He’d excused himself to change out of the suit into something he felt he could breathe in, and when he returned, he found Lina in the kitchen, stirring a pot of something that smelled like potato soup with an apron tied around the pretty pink dress she’d worn to their ceremony.
“I’m absolutely starving,” she said when she saw him.
Hawk hadn’t given much thought to his stomach, but now that the scent of potatoes and ham filled the air, it growled in response. He busied himself with retrieving what was left of yesterday’s bread, and by the time they sat to eat, it felt almost normal. Lina’s instinct to make food was a good one. It was much easier to grow used to their new status as husband and wife over a meal than sitting awkwardly together in the parlor.
The soup tasted better than anything Hawk had eaten in months. It seemed he couldn’t shovel it into his mouth fast enough. As he fished the last hunk of his bread around the bowl to gather every last bit of the soup, he found Lina watching him. Hawk paused, bread halfway between the bowl and his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve eaten alone for so long I haven’t had cause to think much on politeness when it comes to food.”
She gave him a smile—one that seemed almost wistful. “It isn’t that. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I was marveling at how you use the bread. My brother does the exact same when we have soup.”
Hawk chewed the last bit of bread and thought on what she said. She’d written that she lived with her brother, who was only a couple of years younger than she was. If Lina was twenty, that would make her brother about eighteen years of age. “I’m sure you miss him.”
Lina swallowed, letting her spoon still in her bowl. She looked down, and Hawk had a hunch it was to keep him from seeing exactly how much she missed her home and her brother. “I do,” she finally said in a quiet voice. “Matthew . . . he depended on me.”
“I’m certain he did.” Hawk pushed his bowl to the side, and studied the concern on Lina’s face as she looked up at him. “It’s good for a man to have to do for himself, though.”
“Matthew is different.” She swallowed again, the remainder of her soup forgotten. “When we were children, he took a bad fall from a horse. We don’t know exactly how it happened, but he hit his head. And ever since then . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, and Hawk couldn’t tell if it was from the memory or from simply missing her brother.
He instinctively reached for her hand, which rested on the table next to her bowl. Her eyes flew open as his palm curled around the back of her hand. Her fingers stiffened, but then as she looked down to where his hand rested on hers, the muscles relaxed. Hawk had the distinct feeling that no one had comforted Lina in a very long time.
“He has convulsions. They come regularly enough that I never dared leave him alone for too long. There was no telling when one might happen. Sometimes while he sleeps, but other times while working or simply standing near the stove or too close to something else that could injure him if he falls. Our papa refused to see him placed in an asylum, as more than one doctor recommended. And I agreed.”
Hawk’s attention went from the feel of Lina’s small fingers beneath his to the worry underpinning her words. “Where is he now?”
“Staying with some neighbors who are dear friends. They have multiple children, all of whom adore Matthew. I know he’s well looked after, and yet . . .”
Hawk let out a breath. Her worry over her brother was palpable. And it triggered emotions inside of him that he hadn’t thought on for some time, of the way he’d felt after leaving home. “Would you like to send for him?” The words were out of his mouth before he had throughly considered them, but as the offer lingered in the air between them, Hawk knew it was the right decision.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open just a little. “You would do that for me?”
He squeezed her hand. “Of course. He’s your family, and your family is now my family.”
Lina’s eyes grew watery, and she blinked quickly as she looked away. “That is very kind, and something I wish were possible. But I fear Matthew cannot travel all this way on his own.” She extracted her hand from beneath his and stood, taking his bowl and carrying it to the pot on the stove. “He’s in good hands, and I must be brave without him.”
She set a full bowl of soup in front of him and smiled. “But I thank you for your generosity. It was hard to leave him after it having been only the two of us for so long. Have you any siblings?”
He’d written to her of his parents—his mother still in Texas and his father long ago deceased—but, he realized with her question, he’d not mentioned any other of his family. “I have two older sisters and a younger brother. They’ve all remained near home, and I’m afraid I haven’t seen any of them in years.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lina replied, stirring what remained of her soup.
“It was difficult at first, but I’ve grown used to it now. Although I’ve never stopped missing them.” He hoped it was the right thing to say. It was the truth, after all, and he thoroughly understood her feeling somewhat bereft without her brother nearby.
Lina gave him a soft smile. “I suppose it does become easier with the passage of time.”
Hawk spoke more on his siblings’ families—the nieces and nephews he’d never met—before finishing his meal and excusing himself to check in on Garland at the office.
Garland and Jackson eyed him as if he’d lost his mind when he arrived, and after assuring him that Turley had offered up no additional information about the men he’d been riding with—only that he’d mentioned he used to ride with the outlaw Joseph Grayson—they essentially pushed Hawk back out the door.
He took half of an hour to walk about the town to reassure himself that all was well, particularly after yesterday’s stagecoach robbery. When all seemed in order, he returned home as the sun began its descent in the west. He found Lina sitting comfortably in the parlor, some sort of mending piled upon her lap.
“Is all well in Perseverance?” She looked up at him with a welcoming smile, her sewing paused on her lap.
“It is.” Hawk settled himself on the settee, the place that had served as a bed to him the night before. He wondered briefly if it would again tonight.
That question was answered soon enough, when after making some inconsequential conversation about weather and the oncoming arrival of autumn, Lina replaced her sewing into a small bag and stood.
“If it’s all the same to you,” she said as Hawk rose also. “I believe I will go on to sleep.” She paused by the stairs.
