“It was poignant, of course, but time well spent. I met Amanda’s precious children, and I visited her grave.” Walsh no doubt wanted more than a simplistic overview that included not a word about Jackson, but this was all she was willing to say untilshe’d had a warm bath and a full night’s rest. “Do I need to rent a carriage to take my trunk home?”
“No. I came in mine. I’ll pull it around and have the baggage handlers load it.”
Like so many times before, Walsh put her needs before his own. He’d gone out of his way to meet her train and provide transportation. He’d taken her not-so-subtle hint and ceased his questioning. And he hadn’t commented on her odor, though it was foul enough that even she could smell it. He was an exceedingly good man.
Landon was waiting in the carriage. “Welcome home, Sis.”
“Did you come as my escort?” she asked as Walsh handed her up to him.
“Yup. I drew the short straw,” he said with a wink.
“I’m second to your equine friends,” she parried with a half-smile, “but I’ve accepted that.”
Landon wrinkled his nose as he scooted closer and handed the reins off to Walsh, but he didn’t comment on her odor either.
Making their way through the line to have her trunk loaded seemed to take forever. Caroline used the last of her energy to remain upright and hold her eyes open through that and the blessedly short ride home.
Walsh helped her down as Landon went in search of a brother to carry her trunk into the house. “I would have helped him,” he remarked, still holding her hand, “but he took off before I could.”
“You’ve done more than enough. Thank you for meeting me at the station.”
His eyes moved back and forth, searching hers. “May I call on you tomorrow?”
Caroline dreaded the conversation that would occur during Walsh’s next visit, but putting it off wouldn’t make it any less hard. And if she decided to return to Nebraska for a second chance with Jackson, she was running out of time.
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “A visit would be welcome. Though not too early, if you don’t mind.”
“How does two o’clock sound?”
“Two will be fine.”
Caroline fell into a boneless, dreamless sleep, but the muscles about her shoulders and neck immediately tightened upon waking, and her stomach grew queasier with every strike of the clock. She had never been a shrinking violet—she could be assertive when the tack was called for—she simply didn’t relish hurting another human being, especially one who had turned out to be so exceptional.
The two-o’clock chimes had barely ended when Walsh’s knock echoed through the house.
Caroline schooled her entire countenance before opening the door and welcoming him. She didn’t want to bare her cards until the time was right, but neither did she want to stir false hope. “Please, forgive the lapse in decorum,” she said, referring to her gray attire. “My crape is still soaking.”
“Think nothing of it. I pressed a call on you before you’d had adequate time to recover from your trip.” He removed his hat and hung it on the rack, along with his coat.
Caroline led him to the parlor, where she’d set out a tea tray with modest refreshments. “You picked a good time. We’ll have the room to ourselves.” Her mother spent this time of day reading to her father, and her brothers would all be gone until supper.
Walsh paused at the game table and pored over sketches of Noah and Jewel that had been unrolled and weighted in preparation for framing. “Are those Amanda’s children?”
“Yes. The sketches arrived this morning.” Jackson must’ve had them made the moment she left.
“They’re lovely—both the sketches and the models who sat for them.”
“My parents are enraptured, as you can imagine.”
Caroline gestured to the settee next to the wingback chair she planned to occupy. The arrangement put some distance between them and served as a gentle insinuation, but it also allowed her to look Walsh in the eye. After being on the other side of a parting poorly done, she held that as absolutely requisite. “Mother wants to hang them across from Father’s bed.”
“That would certainly lift his spirits,” Walsh remarked as they sat.
She poured their tea and handed him his cup. “How have things been here in Greenvale? Any news?”
“Nothing remarkable. The town’s alive with the usual pre-holiday bustle.” Which meant an invitation to at least one party was moving toward the tip of Walsh’s tongue.
Caroline took a sip of her tea, then set it aside and prepared herself to utter the farewell she’d rehearsed countless times since leaving Nebraska. “Thank you again for retrieving me from the station yesterday.”
