“How has it been with not having Brian and Hank here all the time?”
He clenched his jaw before letting out a breath. “Not that I’d say so to them.... Hard. Empty. Lonely.” As he spoke, his openness surprised him.Ivy makes talking so easy.“But they’re thriving,” he hurried to say, watching her from the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t want to impinge on their happiness. I don’t want them to feel guilty…to be obligated to stay here for us.”
Ivy nodded her understanding.
“Jewel’s been sad. Restless. She asks about them all the time.” Torin lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know how to help her understand why they are gone and when they’ll return. I don’t want to turn her against Elsie and Cora, as if they’ve taken the men away.”
“What if,” Ivy ventured, “you made her a calendar, scratched off the days…?”
He shook his head. “The weather’s too uncertain to keep to a schedule or make plans to meet. I don’t want to promise her that we’ll see, for example, Hank and Elsie on a Sunday afternoon. But then it snows, which means they can’t come. Finding time to drive up here for a visit on the short winter days is hard enough. Neither Hank nor Brian owns a surrey or sleigh. They arethinking of acquiring vehicles. But then there’s storage, training a horse or horses to pull, or buying one or more just for driving.”
She kept her gaze on Jewel. “Makes sense.”
“You were lucky yesterday. Not too cold. Roads hard. No snow, little ice.” He sent her a sidelong glance and partial smile. “Practically perfect driving weather.”
She gave a dramatic shiver. “Not too coldfelt pretty cold to me.”
“Probably because you were outside for several hours. Believe me, our cold weather can get much worse.”
“I can endure the cold longer for a chance to enjoy nature close up.” She waved her arm in a circling motion to indicate their surroundings. “Instead of watching through a train window.”
“I can guarantee the snowdrops are blooming. They usually poke through the snow in February.” Looking back, he couldn’t believe he and Jewel hadn’t checked. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much their gloomy moods impacted their activities.
“I’ve seen snowdrops in Central Park a few times. They are such a hopeful flower, aren’t they? Courageous, too, for such delicate blooms, pushing through the snow to let us know what seems like an endless winter will eventually give way to spring.”
“Snowdrops aren’t native to Montana. But Jewel loves flowers, and when she was a toddler, I sent for the bulbs and planted them. They’ve spread since, and I’ve also transplanted many to help them cover more ground.”
“Have you planted other bulbs?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “And spoil the surprise?”
She giggled. “Guess I’ll have to wait.”
The small exchange of levity made being with her feel more comfortable.
The path curved to expose a wide swath of dainty, white flowers covering the ground on each side, winding around treetrunks and a large boulder, and extending forward about twenty feet. Their honey-like fragrance permeated the air.
Ivy gasped, stopped, and placed a hand on her heart. “It’s like a fairy tale,” she breathed out the words.
Torin couldn’t help the pride welling up inside. He’d wanted to create a magical place for his daughter and hadn’t realized how having someone else appreciate his efforts would feel. “Jewel likes to gather a bouquet.” He pulled small sewing scissors from his pocket and handed them over, handles first. “My guess is you will too.”
Her bright smile illuminated her pretty face, transforming her from pretty to beautiful, stunning him almost like a push of energy to his chest. He fought not to step back.
Jewel turned, grinning, and waved her close. “Look, Ivee.” She squatted beside the path and gently touched one bell-shaped bloom. “Pre-tee.”
Seemingly unaware of her effect on him, Ivy took the scissors and hastened over to Jewel. She crouching next to his daughter, heedless of the hem of her dress dragging on the ground. “So pretty, aren’t they? Your papa says we can take some home. But we mustn’t cut them all from the same area. You point out the ones you want, and I’ll gather them for you. Your papa has big hands. He can hold them for us.”
“Pa-pa, big hans.”
Ivy chuckled, twisting to look up at him. “Did she just gift you with a nickname?”
“I’ll carry your flowers, but I refuse to be calledPapa Big Hands,” Torin said with mock sternness. “That is, unless you reconsider the name ofJust Ivy.”
Did I just make a joke?The idea was so foreign, he had to stop and think.I tease Hank and Brian. Just not very often.
“All right.” She obviously attempted to sound sorrowful. “No Papa Big Hands.” She glanced at Jewel. “Which flower should we cut first?”
Torin watched them, amused by Ivy receiving her first taste of Jewel-time—how the deliberation over which flower to choose made the task take three times as long. He suspected the woman’s legs were burning from the uncomfortable position, and he had to give her credit for not hurrying his daughter along.
