Eden. Carolyn Davidson
things you saw in the kitchen cabinet.”
His voice carried to her and she turned over on the couch, forming an answer. “She must be a nice lady.”
John chuckled. “She is, but no one would dare to call her nice to her face. She puts on a big front, snapping and snarling at the men when they come in for meals. Her biggest gripe is dirt on the floor, and woe betide the man who comes to the table with his hat on. She’s a great one for manners, Berta is, for all that she’s gruff and picky.”
“She sounds like someone I could like,” Katie said, realizing that her words were slurring just a bit. Her eyes were fighting to stay open and she felt the weariness in her bones sweep through her whole body.
“Go to sleep, Katie,” John said from his bed. And then, almost as an afterthought, he spoke again. “Are you comfortable?”
She nodded, aware that he couldn’t see from his bed, with her in the dark, the only light in the room the faint glow of the fireplace. She was sleepy, and strangely, felt safe here in this place, even though a man would sleep only a few feet from her. “I’m fine,” she said softly, and realized that the words were true, that she felt safe and secure for the first time in longer than she could remember.
WHEN KATIE AWOKE IT WAS with a start as she heard a rooster crowing outside the cabin. And then she inhaled sharply as she sensed eyes upon her, and sat up quickly, unable to think for a moment where she was.
“You awake, Katie?” John’s voice sounded like a saw cutting through a length of wood, rough and rusty, but she knew no fear, only a sense of rightness that she could not explain.
“I’m awake.” She opened her eyes, saw John at the sink, watched as he bent his head and doused it with water and then picked up the towel there and roughly dried his hair, then his hands. He looked over at her and grinned.
“How was your first night as a housekeeper?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel much like one yet,” she told him. “Ask me tomorrow.”
As she spoke the sound of men’s voices came to her from outdoors, through the cabin’s walls, laughter pealing forth as one of them apparently found something humorous to brighten his morning.
John crossed to the front door and opened it, then looked back at her. “I’ll be back in a short while. I’m just going to talk to the men and get things sorted out. Will you make breakfast, or shall I go to the big house to eat this morning?”
Her stomach growled as he spoke, as if the thought of food had brought hunger to the surface. “I’ll cook you breakfast,” she said quickly, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the couch, careful to keep the quilt around herself.
He was gone then, the door closing behind him and she went into the bedroom, seeking out the clothing she’d taken off the night before, and then changed her mind, recalling the new things John had purchased. The thought of the items inside the plain wrapping sent a quick thrill through her and she fought with her instincts that begged to wear new clothing.
Cooking breakfast for John did not require wearing a new dress, and she’d do well to locate her old things and get busy. But a quick look around assured her that the things she had discarded last evening in this room were here no longer. As though they had never existed, the worn, shabby dress Molly had given her and the dingy petticoat she’d stripped from before she donned her new nightgown were nowhere in sight.
It was there that John found her, just moments later, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking around her in dismay, wrapped tightly in the quilt. She looked up as he stood in the doorway.
“I don’t know where my things are from yesterday. I wanted to get dressed but—” She spread her hands in a gesture of defeat, and chagrin reigned on her mobile features.
John spoke softly, aware of her confusion and unwilling to upset her further. “You don’t need those old things, Katie. You’ve got a whole bundle of new clothes to wear.”
All Katie saw, all she could take note of was the expression on his face. That and his rapid movements across the room to where she sat on the edge of the bed.
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’.”
CHAPTER FIVE
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