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       Chapter One

      Although moments ago she’d seen Teddy White out the window and watched him walking across the field that separated the house from town, the quick knock on the door startled Hannah Olsen so fully, the papers she’d been stacking scattered across the table and onto the chair. Hannah sucked in a deep breath and scooped the papers into a pile before calling, “Come in.”

      Teddy stepped in quickly and closed the door behind him. “Good day, Mrs. Olsen,” he said while removing his narrow-brimmed hat. “Fiona asked if I could stop by and pick up your etchings.”

      Having grown used to people adding “Mrs.” to her name Hannah no longer flinched at that. However, a flutter happened inside her—and it wasn’t her unborn child. Teddy’s voice did that to her, and she should have prepared herself for it. For months, her heart had taken to fluttering whenever he was near, and lately, it had gotten worse.

      Forcing herself to speak around the frog in her throat, she said, “Yes, thank you, Mr. White.” Shaken enough already, she kept her attention on the papers and wooden blocks. Looking at him would only make the flutters worse. “I’m sorry I didn’t have them completed earlier, but I do now.”

      “I’m sorry Abigail insisted upon so many this week.” He stepped closer to the table. “It’s because of the holiday. She wants plenty of pictures in the Thanksgiving edition.”

      His sincerity surpassed her will not to look at him. Tiny specks of snow clung to his leather jacket, which was the same shade of brown as his eyes. Genuine regret sat in those eyes today. Hannah had seen that before. He often apologized for his sister.

      “It wasn’t too many,” she assured, while stepping away from the table. “I just let time slip away when I shouldn’t have.”

      “I’m sure you’re busy with many other things,” he said.

      Hannah’s hands went to her stomach. She had very little to do, except worry. Her father had said her baby would be ridiculed for not having a father, just like Herb Lundberg had been. A day hadn’t gone by where Herb hadn’t been blamed for something, even on the days he hadn’t been in school. That wouldn’t happen to her child. She’d make sure of it. That’s why she’d left Wisconsin, and would never go back. Not about to admit all that to Teddy, she searched for something else to say. “The wind is bitter today.”

      “Yes, it is,” Teddy said with a smile, and a glance toward the stove.

      “Oh, would you like a cup of coffee?” She squeezed her hands together to quell their shaking. Teddy stopped by the house regularly to visit with Brett, but this was the first time they’d been alone together.

      “If it’s no trouble.”

      “None at all,” she said while forcing her feet to walk across the room to the cupboard. “Fiona keeps a pot on the stove for Brett. He always comes home a couple of times during the day.” She had no idea why she said that. Other than because babbling might help. It didn’t. Her heart thudded even faster now.

      “I stopped and saw Brett on the way here,” Teddy said.

      Hannah nodded as she took down two cups. Teddy and Brett were close friends, which is why she’d been given the job of etching pictures into the blocks of wood for the newspaper. Her grandfather had taught her the skill years ago, mainly as a way to keep her busy. Having been born eight years after her next older sister, she’d spent most every winter in the care of her grandparents while the rest of her family had been out in the woods cutting lumber for their logging company. Perhaps that’s why she enjoyed winter. She had many wonderful memories of staying with her grandparents during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

      The time she spent living with Gram and Pappy had been fun and peaceful. There had been no fights, no blame, no hate.

      “Hannah?”

      Turning about, she pinched her lips as she looked at Teddy, hoping a bit of what he’d said had filtered through her musing.

      “If you’d prefer I didn’t attend, that’s fine,” he said.

      Her musing had been too thick, leaving her with no idea what he referred to. “I’m sorry.” She filled a cup and held it out. “I didn’t hear what you said. I—uh—I was thinking of the holidays up home.”

      “Holidays can be tough to get through those first few years.” He took the cup. “It does get easier.”

      His parents had died years before, some of the women in the quilting club had mentioned that, and how he and his sister, Abigail, had settled in other towns before ending up in Oak Grove. From what had been said, Abigail had stirred up trouble in those towns, which is why they’d packed up and left.

      “Thank you,” Hannah replied. “I’m sure it will.”

      Cupping his coffee cup with both hands, he glanced around before he said, “Earlier, I’d said that Brett has invited me to Thanksgiving dinner, but if you’d prefer I didn’t attend, I’d understand.”

      “That would not be up to me, Mr. White,” she said. “This is Brett and Fiona’s home. I would never dream of implying one way or the other that someone was not welcome here.”

      “I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “That’s why I mentioned it in private. No one but you and I will know. If it would make you uncomfortable, I won’t come.”

      Lifting her chin, she forced a swallow around the solid lump that formed in her throat. He made her uncomfortable all right, because of all the eligible men in Oak Grove, he was the only one she could imagine marrying. Getting married just so her child would have a name, a father, may not be right, but late at night, in the quiet of the house, her father’s voice declaring he wouldn’t allow her to bring shame upon their family by having a child out of wedlock echoed inside her mind. She had to close her eyes to stop that thought from going any further. It took a moment, but once she felt stable enough, she said, “You do not make me uncomfortable.”

      He nodded, but there was doubt in his eyes.

      There was doubt inside her, too. Her baby was due around the first of the year, which gave her little time to decide what she would do. A few of the women friends she’d made since arriving in Oak Grove knew her secret. Fiona, Martha Taylor, Mary Putnam and Maggie Miller were good friends and continuously assured her no harm would come from allowing others believe she and Eric had been married before he’d died. However, СКАЧАТЬ