The Gift Of Family. Linda FordЧитать онлайн книгу.
to her laugh as she dealt with them caused cracks in the walls he’d built around his heart.
* * *
A shattering cry jerked Becca awake. It took two seconds to remember the source of such a piercing sound. Little Joe. She blinked away sleep and tried to guess the time of day...or was it night? Stumbling from her bed, she danced about on the cold floor.
The stove top rattled. Pa was up. She’d slept the night through.
She hopped to the window, scraped away the frost and peered into the gray light. Snow piled against the glass. The wind battered the side of the building. The snowstorm continued.
Shouldn’t she be disappointed?
But she wasn’t. Instead, she hurried into her clothes and fixed her hair, pausing to study her reflection in the misted mirror. The cold made it impossible to stand still long enough to assess her likeness. Not that she needed a mirror to tell her what she knew already. Skin that stayed porcelain white—a fact that had pleased her mother, but mattered not at all to Becca. Hair that refused to behave itself. She braided it tightly, then dashed from the room and huddled near the stove, stretching out her hands toward the growing heat.
Little Joe’s cries had settled into sobbing misery.
Becca glanced toward Colt and the children. The three of them were bleary eyed.
“You look like you never slept.”
“I tried.” Colt sounded resigned. “But have you ever tried sleeping with two kids kicking you in the ribs all night?”
“Can’t say as I have.” She grinned at him, enjoying the mental picture of him spending the night with the children. It wasn’t the kicking she imagined, but the way Marie leaned against him, as trusting as a kitten with its mother.
“I expect they’re hungry.” She pulled out griddles and sliced bacon to fry. She mixed up batter for griddle cakes, and to complete the meal, she opened a jar of applesauce she’d preserved a few weeks ago.
As Becca pulled out dishes to set the table, Marie jumped from the easy chair she shared with Colt and Little Joe. Her brother scrambled after her. “You stay with Colt,” she told him.
Little Joe hesitated, as if deciding whether or not he wanted to comply, then nodded. “Okay.” He gave Colt an expectant look and Colt stared at him.
“What do you want?”
“Up.”
Colt’s face registered surprise, then he lifted the boy and settled him on his knee.
Becca studied them a moment. He met her gaze, his eyes full of dark depths. She got the feeling Colt found every welcoming, accepting gesture unexpected and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She wondered about his parents and what sort of things he’d encountered to make him so wary. Though she’d seen enough of how people acted toward those who weren’t like them to guess at the way he’d been treated. It brought a stab of pain to her heart. She turned away to hide her reaction.
Marie stood at her side. “I will help you.”
She realized Marie meant she would like to set the table.
“How nice. Thank you.” Becca bent over to give the child a quick hug, then handed her the plates. The least she could do was prove to these children that not everyone would treat them poorly.
“Breakfast is ready.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Little Joe flung himself from Colt’s lap and grabbed his hand, tugging at him to hurry.
“Eat. Me hungry.”
Colt laughed. “So I see.”
Becca’s eyes widened. She’d never heard the man laugh before, though he had a shy smile and quiet chuckle that seemed to escape often, and likely without his permission. But his laugh did funny things to her insides—making them smile in secret. She jerked her fanciful thoughts back into order as Pa settled at one end of the table and waited for her to sit so he could say the blessing. Guilt stung her cheeks at the way Pa studied her. She sat and bowed her head.
As Pa asked God to bless the food, she asked Him to guard her thoughts. She knew what she must do—honor her promise to her mother. There was no room for wishing for something else.
The food was well received. After several helpings, Little Joe finally slowed down with a sigh.
“All done.”
Becca shook her head. “I can’t believe you ate all that.”
He nodded, flashed a wide grin and patted his tummy. “Full now.”
Colt snorted. “Better plug your ears.” He addressed Little Joe.
“Why?” Marie asked.
“I know there isn’t room for all that food in a little-boy stomach. It has to go somewhere, so I figure it will start coming out his ears.”
Little Joe clamped his hands over his ears and scrunched his face in deep concentration.
Becca laughed. “He’s joshing you.” She sent Colt a scolding look and almost choked as he laughed—his mouth open, his eyes flashing.
He reached over and tapped Little Joe on the shoulder, gaining his attention. “It won’t really come out your ears.”
Little Joe slowly removed his hands, checked his palms. “No food.”
Colt chuckled. “It’s all in your tummy.”
Little Joe looked relieved.
Pa cleared his throat and reached for the Bible he kept on a shelf near the table.
“If everyone is done, we always read a chapter every morning. As my father often said, it’s a good way to start the day.”
Becca settled back to listen. She would miss Pa’s morning reading when she left. Yes, she read her own copy of the Bible, but hearing Pa’s slow, strong voice was part and parcel of her faith.
He read a chapter from Matthew, then closed the Bible. “We always pray for the day ahead of us.”
As Becca bowed her head, she allowed herself a glance at Colt. He watched Pa with an expression combining surprise and what she could only guess was admiration.
“God in heaven, bless us this day. Protect any travelers in the storm. Please see fit to bring an end to this storm so Becca can begin her journey. Take Colt and the children on whatever journey You have for them. Amen.”
Pa drained his cup of coffee and suddenly tipped his head to one side. “Listen to that. The wind has stopped blowing. I do believe the storm has ended.”
For the first time in her life, Becca resented the sun that broke through the clouds and turned the frost on the window to a thousand sparkling diamonds.
Pa rubbed his hands together and looked pleased as he went to the store, hoping for customers.
Colt pushed away from the table to follow her pa from the room. Little Joe scrambled from his chair and raced after him. “Me go, too. Me go with you.”
Marie followed her brother, her eyes echoing his words.
Colt turned slowly to contemplate the children, then faced Becca. “I have to go.”
“Go? As in leave?”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if anxious to be on his way.
“Don’t go,” Marie begged, clinging to his hand.
Little Joe puckered up, ready to set his ear-splitting cry on them again.
Colt swept the boy into his arms. “Don’t cry. Please.”
“You not go?”
The poor man looked torn between a desire to flee and the demands of two little children.
“They’ve