Ann cast her gaze to the miserable hand of cards she’d been dealt. She stood as soon as the hand was over. “That’s enough for me tonight.”
Reed rose and met her in the middle of the floor. “Walk with me?”
She threaded her hand through his outstretched arm. He draped her cloak around her shoulders, and the brush of his fingers sent tendrils of warmth to her belly. The kiss he’d given days ago tingled on her lips as it had nearly every moment since. Despite her reservations, she wished he’d kiss her again.
A frozen wonderland awaited them in the garden. Bushes and trees encased in ice sparkled in the light of a full moon. Snow still suppressed all sound except the crunch of their boots over the uncleared path.
“I have been waiting to see you alone for days.” He tucked her a little closer to his warmth. “Are ye pleased for Mattie?”
“Beyond pleased. She’s waited for this moment for a long time.”
“How long?”
“Almost since we were children.”
His gaze remained fixed on some distant tree. “That is a long time.” He brought his focus back to her. “Ann, what is it that ye want from yer life?”
“Ye are the first person to ever ask me that question.” To say she was surprised was to misuse the word. Not even her dearest grandfather had asked her that question. It was understood. She was to marry and have children. To support her husband in all he did by providing a warm and loving home.
“I am surprised.”
“I want to be of use to God in the world. To remind people that they are not alone, that God loves them.”
“And ye do not think ye can do that as a wife and mother.” It was a statement of resignation. And for some reason she did not like his resignation one little bit.
“I never said that.”
“Right. Ye said that ye would not marry me.”
“Would yer father support yer mother in a business adventure?” She countered.
“Certainly not.”
She swiped her hand in front of him. “I rest my case.”
He bent toward her. “Yer case is flawed, my dear.”
“Point taken. All right. Would ye support yer wife in a business adventure.”
“I don’t know. It would depend on what it was and how it impacted our family.”
She could use a chair and her whittling knife about now. She’d never heard a man talk like that before, and it would take some time to ponder. Yet she’d never known Reed to be like other men—even before his professed conversion he was unique. Could it be?
“Suppose she wanted to carve animals, make dolls, things like that?” She steeled herself to ask the question. She might as well ask; boldness had worked for them so far. “And maybe sell them?”
“So ye do want to marry?”
Not a blip. Not a blink. A locked door in the furthest reaches of her heart flew open. “Oh, yes, and have lots of children.”
Once again, he looked far off.
She waited until he refocused on her. “Now I have a question for ye.”
He swung his arms wide. “Anything.”
“Did yer father beat ye?”
He deflated and crossed his arms. “Until I could defend myself, yes.”
“I will not allow anyone to beat my children. Not even their father.”
Lips pursed, arm rigid, he said nothing more, but offered his arm. He led them to the far side of the garden.
She’d made him angry.
Too bad.
Ann was mildly surprised that she didn’t fear his anger. When had she started to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her? It didn’t really matter. The unlocked door remained open. He had until the end of Christmas to decide what he would do about it.
6
Sunshine bounced into the room from the surfaces of melting snow.
Ann’s declaration about his father still hung between them. His father had been a harsh man. When Reed gave his life to the Lord, he’d renounced his past. The first time he’d felt the kind of anger he had as a young man was when he’d seen his foreman whipping Cubby.
He wasn’t sorry he’d whipped the man responsible. It was a just punishment for the man’s crime. And he couldn’t promise it would never happen again. He could promise he wouldn’t beat his children with a belt the way his father had done. He wouldn’t beat anyone the way his father had done—
Reed found Ann in the barn with Cubby at her left side. Long curls of wood puddled at their feet.
