Mr. Hixon took the pillow from her, glancing at it and then grinning at her. “I surely do appreciate it, Mrs. Lee. I want you to know I wasn’t asking for anything, and—”
“Please,” she said. “No one is using that pillow. It’s doing no one any good just lying there in an unused room.”
“Well, I thank you then.” He clutched the pillow in his arms, looking every inch like a boy who’d just caught the biggest fish in the creek.
Catherine smiled as she watched him go upstairs to his room. This boarding house was exactly what she needed. After living so long in that little one-room house with only an occasional visit from Beth and with Harlan’s presence—when he deigned to return home after a night of drinking—being here, among all these people, and being able to do little things to help make their days brighter lifted her own spirits.
She wondered if this was why Jonathan chose to open a boarding house. Perhaps he, too, enjoyed the constant companionship. She bit her lip as she glanced at the grandfather clock in the parlor. He’d left so early this morning and hadn’t yet returned. She needed to tell him about the baby—preferably before they found themselves in front of the pastor.
The front door closed behind her, and she turned. Jonathan stood in the doorway, removing his hat and coat. Catherine smiled at him even as her heart started beating so fast she worried he’d hear it.
He’s a good man. Mrs. Bell’s words repeated in her mind. She had to be brave and keep faith that Mrs. Bell was right. But just as she started to open her mouth, he spoke first.
“I need to speak with you.” His voice was even and patient, but lacked its usual jovial tone. Moreover, he frowned slightly as he spoke.
Catherine swallowed as she nodded. Something was wrong. Had he changed his mind about her? She forced herself to keep her hands at her sides, else she start twisting them together.
He led the way through the parlor and the hall to the little room that served as his office. Catherine shut the door behind them. Now was as good a time as any, she figured. As long as he hadn’t entirely decided against marrying her, she would tell him now about the baby she carried.
He stood behind his desk, resting his hands on the wood. He said nothing right away, and Catherine stood awkwardly on the other side, waiting.
Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes more brown than green in the shadows of the room. “I had business at the livery this morning and saw Mrs. Denzinger.”
Catherine smiled at the mention of the friendly younger woman she’d met earlier that morning. Mrs. Denzinger had gone out of her way, bringing her baby with her, to say hello to Catherine and to welcome her to town. Whatever in the world could Jonathan find disagreeable about Mrs. Denzinger?
“She came by to visit me this morning. She was very welcoming,” Catherine said, placing her hand on her stomach.
Jonathan’s eyes darted to her hand. Catherine removed it and dropped it to her side. But then his eyes found hers, and he looked at her in a way that made her heart ache.
“So it’s true,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Pardon me?” But even as she said the words, Catherine feared she understood his meaning. “You’re speaking of the baby.” The words came out in a whisper.
He said nothing in response but continued to watch her. His jaw was set, and his body was rigid. One glance at him indicated he was angry, and his eyes were glazed with hurt.
Guilt clawed its way up inside Catherine. “I’d planned to tell you. I . . . I tried to last night, but . . . And then I thought I would this morning, but you’d already gone.” She closed her eyes. This wasn’t working. She was making excuses, and he likely thought she’d intended to trap him into marriage to give her child a name.
She opened her eyes again and raised her chin. “The baby is my late husband’s. I didn’t learn of my situation until after I’d boarded the train to come here. I would never have kept this a secret had I known. And I . . . well . . .” She swallowed. She couldn’t bring herself to speak of the babies she’d lost over the years. It was too much for right now, and besides, by some miracle, she still carried this one.
Jonathan kept his eyes on her, that hurt still present despite the set of his jaw.
“I hope I have not disappointed you, although I am sorry I didn’t say anything yesterday.” She paused and squared her shoulders. “There is nothing shameful about my situation, however, and so I will not apologize for that.”
Across the desk from her, Jonathan regarded her for another moment before finally relaxing his stance. “I understand.”
She thought she’d never heard words so beautiful. Her shoulders relaxed. “You do?”
He nodded as he ran a hand through his dark hair, and Catherine’s heart tripped over itself. He was a devastatingly handsome man, and all she wanted was for those arms to wrap around her and pull her close, letting her know that all would be well.
You are being foolish, she told herself, even as she couldn’t take her eyes off Jonathan. Foolishness was what found her married to Harlan, and she wouldn’t cave to such emotions again. If Jonathan accepted her—oh, how she hoped he would!—it would be only for practical purposes. A place to live. Food to eat. And perhaps even a purpose here, serving others.
But not love.
“I understand,” he repeated. “But I need some time to think about this.”
Catherine pushed her lips together to force away the emotion that rose despite her promise to herself. “All right,” she said, her traitorous voice cracking.
A flicker of some emotion—empathy, perhaps—crossed Jonathan’s face and then settled in his eyes again. It reminded Catherine of something her mother had often said.The eyes are the windows to the soul. She’d never thought much about it, but the saying rang true when it came to Jonathan.
