From a man who wouldn't marry her?
Impressed wouldn't be their response.
“I imagine they'd think it was somethin’ else, for sure.”
His smile deepened the lines at the corners of his eyes, but her heart faltered to respond in kind, an untamed worry taking up residence in her mind. “You … didn't move us here because you're ashamed of us, did you?”
“What?”
“This house is about as far away from you as your property can go. Is that why you chose it?”
He lowered his head and took her hands, led her to one of the kitchen chairs, and then sat down next to her. “I'm not ashamed of you.” He breathed out the words, squeezing her hands. “You need a home. It's my responsibility to provide that. This house is one of the newest and best built on the land, it's near town, and far from my mama.”
“Your mama.” Kizzie released the words like a sigh. Always, his mama.
His palm warmed her cheek, and she looked up at him. “It's not the way I want it, but it's the way things have to be for now.” His thumb trailed against her skin. “I'll take care of you and Charlie. Don't worry.”
He gave her a quick kiss, said his goodbyes, and then walked out the door, leaving a waft of wintry wind and a slight chill in his wake.
She wrapped her arms around herself and moved to the porch, watching Charles’ car disappear in a cloud of dust down the road, the blue late-afternoon sky bending to new hues of orange and red. Forest or field spread in each direction, without another house in view.
She cast a look behind her at the clean floors and lovely furnishings, quiet creeping over her as if it had fingers.
So quiet.
The bite of early December wind stung her cheeks and brought the scent of snow on the air. Two years ago, her heart would have been beating with anticipation for a frosted world of sleigh rides and snowball fights with her siblings. Heat burned her eyes, and she closed them with a sigh.
But now? Alone?
She'd never lived alone.
With a deep breath, she shook away the tug of melancholy and glanced along the front porch to a woodshed just at the edge of the yard. Stacked to the brim, it promised that, despite the cold or weather, she'd at least have ample warmth. She paused on the thought. How often did one tend a fire to keep it alive in winter? Her mother and Laurel always seemed to keep the fire while Kizzie had helped some with cooking but mostly tended the younger children, cared for the animals, and helped with laundry.
With Charlie's frequent night feedings, she'd have ample opportunity to keep watch.
She returned to the house and began unpacking boxes, the thrill of organizing her own kitchen dispelling a little of the daunting idea of keeping house and watching Charlie on her own. After all, she had only one to take care of, and her parents had had nine. Surely, just one and a house couldn't be so difficult.
After finishing up the kitchen, she moved to the bedroom. A dying fire greeted her, so she stirred it back to life and put away the only other dress she had, a simple frock she'd carried in her bag to the Chappells’. The simple blue gingham she currently wore belonged to Nella.
Perhaps she'd venture to town tomorrow.
At the rate Charlie was growing, he could use some new clothes too.
Nestled beneath her minuscule list of personal items lay her mother's Bible, the leather cover creased from use. Kizzie gently tugged it from the small crate, the scent of leather and pine washing over her like a hug from her mama.
She hugged the book against her chest, her eyes closing against another rush of tears. Maybe some of her mama's strength could transfer from this big book into her own heart.
Her attention flitted to the sleeping baby in the cradle.
For Charlie's sake, if nothing else.
With a sigh, she placed the book on the dresser by the bed, her fingers slipping over the familiar leather one last time before she turned back to the kitchen.
Three hours.
It had taken three hours for Kizzie to ready the house, herself, then Charlie, before hitching up the buggy, only to discover Charlie had spit up on her dress and soiled his diaper.
She'd never felt so stupid or unprepared in her life.
