Until Adam pressed his knee against hers beneath the table.
His interest in her didn't seem to have diminished in the face of her family's silent censure.
Her entire life she'd been told she was too much of a tomboy, that she'd never attract a husband.
She'd never considered that someone might like her just the way she was.
It was enlightening. And scary enough to foil her appetite again.
And then Catherine and Matty came out of the house, both holding steaming pie plates. "Who wants cobbler?"
"Breanna made it."
They were still doing their best to match her off.
3
The afternoon was waning when Adam stood from the checkerboard and stretched. "Walk with me for a bit?"
Breanna glanced around them as if realizing for the first time they were alone. Earlier, her father had gone off to check a horse in the barn, and her mother was in the kitchen helping the little ones find a bite to eat.
While lunch had been a chaotic affair, the other families had slowly excused themselves to their own homes, Seb to the bunkhouse, which had left only Jonas and Penny, their three younger children, and Breanna.
Walt had challenged him to a game of checkers that had turned into two and then three as Breanna played dolls on the floor with Ida. The younger boy had grown frustrated at how often he'd had to call Adam's attention back to the game, but Adam couldn't help the way his gaze strayed to the beauty on the floor.
And then Penny had come and claimed the smaller children, sending Walt out to the bunkhouse and the smallest two to their bedroom for naps.
Which had left him alone with Breanna, or nearly so. She'd joined him at the checkerboard and beaten him soundly twice, but he'd made a terrific comeback in the third game and won by a single checker.
She considered him now. "I'll change into my boots."
The sun was setting as they crossed the yard toward the nearest open field. He should probably consider riding back to town, but he wasn't ready to leave her yet. During the course of the afternoon, they'd both shared about their childhoods. He'd loved hearing about her time on the homestead. Chores and riding and fishing and growing up in the country. He'd told her about Frank and their blood oath and his favorite childhood haunts back home. Everything except for Reggie. It hadn't been the right time to mention his brother.
Perhaps she'd sensed he was holding back, and that's why she'd put so much distance between them now. He wanted her closer.
"I think I am nearly able to name most of your family now. Is Walt named after your great-grandfather?"
Her gaze grew wistful. "Yes. Poppy died when I was nine. He was the kindest old man I've ever met. I thought that even before Pa and Ma married."
He must have looked perplexed because she went on, "He was Ma's grandfather."
What an unusual family she’d grown up in. All those adopted siblings, being raised by a woman who wasn’t her mother. So different from his own upbringing.
The nostalgia she’d shared filled him with memories too. "I remember spending long summer days with my grandmother. She would sometimes take me downtown to get an ice. She died when I was five." He'd forgotten those moments, forgotten the warmth and affection he'd received from Grandmother.
He let the silence grow between them, entranced by the fiery colors blending across the sky. On the horizon, low-lying clouds turned a kaleidoscope of colors. It reminded him of the Northern Lights he'd been privileged to see during his Alaskan trip. Photographs couldn't capture the majesty of the sunset. He couldn't come close to describing it in writing.
And it certainly wasn't something to be seen in Philadelphia. Had he even made a practice of looking up at the sky over the past few years? Or was it being here, with Breanna, that made him so aware of the beauty surrounding him?
"Our fathers aren't so different, I think," he said when the silence had stretched a beat too long.
She sputtered a disbelieving laugh. "You must be joking."
"Why must I?" He gestured to the land around them. "It must've taken years of toil to build all of this. The acreage, the cattle and horses, hay to feed them all. All so your family can live in comfort." Even the vegetable garden was massive, stretching out behind the house.
His father had built on what Grandfather had started, but the principle was the same. So what if his life in Philadelphia cost more in dollars and cents than Breanna's life here? They both cost hard work and dedication.
She was shaking her head slightly. Still distant, still reserved. What could he say to draw her closer?
