LITMIR.BIZ

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smile flashing, the child accepted her offer.

      “Ma’am?” the older boy asked, his question implicit

      She tipped the bowl in the other direction, and the boy reached in.

      Tate shoved his chair back from the table and stood. “I believe I’ll make a trip to the barn, Miss Johanna. You boys can eat your cookies and then get on outside. Stay away from the back of the barn, like I told you.”

      They nodded simultaneously, their mouths full, Timmy’s feet swinging beneath the table. Johanna felt the brush of his small boots against her skirt as he kept time to an unheard beat. It was a foolishly comforting touch, and she sat unmoving until he’d eaten every last crumb of his cookies and drunk the last drop of milk.

      “Go along now, boys,” she told them, gathering the plates and flatware. Intuitively she left the cup in front of Tate Montgomery’s place. He’d not had any dessert yet. He might want more coffee to go with it.

      Her hands were plunged in the dishwater when she heard him come back in the door. A quick glance over her shoulder proved her right. He’d taken the coffeepot to the table and filled his cup. At his right hand was an envelope, fat with folded papers. He gestured at it as she watched.

      “Here are the letters of recommendation I spoke of. You’ll find two from ministers in the town we lived in, and one from my banker, the owner of the general store, and my doctor.”

      She flushed, embarrassed for a moment as she anticipated reading personal things about this man. Surely she had the right to know all she could about him, but the thought of learning it in this way was almost like…maybe windowpeeping, or reading another person’s mail.

      Drying her hands on the towel, she walked back to the table and sat across from him once more, then reached for the envelope.

      “Go ahead,” he told her. “It won’t take you long. It’s just information you’d expect to get from a doctor or banker. You’ll find that I’m healthy and fit, I’ve got a decent bank account, and I paid my debts at the general store on time and in full. My minister even noted the amount I gave toward the building fund for the new church last year.” His mouth was twisted wryly as he watched her, and she recognized his own slight embarrassment as he made light of the letters written in his behalf.

      She held the envelope in her hand, squeezing the bulk of it and watching him closely. His eyes were dark, but not brown, as she’d thought at first. They were a deep, deep gray, with just a few blue flecks around the edges of the pupils. Sometimes they were flat, hard-looking, like when he’d gone to talk to the boys about the dog, earlier today. Now they were softer, more vulnerable, as if he were hesitant to lay his life out before her, all stuffed in a envelope and waiting for her perusal.

      “I’d like to know a couple of things, Mr. Montgomery.” She squeezed the papers, hearing the faint crackling of the crisp envelope.

      “Do you think you could call me Tate after we’re married?” he asked quietly. “In fact, maybe you could start now.”

      She bit against her top lip. “It’s unseemly for me to use your given name.”

      “Try.” His eyes entreated her, and she looked away, settling her gaze on his folded hands instead. They were good hands. Strong and well formed, clean, with a tracing of soft curls across the back. She’d warrant his forearms were covered with the same brown hair. Her eyes closed as she recognized the drift of her thoughts. What was covered by his shirtsleeves was none of her business.

      “Try, Miss Johanna,” he repeated, and she sighed, aware that he wasn’t about to give in on this matter.

      “All right. I want to know how long your wife’s been dead, Tate.”

      “A year and a half. She drowned in a spring flood.”

      It was more than she’d asked, and somehow the thought of the unknown woman being swept away by rushing waters made her want to cry. She gritted her teeth against the feeling and looked up at him. “It must have hard on your boys, losing their mother that way.”

      “They’d been staying with her sister for a few days when it happened. Didn’t seem to cause much of a fuss over it, to tell the truth. But then, they were close to Bessie. That was her sister’s name, and she kept them for another week after it happened.”

      Johanna felt a hollow spot in her middle expand and grow chill with his words. “Why were they with their aunt? Didn’t their mother want them home with her?”

      He unfolded his hands, and her eyes were drawn to the movement. He’d formed them into two fists, and his knuckles were whitened, so hard had he curled his fingers into his palms. “My wife hadn’t been herself, hadn’t been feeling well.”

      “She was sickly?”

      He shook his head, and his gaze bored into her, impelling her eyes to sweep up the length of his chest, up his throat and chin, over his flared nostrils, and jam smack against the hard, cold look he offered her. “She had problems. She was unhappy with her life, and sometimes the boys bore the brunt of it Her sister…well, her sister understood, and when things got touchy, she’d come and get Pete and Timmy and take them home with her.”

      “Was she mental?”

      His mouth thinned, his teeth gritting together, and he moved his hands to the edge of the table, shoving his chair back and rising swiftly to his feet. “Do we need to discuss this now? I’d think it was sufficient for you to know that she wasn’t herself sometimes.”

      Johanna shook her head. “No, I guess we don’t have to talk about it any more. I just wondered…”

      “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just not my favorite memory. It happened, and it changed our lives. My boys need a mother. To tell the truth, I decided when I first laid eyes on you that you were strong and had a clear mind and your eyes were honest and kind. And that’s what I was looking for for my boys.”

      “You knew all that by seeing me out there by your wagon?”

      He nodded. “I knew all that when I saw you come hotfootin’ it across the field between here and your orchard. Any woman who planned on hauling all those apples to the house had to be strong. A woman who’s been able to keep this place going obviously has a clear mind. And you’ve got the bluest, sharpest eyes I’ve ever seen on a person in my life. When you looked at my boys, the kindness just sort of shone through over your mad. Then, when you called me back, I knew it was because you’d seen how tired and antsy they were, riding on the wagon.”

      “I like your children, Tate.” It had come easier this time, saying his name.

      “You’re a born mother, unless I miss my guess. You should have been married with a bunch of young ones of your own before now.”

      She stiffened, feeling the rigid length of her backbone as if it had been turned into ice within her. “I told you, I never planned on being married.”

      “I won’t make you sorry you changed your mind, Miss Johanna.”

      The words were spoken like a promise. Almost as if they might be a preface to the wedding vows they’d be taking before long. “I’ll not make you wait till tomorrow for my answer, Tate,” she said, her voice coming out strained and harsh-sounding, as if it belonged to somebody else.

      He stilled, reminding her of a deer at the edge of the woods. She heard his indrawn breath, and then he let it out in a silent sigh. “You haven’t read the letters, Miss Johanna.”

      Her movements were abrupt as she handed the envelope back across the table. “I don’t need to read them. Theodore Hughes read them and passed his approval. That’s good enough for me. If we don’t start this out with a measure of trust between us, we’ll have a hard time later on. Maybe someday I’ll want to read them, but I think the fact that you offered without holding back is good enough for me.”

      “You’ll marry

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