Jackson reached to fork a piece of ham.
“Papa,” Noah exclaimed, “you didn’t say the blessing.”
Jackson pulled his hand back. “You’re right.” He glimpsed Jewel pressing her little hands together as he bowed his head, and it brought tears to his eyes. Why had Ross chosen Amanda as his conquest, and why had she had to die?
Jackson cleared the emotion from his throat. “Bless us, Lord, and the gifts we are about to receive from Thy bounty. We’re grateful for our growing herd, for the generous harvest, and for all Your many mercies, including Caroline. Amen.”
“Amen,” Noah seconded heartily. “That was a good prayer, Papa.”
Jackson looked across the table at Caroline, who was unusually focused on placing her napkin in her lap and doing so with moist eyes. In shielding himself from discomfort, he’d hurt her. Again. “I didn’t mean to sound as if your visit was an imposition. I hope you’ll stay.”
She blinked and searched his face as if sorting flattery from truth.
“Please, Aunt Caroline,” Noah said, with eyes as big as glass marbles.
“All right,” she replied with a small smile. “But just for a couple of days.”
Caroline changed the sheets on the Jewel’s bed and dressed both children warmly—not for a wagon ride, but so they could frolic in the snow. At least, she could make some memories for them before Jackson sent them away.
The wide grin Jewel gave her as she tied on the tot’s knitted wool hat was infectious.
“Do you know how to make a snowball?” Caroline asked.
Jewel shook her head.
“I’ll teach you, but you must promise not to throw them at the house or the animals.”
“Pwomise.”
“I can teach her, too,” Noah said, fastening the last button on his coat. “I make good snowballs.”
Caroline opened the back door, and they took off down the steps. “Careful. Watch out for ice.”
Noah stopped a few feet from the house and looked all around. “I didn’t know it was going to snow,” he said in a panic. “I should have brought the kittens in!”
“I’m sure they’re fine. When cold weather comes, the mother cat rounds them up and takes them someplace warm.”
He looked up at her with a glimmer of hope. “Like the barn?”
“Yes. Or under the house.”
“Oh.”
“Come on,” Caroline said, leading them to a clearing between the house and the paddock where the snow was clean and thick. She showed Jewel how to pack the snow tight and form it. Jewel did the best she could with her tiny mittened hands.
“I’ll make some for her,” Noah offered.
Several minutes later, a battle erupted. Lopsided orbs struck backs, chests, and shoulders, eliciting squeals and exploding into showers of white on impact. Jewel gave up and just danced around, giggling, but Noah proved a worthy opponent.
“Truce!” Caroline called as she ducked to keep from getting smacked in the face. “I’m out of ammunition.”
She and Noah formed more snowballs until they each had a generous stack, then they began throwing again. Caroline got hit more often than not. Still, she laughed as she dodged the frigid projectiles, feinting this way and that. Melted snow dripped into her collar and seeped through her skirts. It would take hours sitting by the fire to dry out, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t had this much fun in years.
Not since before Jackson went to war.
Drawn by the sound of laughter in the distance, Jackson walked up from the pasture and leaned against the shady side of the barn. The sight of Caroline laughing and throwing snowballs brought a smile to his face. It was good to see her happy. Jewel and Noah, too.
This was the life he had wanted. Lying in his tent at night, he’d imagined scenes just like this one countless times. They kept him going, kept him sane. Kept him fighting to stay alive so he could come back home and marry the woman he loved.
