“It’s all right,” Noah said. “You’re a guest.”
Jackson bowed his head and said a simple prayer of thanks for the meal. Beyond that, he didn’t speak, just drank his milk and nibbled on his sandwich.
The children did the same.
Caroline ate quietly, thinking how she might engage them in conversation. She was on the verge of choosing the better of two topics when Jackson scooted his chair back and rose.
“Excuse me,” he said, as he wrapped what was left of his sandwich in his napkin and tucked it in his pocket. “I have work to do.” He’d barely looked at her, or his children, for that matter.
Caroline watched his back as he left then resumed eating her lunch.
“He always has work to do,” Noah grumbled.
She let the comment go unremarked. Running a farm wasn’t easy, but Noah didn’t need a lecture on something Jackson was likely using as an escape.
“Would either of you like another sandwich,” Caroline asked when they’d all cleaned their plates.
“No, thank you,” Noah said.
“Bid’ness.Bid’ness,” Jewel exclaimed.
Caroline looked to Noah.
“That means she needs to do her business.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “There’s a pot in the washroom. I can take her.” He waited for Caroline to lift Jewel out of her chair then led her to a small room at the edge of the kitchen.
While he was gone, Caroline cleared the table. He and Jewel returned as she was washing the dishes.
“Need some help?” Noah asked.
Caroline paused and looked over her shoulder. “Do you know how to dry?”
“Yes.” He dragged a chair from the table and placed it next to her then climbed up and stood on it.
Caroline handed Noah a towel and a rinsed, dripping plate then watched him out the corner of her eye.
He dried it well enough and set it on the sink.
“Once the chores are done,” she said as they worked, “we can do something of our choosing. What do you and Jewel like to do in your spare time?”
He stared at the plate in his hand with a serious look. “We like to play with the kittens.”
“You have kittens?”
“We do—five of them.”
Jewel ran over and tugged on Caroline’s skirt. “Kit-tens!”
“Well,” Caroline said, smiling down at the grinning tot, “kittens it is.”
Once they’d finished tidying up the kitchen, Noah led her out back and rounded up the tiny cats. They appeared to be just past weaning age, two blacks, two calicos, and one orange.
“Which one would you like?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I like them all.”
He scooped two of the kittens up and handed a calico to her. “The orange one is my favorite,” he said, cradling a squirming ball of fiery fluff.
“They’re so soft,” Caroline said, lifting her cat up and brushing her cheek against its fur.
