Jackson wore the most peaceful expression he had since she arrived, calm and humble with a slight sheen to his eyes. “You were right about Noah. I don’t know what you said to him to take away the anger, but thank you.”
“I just corrected a misunderstanding.”
He held out his hand to her, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it and let him help her up. “Come with me. I’ll show you where I put your trunk.”
Caroline followed Jackson up the stairs and down a short hallway that had two doors.
“I put fresh water in the basin,” he said as he led her to the second one, “and there’s a chamber pot behind the screen.” A lamp on the bedside table cast the room in soft light, and a fire had already been built up in the hearth.
Caroline took in the furniture and decorations. The edges of the curtains had been embroidered with red columbine, her sister’s favorite flower, and Caroline’s trunk sat at the foot of a bed that was covered with a quilt her sister had made for her trousseau. This had been Jackson and Amanda’s room when she was alive, and now it was Jackson’s.
“I wish I had a spare room to offer,” he said, glancing around. “We were planning to add one this spring, but…” His eyes widened when he turned back and saw the scandalized look on her face. “You’ll have it all to yourself, of course.”
“I won’t take your room from you, Jackson.”
“You’re not. I don’t sleep here.”
“Where do you sleep?” She doubted he’d come right out and say Celia’s.
He shrugged. “A chair, the loft.”
Maybe he was lying, maybe not. Regardless– “That’s not conducive to good rest. I don’t see how you have the energy to run a farm.”
“I manage.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “If there’s nothing more you need...”
Caroline almost turned tail and opted for the fluffy chair downstairs. She didn’t want to sleep in Jackson’s bed any more than he did. “There’s not. Goodnight.”
He looked at her with an unreadable expression then left and closed the door.
With her last tinge of energy, Caroline washed her face and laid her dress across the drying rack to air. She didn’t bother changing into nightclothes, just took down her hair and crawled under the covers, wearing her chemise.
Tears leaked between her lashes and dripped onto the pillow as she gave herself over to the blessed oblivion of sleep.
Chapter 12
Caroline bolted upright to the noise of movement downstairs and light coming through the curtains. She’d slept through the rooster’s crow!
Some help you are, she thought as she hurried to dress and pin up her hair. She dashed down the hall and descended the stairs as fast as she could without tripping over her own feet.
Jackson was already seated, calmly sipping his coffee, a spread of steaming biscuits and eggs on the table in front of him. The children had been served and were happily eating.
He must be waiting for her.
“Forgive my tardiness,” she said as she joined him at the table. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Papa said you weren’t to be disturbed,” Noah interjected between bites.
“I appreciate that,” she said to Jackson, as she acquiesced to his you-first gesture and served her plate, “but I wish you’d roused me. I’d planned to cook breakfast, so you wouldn’t have to.”
“I didn’t.”
A woman came through the back door without knocking. Her hair was tied up in a colorful cloth that matched her dress, and her skin was dark and lustrous, like a fine piece of polished walnut minus the grain.
She approached Caroline with a warm smile that reached all the way to her ebony eyes. “You must be Missus Maguire’s sister.” Her smile quickly dimmed to a sympathetic one. “I want you to know how very sorry I am for your loss. That sweet chile was taken far too young.”
“Thank you.”
The woman went to the sitting room. She began lifting dirty clothes from a basket resting on the ottoman of Amanda’s chair and putting them into a canvas bag.
