“Thank you.” He scooped up another spoonful of the chicken and dumplings, his gaze never leaving hers. “How long did I sleep?”
“About four hours. It’s after one o’clock.”
He grimaced and she hurried to reassure him.
“No, that’s a good thing. You needed the rest. It helps you to heal faster.” He didn’t appear convinced, so she changed the subject. “How does your leg feel?”
“Better.”
Not a very descriptive answer. “Uncle Grover should be in shortly to change the dressing on your arm and also have another look at your other injuries.”
“Perhaps then he’ll see that I can manage well enough to go home.”
Why was he in such a hurry to leave them? There certainly wasn’t anyone at his place to rush home to. Instead of responding to his comment, however, she crossed the room to open the curtains. “Let’s let a little more light in here, shall we?”
When she returned to his side, she lifted the tray with the now empty bowl and smiled down at him. “Would you like some more?”
“Not now, thank you. But please relay my compliments to your aunt. That was very good, especially compared to my own cooking.”
Was he dismissing her? Perhaps he wanted to rest some more. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
He seemed to hesitate a moment, then raised a brow in question. “Something to read perhaps?”
That was unexpected. “Of course. What sort of books do you like?”
“What do you have on hand?”
“I’m afraid Uncle Grover’s library consists mostly of medical tomes and journals. I believe Aunt Betty has some books of poetry and some devotionals. I have a volume of poetry, some Shakespeare, Dickens and a few of Mr. Twain’s novels. And of course some children’s stories for Joy. Oh, and I think I also still have a copy of yesterday’s Turnabout Gazette if you haven’t seen it.” She waved a hand. “If none of that is of interest, I’d be glad to find you something at Abigail’s library. Just let me know what sorts of books appeal to you.”
“I’ve read Shakespeare and Dickens. Perhaps I’ll try Twain. And I believe I will take a look at the Gazette.”
Apparently he was well educated. Now that she thought on it, there was a certain refinement that crept into his speech from time to time. It embarrassed her that she’d made so many wrong assumptions about this man. She should know better than to jump to judgments.
“I’ll fetch the book and newspaper for you as soon as I put away these dishes. Can I do anything else for you?”
After his No, thank you response, Verity made her exit and slowly headed toward the parlor, where most of the family’s books were located. Her thoughts, though, were on Mr. Cooper rather than her errand.
There was still a faint air of something less than welcoming simmering below the surface in this man, a feeling of standoffishness. But for some reason it didn’t scare her away—in fact it had just the opposite effect. She was beginning to see him as a brave, honorable, well-educated person who just needed someone to teach him to trust enough to open up.
If he had a wilder side to him, well, he seemed to have it well controlled. And that was a sign of maturity and responsibility, wasn’t it?
* * *
The sound of a tap at the door pulled Nate from his reading. One thing he could say for this place, they respected a person’s privacy. Which, after his time in prison, was another thing he’d never take for granted again.
He sat up straighter. “Come in.”
Mrs. Leggett stuck her head in the doorway. “You have a visitor, but if you’d prefer to rest I can ask him to come back at another time.”
There was only one person here in Turnabout who would be visiting him. “Not at all. Show him in.”
She gave him an assessing look, as if gauging his condition, then nodded and withdrew.
Sure enough, Adam Barr strolled through the open door a few minutes later.
“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” his friend said, “but Dr. Pratt said you’re up for visitors.”
Nate waved Adam to a chair near the bed. “Actually, other than being a bit banged up, I’m fine. I’d be back home if it was up to me, but Dr. Pratt practically strong-armed me into staying.”
“He cares about his patients,” Adam said. Then he grinned. “Are the ladies of the house smothering you with kindness?”
Smothering wasn’t exactly the word he’d use, but he let it stand. “It’s a definite change from what I’ve been used to.”
“A little female attention is never a bad thing.” Then Adam leaned back. “I hear you’ve become something of a town hero as of this morning.”
Nate grimaced. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. You and I both know there’s nothing heroic about me.”
Adam frowned. “I know nothing of the sort. In fact, I have good reason to believe otherwise.” He stroked the faded scar on his cheek, a reminder to both of them of how they’d met—in a prison fight.
When Adam had entered prison all those years ago, Nate had already been there six months. That first day, a couple of the more hardened inmates had cornered the new arrival as he exited the food line and Nate had weighed in to even the odds. The two had been friends ever since.
“That was just me looking for a fight—nothing more.”
“That’s not how I saw it.” Adam crossed his arms and gave Nate a drawn-brow look. “Besides, I spent time in prison, too. Do you think that makes me less capable of acting heroically?”
Nate gave a sharp, dismissive wave. “You didn’t belong there. I did.”
That was one reason, besides his own selfish desire to be free of his past mistakes, that he couldn’t reveal to the townsfolk that he’d spent time in prison. Because, since folks knew that he and Adam were already acquainted, any confession on his part might cause speculation about Adam’s own past.
“You had your reasons for what you did.” Adam shrugged. “But be that as it may, you served your time, so your debt is paid. And everyone deserves a second chance.”
He had come to Turnabout looking for a fresh start, a place to begin again without the anchor of his past to weigh him down. Knowing that his friend believed in him allowed him to have faith that he might be able to pull it off.
He just wished he felt as if he deserved this second chance. He knew the Good Lord had forgiven him long ago, but he was still having trouble forgiving himself.
Then Adam changed the subject. “So how long do you plan to lie around here lollygagging?”
“Assuming
