The Proper Wife

“Yes, but aren’t you at all curious about why? Maybe there was some great tragedy, where the farmer or his wife died and the one left behind could no longer bear to be here. Or maybe they headed farther west looking for adventure. Or maybe the farmer who lived here married a woman who preferred life in a big city.” She had a faraway, dreamy look. “There are so many stories a place like this could tell.”

What in the world was she going on about? “Speculating over such things seems like a pointless exercise.”

She studied him as if he had somehow disappointed her. “Don’t you like imagining things? I mean, don’t you ever do things like make up stories to tell Penny?”

He shifted, feeling her opinion of him had just dropped a few points. “I read to her from time to time.” It was hard to keep the defensiveness from his tone.

“Not quite the same, but it’s a start.”

A start? A start on what?

She bent down and scooped up some of the berries. “I think my back is dry enough.” She fanned her skirt out with her free hand. “Time to dry the front.” And with that she turned to face the fire.

Eli placed his palms behind him on the blanket and leaned back as he studied her back. She was definitely a puzzle to him. How could a woman be so sensible one moment and so fanciful the next? And why was Penny so taken with her? His half sister had been so quiet and withdrawn since the tragedy. But around Miss Lassiter she seemed more lighthearted than she had since he’d assumed guardianship.

Truth be known, while he’d hoped it was just a matter of giving Penny time to grieve, he’d worried that she’d been permanently scarred by everything that had happened. Yet she seemed to really come alive around Miss Lassiter. And while he was relieved to see the old Penny come back, he couldn’t help but be curious as to the reason.

He studied the coiled tendrils that had escaped his companion’s pins, listened to her soft humming as she held her skirt out to the fire. And wondered again if perhaps he’d misjudged her.

Sadie studied the flames as she absently munched on the berries. How very sad and lonely to live without the occasional daydream, without letting the imagination have reign from time to time. Had he always been that way? Or had something in his life hardened him? Maybe he just needed someone to teach him how.

For Penny’s sake, of course.

She wiped her hands together as she finished the berries. Her skirts were still damp, but they were dry enough to sit now.

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