But somehow, she’d made it back to the Balfour ranch. Maybe—just maybe—some of those prayers had been heard after all.
Now, she stood hiding outside the dining room. She had to face them all—the brothers who’d once been her dearest friends. Before her mother whisked her away with hushed words about never being welcome here again.
She smoothed her blue skirt, the only other dress she’d managed to squeeze into her bag, and stepped into the dining room.
Conversation died as though someone dropped a curtain over the scene. Five pairs of eyes turned toward her—Enoch’s piercing blue gaze, Robert’s gentle brown eyes, Thomas’s curious stare, and James’s green eyes that seemed to search her face for something she wasn’t sure she could give.
A woman she didn’t recognize sat beside Enoch, her condition unmistakable, even seated. One hand rested protectively over her rounded belly.
“Rose!” Mrs. Wang’s voice cut through the stillness as the elderly Chinese woman hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Dear child, let me look at you.”
Suddenly everyone was rising from their chairs, moving toward her with grins and words piled on top of each other.
Mrs. Wang reached Rose first, taking her hands in those dear, weathered ones. “Still so beautiful like your mama.” Her dark eyes glistened. “But too thin, child. We’ll fix that.”
“Mrs. Wang.” The burning in her eyes and throat made Rose’s voice crack. Mrs. Wang looked older, her black hair now mixed with a great deal of silver, but her smile hadn’t changed a bit—warm and encompassing, like being wrapped in a quilt fresh from the sunshine.
“Rose.” Enoch stepped forward. He’d changed so much. As a boy, he’d been tall and lanky, yet this man bore broad shoulders and a quiet, commanding presence. When he smiled, though, she caught a glimpse of the brother who’d once taught her to skip stones across the creek. “Welcome home.”
Home. That word again, the one that made her chest tighten with equal parts longing and fear.
Robert appeared at her other side, his gentle eyes crinkling with genuine pleasure. “It’s been far too long, Rose. You look well.”
“Thank you.” Yet were his words actually true? The mirror in her room this morning had shown her a woman haunted, with shadows around her eyes and a wariness etched into her bones.
Thomas, taller now but still bearing that mischievous glint his eyes had held even as a tot, bounded forward with the same enthusiasm as back then. “Rose! I can’t believe you’re really here. Wait until you see how much the ranch has grown?—”
“Thomas.” James’s voice carried a gentle warning. “Let her breathe.”
The woman, heavy with child, approached, one hand supporting her back.
She was lovely, with dark hair and warm brown eyes that held a quiet intelligence. “I’m Mandie, Enoch’s wife.” Her smile was gentle, welcoming. “We’re so glad you’re here. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Heat crept up her neck. What exactly had they said? That she’d run away without a word? “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Balfour. Congratulations on your coming addition.” Should she have said Lady Balfour? Just because the brothers didn’t want their titles used didn’t mean this woman was just as unpretentious.
“Call me Mandie, please.” Her hand moved protectively over her belly. “And thank you. We’re very excited, though I confess I’m grateful you’re here to help Bea. I’ve been feeling rather useless lately.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Wang waved the comment away. “Enough standing around. Rose needs breakfast, and this baby needs its mama sitting down.”
She bustled toward Rose, taking her elbow with gentle firmness. “Come, child. Your place is here, between Robert and James.”
Rose’s stomach clenched at the mention of her place, as though eleven years hadn’t passed, as though she belonged here now simply because she once had.
But she allowed herself to be guided to the chair, acutely aware of James sitting beside her, his bulk both comforting and unsettling.
Once they’d all sat, Enoch bowed his head and thanked the Lord for bread, for strength to work, for the baby, and for “old friends come home.” No flourish. No sermon. Just a few plain words that landed soft as a quilt.
As plates were passed and conversations resumed, it felt like she was caught in a strange suspension between past and present. The dining room looked exactly as she remembered—the same heavy oak furniture, the same view of the mountains through tall windows, even the same chip in the seat of her chair. Yet everything felt different through the lens of her adult eyes, smaller somehow, welcoming in a different way.
“Do you remember”—Enoch buttered a thick slice of Mrs. Wang’s fresh bread—“how you used to insist on helping with the morning milking, even though you were afraid of the cows?”
“I was not afraid,” Rose protested automatically, then caught herself. The defense had come so naturally. “I was…cautious.”
Robert chuckled. “Cautious enough to hide behind James every time Bessie looked at you.”
“Bessie was enormous.” It was remarkable how easily she fell into the familiar rhythm of their teasing. “And she had very judgmental eyes.”
Thomas laughed. “She still does. Though she’s gotten lazy in her old age—barely lifts her head when you call her from the pasture now.”
