“I know you don’t. And that’s why I can’t let another day go by without telling you how much I appreciate your friendship.”
Some of the light left his eyes. “That's all you feel for me, isn't it, Caroline? Friendship.”
Caroline's heart ached for Walsh almost as much as it ached for Jackson. He was a good man who’d done nothing wrong. “I...” How could she explain why she still longed for a man who’d abandoned her? She wanted—needed—to get on with her life and allow herself to love someone else, but... “Yes.”
He looked down, a sad smile playing on his lips. “I understand.”
“I’m sorry,” Caroline said in a pained whisper.
Walsh lifted his head and peered into her eyes. “I want you, regardless. We suit, and friendship is more than many couples have. I love you, Caroline. I want to spend my life with you, even if you can never love me back.”
Chapter 8
Late November 1871
Two years later
Amanda Bennet gritted her teeth against a sharp pain in her abdomen as she kneaded bread dough. She paused, drawing a deep breath and willing it to pass.
The pain had started with her monthly flow then persisted. She’d dismissed it as a colicky bowel. But now? It felt more intense than anything she'd experienced, even childbirth.
Still, she did her best to ignore it and focus on the tasks at hand. There was simply too much to be done. Too many people depended on her.
“Mama?” Noah's small voice called from the doorway. “May I help?”
“I need you to keep an eye on your sister.”
“She fell asleep.”
“All right, then. Pull a chair over and stand on it. I'll show you how to shape the loaves.” He was well on his way to five and wanted to be involved in everything.
As she guided Noah's hands, another wave of pain hit. She bit her lip, determined not to let it show. “You're doing very well,” she praised, hoping he wouldn’t notice the strain in her voice. “Can you do the last one by yourself?”
“Um hm,” he said, giving her an exaggerated nod.
The loaf was lumpy and lopsided, but she smiled as if it was as perfect as the others. Turning the job over to him had given her discomfort time to wane.
“What next, Mama?” Noah asked as they covered the loaves to let them rise.
“You can help me hang the laundry on the line.” He’d have to. She’d never tolerate the bending.
“I wish Papa had taken me to town with him,” he groused.
“Maybe next time.”
Amanda allowed Noah to carry one side of the basket, praying with every step that he wouldn’t spill the damp clothes onto the dirt. “Hand me one garment at a time, so I can clip them to the line,” she said as they set the basket on the ground.
Her vision blurred as she straightened up. She steadied herself against a post, breathing deeply.
“Are you all right, Mama?”
She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Hand me that shirt.”
Amanda got the laundry hung with Noah’s help. He looked so proud, carrying the empty basket all by himself as they returned to the house.
Jewel was awake and sitting up in the upholstered chair where she’d fallen asleep, blinking and rubbing her eyes. “Mama,” she called, holding up her arms.
“Get in my lap,” Amanda said as she sat beside her daughter on the chair instead of picking her up. Jewel had just turned two and was heavier than a loaded laundry basket.
