As if she cared deeply for him.
“You ought to have seen the way he skittered out of the house,” she was saying, a laugh sailing through her voice. “You’d have thought I caught him stealing cookies instead of spending time with Mrs. White.”
“He spoke of her at length yesterday,” Mitchell said as he nudged Trip around a hole, remembering the hopeful look in George’s eyes as he talked about Mrs. White.
“Did you hear the story of how Arlen and Josie met?”
“Let me guess. He came looking for work, and she fell immediately for his charming ways and good looks?” He slid a gaze over to Lara, unable to conceal a grin.
She laughed. “Now you’re making up your own stories.”
“Am I?”
That blush he was hoping to see colored her cheeks. “Do you want to hear the story or not?” When he gestured that he did, she continued. “Josie had lost her first husband—a man her father insisted she marry—in a terrible blizzard that killed nearly all the men in town. Pastor Collins was pushing the ladies in town to remarry quickly, which Josie wanted no part of. But George got the idea that marrying again might settle her down, so he sent for a man on her behalf.”
Mitchell arched an eyebrow. “George didn’t place much value on his own life, did he?”
Lara smiled. “I don’t think he thought it through. But Arlen ended up being that man, so it must have worked out. Although he once told me that Josie tried more than once to run him off.” She paused. “I always thought it interesting that George was so invested in finding a husband for Josie, and yet he never found a wife for himself.”
The answer was obvious to Mitchell. “He never met the right woman.”
“Perhaps.” She watched him for a second as he kept his eyes on the terrain ahead. “Is that true for you?”
Mitchell nearly choked on his own saliva. Goodness, but this woman could be direct. He slid a gaze toward her. “I suppose it was.”
“Was?”
He let her question linger in the air, offering instead a smile before turning to look ahead again.
“Well, you know all about my family. My little brothers, my parents, and everyone here. And I still know nothing of yours, save that you have one.”
“Had.” The bright day felt a little colder, a little darker.
“I’m sorry.” The hitch in her voice made him look up. Her pretty blue eyes were somber, and empathy radiated from her. He imagined that if they weren’t on horseback, she might reach over and take his hand.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about them, but I’d love to hear your memories if you care to share them.”
It was possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. She didn’t ask how he’d lost them. She only wanted to know what he’d loved about them.
The pain seemed to split in half, and up from the middle, like a volcano on some faraway island, the memories came pouring out. The good ones, the ones that made life on the ranch feel so familiar.
“One Christmas,” he said hesitantly. “My father made my two youngest sisters—they were twins—a little rocking horse. You ought to have seen my other sister when they opened it. She was only about a year older than them, and she broke down in wails and tears. We all thought she’d gotten over it, but the next day the rocking horse disappeared. Mama found it later on, hidden in the corner of Becky’s bedroom, covered over with quilts. When Mama told her she needed to apologize for taking it, Becky crossed her arms and asked for an apology for Mama giving her two little sisters.”
Lara laughed. “I think I would’ve liked Becky.”
“You would have. I wish . . .” Mitchell trailed off. He’d never put those thoughts into words before, the ones that covered the gaping hole in his heart where his family had once lived.
Lara looked at him, clearly waiting for him to finish the thought.
It would be easy to swallow it, keep it right where he had for ten years now. But it pushed to be spoken, and maybe . . . Maybe it would help to lay it bare. Let it out in the world instead of keeping it hidden inside.
“I wish I’d been able to know her grown up. Her and my brother and the twins.” He swallowed. There it was, part of his very soul lifted out for all to see.
Except it wasn’t all the world. It was only Lara.
And she looked at him now without pity, but with his own sadness reflected in her eyes. “How old was she when . . .” She swallowed. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer that.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Twelve. Calvin was fourteen and the twins were eleven.”
