“Me, too. What I’m asking you to do is not mention to anyone that I was gone all night with Miss Cochran. Can you do that for me?”
His son shrugged. “Sure. Can we have breakfast now?”
The simplicity of a child. That ground covered, Mitch placed his hand on Ian’s shoulder and walked with him to the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Flapjacks?”
“Coming up.”
Priscilla spent all day Saturday sewing costumes for the Christmas pageant and going through hymnals to choose the best songs for the children to sing. At no time did she allow herself to dwell on what had happened in the cabin the night before. Thinking of Mitch and his hands on her naked flesh brought a rush of feelings that made her restless and kept her from doing the jobs she needed to do.
Of course, if she wanted to change those feelings from warm, lovely memories to anger, all she had to do was remember his proposal. The one she was supposed to be spending today considering. She huffed. As if she would marry a man who considered her some type of penance for an indiscretion. An albatross around his neck for the rest of his life.
Once again she picked up the letter from Mama that had arrived on the mail coach. Nothing seemed to keep Boswick from making his deliveries.
Dearest Priscilla,
Papa and I are very happy that things are going well for you in your new position As much as we miss you, it warms a parent’s heart to know their child is happy and content.
Not much is different here since I last wrote. We enjoyed Thanksgiving, and even though there were twenty-four of us for dinner (I believe – I’m beginning to lose count), I still had an open space in my heart for my missing daughter.
I’m glad you feel as though you are making a place for yourself in Dogtown. Your stories of the children you teach keep Papa and I entertained in the evenings.
Your twin Henry sends his love, and you must forgive him for not writing, but he is always buried under a textbook of one sort or another.
I will close now since Andrew is begging me to take him Christmas shopping. He says he has a wonderful idea for a gift for Papa. At four years of age, I shudder to think what he has in mind. As always, Papa sends his love.
Love, Mama
Priscilla sighed and refolded the letter. It had been bad enough spending Thanksgiving without her loud, boisterous family, but a Christmas alone was downright depressing. She couldn’t even count on Mitch and Ian this time because once she made him understand she wasn’t going to marry him, he might never set foot in her house again.
She bit off the thread from the angel’s gown she’d finished sewing then shook it out. Two more to go, and then the costumes would be finished.
What would life be like if she married Mitch? Certainly their bedroom life would be interesting and rewarding. Just thinking back on their night together, and what they’d done and how he’d made her feel, had her squirming in her seat.
She would also be a mother to Ian, a boy of whom she was certainly very fond. She shook her head. Right now there was no reason for her to consider marriage. She’d seen enough good, solid marriages in her family to know love must be the foundation. Neither one of them expressed any sort of caring for the other. Had their time together only been about passion?
An hour later her growling stomach reminded her it was well past time for supper. She cut a few slices of leftover meatloaf and made a sandwich, and washed it down with a cup of coffee.
Once cleaned up from supper, restlessness overcame her and she wandered around the house, dragging her fingertips over the furniture, going from room to room, unsure why the house seemed so lonely. Perhaps the letter from home had unsettled her. She picked up a copy of A Romance of Wastdale by A.E.W. Mason that she’d started a few days earlier. With not much enthusiasm, she continued where she’d left off and found herself reading the same paragraph four times.
She tossed the book aside and sighed, wanting to sleep so Sunday would come sooner and she’d see Mitch again, but knowing she was much too restless for slumber. The man had her going in circles. Priscilla had been raised by God-fearing people who didn’t approve of sex outside of marriage. Why she’d found it so easy to give herself to Mitch could only be answered in one way.
She had very strong feelings for him.
If he hadn’t issued such a haphazard proposal she might have thought he held feelings for her, as well. But his autocratic demand that she marry him because it was the right thing to do and they had no choice, had her bristling and her stubborn side rearing its head. No one would tell her she had to do something.
She headed to the kitchen and warmed up some milk. Maybe she should get a cat. That would keep her from noticing how quiet her house was. Yes, in the morning she would ask at church if anyone had a cat she could adopt. Something warm to hold onto. Something she could rub her cheek against, feel the strength and hardness of its muscled chest. The crinkly hairs that her fingers could run through. The heat that came from its body to cover hers and press her into the mattress, to take her lips…
Good God, she‘d switched from a soft fuzzy cat to the man she was trying desperat
ely to put from her mind. Downing the last of the milk, she put the glass in the sink and headed to the bedroom. The fire was almost out in the potbelly stove, leaving the room with a chill. Since she knew sleep wasn’t going to come for a while, a trip out to the shed to get more wood was definitely in order.
Colorado air was certainly much sharper and clearer than Oklahoma air. Now that she’d gotten used to it, her body was comfortable with the cooler temperatures. She tugged the back door closed behind her. The light from the half-moon cast the yard in shadows. As she pulled the collar up on her coat, she tilted her head back and admired the stars. The sky was brilliant with sparkling little diamonds
Picking up the lantern she’d brought from the house, she carefully made her way down the steps. Her boots crunched the packed snow underneath her feet, echoing in the silence. She held the lantern high, the circle of light leading her to the wood shed. Setting the lantern down, she collected two logs that would do her for the night and the next morning.
She fumbled to tuck them securely into her arm and picked the lantern back up. She turned toward the house and screamed.