babies gurgled as if in protest, but Elizabeth raised her head.
“I wasn’t discharged,” she told Mrs. Hickey, voice as tight as her look. “My charges were about to go off to school, and the youngest ones were not yet ready for a governess. And then my only living relative, my aunt Evangeline, died, and I simply wanted to be somewhere else.”
So she truly was alone in the world, like the triplets.
“I’m sorry to hear about your aunt,” Brandon murmured. “She was a grand lady.”
Mrs. Hickey turned to him, gaze avid. “Oh, did you know her, Pastor?”
“No!” Jasper declared.
While Mrs. Hickey frowned at the baby, Elizabeth’s look shot to Brandon, panicked. So she didn’t want the town to know about their past. He hadn’t been overly eager to share either. How did you admit that the only woman you’d ever wanted to marry had refused you? The fact called his character into question, or hers.
“Everyone from the Boston area knew Mrs. Evangeline Dumont,” Brandon said, and he felt Elizabeth relax. “The lady set a fine table, with only the best on it and around it.”
Elizabeth returned her gaze to the babies, who beamed at her. “She never lost her interest in people, even though the stroke left her unable to do the things she loved most.”
The stroke hadn’t just affected her aunt. It seemed to him Elizabeth had chosen a path much narrower than she’d once dreamed. All of society had been open to her, yet here she was, focused on three little boys. Why?
No way to ask that question with Mrs. Hickey watching them both so eagerly.
“Ah, I fear I have detained you, my dear Mrs. Hickey,” Brandon told her. “I’m sure you had business elsewhere this afternoon, industrious lady that you are.”
Her smile wavered. She couldn’t very well admit she had nothing better to do than vex Elizabeth. “Yes, well,” she said, taking a step back. “I am very busy. You will heed my warning about the cod-liver oil, won’t you, Miss Dumont?”
“I will give it due consideration,” Elizabeth promised her.
With another glance between Elizabeth and Brandon, the pianist turned and headed toward the doctor’s office, very likely intending to instruct the physician on some point now. The boys waved their fists in farewell.
“Do not tell me she means well,” Elizabeth threatened Brandon, “for I won’t believe it.”
“She delights in knowing more than anyone else, about everything,” he said. “So long as you remember that, you won’t have any trouble with her.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You must not have noticed the way she looked at you. You better watch your reputation, Pastor. You wouldn’t want to be seen with a discharged governess who was left at the altar. People might talk.”
“I’ve never been particularly concerned about what anonymous people have to say,” Brandon told her. He bent and seized the handles on the cart, and the triplets started bouncing up and down in anticipation of the ride. “Now, where can I take you and the boys?”
That look in her eyes told him she would have preferred to tell him where to go, and it was as far away from her as possible. But she nodded across the street. “The triplets and I have been cooped up in the boardinghouse for three days now. I was hoping to cross to the grass and let them out on the quilt. If you would be so kind, Reverend?”
Of course she wouldn’t call him Brandon. They were supposed to be strangers. Besides, times had changed since they’d last known each other. They had changed. He wasn’t a man bent on courting her. He was her minister, just as he was the minister for everyone in Little Horn. His only concern should be for her spiritual growth and comfort. If she had been anyone else, he would have done his best to charm her, putting her at ease. But his winning ways no longer seemed to work on Elizabeth.
So he trundled the cart across the rutted street for the grassy field between the parsonage and the church, the creak of the wheels playing them along.
The good citizens of Little Horn had designed the church grounds, like the church and parsonage, with the community’s needs in mind. Between the two buildings lay a sweep of grass, wildflowers nodding here and there, just waiting for a church picnic or baseball game. Amos Crenshaw kept it in order, even going so far as to carry water to it during the drought so the grass wouldn’t dry out. Brandon positioned the cart in the shade of an old live oak and helped her spread the large brightly colored quilt beside it. Then they arranged the triplets in the middle.
At nearly eleven months old, they were crawling well. Jasper, as usual, was the most adventurous. Elizabeth must have realized it, for she positioned herself between the tree and the edge of the quilt as if to prevent his escape. Rolling over on his side, Eli tugged at a block of red gingham on the quilt as if eager to get to the grass beneath. Theo sat and regarded the nearby daisies as if suspecting they had designs on his brothers. Jasper set off across the quilt and paused a moment beside Elizabeth before attempting to scale her lap.
She smiled at him, making the day brighter. “Clever boy. You wait and see, Pastor. Jasper will turn out to be an explorer.”
Brandon smiled. “I think Eli’s going to end up mayor of Little Horn by the way he manages his brothers.”
She laughed, and the sound bathed his heart in light. “Can’t you just see them,” she asked, “tall and strong, crowding in the doorway with daisies from the fields, come to wish their mother happy birthday?”
So she could still dream. He remembered the hopes she used to share—visiting Europe, opening a school for girls, driving a carriage across the whole country.
“What happened, Elizabeth?” he asked. “Why did you become a governess in Cambridge? I thought you wanted to marry.”
Her sunny smile turned stormy. “I did want to marry. The man I’d hoped would be my groom abandoned me. Or don’t you remember telling me your reputation was more important than I was, Mr. Stillwater?”
She must have looked as angry as she felt, for Brandon recoiled from her. So did the triplets. Jasper’s face puckered. Eli curled next to him. Theo stuck his thumb in his mouth, a tear rolling down one chubby cheek.
Brandon reached out and scooped him onto his lap. “Easy there, Theo. Elizabeth isn’t angry with you. She couldn’t be. She thinks you’re going to grow into a fine man. I’m the one she doesn’t like. She said she couldn’t marry a country parson.”
Elizabeth stared at him. His eyes looked as sad as Theo’s.
“I never said I didn’t want to marry you,” she protested. “And I certainly never called you a country parson. You were going to serve at St. Matthew’s, a fine respectable position.”
Theo leaned against him as if ready to defend him. Brandon patted his shoulder. “You knew I wanted to go to Texas with Bo. And Texas wasn’t good enough for you.”
She spread her hands. “Look at me, Brandon. Here I am, in Texas!”
