Hearts Awakening (4 page)

“He’ll be waiting for you.”

Taking a deep breath, she hung up her apron, donned her cape, and tied it closed. “I’ll see you all in the morning,” she offered and slipped past them and out the door just as the sun started sinking close to the horizon.

Determined to have a better day in the kitchen tomorrow, she made her way through the backyard to the narrow roadway that led to the landing at the north end of the island, alert for any sign of critters. When her stomach started to growl, she detoured through a narrow copse of trees into one of the orchards and snatched up a pair of apples that had fallen to the ground. She stuffed one into her cape pocket and ate the other along the way.

With visions of perfectly baked apple pies sitting on Jackson Smith’s dinner table tomorrow dancing through her head, she said a quick prayer that God might offer her a bit more help as she struggled with that cookstove, if only to earn a reference from Jackson Smith two weeks from now.

Unless Cousin Mark had other plans for her—plans that involved yet more penance.

Four

Jackson Smith did not like the decision he had finally made during the night but reckoned he could live with it, just as he had learned to live with the fact that God had rarely, if ever, answered any of his prayers over the past twenty-eight years.

Three days after Spinster Ellie Kilmer had shown up on his doorstep, he raced for home, arriving just after the break of dawn and well before the rain that threatened to make this a miserably wet day. Without any hope that another alternative would present itself, he knew he had to act now. Today. Or lose the only prospect he had to insure that his two boys would have someone to care for them during the day.

After storing his coat on the peg just inside the kitchen door, he checked the cookstove to make sure there was still enough wood in the fire to last until it was time to make breakfast and dashed straight to the parlor. Spinster Kilmer should arrive any minute now, and he stoked the fire in the fireplace back to life, determined to convince her that the offer he was about to give her was simply too lucrative, if not attractive, to turn down.

Once the fire was blazing, he stood up, drew in a long breath, and turned his back to the fire to glance around the parlor. She had just cleaned the room yesterday, and he could find no fault with her housekeeping talents. Still, he let out a sigh. Her obvious lack of skill in the kitchen had not given him much to look forward to at mealtimes, but he hoped the woman would soon learn how to put a meal on the table that was neither burned nor undercooked. In the meantime, he would simply have to survive on her desserts, which were her one claim to success in the kitchen.

Most importantly, however, now that the fall harvest was at its peak, he needed someone to care for his boys—someone he could trust and rely on, day in and day out, so he could devote his energies from dawn to dusk to his orchards.

Unfortunately, since she had only been coming here for the past two days, he still knew very little about her, other than the fact that she was utterly dependent upon her cousin for a place to live, which is what Reverend Shore had told him. Since she had just arrived in Harrisburg and had spent all of her days working in his household, he doubted she had learned much about Jackson, either, which suited his plan quite well.

From firsthand experience, however, he knew that this woman was not adverse to hard work. In fact, he could not think of any other woman who would have walked back and forth from the city to here for the past two days without complaint, let alone any recompense for her efforts. She also had not backed down from her commitment to continue coming here, even though the boys—especially Daniel—had not made it easy for her.

A soft rap at the kitchen door sent him charging straight back to the kitchen. Pausing to stop and square his shoulders, he then crossed the room, kicked something lying on the floor, and saw that it was one of the boys’ blocks skidding across the planking. Grumbling under his breath, he retrieved the block, slipped it into his pocket, and scanned the room to make sure he had not missed another one before he opened the door.

Wearing her badly stained, but mended, cape, Spinster Kilmer stood waiting, tall and fit but with extremely common features and a full-freckled face. She was, in all truth, the plainest woman Jackson had ever seen, without a single redeeming feature, save for her dark, expressive eyes, but even they were just a tad too small for her face. In sum, there was little to admire about her looks, a fact that reinforced his plans for her future.

“Good morning,” he said, stepping back to allow her inside.

She passed him by, removed her cape, and hung it up next to his coat before covering her stained gown with a freshly laundered apron. “Indeed, it is a good morning, considering I managed to get here ahead of the rain,” she said. “Either I’m dreaming or someone’s already started a fire in the cookstove.”

He cleared his throat. “With rain coming, I need to get out to the orchards earlier than usual, so I decided to start the fire for you. I started one in the parlor, as well. Since you’ve had a long walk to get here again today, perhaps you’d like to sit down and warm up a bit before cooking breakfast,” he offered as he closed the door.

She frowned as she tied her apron into place. “I really shouldn’t dawdle, especially since you want an early start today. Besides, I imagine the boys will be up soon, and I need to make some griddle cakes, preferably ones that aren’t burned.”

He swallowed hard and decided to plunge ahead. “The boys aren’t here.”

She furrowed her brow. “They’re not here? Where are they?”

Realizing that either his tone of voice had been too harsh or he had given her the impression he did not want his boys here with her today, he smiled. “They’re with the Grants because I wanted to speak to you for few moments. Without any interruptions,” he added.

“I see,” she said quietly.

Her eyes flashed with disappointment, if not a slight bit of fear, before he led her directly to the parlor, where he nodded toward the settee. When she took a seat there, she folded her hands on her lap.

He pulled over the single chair in the room and sat down in front of her. Oddly, even though the settee was lower than his chair, she sat tall enough that they were at eye level with each other. He could see the desperation that now simmered in her gaze, as if she anticipated he was going to relieve her of her duties here, when in fact, he had quite the opposite intention.

Before he could decide how to begin, however, she stiffened her back and lifted her chin just enough to give him a glimpse of her mettle. “Although I’ve apologized for the meals I made for all of you again yesterday, I’d like to do so again. I’m afraid I’m much more accustomed to cooking over an open hearth. Your cookstove has presented more of a challenge than I’d hoped it would these past two days, but I’m quite certain that I’ll be able to—”

“The boys and I have survived quite well, indeed far better than if I’d attempted to cook for us,” he insisted, hoping to ease her concerns.

She did not hide her surprise. “You’re being more than kind, but if you’re planning to offer me a permanent position here as your housekeeper, I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Why is that?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair. Although he was convinced now that his first idea, to offer her a position here as a housekeeper, would have been a mistake, he was curious to know her reasons for not being interested.

She drew in a long breath. “Even if I wanted to consider the opportunity, I’m afraid my cousin has already made other arrangements for me.”

“What kind of arrangements?” he asked, anxious to know if those arrangements might very well conflict with his own plans for her.

She glanced down at her hands and paused for several long moments, as if collecting her thoughts or her wits or both. When she finally looked up, her eyes were simmering with emotion, but he could not tell if she was deeply embarrassed by what she was about to say or if she simply found it uncomfortable sharing it with someone she scarcely knew. “As you know, my cousin and his wife each operate their own shops at the Emporium. I’ll be taking care of all of the housekeeping duties for Cousin Mark’s wife, Olivia, so she can spend more time with her customers.”

“I see,” he murmured, pleased that she had confirmed what Reverend Shore had told him: Spinster Kilmer had no home of her own and was only living with her cousin because necessity demanded it.

“With winter soon coming, she already has quite a few orders to fill for capes and winter wear, and there’ll no doubt be more,” she explained. “Apparently, her work is impeccable, and her shop is quite popular.”

“My late wife, Rebecca, thought so. If I recall correctly, Olivia made her favorite cape. It was a soft blue, almost the exact color of her eyes.”

Ellie paled, obviously distraught that she had stirred up memories of his late wife. “I’m sorry. I . . . I didn’t know that she . . . I mean I didn’t mean to remind you . . . or to bring up—”

“You didn’t,” he insisted and shifted in his seat, wondering exactly how much this woman knew about Rebecca and the scandal attached to her death—a scandal that now tainted his own name. “I’ll need to fetch the boys back home soon, but there are some matters I really do need to discuss with you before I do.”

He sat up straight and tensed his back, all too aware that his future and his boys’ future depended on how convincing he could be. “As you must know by now, I do indeed need household help of a more permanent nature. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t going to ask you to consider a position here as my housekeeper at all.”

Her eyes widened. “You weren’t?”

“No,” he admitted. “Living out here on Dillon’s Island makes it troublesome, if not too time-consuming, for you to travel between here and Harrisburg on a permanent basis. I truly appreciate your willingness to do so these past few days without any form of payment from me for your time and efforts.”

To his surprise, she actually blushed, but the pale pink that mottled her cheeks did little to make her even slightly attractive.

“I also realize that any housekeeper I might hire would need to live here,” he added, “which would—”

“Which would make it impossible for me to consider, because it wouldn’t be at all proper,” she said and smiled as if she really meant it.

“No, it certainly wouldn’t,” he admitted and dismissed any concern that this utterly plain woman would tempt him or any other man. “I didn’t have to worry about that problem with Widow Mason, the first housekeeper I hired. She was well past fifty, I believe. Widow Hill was a bit older, but neither of them lasted for more than a few months,” he said, unable to stifle his disgust with both of the women. “You and I, on the other hand, are quite a bit closer in age. Neither one of us should invite the gossip that would ignite if you started living here as my housekeeper.”

Her cheeks flamed a deeper pink, reminding him of the blush on the yellow apples he had been harvesting. “I’d be more than happy to make inquiries on your behalf in the city, or speak to Reverend Shore for you,” she suggested.

“To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t going to ask for your help in finding a housekeeper, because I don’t want to subject the boys to a constant stream of different women in our home. I thought . . . well, I thought perhaps we might get married instead,” he blurted and stared at her, waiting to see her reaction and praying all the while she would not bolt from the room and run all the way back to the city, even if she had to swim across the river to get there.

Fortunately, she remained seated, but her eyes opened wide. She batted her lashes, hard, like the wings on a bird caught in a snare. Her mouth dropped open for a moment before she closed it to moisten her lips. “M-married? Did you say we should get married?” she asked, shaking her head as if she could not believe her own ears.

He drew in a long breath and nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I’m perfectly serious,” he insisted and stiffened his back again so he sat as erectly as she did.

“You actually want me to marry you.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But you scarcely know me,” she argued.

“I know enough,” he countered defensively.

“After I spent but a few days working here in the house with your sons while you were out in the orchards working? Unless I’m mistaken, this is the first real conversation we’ve actually had that didn’t involve what the boys had done during the day or what work needed doing.”

“That may be true, but—”

“But you still expect me to seriously consider marrying you.”

He shifted in his seat. “Well, I wouldn’t say I expected you to agree as much as I was hoping—”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said and waved off the very idea with one of her hands. “You’re an incredibly hardworking man, you provide well for your family, and you’re handsome to boot. There must be a dozen women in Harrisburg who’d be more than willing to marry you,” she quipped.

He grunted. “Then you’d be wrong.”

“I don’t think so,” she insisted. “Why? Why wouldn’t they want to marry you?”