she passed the platter on to Wyatt. Brett then handed her another platter full of fried eggs. There had to be more than a dozen. She took one, the smallest, and then passed that platter on to Wyatt, as well.
As Rhett, who now had the fish platter, slid a third piece of fish onto his plate, she opened her mouth to tell him that was enough, but a large hand gently touched her wrist.
“There’s too much here for me to eat, so you boys best eat until you’re too full to swallow another bite,” Brett said.
He removed his hand from her arm and, with a nod, gestured for everyone to start eating. The boys needed no more encouragement than that, and as Fiona watched them begin eating with gusto, her own stomach flipped. She swallowed hard against the sensation that sent a lump into her throat. When she’d mentioned to Josiah that her sons were hungry, that they hadn’t eaten since last night, he’d interrupted her to point out that if it had just been her on the train, she would have had three meals a day.
Anger had flared inside her, yet at that moment, she’d never felt more trapped. Mr. Melbourne had paid for their accommodations, and she had no means to reimburse him, so she’d forced herself to once again remain silent. Furthermore, in a moment when she’d believed there had been no other option, she’d given him her word that she would marry him. Therefore, she would. She had never gone back on her word and wouldn’t now. Her children needed to know remaining true to one’s word, although sometimes difficult, was the right way. The only way.
“Eat,” Brett said quietly. “Before it gets cold.”
She nodded, and though each bite swelled in her throat, she forced it down and took the next one. Just as she would each and every obstacle that came her way. Eventually it would get easier.
At least that was her hope.
When her plate was empty, she set down her fork. Within seconds, Brett handed her the platter that remarkably still held several pieces of fish. It made her think of Jesus feeding the masses, and that was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She hadn’t asked for a miracle, yet it appeared one was happening. With tears stinging her eyes, she shook her head.
“You haven’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive,” Brett said, sliding two more pieces of fish onto her plate. He then added two more eggs to her plate before holding the plate over the center of the table. “Anyone else need more?”
Both boys eagerly accepted the offer, and the man, whose booming voice could startle birds from the trees in the next state, laughed so softly, she may have been the only one to hear it.
When little more than crumbs sat on all the plates and platters circling the table, Fiona said, “I do believe that was the best fish I’ve ever eaten.”
“Me too,” Rhett agreed. “I didn’t even know I liked fish that much.”
Laughter, including hers, filled the room. As it settled, Fiona set her napkin on the table. “Mr. Blackwell, we can’t thank you enough for this fine meal. Therefore, I do hope you won’t mind when I insist upon doing the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”
“That’s not necessary, ma’am,” he said while shaking his head.
“I believe it is,” she said. “And I insist.”
He jumped to his feet to pull her chair back as she prepared to stand. Hoping he understood that she had to repay him in some way, she looked up to meet his gaze.
There was tenderness in his blue eyes, but there was something more, something she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen before, but an inner, almost foreign instinct said it was respect.
“I will allow you to help with the dishes,” he said. “I’ve been doing them for so long, I’d feel lazy watching you do them all by yourself.”
“Well, I guess that’s fair,” she said, rising to her feet.
“We’ll help,” Wyatt offered.
Lately, there hadn’t been many opportunities for her to feel pride, or be proud of her sons, but she was proud at this moment. The table was cleared in no time, and with her permission, the boys went outside to play. After scraping some soap into the tub of warm water, she started washing the dishes and, upon his insistence, handed them to Brett to dry and put away.
“I—uh—I’m sorry about your husband,” he said when the silence grew a bit thick.
“Thank you,” she said out of courtesy but then broached the subject she’d been contemplating since finding the boys at his house. “I can only imagine what my sons told you.”
“Nothing bad,” Brett said. “Just that their father had died and that you came here to marry Josiah Melbourne because some church lady told you to.”
“That about sums it up,” she admitted.
“Sounds to me like that woman needs to listen to what the preacher’s preaching.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “That may be true, but it was what we needed—the boys and I. A fresh start.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, don’t you have any family?”
“No. My parents died when I was young.”
“Who’d you live with, then?”
“My aunt and uncle. They had several of their own children and were very glad when I married Sam.” She bit the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t like her to blurt out such personal information. If she hadn’t stopped herself, she would have told him she and her sons wouldn’t have been any more welcome with her aunt and uncle now than she had been twenty years ago.
“How old were you when you married your husband?”
“Seventeen. I thought I was old enough. Thought I knew what I wanted.” Grabbing another plate, she clamped her back teeth together. One meal shouldn’t make her feel as if she needed to share her entire life story. She must be overly tired and not thinking straight. Or nervous. Being alone with him had heightened her senses. She could feel him moving about to return the dishes to their rightful places. Knew the exact moment he stepped closer to her again. Like right now. Beneath the wash water, she squeezed her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.
“Oak Grove is a good town,” he said. “You’ll like it once you get to know everyone.”
“I hope so,” she said. “The boys need a place where they feel welcome.” That was better. What the children needed wasn’t a hidden secret.
“We all do,” he said. “Big or little.”
“That’s true.”
“That had to take a lot of guts,” he said. “Courage, I mean. For all of you. Moving away from Ohio.”
He was obviously as nervous as she was, and the idea of that—of a man his size, so capable of so many things, being uneasy—made her grin. Only because in some silly, unfathomable way, it made her relax a bit. “I wouldn’t call it courage,” she said.
“I would. That’s what it takes. Some folks spend their whole lives wishing things would change but never once realize they have to do something to make them change.”
