LITMIR.BIZ

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skills could help Pierre.

      George looked around for the pastor, wondering where he’d gotten off to, since he’d thought Pastor Lassiter had been heading in his direction. Finally, he spotted him, standing in a group of women, shaking his head at whatever they were saying. From the way the women kept glancing in their direction, it seemed like they somehow disapproved of what George and Flora were doing with Pierre. But how could anyone be upset that they were helping a poor child who’d lost his father?

      “They’re angry because I got to sleep in the cabin with Pierre instead of a tent,” Flora said softly, nodding in the direction of his gaze. “They think I’m just being lazy, not wanting to participate in the work, but they keep shooing Pierre away.”

      Her brow was knotted in frustration, marring her pretty features.

      “Why would they do that? What about the other children? Can’t he play with them?”

      Flora’s frown deepened. “Pierre can’t speak the language. They teased him and wouldn’t play with him. He came running to me, crying. Every time I intervened, the other ladies got mad at me for stopping work, until finally they asked me to leave. But I couldn’t just let them torment poor Pierre like that.”

      A dark look crossed her face. George wondered if she was thinking about how she bullied all the other kids when she was younger. But he couldn’t talk to her about it, couldn’t say that he’d been just as cruel to her as she’d been to him. Even though he’d spent a lot of years hating her for sticking him with the moniker of Pudgy, he’d come to a place of acceptance. He’d outgrown the silly nickname, and as much as he used to say that he’d get revenge on his childhood nemesis, he found he had nothing but compassion for the delightful young woman in front of him.

      “I’m glad you can be there for him,” George said instead.

      Flora shrugged. “I know what it’s like.”

      He hoped it didn’t look like he was staring. Sure, she said now that people didn’t like her, but he couldn’t imagine her experiencing the levels of torment he had. After all, he had been pudgy. More than that, actually. The boys had been teasing him, calling him a corpulent whale, and Flora had looked at them with those big green eyes and said, “No he’s not. He’s just pudgy.” From then on, everyone had called him Pudgy, a far sight better than if the corpulent whale idea had stuck.

      In some ways, she had done him a favor.

      Could he help her now?

      “Were you tormented as a child?”

      Flora 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

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