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"There," he said, stepping back.
She turned around. He looked up at her, his green eyes filled with the same aching, tender emotion that filled her heart.
There were so many things she wanted to say to him right now, but somehow nothing made it up her thickened throat. It had been so long since shed expressed her emotions, she didnt know how to anymore. So she just stood there, staring at him, hoping he could read her mind.
He gave her a slow, hopeful smile.
And, crazily, she thought that he had.
Chapter Nineteen Mariah stood at the kitchen window, staring out across the quiet farm. Dawn was breaking along the horizon, sending plumes of purple and pink into the midnight blue sky.
She watched, mesmerized, as light broke across the land. A glittering layer of hoarfrost clung to the acres of dead grass and shimmered on the fencing. Cleo stood at the paddock gate, waiting to be grained, her breath visible in the cold air.
Any day the snow would come, blanketing the dor-marit grass with a layer of sparkling, pristine white.
They were ready for it. The hard, backbreaking chores of the harvest were done.
The fruit had been picked and preserved and stacked and stored, the fields had been readied for the coming winter, the last colorful autumn leaves had fallen. Now the farm was an endless thicket of skeleton-bare trees huddled against the frosty air.
And Mad Dog was still here.
Mariah smiled to herself. Even now, she couldnt believe it. Every morning she raced to the window first thing and wrenched her curtains aside.
And every morning shed seen smoke coming up from the bunkhouse chimney.
Today was no exception.
She leaned forward and glanced through the rippled glass, seeing the small, white building. Just the sight of it filled her with almost unbearable hope. They would have another day together, at least one more.
Whistling softly, she went to the icebox and pulled out the eggs and bacon.
Behind her, the stairs creaked, and then came the shuffling, slow-moving sound of Rasss slippers on the hardwood floor. "Mornin, Mariah," he said in a raspy, slightly slurred voice.
"Morning, Rass. " She went to the stove, poured him a cup of steaming coffee, and met him at the table. "Here you go. Breakfast will be ready in about fifteen minutes. "
He collapsed on the chair and took the cup from her. Curling his shaking, big-knuckled fingers around the warm china cup, he rested his elbows on the table and took a grateful drink. "I hope I make it to mealtime. "
Mariah laughed at the familiar morning complaint. "Let me know before I serve up,"
she quipped, heading back to the stove. She slapped a slab of bacon down on the slopboard and began slicing it into even strips.
The front door creaked open, then clicked shut. Jake hurried into the kitchen.
"Morning Rass. Mariah. "
She turned to him, smiling. "Im making your favorite this morning. "
Rass groaned. "Oh, God, Mariah, not more apple pancakes. "
"Theyre Jakes favorite," she defended.
Rass feigned disgust. "I know, but every morning is a bit much. " He turned to Jake.
"Dont you like anything else?"
Jake grinned. "Apple fritters. "
Rass shook his head. "You were destined to live on an apple farm. "
