“Well, I'd hate to think you were put in danger in order to rescue me and Marty, but I am grateful for your timing.” Almost as if his declaration held power, the buggy's movement grew more sluggish. The horses pulled against the growing weight of the snow.
“We may have to walk after all.” Miss McAdams steadied herself with a hand to his arm.
“See that roofline up ahead, through the snow?” He pointed. “We only need to make it there. It's home.”
A frown puckered her brow. “You mean, you don't live in the town proper?”
“I live outside the town a mile to be nearer the mill my brother and I run.”
“So I'm not too far from town then. That's good.” She nodded as if taking in the information. “ ’Cause I don't think me, Daisy, and this buggy are going to make it much farther tonight.”
The glow of the gaslight both inside and outside the house pierced through the growing dark and wild flurries. “Miss McAdams, you won't make it to town tonight unless you try by foot.”
Her eyes rounded, and for the first time since meeting her, the glow in those uncommonly blue eyes dimmed. “Well then. I'll just have to go by foot. Charlie can't be out in this storm for much longer, and I sure don't have plans to cuddle up in the buggy for the night.”
“Of course not.” He laughed. “No. The only course for you right now is to stay with us.”
“Stay with you?” Air crystallized around her from the force in the words. “Mr. Lewis, I can't stay at your house … you and me being … I can assure you, I don't live like that no more, and I ain't keen to sully a perfectly fine gentleman's reputation.”
Well, there was a lot to unpack from that statement.
“My mother lives there as well, so you have nothing to worry about as far as reputation, Miss McAdams. And …” He tightened his hold on the reins as the buggy slid again and the horses nearly crawled to a stop. “There is no way I or my mother will allow you to walk to town tonight. So prepare yourself to be our houseguest.”
How had she run right from one sticky situation into another?
Staying at an unmarried man's house? No matter the weather, she'd just chosen to walk away from such a life and now … here she was?
“My mother lives there as well, so you have nothing to worry about as far as reputation.”
At least God provided a chaperone to prove Kizzie's reputation had changed, should someone drum up her past and attempt to hurt not only her but good Mr. Lewis. She sent him another look from her periphery.
He had kind eyes.
And he didn't seem to be a scoundrel, so hopefully he told the truth about his mama. At any rate, they had to get poor Mr. Marty somewhere to check on his wounds, because bouncing around in a buggy wasn't the best idea.
She drew in a breath, reminding herself of what she'd prayed only a little while before when the storm hit. God had her and Charlie right where He wanted them. All she needed to do was keep choosing Him and His ways.
She looked out into the blurry evening, barely able to see anything except snow and more snow. Despite her reservations, the safest course for her and Charlie was to stay at Mr. Lewis’.
Up ahead, light glimmered into the snowy veil, taking shape as they neared.
Kizzie squinted into the snow.
The building kept growing taller and wider and broader with each horse's step.
Was that a house? Or a hotel?
She'd never been to a big town, and the one closest to her home growing up only had a little hotel, no larger than the general store. But this? This brick, three-story building rose into the snowy sky with a large porch almost completely around the whole front and a … Was that a tower rising up on one side?
Where on earth had God brought her?
She'd thought the Morgan house a grand place, but this … “Law, is this your house?”
Mr. Lewis shrugged. “Well, it's my mother's, but my father had it built ten years ago when we first came to The Hollows.”
“It's beautiful,” she whispered, placing her palm over the place where Charlie's head rested beneath her cape. “I ain't never seen nothing like it before in all my livin’ days.”
“Mr. Noah.” A call came from the front of the house as two men ran, or attempted to run, toward them through the snow, but the snow's depth slowed them. “Thank God.”
