An Unlikely Mother. Danica Favorite

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СКАЧАТЬ nodded slowly, her gaze on the others still obviously talking about her. “People think I’m just a mean person. But everything I’ve ever done has been about self-preservation. I suppose I thought that if the negativity was directed at everyone else, no one would have time to turn the cruelty in my direction. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

      Flora looked over at Pierre and smiled at him. The little boy came running back toward her. “Flora!” He chattered at her, smiling.

      George didn’t have to understand the words to understand the genuine affection between the two. If only he had paid better attention in the few French lessons he’d had. Then he could join in their merriment.

      “Teach me,” George said. “You’re good with him. It’s not fair you get to have all the fun.”

      “Basically, Pierre was telling me that his father promised him they’d go fishing when he returned from work. He wanted to ask you if you’d take him fishing, but then he thought it might not be fair to go without his father.” Flora gave him another pretty smile.

      “I told him that perhaps when we find his father, we could all go fishing together.”

      “Somehow I don’t think you fish.” George winked at her, grinning.

      Flora’s cheeks flushed pink. “No, but I would try for Pierre’s sake. I can’t seem to refuse him anything.”

      Once more, George found himself captivated by Flora’s genuine kindness and gentility.

      Her confession about how she’d been treated—and how she’d reacted—only made him want to reach out to her more. To tell her the truth about his past and that he could see how she’d managed to overcome her previous failings to become the kind of woman any person would be honored to know. But his reasons for remaining quiet were so much greater than a woman’s hurt feelings over the petty actions of a few others. As soon as he figured out who was behind the sabotage at the mine, George could tell her everything. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long.

      * * *

      Flora tried to focus more on Pierre’s chattering than on the women complaining about her to Pastor Lassiter. Would their words finally convince him that he’d been mistaken in giving Flora a chance?

      She stole a glance at George, who’d been watching her. What must he think of her, confessing all of her misdeeds like that? Flora wasn’t herself around him. For some reason, she seemed to blurt out the most ridiculous things. Who was he to her that she could speak so freely?

      But who else did she have?

      Sarah Crowley’s shrill laugh reached her ears. Flora knew that laugh. The satisfied sound of achieving victory over one’s rival. Once, she and Sarah had been the best of friends. They’d worked together to bring down the girls they thought threatened their carefully organized social structure. Only, in the end, the only person who’d been brought down was Flora. Now Sarah led the group that had once turned to Flora for guidance.

      Pastor Lassiter approached, the women trailing him. They giggled and whispered behind their fans.

      Flora stood, smiling at him. “I hope you’re here to share good news about Pierre’s father.”

      She’d spent many years perfecting the art of deflection, keeping any negative attention off herself. While it seemed almost wrong to do so now, Flora lacked the strength to face what was bound to be another litany of criticisms.

      Besides, whatever they considered her bad behavior, wasn’t it in the service of another? Not that she’d done anything wrong, of course, but by the way Sarah smirked, they all thought they were really going to get her.

      Pastor Lassiter shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Some folks said that they thought they might have seen a Frenchman living in a tent on the other side of the camp, but I couldn’t find any sign of him. I was hoping you and George would come with me to do some asking around. Maybe if Pierre was with us, someone would recognize him.”

      “Of course,” George said. “Since I was the one to find Pierre, I feel responsible for reuniting him with his father. Besides—” George ruffled the boy’s hair “—I’ve become attached to the little guy.”

      Flora couldn’t help but smile. She, too, had become attached to Pierre. Truth be told, she was becoming attached to George, as well. He was the only person besides Pastor Lassiter and Rose who didn’t judge her, who listened to what she had to say as though he cared about her answers. But she couldn’t imagine her family condoning her involvement with a man so outside their social class.

      Not that she was interested, of course. While she felt comfortable in his presence, he often made her stomach feel...funny. It was a most unusual sensation. Like the time her father had left her alone in the carriage for just a moment, and the horses had taken off on her. Absolutely terrifying. And yet, when the dust settled, she’d been secretly exhilarated. With George, there wasn’t so much terror, and not nearly the level of exhilaration, and yet something in the area that felt like there might be. But this was a man, not a pair of spirited horses.

      Though she supposed it could prove to be just as dangerous.

      But she couldn’t keep herself from smiling as she said, “You know I would be happy to accompany you. I love Pierre dearly, but he deserves to be reunited with his father.”

      The pastor smiled at her. “I’m so glad. I appreciate the time and care you’ve taken with him. As I was telling the others, you are uniquely qualified to watch over Pierre.”

      “Yes, but she’s doing a terrible job of it,” Sarah said, stepping forward as she glared down her aristocratic nose at Flora. “That child stole my favorite shawl, and when I yelled at him, he threw it in the mud and ran away.”

      Flora hadn’t witnessed the incident, but she had seen Sarah screeching at Pierre. She’d stopped her supper preparations and run after the little boy.

      “Pierre was terrified,” Flora said calmly. “As I’ve told you before, he doesn’t speak English, and therefore couldn’t understand what you were saying. Imagine how you would feel if a stranger yelled at you in another language.”

      Pierre came closer to Flora, wrapping his arms around her leg and hiding in her skirts.

      “Well I’m not a thief, and I’m quite civilized, so strangers have no reason to yell at me.”

      “He’s four years old,” Flora said firmly. “There are many things he hasn’t learned yet.”

      She rubbed his back, then pulled him off her skirts so she could kneel in front of him. Very gently, she asked him in French what had happened.

      Tears started flowing down his face before the words came out. Finally, Flora understood.

      “He didn’t mean any harm.” Flora held Pierre close as she spoke to Sarah. “According to Pierre, you’d tossed aside your shawl and it fell off the bench and into the dirt. Pierre thought he was being helpful and went to pick it up. He said it smelled exactly like his mother before she passed away, and it made him miss her. He misses her dreadfully, and now with his father having disappeared, he was feeling lonely. So he wrapped himself in your shawl and used it to feel close to her. When you saw him and started yelling at him, it scared him. He didn’t mean to drop it in the mud. But he was terrified, and you didn’t even СКАЧАТЬ