to drink more water. “Not at all. I’m sure they would enjoy breakfast and a little attention.”
He nodded and stood. Josiah reached for Ruby and touched the soft black curls on her head. He glanced between her and Rose. “You girls be good for Annie, ya hear?”
“Go,” Ruby said as she worked to stand up.
“Not this time, little one. It’s too cold out there for little girls.” He leaned over and kissed her soft cheek.
Rose scrambled for him. She smacked her lips, wanting her kisses, too. “Tisses!” she demanded.
He laughed and scooped both girls up into his arms. Kissing them both all over their faces sent them into squeals of delight. Josiah’s love for the girls grew stronger every day. They were changing so much as they got older.
Anna Mae’s soft laughter joined in. He looked over at her and saw that her face looked a little pale. Had she overdone it this morning? Possibly. Maybe now wasn’t a good time to leave her alone with the twins. He stood to his full height and looked down on her.
As if she could read his mind, Anna Mae said, “You better hurry and take care of the animals. We’ll be fine until you return.”
Josiah nodded and quickly set the girls back into the corral. He pulled on his coat and scarf. Cold air blasted into the house as he hurried out the door.
Snow glistened on the ground and the early morning sun rays added to the brightness. He shielded his eyes and exhaled, his breath forming a cloudy vapor. Thankfully, the snow had stopped falling. He followed the trail to the barn, the cold air stinging his face.
When he opened the door, warmth greeted him along with the scent of hay and dust. Roy snorted from his corner of the barn and the little mule hailed him with a loud bray. “I hear ya, you ornery beasts.”
Josiah hurried to give the animals water, grain and hay. As quickly as he could, he mucked out their stalls and laid fresh hay. A glance at his pocket watch told him he’d been out of the house for close to two hours. Giving the horse and mule a final pat, Josiah started the trek back to the house. He glanced up at the sky. In another hour or so the sun would sit directly over the house. That would help heat the place up a bit.
Lord willing, in the spring he could add another fireplace; or maybe he’d just buy one of those new-fangled stoves he’d seen advertised down at the dry goods store. He figured Anna Mae would like that. He reined in his thoughts immediately. What in the world was he thinking? She wouldn’t be here in the spring. A woman like Anna Mae was looking for a love relationship, and he wasn’t. He didn’t want love. It hurt too much when the one you loved died.
For all he knew, he might not be here, either. He’d thought about getting a house in town but didn’t want to seem ungrateful to William, his brother-in-law. After all, he’d been the one to buy the orchard. William might not like the idea of him moving to town and leaving it vacant. When he got to the front porch, Josiah stomped as much snow from his boots as possible before entering the house.
His gaze roved around the room and he saw the twins napping in their corral and Anna Mae asleep on the couch. He walked over and gently, so as not to wake her, covered her with a quilt.
Josiah reached out and touched Anna Mae’s forehead. Cool. He stared down into her lovely face. Dark lashes rested against her pale cheeks. Her dark hair feathered about the pillow. Anna Mae Leland truly was beautiful.
He grinned as he remembered the first time he’d called her Annie. She’d flared up like a hissing cat. That little bit of spitfire seemed to rouse her to get stronger. Truth be told, he preferred Annie over Anna Mae. The name seemed softer. It suited her better, so he’d continued to tease her with the name. Now it just felt natural.
Josiah made a mental note not to call her Annie once their lives returned to normal. It was a little too informal for the schoolteacher position that she held. Would the school board fire her? He took a deep breath. He’d only wanted to help her, keep her safe, and he may have ruined this sweet woman’s life. It couldn’t be helped. There was no way that he would have turned her away, sick and in the middle of a blizzard.
Josiah caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. He cared about her. How could he not? For the past week, he’d worried over her health and at times her life. Did Anna Mae realize how close she’d come to death?
He shook off the worry he felt for her even now and, with a sigh, turned to the kitchen for a hot cup of coffee.
If he could save her job and reputation, he would. If not, well, he’d cross that bridge when he got there.
* * *
Anna Mae woke to childish giggles and the smell of frying ham. She pushed herself up and looked about. Josiah stood at the stove and the girls played in their corral.
How long had she slept? Her gaze went to the window. The sun still shone through the glass, and she sighed, thankful she hadn’t slept the whole day away.
“I see you are awake.” Josiah cradled a cup of coffee in his hands and rested a hip against the sturdy kitchen table. “Did you have a good nap?”
Her throat felt so dry, Anna Mae couldn’t speak. She tried to swallow but found she couldn’t do that, either. She nodded.
He must have sensed her need because Josiah walked to the stove and poured her a cup of coffee. He held it out to her. “Take small sips. It might burn a little going down.”
She took the cup and did as he instructed. The warm liquid both felt good and hurt. It was just what she needed to be able to speak. “Thank you.” The two words sounded scratchy as she forced them out of her tight throat.
“You’re welcome.” He sat down beside her on the couch.
“It’s kind of early for dinner, isn’t it?” she asked. “Or are you making a late lunch?”
Josiah laughed. “Trying to get a head start on dinner tomorrow night. My wife used to make the best ham and beans. I thought I’d try my hand at it, but I think I’m doing something wrong.” He sighed dramatically. “Mine never tastes like hers.”
“Is that why you’re frying ham now?” Anna Mae asked, looking toward the stove.
He nodded. “But for the life of me, I can’t seem to get it right.”
She grinned. “That’s because you don’t fry the ham first. Do you have a ham hock that hasn’t been cooked?” she asked.
“I’m sure there is one in the root cellar. Why?”
Anna Mae swung her legs off the couch. “Because that’s what you should put into your beans.” She croaked hoarsely as she spoke.
“Now, Annie, don’t go thinking I wanted you to get up and cook.” He stood also. “Because that wasn’t my plan.”
She smiled over her shoulder. “Go get the ham hock and we can have boiled beans and fresh bread for dinner tomorrow.” Anna Mae watched him slip into his coat and scarf, then head out the back door.
In the bedroom she hurried out of his clothes and into her dress. It felt good to be back in her own clothes, and Anna Mae realized that if she must stay with the Millers, she needed to give
