“I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand, but he held it fast. Her cheeks bloomed so impossibly pink in the fire glow he had no choice but to drift his fingertips across them. In comfort, to be true, but his heart beat itself up anyway. “I meant, because you’ve lived in the Dominion of Canada.”
“I took no lasting offense upon that question.” His hand cupped her jaw just for another flash, long enough to feel the pulse in her neck that matched his. But he moved away fast so as not to be considered forward, and to hope his heart didn’t give up its own ghost. “Now return to your story, if you’ve a mind.”
She smiled. “I insisted Emmett was my dream. That his dreams were mine. But what Mama knew already, I had to find out all by myself...dreams don’t always come true. Then...” Lila swallowed hard and rubbed her neck with her free hand. “My brothers sided with Papa, of course. I’ve got one on both sides. How could they not? They’d lose their jobs and houses otherwise.”
“So you left them all behind?” Had it ached her doing so as much as it ached him just to say the words?
She breathed slower. “Not immediately. It was a struggle, but Emmett was as convincing as he could be. Then Mama, my darling Mama, died in a carriage accident. I knew then I could leave with no regrets. There was no one left for me in Cape Girardeau.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. My heart broke then upon losing her, and breaks anew, but I think I see clearly, now. Papa was harsh with her, too. Over practically everything.” She stared at the fire, but her fingers tickled his. “Had she a teaching certificate of her own, I sometimes wonder if she would have stayed.” Candles flickered in the shadows of her eyes. “Six months after we wed, I told the rest of them farewell and came to Leadville willingly.”
“Likely they were angry you loved him more than them.”
Her head moved in surprise. “I was very much in love. But it wasn’t a contest.”
Was in love? “Well, this is quite the tale of goodness and hurt,” he said, wondering how it was to be very much in love. He’d thought he’d found it with Rebekah, but...pain stabbed his heart again. “Such a fine thing, supporting your man.”
Lila sighed, long and deep. “Emmett discovered Leadville as a place of both great wealth and great sin. He could found a church and use the generous offering plate from the silver barons to save the less fortunate.”
“A very noble cause.”
“Yes.” Her face changed again, but he felt it rude to ask why.
“He sounds quite a gentleman.” Bronx tried to comfort. “Seems a harsh God, taking him from such holy work.”
“Pneumonia, two years ago this month. It took his breath, took him quick, but not before he made last arrangements. Um… made me promise to continue his calling.”
“Seems a bit unfair. A widow woman might want to return to her homeland.”
“Well, you know the truth of that, now. I did wire my father upon Emmett’s death, but never received any kind of condolence.”
Surprise touched him as unsaid possibility. “Maybe the wire got lost. Missent?”
Lila shrugged. “No matter. I’d never go back. Things were said, you know. But none of this is unfair a single bit. Not at all. Never. For better or worse, you know.”
“But death had parted you.”
“Indeed. But it was a promise I could not break.”
“Do you ever want to?”
“Want to what? Go home. No.”
Heat flushed through him. “Nope. Not that. I mean, break that promise.”
Eyes as bleak as midwinter stared at him in the firelight. She held her hands to her face and whispered into them.
“Not until today,” was what he thought he heard.
It seemed natural, then, to tuck the quilt firmer around her knees and push her head to rest against his shoulder.
Chapter Six
Morning reached through the windows with little gold fingertips and tickled Lila’s eyelids.
“What? Where?” She stirred to quick life, but couldn’t move, not with Bronx’s arm holding her close against his chest. Delight mixed with mortification and swam through her veins. What had happened? He smiled at her but didn’t wake up when she moved away.
Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. It had been years, much longer than widowhood, since she’d slept in a man’s arms. And even on a hard, homemade church pew, she found her muscles satisfied and warm. Surely, she might enjoy a few gentle minutes.
Then reality swamped her. Mr. Dykstra! She jumped to her feet.
“Wha-” Bronx shook alert and peered, confused, about the tumble of blankets.
“Mr. Dykstra! It’s already morning, and I didn’t check him a single time in the night. Did you?”
Bronx ran long fingers through his hair, stared at them for a second as if seeing something he didn’t like, then wiped them across his knees. He stood up next to her. “Nope, I did not. Likely he slept through. Didn’t hear no coughing.”
Dread swamped her shoulders. “I didn’t either. What if that means he’s died in the night!”