” He let a beat or two of silence fill the air, so that Wade paused and looked at him.
“And your past,” Brand concluded. “Sooner or later you have to stop running from it and face it.” A slow, dreamy smile curved his mouth. “And ain’t no better reason to do it than for a good woman.”
Brand’s look was benign, so Wade couldn’t judge if there was a hidden meaning or if he spoke only of his own experience.
