Ruthann laughed, simply grateful he was interested enough to pose a question to her. “Please, you speak first.”
His eyes lightened some as he looked at her, as if their blunder had pushed away the cloud that had settled over him. “All right. Stuart said your parents were doing well. How is your friend, Miss Parker? And her brothers?”
Ruthann hated to be the one to bear bad news. Norah’s brothers, Jeremy and Charles, had been good friends of Nate and Stuart’s. “Norah is well, as is Charles. He married recently—to Mary Evans, who you may recall.”
“Oh, yes.” Nate’s eyebrows lifted in amusement, and Ruthann bit back a smile. Mary had pined after Charles for years, and he’d finally taken notice.
“Jeremy . . .” There was no kind way to put it. “He’s in the Territorial Prison for robbery and murder.” When Nate glanced down at her in surprise, Ruthann added, “None of us believe he was guilty, of course. But the judge thought otherwise.”
Nate shook his head. He was quiet for a moment as they passed the new schoolhouse. It was larger than the one where they’d all attended school together—some more often than others. Ruthann distinctly remembered Nate and Stuart sneaking off on occasion in the mornings, sometimes with Jeremy or Charles. She’d often watched them go, wishing she could tag along.
As they approached the center of town, Ruthann wondered if Nate was planning to walk her all the way home. Her heart soared at the thought. With each step, her hopes grew a little more.
Until Nate paused just before the hardware store where she’d met him earlier. As her heart was about to plummet, he spoke.
“I wondered—that is, well . . .” He glanced across the road, and Ruthann followed his gaze to a building with a hand-painted sign sitting just above the door.Harper Photographic Studio.
Nate straightened and looked back at her, his jaw carefully set as if he didn’t want to convey any emotion whatsoever. He likely didn’t realize that it gave a pensive look to the sharp angles of his face, where the beginnings of a beard were just beginning to show along his cheeks and chin. Ruthann wondered if it would feel rough beneath her fingers.
Her eyes widened at the thought and she quickly looked away in fear he would know exactly what she was thinking. Her face burned, and she pretended to search for something in her reticule until the heat dissipated from her own cheeks.
“I need to test my equipment,” he finally said. “It would be easier with a subject. Would you mind . . . I mean, would you be interested in sitting for a few photographs?”
Ruthann looked up in surprise. He was asking her to spend more time with him?
“Of course, we would have the front door open. You needn’t fear gossip,” he said.
She was so caught up in the idea that Nate wanted to spend more time with her that the thought of impropriety hadn’t even crossed her mind.
“It’s quite all right,” he said quickly. “You don’t have—”
“Yes! Yes, I would love to help you out,” Ruthann said as quickly as possible.
Nate’s neutral expression brightened. Had she made him happy? She hoped so.
“Thank you,” was all he said.
And then she followed the man she’d loved since she was thirteen years old across the road to his studio.
