Wolf Creek Wedding. Penny Richards
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Название: Wolf Creek Wedding

Автор: Penny Richards

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Исторические любовные романы

Серия:

isbn: 9781472014467

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ corner beyond the tracks that ran a block down from and parallel to Antioch. The funeral home was situated at the rear of the house, added a few years before, when Rachel’s father, Dr. Edward Stone, had suffered a stroke that left him partially paralyzed.

      Caleb rode around back, tied his horse to the hitching post and stepped through the doorway of the funeral parlor. Edward, who sat behind a gleaming desk, looked up when he heard the bell on the door ring, a solemn expression on his lined face. He rolled his wheelchair around to greet Caleb with his hand extended.

      “I’m sorry, Caleb.”

      Caleb only nodded.

      “Bart and Mary picked out a casket and brought her a dress. I didn’t think you’d mind.” When Caleb shook his head, the older man said, “She’s ready, if you want to go on in.”

      Caleb nodded, though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He entered the viewing room, where Emily lay dressed in a frilly gown of pale pink, her favorite color. Her dark lashes lay against the delicate paleness of her cheeks. If he didn’t know better, he might think she was sleeping.

      Dry-eyed, he stared down at the woman who had been a part of his life the past six years, waiting for the grief to overtake him and wondering if he should pray. But grief for losing a beloved wife did not come, and he had no idea what he could—or should—say to a God with whom he’d had so few dealings. The only sorrow he could define was sadness that Emily had been taken in her prime and would not be there for Betsy.

      There was guilt aplenty.

      Guilt aggravated by the nagging memory of the jolt that had passed through him when his fingers had touched those of Abby Carter. What kind of man was he to feel anything for any woman so soon after his wife’s death?

      The answer was clear. He was, perhaps, a man who hadn’t tried hard enough to make his marriage a good one. A man who’d let someone else plan his marriage and shape his life...which might explain that unexpected awareness of Mrs. Carter but certainly did not excuse it.

      He and Emily were both twenty-four when they married. Pretty enough, but thought to be a bit uppity, she was considered to be the town spinster. Caleb’s father had instigated the notion of his marrying her. His father stated that since Gabe, whom Lucas Gentry bitterly referred to as the “prodigal,” had shown no signs of abandoning his wayward lifestyle to come home and share the burden of labor, it was past time for his elder son to choose a wife and sire a son to inherit the Gentry fortune.

      Emily’s parents had encouraged her to accept Caleb’s offer—most probably her last. So they married and lived with Lucas in the house he had built for his own wife, Caleb and Gabe’s mother, Libby.

      Unfortunately, Lucas had died of a stroke three years ago, without seeing the birth of his grandchild. More regrettable perhaps was the fact that despite the tales Caleb had heard about love often following marriage, for him and Emily it had not.

      Until now, he had never questioned why. They’d both been content to let the days slip by...sharing a house but not their lives, treating each other with respect but not love, neither of them caring enough to look for a spark of something that might be fanned into the flames of love. In retrospect, he found that troubling, but then, what did he know of love? He and Gabe had lost their mother to another man at a young age, and love was a sentiment foreign to their embittered father.

      Father. He was a father now, and he hoped to be a better one than Lucas Gentry had been. He would be better. He might not know anything about loving his daughter, but he knew how to take care of her. Duty and obligation were things Caleb Gentry understood very well. And he would let her choose her husband when the time came.

      Chapter Three

      With a few free moments before starting the evening meal, Abby poured herself a cup of coffee and sank into a kitchen chair. Emily’s funeral service had been held that morning, and Caleb had yet to return from town. Laura and Betsy were down for their afternoon naps, and Ben was taking advantage of the sunny afternoon, playing on the back porch with the wooden train set William had made him last Christmas.

      The two days since she and the children had arrived at the Gentry farm had been somewhat stressful as they tried to adjust to their new home and responsibilities, but with the absence of any further mishaps or misunderstandings, Abby felt she was beginning to find her stride.

      She took a sip of her coffee and contemplated what to fix for supper, which turned her thoughts to Caleb. In an effort to please her new employer, she had asked what he did and didn’t like to eat, and he had informed her that not liking something was a luxury he and his brother had not been allowed. He ate everything, and she soon learned he ate a lot of it, tucking into a meal as if it might be his last. So much food might have made another man overweight, but Caleb was as fit any male she’d ever seen.

      She’d learned a bit about him the past couple of days. His work ethic could not be faulted. The care he took with his animals and the upkeep of the farm spoke of concern, dedication and pride in his accomplishments, which was reflected by his affluence. In fact, he worked from sunrise until sunset with an intensity she understood too well, readying the farm for winter wheat planting between visits from the few neighbors who came to offer food and condolences.

      Abby was a bit surprised that there were not as many visitors as she might have imagined considering the Gentry family’s long-standing presence in the community. She was also surprised at how uncomfortable he seemed with accepting their simple kindnesses.

      She understood filling your days with work in an attempt to hold the pain of loss at bay, but she did not comprehend his awkwardness in accepting well-meaning compassion from people who wanted to show they cared. It was almost as if he didn’t know how to deal with their kindness.

      He seemed to be trying his best to make her job easier, always giving a polite answer to her questions about the workings of his household, and plenty of leeway to take care of Betsy in whatever way she thought was best. Still, in no way could his actions be interpreted as friendly. Sometimes she caught him looking at her with a strange expression that seemed to straddle the fence between skepticism and remorse.

      She often caught him regarding the children with wary uncertainty, sometimes giving them looks that dared them to so much as breathe, but he also tried in a heavy-handed way to engage them in various ways. Despite how painful accepting their presence might be, Abby couldn’t help feeling that he was doing his best, even though his best lacked enthusiasm or warmth and more often than not fell short.

      There had been one sticky moment that first evening when he had started eating the squirrel and dumplings she had brought from home, only to be halted by Ben who regarded him in disbelief and said, “We didn’t say the prayer.”

      Looking somewhat abashed, Caleb had stopped, bowed his head and listened while Ben gave thanks for the food. He had never forgotten after that. It was a small thing, but one for which Abby was grateful. She was also grateful that other than to show up for meals, she had seen little of him, which made everyone’s life easier, especially the days she recalled the unexpected spark she’d felt when their fingers touched. Labeling it a figment of her imagination made it no less troubling.

      The morning after her arrival, Caleb had taken Frank, one of his two hired men and a wagon to her place where they’d rounded up her few remaining chickens, the rabbits and their cages, and Nana, one in a long string of goats she and William had purchased because Ben had not tolerated cow’s milk well. They had tethered Shaggy Bear, her milk cow, to the wagon, loaded what feed she had and brought the whole kit and caboodle back to his place. СКАЧАТЬ