we going to see the boys?”
“It’s getting too late tonight.” Abram started up the stairs.
“Why did you wait?”
He paused and turned. The agony on her face twisted his heart. “Wait for what?”
“To tell me Susanne had died.”
He frowned. “I wrote to you immediately.”
She pulled a letter out of the pile she still held in her hands. “This didn’t arrive until three weeks ago—almost three months after she died.”
He readjusted her trunk on his shoulder. “Look at the date at the top of the letter. You’ll see it says July sixteenth, the day after her death.”
She glanced at the piece of paper and shook her head. “There is no date.”
He hadn’t put a date on the letter? She couldn’t blame him for the oversight. Right after his wife had died, he’d barely been able to put two thoughts together. “It must have been lost in the mail.”
“Didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t come until now?”
“Frankly, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Charlotte—and neither did Susanne. Not after the way you treated us when we said we wanted to marry.”
Anguish passed over her brown eyes yet he couldn’t help but say what he had wanted to say for the past six years. “You broke Susanne’s heart when you didn’t give us your blessing and when you never once inquired about our marriage in your letters. Until her death—” He choked on the word and didn’t have the heart to tell her that Susanne had wept on her deathbed over their broken relationship. “She carried the pain with her until the end.”
Tears fell down Charlotte’s cheeks but Abram didn’t wait for her response. Instead he continued up the stairs.
He stopped at the top and took several deep breaths. He had always hoped to convey to Charlotte how much she had hurt Susanne, but it didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, he felt worse.
With a sigh, he opened the door to his left and stepped into his modest-size bedroom. It had a large bed, a bureau, a rocking chair, the boys’ cradle and a washbasin. He had packed up all of Susanne’s things, except her Bible, and put them in a trunk, which sat at the foot of the bed. It had been too painful to have the memories surrounding him.
Abram set down Charlotte’s trunk and then rubbed his whiskers as he surveyed the dust in the corners and the bedding that hadn’t been washed for weeks. Dirty clothes hung from the back of the rocker and the foot of the bed.
The room needed some fresh air. He went to the single window looking toward the river and opened it, thankful for the mild November weather.
With another sigh, he gathered up his clothing and piled it near the door and then threw the bedcovers over the sheets, hoping Charlotte wouldn’t come into the room until after dark.
He stood for a moment, rolled his shoulders and looked toward the ceiling. “Lord?” It was more of a question than a statement. “Why did you let Charlotte come? Don’t I have enough trouble to deal with already?”
He snatched up his clothing and strode out of the room and downstairs.
Charlotte stood with her back to the stairs, a handkerchief hovering near her face.
He moved past her and went through the kitchen and into the lean-to, where Susanne had kept her washtubs. He dumped his clothes in the corner, planning to get to them later. After Susanne’s death, Abram had devoted almost every waking moment to his business. It had been the only way to deal with his pain, but the housework had slipped.
Charlotte entered the kitchen as he came back in. She was out of place with her extravagant dress and perfectly styled hair. She looked nothing like Susanne, who had been short and blonde. Charlotte had dark brown curls and she was tall and slender—almost too thin for his tastes. Her face would be pretty if it wasn’t scrunched up in disapproval all the time.
He went to the cupboard and pulled out the coffee beans and grinder. “Feel free to take off your hat and gloves. We’re not going anywhere soon.”
She didn’t move but her eyes roamed this room, as well.
Abram assessed it as he ground the coffee beans, trying to see what she would see. The kitchen was a generous room with a long table, a cookstove and a large cupboard. Susanne had spent hours in this room preparing meals for him and the children. She hadn’t been a very good cook, but she had tried—he’d give her that. When he was able to hire his first laborer, she had taken on the extra responsibility without complaint. She had often told him she’d learned her work ethic from her sister, who had been forced to provide for them after their parents had died.
He continued to turn the grinder, uncomfortable with Charlotte’s perusal. “Have a seat. I’ll get the coffee boiling and then fry up some bacon.”
She took a handkerchief from her handbag and wiped the bench.
He tried to ignore her as he fried the bacon and tended to the coffee—but it was almost impossible. Her presence filled the room, just as it had years ago when he’d first met her and Susanne at the Fireman’s Ball in Iowa City. He had actually noticed Charlotte first, with her tall, dark looks—but as soon as he had met the sparkling Susanne, his attention had been stolen.
Neither one spoke as he prepared the simple meal. When it was ready, he went to the front door and clanged the large triangle dinner bell.
The waterwheel was no longer spinning, which meant Caleb and Josiah would hear the call. Harry and Milt were delivering lumber to Fort Ripley, so they probably wouldn’t arrive back until after dark.
He went into the house and found Charlotte had finally removed her hat and gloves and sat with her back rigid as she waited for the meal to begin.
What would his laborers think of the pretty young woman in his home? Single females were so scarce, having one at his table would be a rare treat. If this one wasn’t so unreasonable, maybe they’d enjoy having her.
Caleb and Josiah rushed in through the back door, as if they had been waiting for the call—and they probably had been. Both men drank up Charlotte’s presence like men dying of thirst.
“Boys, this is my sister-in-law, Miss Charlotte Lee.” Abram set four mugs on the table. “Charlotte, this is Caleb and Josiah.”
Caleb bowed and offered her a dimpled smile, his green eyes shining with appreciation. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lee.” If his easy demeanor and gregarious personality couldn’t charm Charlotte, then nothing would. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met such a lovely woman in my life.”
Charlotte dipped her head ever so slightly with embarrassment. “Thank you.”
Josiah pushed Caleb to the side in a great show of aplomb, his curly black hair falling over his forehead and into his dark eyes. He also bowed, unwilling to be outdone. “Lovely does not do you justice, Miss Lee. Gorgeous would be a more appropriate description.”
This time her cheeks filled with color—yet still she did not
