Carolyn Davidson - Eden

She moved quickly, attempting to rise even as she spoke an apology. “I’m sorry, John. I should have already started your breakfast, but I thought to get dressed first and—”

“Not to worry,” he cut in swiftly. “Just get dressed and come out to the kitchen.” He stood before her and his hand lifted, his index fingers pointing to the stacks of clothing on the dresser, where he’d placed them early this morning. He turned then to face her and his voice took on a teasing growl.

“I’m hungry, girl. It’s past time for breakfast. There’s work to be done, and time’s a’wastin’.”

THE SIGHT OF THAT WIDE palm extended to her sent a chill of unwarranted fear through Katie and she hovered, drawing her legs up, bending her head to shelter it on her knees, making herself as small a target as possible. Even as she heard his exclamation of consternation, the words that resounded from the walls, she knew that she had cowered for no reason. She knew in her heart that he had only offered kindness, yet his voice sounded harsh in her ears.

“What is wrong with you, girl? You act like you’re scared to death of me. I just brought you a cup of coffee from Berta’s kitchen to give you a head start on the morning. I left it on the table.” The look he bent on her was full of concern and when he knelt before her, his hands trembled as he held them aloft. “I wouldn’t strike you, Katie. I told you last night—”

“I know, John. I just…” She could not speak the words that would tell him of the fear she carried within her soul, that the sight of a man’s big hands struck her to the core with panic, that she had thought, just for a moment, that he would use his fists against her softer flesh.

“Ah…damn, Katie.” He touched her knee, then her hand where it lay, fisted tightly there on her thigh. With gentle care, his fingertips touching the flesh as if he handled something precious, he looked into her face. “I’m sorry I scared you thataway, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to come at you so quick. I was just going to suggest that you might wear a flannel shirt of mine so’s you’d be warm enough to come out to the table and drink the coffee I brought. I’m sorry, Katie.”

Hot tears could not be held back and she shed them without any attempt at hiding the evidence of her shame. “Don’t feel you need to say that to me, John. I was still half-asleep, and I was already scolding myself because I hadn’t gotten up early, when I told you I’d cook for you and keep your house. And then I got in here and couldn’t find my things and I was—”

“There’s time enough to eat, Katie. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, his grin appearing as if he recognized that he must lighten her mood somehow.

He stepped back to the kitchen, retrieving the coffee cup from the table, then returned to where she sat and knelt at her feet, offering her the hot brew he’d brought for her.

“Take a sip, honey. Don’t burn your tongue, now. Just sip it a little. That’s the way,” he said softly as she held the cup with her fingers enclosing his, tilting the cup toward her mouth and taking the hot coffee into her mouth.

“Thank you, John.” She tried to smile, tried to reassure him, but her voice broke on the words and she felt shame that she had started off this day on such a sour note.

He waited until she had taken hold of the cup fully, then rose and reached for a hook on the wall where he’d hung a clean shirt, bringing it to her and holding it before her. “Stand up, Katie. I’ll help you put this on to keep you warm.”

She did as he asked, taking a last sip of coffee before she put the cup on the table and rose to stand before him. She dropped the quilt to the bed, feeling almost naked in the all-enveloping nightgown she wore and knew a moment of thanksgiving as he helped her don the shirt, as if he understood that she was not at ease before him with only her nightwear covering her.

He pulled the collar together, straightening the yoke over her shoulders, and his hands remained there at her throat, his gaze sweeping her length, from where her pink toes curled against the braided rug beside the bed, to the flush that rode her cheeks as she suffered his appraisal.

He bent a bit, touching his lips against her forehead. “There now. Let’s go into the kitchen. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable there. I’ve built a good fire in the cookstove and it’s nice and warm.”

She walked beside him, her hands full with the coffee cup, unwilling to mention the casual gesture he’d made. She’d received two kisses from this man in less than a day, and her mind boggled at the thought.

His shirt hung to her knees and she was thankful for its protection, even though she wore a full-length gown beneath it. She pulled it together in the front before she sat in the kitchen chair, covering her legs with the fullness.

“You surely wear big shirts, John,” she said, her fingers smoothing a wrinkle as she looked down at the plaid garment.

“I’m a big man. My mama said I’d have to be to grow into my feet when I was just a young’un. I always had the biggest shoes of all my brothers, and they teased me about it, till she told them that I’d be the tallest of the bunch when we were full grown.”

“And are you? The tallest, I mean?”

“Yeah. And I’ve still got big feet, but so long as they make boots in my size, I figure I’ll be all right.” He looked down to where she had wound her feet around the chair legs. “Yours are bitty little things, girl. But then, you’re not much bigger than a minute yourself. I guess it all works out, doesn’t it?”

She had begun to relax, John realized, her smile brighter, almost as if she were comfortable with him, he thought, and for that he was grateful. That this girl feared him was not to be borne. He’d thought his assurances to her last night would be enough to soothe her fears, but perhaps the terror she’d suffered and the pain she feared ran too deep, and only time would give her the confidence she needed to deal with him. And God only knew what Schrader had done to put the fear in her eyes. Another question he would need to find an answer to.

“Drink your coffee, honey. I’ve got to go out to the barn and get things under way for the day. Those men are working on the stalls and taking care of the livestock, but there’s fencing to be mended and cattle to be checked on today. It’s been pretty cold out there for well over a week. ’Bout time for another thaw, but we still had ice on the watering trough this morning.

“There’s hay to deliver to the steers in the south pasture, and we need to be watching the cows that are getting ready to drop their calves soon. But I’ll send the men out to handle that. I’ll be working in the barn for today, close enough to hear you if you call me.”

It was the longest speech he’d made in a month of Sundays, he thought as he fed her all the information he thought she might need to get her through the morning. He wanted her to know his routine, wanted to assure her that he would be nearby if she needed him.

She looked beyond him, out the window, where the morning sky was overcast, but the promise of sunshine hovered just beyond the clouds. “Looks like we’re going to have a nice day anyway,” she said, her mind working rapidly as she made her own plans. “I’ll cook up some eggs for you right quick. And later on, at noontime, I’ll have dinner ready for you. Will that be all right?”

“Sounds good to me. Get those eggs cooking. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

He let himself out the back door and she made haste to locate a skillet, then found a crock of eggs in the pantry. A bit of butter sizzled in the skillet and she whipped eggs to a froth in a small bowl, pouring them into the skillet quickly.