Montana Bride By Christmas

“I’d like that.” She leaned forward, her hands clasped together on top of his desk and her head bowed.

He stifled an urge to cradle her hands between his. Instead, he bowed his head and prayed for wisdom, understanding and healing for his son. Silently, he additionally prayed for a more mature woman to come to his door because, despite his resolve to keep things completely businesslike, he found Annie’s concern and care very appealing and it frightened him. He must, above all else, guard his heart against the risk of caring for a woman, especially one who would soon realize that she could do far better than spend her life with a man who could offer nothing but a home with him and his hurting young son.

Chapter Three (#ud1889ed2-00fd-5eb8-a578-1d8d57909391)

Annie kept her head bowed several seconds after Hugh said Amen, waiting for God to direct her thoughts. When an idea came to her mind, she took it as from Him and lifted her head.

The look in Hugh’s eyes almost made her forget what she’d been about to say. He watched her, looking both weary and hopeful at the same time. That was good, she told herself. He was beginning to see how helpful she would be. But the way his gaze clung to hers as if looking for something more left her breathless. She couldn’t say if he found what he sought or if she could even offer it. There were far too many unknowns between them.

There was no need for her to know more about him. And she certainly didn’t want to know about his marriage nor why his wife found him lacking. In what way? She tried and failed to imagine what he meant.

She slid her gaze past his to the night-blackened window. They had a common goal—taking care of Evan. She recalled something she’d heard somewhere. Begin as you mean to go on. She meant to become Evan’s mother and Hugh’s wife. Therefore, she must begin to act like it.

“I think a bedtime routine is essential. So could we establish one starting tonight?” She couldn’t keep looking past him and gauge his reaction so she brought her attention back to him. The quirk of one eyebrow informed her that her request had caught him off guard.

“It seems we have a routine,” he said with a large dose of irony. “I pick him up. He fights me. I take him to the room and keep him there.” His laugh lacked mirth.

It certainly wasn’t how she wanted to go on. She smiled. “Maybe we could work at improving that routine.”

“What do you suggest?”

Did she detect a note of hope? She wanted to believe so. “My mother always read to me at bedtime and said prayers with me. When my papa was home, he came in to hear my prayers.” Her voice deepened. “When I look back, I wonder how I could have taken such ordinary things for granted.”

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

She tried to break from his compassionate look but found herself unable to do so. Her insides clenched. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Mama had been dead more than four years. Annie knew she should be over her grief but it often welled up inside her like a bubbling pot of hot jam, about to overflow. She swallowed hard, striving to control the sudden rush of sorrow. “Thank you.” She hadn’t been able to keep the emotion out of her voice and wondered how he would react. “I shouldn’t be upset by the memory.”

His smile was soft and gentle. “Some sorrows never go away. A person simply learns how to be at peace with them.”

She met his gaze, practically drinking in the comfort he offered. “I can see why you’re the preacher.” She managed a little smile. “You know the right words to say.”

“Thank you.” Did she detect a bit of a catch in his voice? That seemed strange. But a trickle of hope entered her heart. If he needed to hear words of encouragement, she could give them. But not right now. “I’d like to start a bedtime routine such as I knew but I don’t think he’ll be in a frame of mind for stories and prayers after a struggle to get him into bed. Instead, why don’t we let him stay in his safe corner while I read a story? And then you could say his bedtime prayers.” She didn’t want to exclude Hugh from the opportunity. “I think we need to establish normal behavior for Evan as quickly as he’ll let us.”

Hugh nodded slowly. “I like the idea. Just so long as you don’t expect too much of him.”

“I hope I’ve learned my lesson about pushing him too hard.”

Hugh got to his feet and waited for Annie to go ahead of him.

“I brought a storybook.”

He remained in the sitting room as she hurried to find the book from among her belongings and then rejoined him. Together they entered the kitchen.

Grandfather nodded in his chair. He must have been exhausted. It had been a long day. She would suggest he go to bed but knew he wouldn’t go while both she and Hugh were still up.

“I’ll make tea.” She set the kettle to boil and brought out a selection of cookies from the pantry. As she waited for the water to boil, she talked, knowing Evan listened even when he gave no indication of it.

“I think it’s nice to have tea together before bed,” she said, looking to Hugh to see if he understood her need to explain for Evan’s sake.

Hugh’s slight nod and barely-there smile encouraged her to go on.

And brought a sudden stutter to her voice. She forced herself to speak firmly and steadily as she continued. “When I was about Evan’s age, I remember my mother making milk tea for me. And I always got two cookies. Of course, I always chose the two biggest ones.” She contemplated how best to connect with Evan. “My mother died a few years ago. So no one reads me bedtime stories anymore but that’s okay because now I can read them to Evan.”

From the slight tilt of his head she knew he listened.

She poured the tea and gave a cupful to Hugh and Grandfather. She made milk tea and set the cup and a small plate holding two cookies before Evan then sat across from Hugh.

He gave her a smile that seemed to say he approved of her efforts. Good. It meant they were headed in the right direction. He’d soon learn she had much to offer him and his son.

She sipped her tea slowly and enjoyed the two cookies she had chosen and then opened the storybook. It was the same one her mother had read from when Annie was Evan’s age and as the memories of those days assailed her, tears filled her eyes and clogged her throat. Not wanting Hugh to see how fragile her emotions were, she kept her head lowered.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.

She nodded, unable to speak.

Grandfather squeezed her hand. “It’s okay to miss your mama.”

“Of course it is,” Hugh assured her.

A strangled squeak drew the attention of all three adults to Evan. His shoulders twitched. As if he cried? It was impossible to tell as he kept his back to them.

Annie looked to Hugh. Raised her eyebrows to silently ask if they should go to him.

He lifted his shoulders ever so slightly. He didn’t know any more than she did and his mouth worked.

Her heart tore at the sign of his uncertainty. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to watch his son struggle with so many problems and not know if any offer of comfort would send him into a fury...one born of fear, she was certain. It made her doubly grateful to have had a tender mother and a supportive family and she promised herself she would give Evan the same if he would let her.

It seemed no one quite knew what to do and she could only think of one thing so she cleared her throat and began to read. The book was a collection of Bible stories and moral tales and her favorite had always been about the old farm dog who rescued some orphaned kittens and raised them. The dog fought off a coyote that tried to get the kittens and chased away a hawk. At one point she was sorely injured but kept on tending the three kittens.

“The moral of the story,” Annie read, “is that God loves us even better than that dog loved her kittens. He claims us because He loves us. He takes care of us—1 John 3 verse 1 says ‘Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.’” She needed to say more for Evan’s sake. “Some children are in families they weren’t born into and they are loved. My brother Logan and his wife adopted three children.” It struck her that the children’s circumstances were somewhat like Evan’s. They’d been neglected and abused by a man claiming to be their stepfather. Perhaps now was not the time to talk about that. “And my brother Conner and his wife have adopted a little girl and love her dearly. My oldest brother Dawson has a little girl but his wife died so Mattie had no mama.” She sensed Evan straining toward her. “Dawson married a very fine lady by the name of Isabelle and Isabelle is Mattie’s new mama. They love each other very much. God loves each of us even more.”

She and Hugh considered one another across the table. The tension seemed to have left his face. If the things she’d said had accomplished that then thanks be to God for guiding her words.

“My mama or papa always said prayers with me before bed.”

Hugh nodded. “I’m the papa so I will do it.”

Annie knew he wasn’t excluding her but simply helping Evan understand his role in the family.

“Let’s pray,” Hugh said and the adults bowed their heads.

Annie stole a look at Evan. He had turned his head slightly to watch his father. She knew the boy would have showed her his thin back if he realized she watched him and would have disguised the longing in his eyes. Seeing it gave Annie hope. Evan knew what he wanted but was afraid to trust it could be his.

It was up to Annie and Hugh and even Grandfather to prove to Evan that he could trust their love and concern.

Hugh prayed for a good night’s sleep for them all. He asked for people to be safe in the cold winter wind and he especially thanked God for allowing him to find Evan and bring him home.

Annie continued to watch the boy from under the curtain of her lashes and saw wonder and doubt intermingled in his face.