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“Yes?”
“Just before you came, I was remembering how alone I felt after my mother’s death. My father was so grief-stricken that he almost completely forgot about us.”
She gave a sad half laugh. “You probably wouldn’t have liked my mother very much. She’s the one who taught me my mutinous ideas.”
“What did your father have to say about her views?”
“While she was alive, he was very supportive of her. They had a few memorable fights, but all in all he found her unorthodox views…tolerable.”
Tolerable,Morgan thought with a smile. Now, that was an appropriate word. Especially if the woman was anything like her daughter.
Of course, he found Serenity more than tolerable.
When she wasn’t making him furious, he actually liked her a great deal.
At times she was downright irresistible.
“Did she want to be a writer?” he asked, wondering if that was what had prompted Serenity’s interest in working for her father’s paper.
“Nay, she actually wanted to be an explorer.”
For a moment he was stunned. “She did not!”
“Yes, she did. She said that would be the greatest challenge she could think of. She wanted to be like Sacajawea and go west across the French Territories.”
“Did she ever get to?” he asked, knowing that if Serenity wanted something like that she would do it regardless. He doubted if anything could stop her from doing whatever nonsense she set her mind to.
“Nay,” she said with a sigh. “She never got to travel beyond Charleston and Marthasville.”
“What made her decide to give up her dream?”
“My father. She said living with him and running after her children was enough of an adventure for her. She didn’t need any more than that.”
Morgan laughed at the image he had of Serenity as a small child. He just bet she was indeed a huge handful.
“My mother was the type of lady who never raised her voice,” he said quietly. “I don’t think she ever had an opinion that my father didn’t give her.”
“I think that’s what every man dreams of having,” she said, and he could hear the bitter disappointment in her voice.
“I don’t know,” he said in an effort to cheer her melancholia. “I think some men, like your father, appreciate a challenge.”
Silence descended and hung between them until he thought she’d gone to sleep.
Finally she spoke, “And what type of man are you, Morgan?”
