Page 54 of Christmas at Carnton

He did likewise with the camp and when they reached the house, he dropped the boys’ pallets inside the front hallway and turned to leave.

“Jake . . .”

He paused, and the look in her eyes unnerved him.

“Thank you again for accompanying the boys on their sleepout. I can tell they really enjoyed it.”

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed it too.”

She opened her mouth as if about to say something else, then merely smiled and closed the door. And that’s when he was all but certain she knew the truth. Or at the very least, she suspected it.

CHAPTER 21

Why hadn’t he told her the truth?

The question kept turning over and over in Aletta’s mind as she worked beside Tempy preparing breakfast for the McGavock family that morning, then as the hired cooks and volunteers arrived and yet another day of baking and cooking for the auction got under way.

Yet deep down she knew why. But what bothered her far more was her own audacity in repeatedly questioning his motives in being here. Not only to herself, but to him. She had even questioned whether he’d really been wounded or not.

A sharpshooter who could no longer see well enough to shoot. Or at least, not at a distance.

“Mrs. Prescott, we need more flour and sugar, ma’am. And eggs. Mrs. Prescott?”

Aletta looked up, the request slowly registering. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right back.” She retrieved the keys to the larder and fetched the needed supplies for the other cooks.

She had to see him, apologize to him. He’d repeatedly offered her kindness and friendship, and she’d held him suspect from the very start. Then he’d offered her far more, and she’d turned that down too. A decision she’d begun to question more and more.

She slid the first four pans of shortbread into the oven, then hurried upstairs to check on Andrew. Still fast asleep. The boy would likely sleep until noon, if not later.

Downstairs, she grabbed her shawl from the hook in the kitchen. “Tempy, I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to go do something.”

“No problem, ma’am. We’re doin’ fine here. Runnin’ a little ahead of the clock even.”

Aletta opened the kitchen door then paused, seeing a cardinal perched on a tree branch just a few feet from where she stood. The brilliantly colored bird didn’t spook, didn’t fly away. He just sat there, looking at her. Then he sang.

The most beautiful little warble, his chest puffing out as though he knew how strikingly handsome he was, and how rare. She heard soft footsteps behind her.

“Would you look at that, Missus Prescott.” Tempy’s voice held a smile. “A red bird in winter. When you see a red bird in winter, you’ll prosper in spring. But when you hear a red bird sing—”

“Your sadness will soon be lifted,” Aletta said softly, knowing the old wives’ tale. As she made her way to the cabin, she only hoped that would hold true.

Jake pushed from bed and ran a hand through his hair, having managed to get a couple hours of sleep. Yet knowing his assistance would be needed for the auction that day, he fed the fire in the hearth and stoked it back to life, then filled the cast iron kettle with water and hung it over the flame. Coffee was his first order of business.

That, and going to see Aletta.

Exhausted as he’d been, he’d still lain awake thinking about her, thinking about the way she’d looked at him. Might as well go ahead and face the truth straight up and get it over with.

The water in the kettle had just reached a boil when a knock sounded on the door. He glanced around for his pants, found them on the chair, and pulled them on over his long johns.

He opened the door. “Aletta.”

“I need to apologize to you, Jake. And I’d be obliged if you’d allow me to do that.”

He stared, a little baffled, then nodded. “All right.”

“I’m sorry for questioning whether or not you were truly wounded.”

He looked away.