Faith gave a short laugh. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it? Or do you say that only because it’s never happened to you?”
Faith chewed on her lip. Was it possible? She couldn’t think of what she could have written to Beau to engender such affection. “He didn’t even know what I looked like.”
“Does that matter so much? Would you have loved Aaron any less if his eyes were a different color, or heaven forbid, he’d lost an arm or a leg?” Celia sipped her tea as Faith considered the question.
“Not at all. But—”
“But nothing. It’s the person you fall in love with, and you, Faith, are quite an incredible person.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re my sister.”
“Nonsense. Everyone in town would agree with me.” Celia took another sip of tea while Faith’s grew cold. “You ought to give him a chance.”
“I can’t do that.” Faith toyed with the lace edging of the tablecloth she’d made back in Mississippi, soon after Aaron had proposed.
“Promise me you’ll think about it,” Celia said. “I don’t think God would have sent Mr. Landry here if he didn’t want you to be happy.”
It wasn’t that easy, though. Celia couldn’t understand. Her marriage to Aaron’s sterner, cold brother Ned had been miserable. When Ned perished in the blizzard, Celia was more than willing to take a second chance at a new life with someone else.
But if Faith opened her heart to Beau, where would that leave her love for Aaron? Even if Celia were right and Aaron would want her to find happiness again, that didn’t make it feel like any less of a betrayal. What she’d had with Aaron had been perfect—all too short and all too wonderful. It felt wrong to set that aside for someone new.
No matter how much he made her laugh. Or how much he flattered her. Or that his smile made her feel as if her sorrows were a million miles away.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “That’s all I can promise.”
When she saw Celia out, Beau politely opened the door for Faith’s sister and offered to drive her back to her farm. Celia declined and raised her eyebrows at Faith. Faith could almost hear the words that came along with that look.
“I promise,” she said, somewhat crossly.
“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
When Beau shut the door, Faith could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the room back to the counter.
“What did you promise?” he asked.
Faith’s face went warm at the very thought of Beau discovering their conversation. “Nothing important.”
“Hmm. Something so unimportant it makes you turn as red as a ripe apple.” He leaned casually against the counter as Faith resorted an already sorted stack of envelopes. “That makes me even more curious,cher.”
“It’s nothing.” Faith tapped the envelopes into a perfectly neat stack. “And what is that you’re calling me?”
He gave her a slow smile, arms crossed lazily over his chest. “Cher. . . it’s a term of endearment.”
Faith’s cheeks went warm and she stared down at the envelopes.
“Let’s see . . .” he said when she didn’t speak. “It can’t be anything mundane. Was it a promise to bake a pie for your husband?”
Faith eyed him with a look she hoped said he’d be lucky to even get supper.
“No pie? All right . . . Maybe a promise to join your husband for a buggy ride along the river?”
“We can’t leave the telegraph.”
“We can if we get someone to watch it. Perhaps that boy Nate you have fill in sometimes.” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “Or maybe your promise was to listen to your husband’s long-winded stories about his school days? They’re quite entertaining, I assure you. I have one particularly good story involving a spider and an arithmetic lesson.”
When Faith looked up from her envelopes again, he waggled his eyebrows, and she burst out into laughter. “You are incorrigible.”
