Three heartwarming stories of Christmas in the Wild West.

A Bride and Baby for Christmas by Lauri Robinson

Pregnant Hannah Olsen has made a list of Oak Grove’s eligible men. A list that Teddy White sees—and he’s not on it! Time for him to act so that both their Christmas wishes can come true.

Miss Christina’s Christmas Wish by Lynna Banning

Dedicated new teacher Christina Marnell feels her heart race as she watches Ivan Panovsky chop wood for the school. She had ruled marriage out, but Christmas is a time when miracles can happen...

A Kiss from the Cowboy by Carol Arens

Kitson James and Livy York both have secrets, but can their love overcome the lies they’ve told? A Christmas kiss might help...

Praise for the authors of

Western Christmas Brides

LAURI ROBINSON

‘Robinson’s talent for period detail shines.’

—RT Book Reviews on Her Cheyenne Warrior

LYNNA BANNING

‘Lynna Banning has penned a delightful and passionate western.’

—RT Book Reviews on Her Sheriff Bodyguard

CAROL ARENS

‘Arens’ newest romp is filled with characters we can’t help but root for.’

—RT Book Reviews on Wed to the Montana Cowboy

A lover of fairy tales and cowboy boots, LAURI ROBINSON can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men—and women—who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset...or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home, and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren. Visit: laurirobinson.blogspot.com, Facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 or Twitter.com/laurir.

LYNNA BANNING combines a lifelong love of history and literature into a satisfying career as a writer. Born in Oregon, she graduated from Scripps College and embarked on a career as an editor and technical writer and later as a high school English teacher. She enjoys hearing from her readers. You may write to her directly at PO Box 324, Felton, CA 95018, USA, email her at carowoolston@att.net or visit Lynna’s website at lynnabanning.net.

CAROL ARENS delights in tossing fictional characters into hot water, watching them steam, and then giving them a happily-ever-after. When she is not writing she enjoys spending time with her family, beach camping or lounging about a mountain cabin. At home she enjoys playing with her grandchildren and gardening. During rare spare moments you will find her snuggled up with a good book. Carol enjoys hearing from readers at carolarens@yahoo.com or on Facebook.

Western Christmas Brides

A Bride and Baby for Christmas

Lauri Robinson

Miss Christina’s Christmas Wish

Lynna Banning

A Kiss from the Cowboy

Carol Arens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

About the Authors

Title Page

Table of Contents

A Bride and Baby for Christmas

Dedication

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Miss Christina’s Christmas Wish

Dedication

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

A Kiss from the Cowboy

Dedication

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Extract

Copyright

A Bride and Baby for Christmas

Lauri Robinson

Dedicated to my granddaughter Karlee Jo.

Love you forever and ever.

Dear Reader

I’ve had so much fun writing about the community members of Oak Grove, and was especially excited to spend the holidays with them. From the time she made an appearance in Winning the Mail-Order Bride, I knew Hannah would have her own story—and because she needed a bit of a miracle, a Christmas story was perfect for her. And Teddy… Well, he was absolutely perfect for her. He just didn’t know it.

While I was writing this story Teddy’s actions reminded me of my grandfather. When I was in grade school my family moved from Northern Minnesota to Kansas. I remember hearing my mother talking to my grandfather on the phone. She told him the store had trees for sale, but they were so dried-out she was afraid to put one in the house. A week or so after that conversation a UPS truck delivered a tree wrapped in burlap to our door. My grandfather had cut down a tree on his property and obtained a special permit to ship it out of state so we could have a ‘real’ Christmas tree.

That’s what this season is about. Miracles. Whether they are trees, cradles or babies. Take a moment to remember your Christmas miracles. And smile.

Blessings to you and yours!

Lauri

Chapter One

Although moments ago she’d seen Teddy White out the window and watched him walking across the field that separated the house from town, the quick knock on the door startled Hannah Olsen so fully, the papers she’d been stacking scattered across the table and onto the chair. Hannah sucked in a deep breath and scooped the papers into a pile before calling, “Come in.”

Teddy stepped in quickly and closed the door behind him. “Good day, Mrs. Olsen,” he said while removing his narrow-brimmed hat. “Fiona asked if I could stop by and pick up your etchings.”

Having grown used to people adding “Mrs.” to her name Hannah no longer flinched at that. However, a flutter happened inside her—and it wasn’t her unborn child. Teddy’s voice did that to her, and she should have prepared herself for it. For months, her heart had taken to fluttering whenever he was near, and lately, it had gotten worse.

Forcing herself to speak around the frog in her throat, she said, “Yes, thank you, Mr. White.” Shaken enough already, she kept her attention on the papers and wooden blocks. Looking at him would only make the flutters worse. “I’m sorry I didn’t have them completed earlier, but I do now.”

“I’m sorry Abigail insisted upon so many this week.” He stepped closer to the table. “It’s because of the holiday. She wants plenty of pictures in the Thanksgiving edition.”

His sincerity surpassed her will not to look at him. Tiny specks of snow clung to his leather jacket, which was the same shade of brown as his eyes. Genuine regret sat in those eyes today. Hannah had seen that before. He often apologized for his sister.

“It wasn’t too many,” she assured, while stepping away from the table. “I just let time slip away when I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sure you’re busy with many other things,” he said.

Hannah’s hands went to her stomach. She had very little to do, except worry. Her father had said her baby would be ridiculed for not having a father, just like Herb Lundberg had been. A day hadn’t gone by where Herb hadn’t been blamed for something, even on the days he hadn’t been in school. That wouldn’t happen to her child. She’d make sure of it. That’s why she’d left Wisconsin, and would never go back. Not about to admit all that to Teddy, she searched for something else to say. “The wind is bitter today.”

“Yes, it is,” Teddy said with a smile, and a glance toward the stove.

“Oh, would you like a cup of coffee?” She squeezed her hands together to quell their shaking. Teddy stopped by the house regularly to visit with Brett, but this was the first time they’d been alone together.

“If it’s no trouble.”

“None at all,” she said while forcing her feet to walk across the room to the cupboard. “Fiona keeps a pot on the stove for Brett. He always comes home a couple of times during the day.” She had no idea why she said that. Other than because babbling might help. It didn’t. Her heart thudded even faster now.

“I stopped and saw Brett on the way here,” Teddy said.

Hannah nodded as she took down two cups. Teddy and Brett were close friends, which is why she’d been given the job of etching pictures into the blocks of wood for the newspaper. Her grandfather had taught her the skill years ago, mainly as a way to keep her busy. Having been born eight years after her next older sister, she’d spent most every winter in the care of her grandparents while the rest of her family had been out in the woods cutting lumber for their logging company. Perhaps that’s why she enjoyed winter. She had many wonderful memories of staying with her grandparents during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

The time she spent living with Gram and Pappy had been fun and peaceful. There had been no fights, no blame, no hate.

“Hannah?”

Turning about, she pinched her lips as she looked at Teddy, hoping a bit of what he’d said had filtered through her musing.

“If you’d prefer I didn’t attend, that’s fine,” he said.

Her musing had been too thick, leaving her with no idea what he referred to. “I’m sorry.” She filled a cup and held it out. “I didn’t hear what you said. I—uh—I was thinking of the holidays up home.”

“Holidays can be tough to get through those first few years.” He took the cup. “It does get easier.”

His parents had died years before, some of the women in the quilting club had mentioned that, and how he and his sister, Abigail, had settled in other towns before ending up in Oak Grove. From what had been said, Abigail had stirred up trouble in those towns, which is why they’d packed up and left.

“Thank you,” Hannah replied. “I’m sure it will.”

Cupping his coffee cup with both hands, he glanced around before he said, “Earlier, I’d said that Brett has invited me to Thanksgiving dinner, but if you’d prefer I didn’t attend, I’d understand.”

“That would not be up to me, Mr. White,” she said. “This is Brett and Fiona’s home. I would never dream of implying one way or the other that someone was not welcome here.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “That’s why I mentioned it in private. No one but you and I will know. If it would make you uncomfortable, I won’t come.”

Lifting her chin, she forced a swallow around the solid lump that formed in her throat. He made her uncomfortable all right, because of all the eligible men in Oak Grove, he was the only one she could imagine marrying. Getting married just so her child would have a name, a father, may not be right, but late at night, in the quiet of the house, her father’s voice declaring he wouldn’t allow her to bring shame upon their family by having a child out of wedlock echoed inside her mind. She had to close her eyes to stop that thought from going any further. It took a moment, but once she felt stable enough, she said, “You do not make me uncomfortable.”

He nodded, but there was doubt in his eyes.

There was doubt inside her, too. Her baby was due around the first of the year, which gave her little time to decide what she would do. A few of the women friends she’d made since arriving in Oak Grove knew her secret. Fiona, Martha Taylor, Mary Putnam and Maggie Miller were good friends and continuously assured her no harm would come from allowing others believe she and Eric had been married before he’d died. However, the closer the time came for her baby to be born, the more she understood that it didn’t matter what others believed. What mattered was the truth. She’d never been married, and therefore her baby would be born out of wedlock. Born without a name, just as her father had claimed.

It would take a miracle for that to change. Setting her cup on the counter, she said, “I look forward to having you—” she had to brace herself in order to continue “—and Abigail join us for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Abigail won’t be joining us.”

The relief that washed over her was greater than she’d expected. Even the baby seemed to rejoice by shifting. She placed both hands on her stomach as the precious rolling continued. The movement filled her with more warmth than the stove did the house.

“Is that your baby moving?”

Still focused on the contentment that filled her, she nodded.

“Your skirt is moving,” he said.

“He or she must be trying to get comfortable.” She loved the tiny being inside her so much, and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. Flattening her skirt, she smiled at the visible movement of the material as the baby continued to move.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. It feels amazing.” Used to sharing the wonderful movement with Fiona, Hannah said, “Give me your hand.”

He did and she placed it on her stomach, palm down.

She knew the moment he felt the baby move. Not only had she felt it from inside her, but his eyes lit up with amazement.

He set his cup on the counter, and holding up that hand, too, he asked, “May I?”

She nodded, and rested her hand atop the other one he placed against her stomach. The sensation was so remarkable, so unexplainable, she closed her eyes to fully cherish the moment.

The baby moved again and Teddy chuckled. “That’s incredible.”

“Yes, it is.” Completely at ease, she opened her eyes to add, “Except for when a foot or knee gets caught beneath one of my ribs.”

His expressions were easy to read. Sympathy was there now.

“It hurts then?”

“No,” she answered, smiling. “It’s just a bit uncomfortable.”

They stood there for several minutes, softly laughing as the baby continued to move. She shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as she was. It was surely scandalous, but exactly what she wanted. Someone to share these precious, wonderful moments with her.

“He or she must have fallen asleep,” Teddy whispered after a time of no movement.

“Or just finally got comfortable,” she said. The stillness also caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over her and she removed her hands from atop his.

He dropped his hands and took a step back. “I—uh—”

She shook her head, not wanting him to apologize. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She had. If his sister learned of what had just happened, Abigail would have more reason to shed scorn. Since the first time they’d met, Abigail’s contempt-filled glares had showered Hannah with more shame than her father’s hateful shouts had back home.

“I have your money here somewhere,” Teddy said, digging in his coat and pants pockets with both hands. “Ah, yes, I put it in this pocket so I’d find it easy.” Handing her an envelope, he said, “There’s also a note from Abigail as to what she’d like for next month. There are some special ads local merchants would like created, as well. She explains them in her note, but they won’t be due for a couple of weeks.”

A tinge of remorse washed over Hannah. In spite of all her instincts, she had to be thankful for Abigail White. If not for the opportunity to create the etchings, she’d be even more indebted to Brett and Fiona. The money she received from the Gazette allowed her to contribute to the household and to purchase the things she needed. Four months ago she’d arrived with little more than a satchel holding one extra dress and underthings.

“Thank you, Mr. White,” she said. “I’ll begin working on them right away.”

“The thanks goes to you. Before you, the newspaper was rather dull. Though we tried, neither Abigail nor I have the drawing skills that you have. I’d wager no one in Kansas has the skills you have.”

“I find that very doubtful,” Hannah answered. “It’s hardly a skill. Just something I like to do.”

He gathered the stack of papers and etchings closer to his side of the table. “Do you need more supplies? Wood or paper?”

“No. I have plenty of paper and Brett has cut up a rather endless supply of wood blocks. He also sharpens the burins regularly, and Rhett and Wyatt enjoy sanding the blocks smooth for me,” she added, referring to Fiona’s two young sons.

“It’s good you have so much help,” Teddy said. “I’ll bid you good day, then. If you hurry, you might still be able to join the quilting club. I’d be happy to walk you to Martha’s dress shop.”

She’d forgone the quilting club session today in order to complete the etchings, and had no desire to venture out in the cold. “Thank you, but no, I’ll remain home today.”

He nodded as he replaced his hat. “It’s a good day to stay inside.” After picking up the stacks, he added, “By tomorrow it could be warm enough to go without a coat. This is Kansas. The weather changes hourly.”

“I’ve noticed how unpredictable the weather can be here. Other than the wind.”

“Aw, yes, the wind. Now, that is something you can count on.”

It was rather amazing how casually they conversed. She was thankful for how he’d made her forget that she’d been embarrassed a short time ago. Which she should have been. Allowing a man to touch her like that. Eric had been the only man to touch her and... Her thoughts paused momentarily as she looked at Teddy. That was the other unique thing about him. He made her forget how badly she missed Eric. How severely she’d mourned his death.

Their gazes locked and held in such a way her heart skipped several beats before he looked away.

“Good day, Mrs. Olsen,” he said, moving to the door.

A sudden desire to stop him from leaving had her stepping forward. Unsure why she didn’t want him to leave, she instantly concluded it had to do with not wanting Abigail to discover what had just happened. “Why isn’t your sister joining us for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“She’s joining the mayor and reverend at Rollie Austin’s place that day.”

“And you weren’t invited?” That seemed terribly rude, even for Abigail.

“Yes, I was invited, but I eat at the hotel almost every day. Brett’s invitation sounded more enjoyable.”

His smile enticed her to offer one in return. “Then I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

“That would be impossible.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Olsen.”

“Good day, Mr. White.” Upon closing the door behind him, she drew a deep breath and leaned her forehead against the solid wood for a moment. Why? Why couldn’t any of the other men on her list make her heart thud? Teddy was as opposite from Eric as a man could be. Eric had been loud and impulsive—two things Teddy certainly wasn’t.

However, he did have one thing in common with Eric. His family hated her. She had lived with hatred her entire life, and was determined her child would never experience it.

Chapter Two

Teddy willed himself not to turn around for a final look. Hannah had already closed the door, so he wouldn’t see her. Other than in his mind. A place where her image was etched as perfectly as the pictures she flawlessly carved into the blocks of wood. He’d been printing newspapers for as long as he could remember and producing multiple copies of pictures was not an easy task. Leastwise it never used to be. His and Abigail’s engravings always collected ink and left globs that bled into the print. That hadn’t happened once with Hannah’s creations.

Her etchings were as flawless as her beauty. He’d been alongside Brett the day Hannah had stepped off the train, and had tried to keep his distance from that moment on. He’d fallen for a forlorn young woman once before and promised himself it would never happen again.

Keeping his distance had been easy at first. Brett’s mother had sent Hannah to Oak Grove and Brett and Fiona had taken her into their home and protected her as strongly as a mother bear would a cub in spring. The entire town discovered why when Hannah’s shape had begun to change.

Teddy let out a long sigh as his hands started to tingle. Touching her, feeling that baby move inside her, had been amazing. Miraculous even. And caused a large amount of compassion to well inside him. She was so young to be widowed and now was expecting a child all on her own.

Only she wasn’t on her own. Brett and Fiona treated her like family and would continue to.

Still, in a town the size of Oak Grove, which was small compared to many but growing steadily, a single woman—widowed or not, expecting or not—was a highly sought after commodity. Last summer the town had formed a Betterment Committee in order to bring suitable women of marrying age to town. Several men had married the mail-order brides, but although he’d contributed to the committee, too, he hadn’t sought out any of the brides. Hadn’t even considered doing so. He’d only gone along with the cause for appearance’s sake. Five years ago he’d gone down the road that led to marriage, but had hit a painful roadblock, which had taught him a valuable lesson.

That was part of the reason he’d kept his distance from Hannah and would continue to, even though her growing stomach made her all the more beautiful to him. He could imagine her having a baby girl with golden curls and blue eyes as lovely as her mother’s.

A tremendous sense of satisfaction grew inside of him as he once again recalled touching her stomach. Feeling the baby move. He couldn’t believe that had happened. Knew it shouldn’t have happened, because every time he looked at her, he was reminded of another young girl carrying a baby. One he’d been ready to claim as his own.

A gust of wind caught him off guard. Teddy tightened his hold on the papers and blocks of wood in his hands, but relentless, the wind won and the bottom piece of paper caught the air. Teddy hurried after it, and stopped it with a stomp of one foot. While bending down to pick it up, he paused. Rather than a drawing, this one held writing. Neat and stylish penmanship he instantly recognized as Hannah’s.

He grasped the paper and turned about, all set to return it to her, until he scanned the sheet a bit more closely.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the blustery wind, or the bits of ice it tossed about, raced across his shoulders. It was a list of men. Of men he knew full well were actively looking for a wife. And his name wasn’t on it.

That should make him happy, yet his shoulders slumped as his gaze bounced between Brett’s house and the list a couple times.

“What are you studying so hard?”

Teddy spun around at the sound of Brett’s voice. Teddy had said he’d stop by on his way back and knew Brett would be watching for him. Stuffing the paper into his pocket, he replied, “Just a list.”

“Of Hannah’s drawings?”

He gestured to his arm load. “Got them all right here.”

“I was just walking over to check on you. You were there quite a while.”

“She offered me a cup of coffee and I accepted.”

With black hair and shoulders as broad as the back end of a horse, Brett towered over most men in town. His size didn’t intimidate Teddy, but he did respect Brett, and valued their friendship.

As Brett glanced toward his house again, Teddy said, “I’ve already spoken to Abigail. She won’t request so many etchings all at one time again. I hadn’t realized it was so many.”

“Make sure she doesn’t,” Brett said. “Hannah’s time is getting closer and she needs her rest.”

“When did you become a doctor?”

Brett grinned. “I’m not, but I should be with half the women in town asking about Hannah and giving me advice about what she needs to do, including my own wife.” Brett’s face turned serious. “Hannah’s become awfully quiet lately, like she was when she first arrived. I’m worried about her, Teddy. Real worried.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Do you think she’s ill?”

“Fiona says she’s not. But she’s back to barely eating enough to keep a bird alive.”

Recalling something Hannah had said, Teddy suggested, “Maybe she’s homesick. She mentioned thinking about the holidays back home.”

“That could be it,” Brett said, turning about.

Teddy fell into step beside his friend. Brett’s blacksmith shop as well as the feed store he owned was on the edge of town and only a short distance from his house.

Most of the blacksmithing took place in the lean-to, and as they skirted the far wall, Teddy let out a whistle. “That wind is brutal today.” Thankful to be out of the biting wind he moved closer to the blazing fire in the open forge in the center of the open area.

“Yeah, it is,” Brett replied. “Homesick, huh?”

Teddy nodded. “The first few holidays after our parents died were hard for me and Abigail.”

“That’s why Fiona suggested inviting you to Thanksgiving,” Brett said as he rubbed his chin. “She thought the company would do Hannah good. I’ll talk to her about inviting others.”

Teddy’s first instinct had been to say no when Brett had invited him to Thanksgiving, but out of respect, he’d said yes. Now his concern was for Hannah. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “Too many would just be more work for her and Fiona.”

“That’s true,” Brett said.

“And don’t forget the recital at the school that afternoon. There will be a lot of people there.”

“It would be impossible to forget about that,” Brett said, grinning. “Rhett and Wyatt have been practicing their lines so often I know Lincoln’s proclamation by heart.”

Teddy laughed. Brett had taken to Fiona’s two boys as soon as they’d hit town, and treated them as if they were his own. Teddy turned to stare into the flames of the fire. He’d been willing to do that once. Love a child that wasn’t his. It hadn’t come to be, though. A week before the wedding, the real father had shown up. He’d stepped back, told Becky he understood and buried the pain of rejection.

To others Becky may only have been a barmaid who’d gotten herself into the family way, but she’d been more than that to him. He’d fallen in love with her, and when she’d first said she was going to have a baby, he’d thought he was the father. She’d insisted he wasn’t. That it was a cowboy who had visited her regularly, but hadn’t come back since she told him about the baby. Without any contemplation, he’d told her not to worry, that he’d marry her and claim the baby as his own, and had set plans in place to do just that.

Shaking aside ghosts of the past, Teddy moved away from the forge. “I better get these over to the office,” he said.

“Thanks, Teddy,” Brett said. “You’ve been a good friend, and helped Hannah out by letting her make those etchings.”

“She’s very good at it,” he answered honestly.

Brett nodded. “She is, but...”

The hair on the back of his neck tingled. “But what?”

Brett seemed to shrink a bit as he shook his head slowly. “Hannah’s been through some rough times.”

“Well, she seems to have handled it well,” Teddy replied. “Maybe she’s stronger than she looks.”

Brett shook his head with more purpose this time. “You haven’t heard her crying herself to sleep at night.”

Teddy had no answer for that, and the paper in his pocket suddenly felt as hot as the flames of Brett’s forge.

Chapter Three

With so much that needed to be done, Hannah was up early. Quietly, so not to wake Brett and Fiona, whose bedroom was off the kitchen, she stoked up the fire and then gathered a knife and bowl to start cleaning out the three pumpkins sitting on the counter.

She loved all the cooking that went into preparing Thanksgiving dinner. A wave of sadness that she wouldn’t be there to help Gram this year had her squeezing the knife a bit harder as she sliced the top off the first pumpkin. She missed Gram and it made her heart hurt to think of never seeing her and Pappy again. They were the only two people, besides Eric, who truly cared about her. But the warning from her father never to return to her family couldn’t be ignored.

A sound on the porch had her spinning about, and the knock that sounded a moment later had her glancing toward the closed bedroom door before she started across the room.

It was awfully early for company. The sun was just starting to rise. Cautiously, Hannah pulled open the door just wide enough to see who stood there. Her heart thudded at the sight of Teddy.

“T—Mr. White, what are you doing here so early?” she asked, taking a step back, away from the blast of cold air.

The bedroom door opened just then. “Come in, Teddy,” Brett said, poking only his head around the door. “I’ll be right out.”

Teddy stepped into the kitchen and closed the door. “Brett and I are going turkey hunting this morning.” His gaze dropped to her side, to her hand specifically. “Do you always answer the door with a butcher knife in hand?”

His question, or perhaps the twinkle in his eyes, allowed her to relax enough that the air she’d been holding whooshed out. “No, I was cleaning pumpkins,” she answered, using the knife to gesture to the counter.

“Oh, I see,” Teddy said.

She hadn’t made any coffee yet, so couldn’t offer him that, and was in the midst of wondering what to say next and how to maneuver around him when the bedroom door opened and Brett strolled out. She used that opportunity to scurry across the room, hoping the distance would calm her insides.

“Ready to shoot a bird?” Brett asked Teddy.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Teddy replied.

Brett sat down in the chair to pull on his boots. “Hannah, I told Fiona I’ll do the chores when I get back,” he said. “There’s no need for either of you to go out in the cold this morning.”

“We’ll have breakfast ready when you get back,” Fiona said, walking out of the bedroom.

Tall and slender with long brown hair and hazel eyes, Fiona was a pretty woman, but it was her happiness that made her beautiful. It was as if she was part angel the way she floated around, smiling and glowing. Having seven sisters, all married, Hannah had been around a lot of couples, and Brett and Fiona had to love each other more than any two people she’d ever seen. The longer she lived with them, the more deeply she wanted to experience love like that. To have someone look at her the way those two looked at each other.

“There will be plenty for you, too, Teddy,” Fiona said, “so come back hungry.”

“Thank you.”

The sound of his voice sent her heart into another unexpected bout of hammering and Hannah dropped the knife. She caught it before it fell all the way to the floor, but flinched as the blade nicked the end of her finger.

“Are you all right?” Teddy asked, instantly arriving at her side.

“Fine, just clumsy.” Hannah set the knife down, but wrapped the tip of her finger with her other hand. It couldn’t be very deep, so it shouldn’t be bleeding too much. There was no reason for any of this. Not for her heart to pound so hard, or for him to have rushed to her side.

“Let me see,” he insisted.

“It’s nothing, really,” Hannah replied, cautiously unfolding her fingers to take a peek. Relieved, she held the finger up. “See? It’s not even bleeding.”

He took ahold of her hand to give her finger a thorough inspection, and she was glad she’d set the knife down, otherwise she’d have dropped it all over again. Her heart was racing faster than ever, and her hand, where he touched it, burned as if on fire.

“Here, let me see,” Fiona said.

“It’s fine,” Hannah said, pulling her hand to her side as soon as Teddy’s hold relaxed. “Really.” She stepped back, and tried to slow her breathing.

“Well, you men best get going,” Fiona said, while giving her a scrutinizing gaze.

Hannah turned about and moved the pumpkins around just for something to do.

As soon as the men left, Fiona asked, “Are you doing all right? You’ve seemed a bit preoccupied lately.”

Hannah started scraping the inside of a pumpkin. “I’m fine. Just excited about the holidays. They’ve always been my favorite time of the year.” That was true. Despite everything, the joy the holidays always instilled in her was still there. The idea of hope, of miracles happening, still lived within her.

“I’m more excited about them than I’ve ever been.”

Something in Fiona’s soft tone had Hannah turning to look at her. “You haven’t always enjoyed them?”

Fiona shook her head. “Most years they were no different than any other day. There wasn’t the money to have special meals. I always managed to come up with some small gifts for Rhett and Wyatt on Christmas Day, but...” She sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. “That’s in the past. This year will be the best Christmas ever. And Thanksgiving, too. I can’t remember the last time I ate turkey.”

Hannah couldn’t help but notice how Fiona was rubbing her stomach. As their eyes met again, Fiona’s smile grew. Comprehension hit Hannah like a gust of wind. “You’re expecting.”

Fiona glanced over her shoulder, toward the parlor where stairs led to the second floor and the bedrooms Wyatt and Rhett slept in. “Yes, but we haven’t told the boys yet. Haven’t told anyone. Dr. Graham confirmed my suspicions last week. I saw him after attending the quilting club. Brett and I decided we’ll tell the boys on Christmas Day.”

Hannah wiped her hands clean in order to hug her friend. “They will be so happy.”

“I believe they will. So many things have happened this past year, since their father died,” Fiona said. “I’d almost lost hope. Then we moved out here and I married Brett. Some days I pinch myself, just to make sure I’m not dreaming. That my life really is this wonderful.” Fiona pressed a hand to her stomach as they parted. “I love my sons with all my heart, but I can’t say I was ever this excited about being pregnant. With each of them, I worried about feeding them, providing for them. I no longer have those worries, all because of Brett.”

“He loves you very much,” Hannah said. How Brett and Fiona behaved toward one another had influenced her thoughts when it came to considering her options for a possible husband. They were kind to each other, which seemed obvious, but it hadn’t been that way in her family.

Fiona’s smile grew soft. “Brett is so easy to love. At first that seemed so strange to me. He’s the exact opposite of Sam.”

“He is?” Hannah asked. Fiona had made mention of her first husband, but never said much about him.

“Oh, yes,” Fiona said. “But it’s more than that. My love for Brett is different than what I felt for Sam. Love is like that. We can love different people, in different ways. Sam was Rhett and Wyatt’s father, and I will always honor his memory, but I will also embrace my new life for what it is now.” She giggled. “You could say I now look at things with a whole new perspective.” Fiona closed her eyes as she laid both hands on her stomach. “This baby is more than a blessing. It’s a true gift from God.”

Hannah couldn’t help but place a hand on her own stomach and wonder if she would ever look at things with a new perspective. She and Eric had loved each other very much, and planned on leaving Wisconsin, leaving all the hatred between their families behind. The very hatred that had ultimately killed him.

“Oh, listen to me, going on,” Fiona said. “I’m sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry?” As soon as she asked, Hannah read the sadness in Fiona’s eyes.

“Your baby is a blessing, too,” Fiona said. “Just think about it. Our babies will grow up together. They’ll be as close as siblings.”

Hannah forced the smile to remain on her lips. “Yes, yes they will.” It was a wonderful thought, but her baby needed a father before siblings. However, she refused to dampen Fiona’s joy.

A thud sounded overhead and Fiona squeezed her hand. “The boys are awake. I need to start their breakfast.”

Hannah squeezed Fiona’s hand in return. “And I have pumpkins to get in the oven.”

While Fiona made breakfast and sent her boys off to school, Hannah cleaned and baked the pumpkins. The slices were on the counter, cooling so she’d be able to peel and mush the fruit to use for pies, when the door opened. She was glad to not be holding the pan. If hearing Teddy’s voice had made her drop the knife, the sight of him now would have had her dumping the entire pan of pumpkin on the floor.

His eyes were shining like usual, but so were his cheeks. They were red from the cold wind, but it was the smile on his face that made him look even more charming than ever. More handsome.

* * *

Teddy thought he knew what to expect, as they’d only been gone a couple of hours, but the sight of Hannah caught him off guard. The smear of flour across her cheek, along with the apron that made her stomach more prominent, made her look beyond pretty. Beyond beautiful. She looked like a wife. A wife a man would want to come home to. And that had his blood pounding harder than when he’d shot the turkey. He didn’t want a wife, dang it. So why did she make him think along those lines all the time?

His hearing seemed to kick in from nowhere and he turned toward Fiona.

“Yes,” he replied to her question about whether they’d had any luck. “We got a big one. Must be close to thirty pounds.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Fiona replied as she glanced at Hannah. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Hannah said before turning her back on him.

“Where’s Brett?” Fiona asked.

“Getting a tub,” Teddy answered. “He asked me to have you put water on to boil.” His gaze kept bouncing back to Hannah. She was as attractive from the back as she was the front. Her blond hair was tied at the nape of her neck and the long curls hung down her back almost to her apron ties.

“Of course, but he doesn’t plan on cleaning it, does he?” Fiona asked while she added a log to the firebox of the cookstove.

“We figured you two were busy enough,” Teddy answered. “Thought we’d go ahead and clean it.”

“Nonsense.” Fiona crossed the room and grabbed a shawl hanging by the door. “He’s the one who has to work today. I’ll be right back.”

Hannah turned around as the door closed. When their eyes met, he said, “I think we’ll leave them alone for a moment.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” she replied.

The smile on her face made his heart thud. Drawn forward, he paused when she took a step sideways—away from him. Flustered because he shouldn’t be drawn to her, he searched for an excuse as to why he’d moved. Eyeing a kettle on the counter, he said, “I’ll fill this with water and put it on the stove.” He then quickly asked, “How’s your hand?”

She shook her head slightly. “Fine. I’ll get another kettle. If the bird is as large as you say, we’ll need plenty of hot water.”

“It’s as big as I say,” he assured. “One of the biggest turkeys I’ve ever seen.” Setting the pot on the stove, he asked, “Do you like turkey?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t like turkey?”

“I certainly do.” He crossed the room to collect one of the buckets filled with water. “But then there’s not a whole lot I don’t like. How about you?”

“Nothing that I can think of.” She set the second kettle on the stove. “However, I have made some things that weren’t very tasty.”

He laughed while filling both pots with water. “I have, too.”

She frowned. “You cook?”

“Every day.” He set the empty bucket on the table. “Except for the meals I eat at the hotel.”

“What about Abigail? Doesn’t she cook?”

“As little as possible, luckily.” He turned about and smiled. “Her cooking is worse than mine.”

“It is?”

“Abigail’s usually so busy writing, she burns everything.” Noting her frown, he changed the subject while nodding toward the counter. “Are you making pumpkin pies?”

“Yes.” Her smile was as soft as her voice. “Do you like pumpkin pie?”

“It just happens to be my favorite.”

“I’m using my grandmother’s recipe.”

“I can hardly wait.”

Silence encircled around them as they stood there, Hannah near the stove, him next to the table, their gazes locked. He wanted to say something, but the heart in his chest hammered against his rib cage, stealing his ability to form a single rational thought. Other than ones about how blue her eyes were, and how they kept moving slightly, as if she wanted to look away but couldn’t.

The lines of her face were soft and graceful, and the lashes around her eyes long and dark. Her lips were pale pink and glistening. This time he counteracted the pull inside him that had him wanting to step closer to her by resting a hand on the back of a chair.

Like every other time he laid eyes on her, a deep sense of wisdom or logic, or some other sensation he couldn’t quite explain, overcame him. Perhaps it wasn’t her he was drawn to as much as it was her condition. It reminded him of Becky and the baby he’d already looked forward to before she’d told him the wedding was off. That she was marrying the baby’s father. He’d been hurt and disappointed, but never let it show. Abigail had. She’d been furious, and when she had taken out her anger in her newspaper articles, he’d sought out a new town looking for a newspaper. Within a month, he and Abigail had moved. Two years later, they’d moved again, to Oak Grove. When they’d arrived, he’d promised himself, and warned Abigail, this was their last move. He wasn’t hauling that press another mile ever again.

Frustrated that he was remembering all that, and that Hannah was the reason, he glanced away. The best thing that could happen would be for her to marry one of the men on that list she’d written out.

The list was in his pocket, and at the moment seemed to be singeing his thigh. He’d carried it with him every day and thought nonstop about giving it back to her, but—“Who else will be here tomorrow?” he asked.

“No one that I know of,” she answered. “Angus stopped by yesterday, to let us know that he’ll be taking his meal with Maggie and Jackson.”

Angus O’Leary was an eccentric old Irish bachelor who had more money than he had brains. That wasn’t true. Angus was smarter than men half his age, which had to be pushing three-quarters of a century, and he knew how to charm the ladies. Perhaps it was his tall top hat, or his three-piece suits, but women adored the old codger.

Including Hannah.

Every Sunday, and whenever there was a community event, Angus was the one to escort Hannah. Old or not, Angus took his role of keeping others at bay when it came to Hannah seriously, and did a fine job of it.

Up until this moment, Teddy hadn’t considered that. How well Angus kept others at bay, including those on her list.

“Why?” she asked.

“Just making sure there will be plenty of pie for me.” That wasn’t the reason, but he wasn’t exactly sure what his reasons were. Or why it mattered to him at all.

A shy smile formed as she shook her head slightly. “You certainly must like pumpkin pie, Mr. White.”

“I do,” he admitted, “and do you think you could call me Teddy? I assure you it wouldn’t be improper. Most everyone in town does, even Rhett and Wyatt, and you do call Angus by his first name.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “Because he insists upon it.”

Suddenly it meant a lot to him to have her call him by his first name, too. “Will it help if I insist, too? Because I will.”

She shook her head, but the smile that grew on her lips gave him hope.

A clatter on the back steps and the opening of the door stopped her from answering. Teddy had to swallow a growl of frustration at the interruption as Brett and Fiona walked in. He should be happy about the interruption. Actually, he should just leave.

“My wife and I have come to a compromise,” Brett said, grinning down at Fiona. “She and Hannah will finish making us breakfast while we clean the turkey you shot. How’s that sound, Ted?”

“Sounds like a fair deal to me,” Teddy answered while he gaze once again settled on Hannah. “How does that sound to you, Hannah?”

Her cheeks took on a pink tinge as she nodded. “I believe that is a very fair deal, Teddy.”

Chapter Four

Teddy shut the door of the cupboard he’d thoroughly searched and crossed the room to yell up the stairway. “Abigail, where’s that jar of pickles I bought from Rollie?” Their print shop took up the front two rooms of the building, but the back three rooms as well as the three bedrooms upstairs were their living quarters.

“Why?” Abigail asked as she appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Because I need to take them to Brett’s,” Teddy replied.

Tying the bow of her flowered hat beneath her chin, she started down the stairs. “I ate them.”

“You ate them?”

“Yes. I was up late writing last night and got hungry.”

Normally he didn’t anger easy, but her statement unleashed the coil of frustration that sat inside him lately. “Now what am I supposed to take to Brett’s?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll have plenty to eat.”

“That’s not the point,” he growled. Overlooking her attitude was not in him today. Hadn’t been the past few days. Never overly pleasant, she’d been even pricklier lately. “It’s good manners to take a gift to the host,” he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, but said, “You could join the mayor and I at Rollie’s.”

Her attitude irked him. She was his sister, therefore he loved her, but on occasion didn’t like her much. “Is that why you’ve been so testy lately? Because I’m not joining you?”

“You should be joining me,” she said.

There were also times when arguing with her wasn’t worth the effort, and this was one of them. He crossed the room and grabbed his hat off the coatrack.

“Before history repeats itself,” she said.

Although he’d kept his thoughts of late hidden, he should’ve known she’d say something about Hannah sooner or later. “There is no history to repeat.”

“Do you think I’m blind? Or have you forgotten how devastated you were the last time you took up with a pregnant woman?”

“Give the Austins my best,” he growled as he opened the door and strode out.

She shouted his name, but he kept walking, ignoring her. He hadn’t forgotten anything about Becky, including how Abigail had reacted. She’d been against him marrying Becky and then furious when it hadn’t happened.

Giving his head a clearing shake, he looked up at the bright blue sky and told himself he was attending dinner at Brett’s place for no other reason than Brett was his best friend and had invited him. There was no history to repeat itself because he would never fall in love again. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Abigail was right. He had been devastated when Becky had cast him aside. He was older now, and smarter, and would never go down that road again.

Several hours later, Teddy wondered if he should have gone with Abigail. Brett and Fiona were gracious hosts and the meal had quite easily been the best he’d ever eaten. However, the joy that kept weaving its way around inside him came from Hannah. She was happier than he’d ever seen her. Talkative and carefree as she teased Rhett and Wyatt about eating so much they’d forget their parts in the upcoming recital.

It could just be the jubilation filling the house that was affecting him. Children had a way of doing that, and Rhett and Wyatt, who were five and seven, kept everyone at the table laughing.

Both boys had speaking parts in the program the new teacher had prepared for the entire community. The children were to recite the Thanksgiving proclamation President Abraham Lincoln had delivered back in 1863, making the day a national holiday. The boys insisted the more they ate, the better they’d perform and shortly after their plates were empty, they were itching to leave.

“Rhett and Wyatt sure are excited,” Teddy said to Hannah as he closed the door behind them.

The boys had been the first out the door, followed by Brett and Fiona, who’d given a quick apology, stating they needed to hurry or the boys would have their suits dirty before they got to school. Teddy had no choice but to assure them that was fine, that he’d escort Hannah to the school.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah said sheepishly. “I just can’t move as fast as I used to.”

“No reason to be sorry,” he said. “We aren’t in a hurry.”

“The boys are,” she said. “They’ve been practicing their lines all week.”

He chuckled. “I think I heard the entire proclamation while we were eating.”

She giggled. “I’ve heard it for the past week. I think I know it by heart.”

“The new teacher must be doing a good job,” he said. “I don’t ever remember being that excited about anything happening at school.”

The smile on Hannah’s face as she glanced his way made his heart kick like an old mule. “I imagine you were an excellent student.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he answered.

She giggled again, but then said, “Fiona certainly thinks Miss Burnett is a wonderful teacher, and I read the article in the newspaper that Abigail wrote about her. Miss Burnett seems to be very qualified.”

“Josiah had purchased ads in newspapers far and wide hoping to find someone suitable. It appears he has, but I don’t believe she’ll last any longer than the past few have.” Teddy bit the end of his tongue, not sure why he’d said that.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard that Don Carlson is at the school every day, dropping off and picking up his children.” It was the truth, he’d seen it himself, but pointed it out mainly because Don Carlson was on the list of Hannah’s potential husbands currently in his pocket. The list he still hadn’t returned. It wouldn’t hurt for her to know a few of the men on that list may not be a good choice for her. “Last year, Tess Creswell only lasted a few months as the teacher before Art married her. They just had a baby a few months ago.”

She nodded. “I’ve met Mrs. Creswell.”

“Don doesn’t have a wife and it appears he believes Miss Burnett is what he’s been looking for.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” she said.

“Jules Carmichael has also been seen at the school,” he said, mentioning another name on her list. “Jules lives in a small cabin on Russ and Henrietta Gibson’s dairy farm, which might not be as appealing to Miss Burnett, coming from the city as she did. The same goes for Jess Radar. He’s shown interest in the new teacher, too, but he lives in Steve Putnam’s bunkhouse. A woman such as Miss Burnett might be more comfortable in their own home, don’t you think?”

Hannah’s smile wobbled slightly as she nodded. “I suspect you’re right.”

Guilt assaulted his stomach. What was he doing? He’d told Abigail more than once that making others look bad did not make her look better. Nor would it make him look better. Which shouldn’t matter because he didn’t want to look better to Hannah. He didn’t want to be one of her choices.

“Have all the eligible men in town shown an interest in Miss Burnett?” Hannah asked.

He shrugged.

“Or just the ones on my list?”

Teddy stumbled slightly.

* * *

Hannah had searched for her list. For a while, she’d feared the list had been amongst the drawings she’d given Teddy last week, but since he’d never mentioned finding it, she’d assumed it must have accidently gotten burned. Until a moment ago, when out of nowhere a sinking feeling told her he had it, and knew exactly what it was. The remorse in his eyes said she was right.

They’d stopped walking, and not sure what else to do, she merely held her hand out. He dug into his hip pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. She didn’t unfold it. Just slipped it into the pocket of the button-up jacket Fiona had insisted she wear.

“I planned on giving it back to you,” he said. “Would have before now, but never had the opportunity.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye. Selecting a spot over one of his shoulders, she kept her head up, her gaze averted.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said. “I should have given it back last week, but—”

“But what?” She still didn’t look at him. “You wanted to make sure you had something bad to say about each one of them first?”

“No, I—”

“You what?” She was more upset than she was angry, which was foolish. Making that list had been foolish.

“I just wondered why I wasn’t on your list.”

The baby moved so suddenly, it startled her as much as his statement had. She placed a hand on her stomach, and he gently touched her arm.

“Is something wrong? Is it the baby?”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “The baby is fine, and so am I. We should get to the school now.” She still hadn’t looked at him, didn’t have the courage to do that, but noticing his sister amongst the crowd walking toward the school gave her the wherewith to put one foot in front of the other. Abigail’s flowered hat was impossible to miss. Even the sight of the back of it caused a sinking sensation inside Hannah.

“We can go back to the house if the walk is too much for you,” he said.

“The walk is not too much for me.” She drew another deep breath. But all the deep breaths in the world wouldn’t give her the fortitude to tell him his sister was the reason he wasn’t on her list. The past few nights had been full of sleepless hours, and for most of those hours she’d contemplated what she wanted. Brett and Fiona were wonderful and would let her live with them forever, but she didn’t want that. She wanted the baby to have a family. A mother and a father, and eventually siblings. Her thoughts always led her to think about Teddy, and ultimately Abigail. And how much his sister disliked her. The people who would say that didn’t matter had never experienced living with hatred. She had. And she knew the consequences.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She tried to hide a heavy sigh while saying, “I’m sure.”

Chapter Five

The children’s program didn’t last long, but what followed seemed to take forever. Teddy had secured her a chair, of which Hannah was thankful. The school was large enough for the children on a daily basis, but with the entire community in attendance, there wasn’t nearly enough room. People stood outside, watching the program through the windows and doorway. She was proud of Rhett and Wyatt, how they performed their speaking parts without a single mishap. The other children, too. She couldn’t help but think of the future and how her child would someday be old enough to participate in such performances.

That thought also left her unsettled. What Teddy said had been the truth. About Don Carlson, Jules Carmichael and Jess Radar. She’d already known what he’d said about each of them, and had determined none of them was a suitable choice for her. He had only confirmed her list was much shorter than she’d wanted to believe. And then hearing Rhett whispering to his mother had her thinking about other things.

After the children had taken their final bow, Reverend Flaherty, using words from Lincoln’s Proclamation, had led a prayer of inestimable peace, harmony and prosperity for all of Oak Grove. Then Mayor Melbourne had walked to the front of the room. He’d been talking for ages already, and under his breath, she’d heard Rhett tell Fiona that he sure was glad she hadn’t married the mayor.

That tiny whispered voice echoed inside Hannah’s head for the rest of the mayor’s speech. Marrying someone just so her baby would have a last name wouldn’t be what was best for her child. Or her. Finding the right man, one she could love and who would love her and her baby, was what she truly wanted. Love like Brett and Fiona had. Like her grandparents had. That’s why she’d loved being with them so much, because they’d loved her in return. Outside of their house, all she’d known was hate. Her father had been so full of it, it had spread far and wide. There had been no escaping it.

“Come,” Teddy said, taking ahold of her arm. “We’ll slip out the side door and avoid most of the crowd so you won’t have to be on your feet so long.”

“I’m fine,” she said in protest, but gladly rose now that the mayor had finally concluded his speech.

Hannah then shivered from head to toe when a squeaky voice sent an icy tremor up her spine.

“Teddy!” Abigail repeated.

He appeared to ignore his sister while walking toward the door, but once outside, he paused long enough for Abigail to catch up with them. Hannah forced a smile to form and prepared herself as she turned to face the other woman.

The glare was there. As icy as the tremor had been. Having lived with such glares her entire life, Hannah’s heart sank. She just couldn’t endure that again. Wouldn’t.

“I want an etching of the children’s performance for the paper next week,” Abigail said, never once glancing toward her brother.

“I’m sorry, Miss White,” Hannah said. “I didn’t bring any paper with me.”

“Abigail—”

“You can’t draw one from memory?” Abigail interrupted Teddy. “To hear my brother talk, you can draw anything. Everything.”

“You’ve commented on what an expert artist Mrs. Olsen is, too, Abigail,” Teddy said. “As has the mayor and practically every person who has seen one of her drawings in the Gazette.”

“That I have,” Mayor Josiah Melbourne said. “Every week when I read the newspaper.” Patting Abigail’s arm, the man continued, “You certainly can’t expect Mrs. Olsen to draw all those children from memory.”

Hannah figured she could draw a few, but not all of them, and sincerely hoped Abigail would agree with the mayor. Josiah and Brett had butted heads when it came to Fiona—mainly due to the fact the mayor had brought her to town to marry him—and Hannah certainly didn’t want to be the cause of Brett standing against the man again. Or Teddy. That would be even worse. Especially in Abigail’s eyes, which were narrowing and making her face all the more hawkish.

“I expected you to realize an event this large would need a picture to go along with my article,” Abigail said, holding up her pad of paper. Of course her pencil was stuck behind one ear as always.

“I didn’t,” Teddy interjected, “and I own the paper.” Taking ahold of Hannah’s arm once more, he nodded. “Now, if you two will excuse us, we have pumpkin pie waiting for us.”

“So do we, Abigail,” the mayor said.

Abigail didn’t speak as she spun about. Didn’t need to. Her eyes had said all Hannah needed to hear.

“I don’t believe the mayor has missed too many desserts in his life,” Teddy said with a smile as they started walking.

The mayor was portly, and short, and Hannah had a hard time believing Fiona had ever considered marrying the man every time she saw him. That wasn’t what she thought of now. Although Teddy was obviously trying to make her think of other things, she couldn’t. Nor could she stop the heavy sigh that escaped her as they crossed the street.

“Don’t let Abigail bother you.” Teddy’s hold on her arm tightened while they stepped onto the wooden walkway that ran the entire length of the street, including past the Gazette office.

Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know what I’ve done to make her dislike me so much.”

“You haven’t done anything,” Teddy said. “Abigail has never learned how to make friends. I’ve tried to make her understand things, but...” He shrugged. “I thought she’d grown out of it.”

“No,” Hannah insisted. “I know hatred when I see it.” If she had the wherewithal, she would kick up her heels and run back to Brett’s house, but in her condition, that wasn’t an option. At most, her gait would be a fast waddle.

“It’s not you,” Teddy said. “It’s me. She’s upset because you’re, well, similar to a woman I was engaged to marry once.”

Hannah footsteps faltered briefly. “I am? Engaged to? What happened?”

He shrugged. “She married someone else.”

There was no shine in his eyes, no smile on his face, and Hannah got the impression he regretted saying as much as he had. After several quiet moments, she said, “Eric’s family hated me. Still do. They hate my entire family. Always have. And my family hated him. His entire family. The feud has been going on for years. Long ago, two brothers were in the fur trade together, but when one stole the other one’s wife, the two became enemies. They moved to opposite sides of the lake, and one changed the spelling of their name.”

“Their name?”

“Olsen. One of them changed it from an O-l-s-e-n to O-l-s-o-n, according to my father. According to Eric’s father it was the opposite way. From o to e, not e to o.” She wasn’t sure why she’d told him all that. Maybe because in a somewhat different way, she knew how he felt. Not being loved by someone you wanted to love you. “The feud was reignited when I was a baby. By then both families owned logging companies. Eric’s grandfather and my grandfather both tried to claim an island in the middle of the lake, wanting to harvest the lumber off it.”

“Who won?” Teddy asked as they turned the corner and started walking toward Brett’s blacksmith shop and seed company.

“Neither. A fire burned all the trees to the ground. Both sides claimed the other one started the fire.”

“What does your grandfather say?”

“He died in the fire. So did Eric’s grandfather. They were the only two on the island.”

After a few steps, he asked, “I thought your grandfather taught you how to draw and etch wood.”

“He did. But Pappy is my mother’s father. John and Glenda Gunderson.” Saying her grandparents’ names added to her melancholy. She missed them terribly. “I stayed winters with them from the time I was a baby. I’m the youngest. My sisters and mother went to the logging camp to cook for the men. When I got old enough to go to the camp, too, Gram asked if I could stay with her and Pappy instead because they were getting older and could use my help. I have plenty of sisters—seven, actually—so my mother agreed I could stay behind, and my father... Well, he was glad to not have me around. I angered him. Because I was supposed to be a boy.” The baby inside her shifted and she placed her hand upon her stomach as a familiar and special feeling eased some of her sorrow.

“Surely that didn’t really matter to him.”

“Yes, it did. The other Olsons had sons to carry on the family name.” Tired of the hurt that encompassed her when thinking about her father, she changed the subject. “Pappy didn’t mind that I was a girl and he was proud of my etchings. He’s a carpenter. Makes furniture as fine as Jackson Miller here in town. But Pappy’s pieces are all uniquely carved. Pinecones and oak leaves, birds, fish and many other personal designs. They are truly wonderful.” The memory of one particular piece made her sigh. “When I was a baby, he made a cradle for me to sleep in while I was at their house, and always said that my children would sleep in it, too. It’s beautiful.”

“I’m sure it is.” They walked in silence for a few more steps before he said, “Did things get better between your families once you and Eric—”

“No,” she answered before he could finish. She didn’t want to lie to him, but wasn’t ready to reveal she and Eric had never been married. “One of his brothers saw Eric talking to me at the lumberyard one day. Both of our families sold logs to Brett’s family’s sawmill. His father made sure my father heard about it, and we were forbidden to see each other.”

“But you didn’t stop.”

“No,” she replied, “we didn’t.” Her throat was suddenly on fire, and swallowing only made it worse, but she continued, “Eric died because he loved me. He may have drowned while floating logs across the lake, but he wouldn’t have been given that job if his father hadn’t been mad at him because of me.”

* * *

Teddy wanted to tell her that couldn’t be true, that she couldn’t blame herself for Eric’s death like that, but tears weren’t the only thing in her eyes. There was so much grief, so much sorrow, it stole his breath. They’d crossed the field and now stood near Brett’s house. Still holding one of her elbows, he grasped her other arm, to pull her close to offer comfort, but she shook her head.

“His father told me so. Told me I was the reason his son died. Eric was a faller. He loved cutting down trees.” She blinked back several tears while pinching her lips together. “But he hated the water. Was afraid of it. Everyone knew that. Especially his father, but he’d made Eric float the logs across the river as a punishment for loving me.”

The desire to pull her close grew at every tear that fell from her eyes. “Hannah—”

“I don’t want my baby to ever know that kind of hatred. That’s why I left Wisconsin.” She twisted against his hold until he released both arms. “And that’s why you aren’t on my list.” Covering her mouth with one hand, she hurried toward the steps.

Teddy watched her enter the house as new and unusual emotions flooded him. It was a moment before everything connected in his head. He wasn’t on her list because of the way Abigail treated her. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the tiniest desire to defend his sister. Instead, he wanted to protect Hannah. Protect her from all the people who had ever hurt her, and from any of those who might ever do so in the future.

He now fully understood why Brett’s mother had sent her to Oak Grove when she had. Under the ruse of becoming Brett’s wife. And he understood why Brett had been so protective over her since the day she’d arrived. Hannah had been hurt badly. Compared to flesh wounds, inner ones took longer to heal. Some never healed. His grandfather had explained that to him in a way he’d never forget.

Around the age of ten or so, after a fight with Abigail, who was five years younger than him, where he’d said some mean things to her, his grandfather had taken him into the print shop and pulled a sheet of paper off the same press Teddy still used to print the Gazette.

A person’s heart is like this paper, Grandpa had said. It’s as fragile as it is strong. When someone’s heart gets hurt, for whatever reason, it crimples a bit, and though we can smooth the crinkles out, the paper will never be the same. If it’s run through the press, ink will gather in the fine creases, remnants of the crinkles, and the print will be smudged. A man should take care to never say or do something that will crimple someone’s heart.

He’d never forgotten that lesson. It had gotten him through the ordeal with Becky. Although his heart had been crimpled, he hadn’t wanted hers to be, so he had generously wished her well in her marriage to Rex Arnold.

His mind had momentarily gone to Becky, but his gaze was still on the house. Hannah’s heart had been crimpled for as long as she could remember.

The sound of his name had him turning about.

“Did you like the performance, Teddy?” Rhett asked as the two boys slid to a stop beside him.

“Yes, I did,” he answered, ruffling the boy’s mop of brown hair, which earlier had been combed smooth, but was no longer. “It was the finest recital I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s what Brett said, too,” Wyatt answered, beaming. “And now we get to eat some of Hannah’s pie!”

Teddy had been looking forward to that pie as much as the boys—they’d talked about the dessert even while eating the turkey and fixings. He no longer felt like eating pie. Might never feel like eating again.

“Aren’t you joining us for dessert?” Fiona asked as she and Brett arrived, holding hands.

“No,” Teddy replied. “I have to go to the hotel, but thank you, Fiona. That was the best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever had.”

Brett laid a hand on his shoulder as he said to Fiona, “I’ll be in shortly.”

Fiona eyed them both curiously, but hurried inside.

“What happened?” Brett asked. “Where’s Hannah?”

“Inside,” Teddy answered. “She told me about her and Eric’s family. About the feud. How they hated each other.”

Brett huffed out a sigh. “Her father and Eric’s are cruel men. From what my mother said in her letters, it’s gotten worse over the years, and it would be best if Hannah never saw either of them ever again.”

“How can grown men...” Teddy shook his head, knowing Brett would have the same sentiments, and no answers. Some people were just mean. Too mean. Couldn’t see past their own noses when it came to recognizing how their behaviors hurt others.

“You care about Hannah, don’t you?” Brett asked.

Glancing toward the house, Teddy admitted, “More than I should.”

Chapter Six

The slamming of cupboard doors said Abigail was as angry this morning as she’d been when she went to bed last night. Teddy continued setting type. She had plenty to be mad about—in her mind. He’d forced her to leave the hotel and confronted her on how she’d spoken to Hannah. Her response had been to inform him they would be doing their own etchings again.

He’d disagreed, and would stand his ground on that, as well as on a few other things.

“Did you not make any coffee this morning?”

“If you want some, make some,” he answered.

“You didn’t even build a fire.”

“If you want one, build one.”

“I don’t have time. I have articles to write today, and—”

“And several to rewrite,” he interrupted, pointing to the two articles he’d already edited this morning.

She flew across the room and grabbed the sheets of paper off the desk. “There is nothing wrong with these.”

He walked up behind her and pointed to one particular section he’d circled.

Oak Grove Community members will be excited to learn that every store in town will be hosting special sales for the upcoming Christmas Season. Except for Blackwell’s Blacksmithing and Feed and Seed. Evidently, Mr. Blackwell doesn’t believe in the Christmas Spirit.

“What’s wrong with that? I’m being honest,” she said, jutting out her chin. “That’s the first thing a reporter must be. Honest. Brett hasn’t purchased an advertisement about any Christmas specials, so he must not be having any.”

“That’s not being honest, that’s being rude.” He took the papers from her. “Articles like this are the reason we’ve moved so many times. I was serious when I said no more, Abigail. And I still am.”

“That’s not why we left Missouri,” she snapped. “And that’s what won’t happen again.” She spun about and marched over to her desk in the corner. “I won’t let it.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a newspaper he didn’t recognize. “Hannah Olsen will give birth to a bastard. She. Was. Never. Married.”

The chill that raced over him was colder than water pulled from the well in January. “What have you done?”

* * *

Hannah held her breath against an onslaught of sensations that made her shake. She couldn’t help but glance across the street, toward the front office of the Gazette. Someone was on the other side of the glass and she quickly glanced away. Even on the other side of the street she could feel the glower that Abigail was sending her way.

“Rhett, slow down,” Wyatt said. “Hannah can’t walk that fast.”

Pulling her attention back to the two boys walking with her, she said, “I will one day soon,” she said. “I think I’ll challenge you both to a footrace after this baby is born.”

Rhett, who had listened to his older brother and slowed down, laughed. “Mothers don’t have footraces.”

“They don’t?”

“No.”

“We’ll have to see about that.” Winking at Wyatt, she added, “Right after I beat you in one.”

While Rhett laughed again, Wyatt changed the subject. “Are you really going to draw a picture of all of us?” he asked.

“If it’s all right with Miss Burnett,” she answered. The idea had come to her last night. If Abigail wanted an etching of all the children, that’s what she would receive. Despite how the other woman might feel toward her, Hannah was not going to promote hatred in any way. She’d left Wisconsin to get away from it. Forever.

She’d thought about that late into the night, and while unable to sleep had remembered something Brett’s mother had said to her. Whenever hatred is allowed to thrive, bad things follow. But where there is love, there’s goodness and grace.

At the time, she’d taken that as a simple statement of truth, but last night, she’d begun to look upon it as a piece of advice, as well as Fiona’s idea of looking at things from a different perspective. It might prove hard, but her first thought had been that Abigail was Teddy’s sister, and Teddy was very easy to like. He was also at the core of her thinking. She couldn’t help but wonder how or why the woman he’d been engaged to had married someone else.

“Hannah came to school with us!”

Rhett’s shout pulled her attention back to the task at hand.

“Hello, Mrs. Olsen,” Miss Burnett said as they arrived at the school building. “I hope you enjoyed the recital yesterday.”

“Oh, I did. Very much,” Hannah answered. “So much I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is that?”

“I’m hoping to spend some time in the classroom today. I didn’t think to bring a piece of paper with me yesterday, and I’d like to draw a picture of the children during their performance.”

“Whatever for?”

“The newspaper,” Hannah answered. “I promise it won’t take long. But I will need everyone to stand at the front of the room like they were yesterday. Just long enough for me to get an outline, then I’ll sit in the back, drawing some of their features.” For the etching, she only needed a prominent feature for each child, so they’d be somewhat recognizable, mainly to their families.

“The newspaper? The children would love that,” Miss Burnett said. “Of course, come in.”

* * *

“Is this everything?” Teddy asked, holding the newspapers in one hand and Abigail’s arm in the other. The newspapers had come from Wisconsin and Minnesota. He hadn’t read them, but believed Abigail’s claim that they held articles of Eric’s accident.

“Yes,” she growled.

She was furious. So was he, and he wouldn’t allow Hannah to be hurt, not in the harmful, hateful way Abigail had been plotting. He ripped the newspapers in half, then again.

“She’s going to destroy you, just like Becky did.” Abigail stomped a foot. “I don’t care what Brett says, that woman came here to find a husband. To find a father for her baby.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.

“She’ll never love you, no more than Becky did.”

“I’m not marrying Hannah.” As he said the words, his heart lurched and he glanced toward the window Hannah had walked past a short time ago.

“Does she know that?”

“Yes,” he said. “She wouldn’t marry me if I asked, and do you want to know why? Because of you.”

“Me!”

Releasing her arm, he tossed the torn papers into the box beneath the desk. “When I do decide to get married, you will have no say in it because I don’t care what you think. But, in the meantime, if you do anything to Hannah, you will answer to me, and I won’t be as kind as I have been in the past.”

“She’s lying. I haven’t done—”

“You wield that pencil behind your ear like a sword, and though it makes me sick to admit it, I’ve let the fact our parents died when you were young be your shield.” Grabbing his jacket, he shook his head. “I’m done doing that.”

“You’ll be sorry,” she shouted.

Opening the door, he said, “No more than I already am.”

The street was empty, and assuming Hannah had walked Rhett and Wyatt to school, he started in that direction. He had no idea what he might say to her, but if he could prevent her from having her heart crimpled again, he had to do it.

Upon approaching the school, his ears picked up the teacher telling the students to listen to Hannah. It was warm, even for November, and the door was open, so he quietly snuck just over the threshold, to where he could peek around the corner of the storage closet. All the children stood at the front of the room, along with their teacher, while Hannah sat in a chair near the front row of desks.

“Thank you, Miss Burnett,” Hannah said. “Children, I asked you all to stand this way for so long because, as Miss Burnett said, I’m drawing a picture. What she didn’t tell you is that the picture is for Miss White.”

“What for?” one of the children asked.

“Because she’s writing an article for the newspaper about what a wonderful performance you gave yesterday and she wants a picture to print along with the article.”

“So we’ll be in the newspaper?” someone asked.

“Yes,” Hannah said, “but, I think we should all keep that a secret. Think how surprised your parents will be when they see the paper next week with you in it, and read about what a wonderful job you all did in reciting Lincoln’s Proclamation.”

Teddy grinned at the squeals of delight and mumbles of agreement.

“Can you do that?” Hannah asked. “Keep it a secret?”

Shouts of yes echoed off the walls.

“Wonderful,” Hannah said. “I’m going to be here for a while longer drawing, and if I ask you to smile at me, it’s because I’m drawing your face and want to get it right.”

Teddy eased out of the door. There was no one else like her on this earth. No one. As he started down the steps, he paused at a sinking sensation. Now he was going to have to make sure Abigail published the etching.

His life may have just gone from bad to worse.

Chapter Seven

Hannah’s hands hurt, and her eyes ached, but as she gently brushed the etching clean, satisfaction spread throughout her. Smiling, she carefully touched several of the tiny faces. This may very well be her best work. Maybe it was just her, but she could recognize each child.

“Can I see it now?” Fiona asked as she poured hot water into the teapot on the counter.

Sitting at the table, Hannah covered the block of wood with a piece of paper. “I wish you could, but that wouldn’t be fair to Rhett and Wyatt.”

“I know what it is,” Fiona said.

“I’m sure you do,” Hannah answered. “But you’ll act as surprised as every other parent in town when the paper arrives.”

“I’ll have Brett take it to the Gazette in the morning,” Fiona said.

“No, I don’t want him to see it, either. I’ll walk it over there myself. I just hope they haven’t printed the paper yet.”

“Teddy doesn’t print it until Saturday.”

“But he lays it all out on Friday.” Which is why she’d worked on the etching nonstop all day.

“I’m sure he won’t mind redoing a page or two in order to include that,” Fiona said. “Now, it’s late, everyone else has been asleep for hours. I have tea and biscuits ready to take upstairs. You barely stopped working long enough to eat supper.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry for not being any help to you today.”

“Nonsense. I enjoyed seeing you so engrossed in something. You really enjoyed doing that.”

“I did. I’ve never etched people before.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” With a nod toward the paper-covered etching, Fiona said, “Gather your things. I’ll follow you up the stairs.”

* * *

The following morning, as soon as the breakfast dishes were washed and put away, Hannah set half of a pumpkin pie in the bottom of a basket, covered it with a plate, and then put in the etching and corresponding drawing, as well as a smaller etching and drawing. On top, she stacked the drawings the children had made. After covering the basket with a cloth, she retrieved her coat and left the house.

Everyone from Brett down to Rhett had offered to accompany her to the Gazette office, but she’d declined, stating she’d be back shortly. Although her baby was calm and quiet as she walked toward town, nerves had her stomach churning. Offering this olive branch, which is how she chose to think of her actions, was scary, but she wanted better things for her child than what she’d known, and she had to do something to make that happen. It wasn’t easy, but few things worth doing were easy.

The space between the house and the Gazette office had to have shrunk because before she was fully prepared, she’d arrived.

Abigail was on the other side of the glass window, staring at her, and so was Teddy. Hannah willed her courage to remain, and even managed to produce a smile as Teddy pulled open the door.

“H—Mrs. Olsen, what are you doing here? Is everything all right at Brett’s place?”

The genuine concern in his eyes made her heart swell. “Everything is fine,” she said. “Brett and Fiona say hello.” Holding up the basket, she said, “I have something for Ab—Miss White.”

“What?” Abigail asked.

Ignoring Abigail’s tone and glare, Hannah held her smile in place. “May I?” she asked, gesturing toward the counter.

“Of course,” Teddy said. “Allow me.” He took the basket and set it on the counter.

While removing the cloth, Hannah said, “I made an etching of the children’s recital for you to include with your article.”

“Teddy has already completed the typeset for this week’s edition,” Abigail said, stepping up behind the counter. “We won’t be able to use it.”

Refusing to allow her disappointment to show, and seeing how Teddy was preparing to protest, Hannah said, “I understand. I told the children I may not have it completed in time.” Taking the children’s drawings out of the basket, she handed them to Abigail. “They asked me to give you these either way.”

She’d purposefully put Wyatt’s letter on the top of the pile. Frowning, Abigail started flipping through the pieces of paper.

“Some of the children are too young to write, so they drew pictures,” Hannah explained.

Teddy leaned across the counter and picked up Wyatt’s letter. “‘Dear Miss White. I haven’t read the article yet, but thank you for writing about our recital. It was fun and my ma and pa are going to like seeing my picture in the paper. Sincerely, your friend, Wyatt Blackwell.’”

Hannah smiled at how well Teddy had deciphered some of the misspelled words.

He picked up another one that said Abigail was a very good reporter, and another one that said having their picture in the paper was very exciting. That usually only outlaws got their pictures in newspapers.

Laughing at that one, Teddy picked up the one that Rhett had drawn. It was of several small stick people and one large one with “thank you” written at the bottom. “These are adorable.” Transferring his smiling eyes toward his sister, he said, “Aren’t they, Abigail?”

Abigail didn’t respond, but did seem to be concentrating on a longer letter written by one of the older children. Hannah knew the letter. It was from Patty Owens and claimed she’d like to become a reporter someday.

“May I see the etching?” Teddy asked.

“Of course,” Hannah replied, taking it and the corresponding drawing out of the basket. “I listed all of the children on the drawing,” she said. “In case you were able to print it and wanted to include their names.”

“Wow,” he said, examining the block of wood. “I recognize each one of the children. We have to print it.” Handing it to his sister, he said, “Don’t we?”

Abigail didn’t reply, but took the etching.

“I’m afraid it’s larger than any others I’ve done, but I had to make it that big to fit everyone in.”

“It’s perfect,” Teddy said. “Perfect.”

Hannah’s stomach was still churning and she couldn’t quite seem to catch her breath—that was due to standing so close to Teddy. She had thought long and hard about the list he’d given back to her, and how she couldn’t marry any of those men. She’d told herself she’d created the etchings because of Abigail, but in truth, she’d made them because of Teddy. He was so kind and generous and deserved that in return.

Pulling her trailing thoughts back to the task at hand, she reached into the basket. “I made another etching, Abigail.” The other woman’s name hadn’t rolled off her tongue easily and she hoped no one had noticed that. Handing Abigail the small etching, Hannah said, “I made this one of you, in case you’d like to use it.”

Abigail took the block of wood, and Hannah’s stomach completely flip-flopped. Drawing Abigail from memory had been easy. The hard part had been softening her features to make her look as attractive as possible. While drawing, she’d focused on the feature Teddy and Abigail shared—their eyes. So rather than squinting, she’d drawn Abigail’s eyes as round and prominent as Teddy’s were. She’d also changed Abigail’s hair a smidgen. Rather than having it pulled back so tightly, she’d loosened it and drawn a few stray curls near her temples, but had made sure the pencil behind one ear was still visible.

Nervous beyond compare, Hannah said, “My thought had been that you might like to use it if you wanted to print one of the thank-you notes from the children. If there was room in the newspaper, of course.”

Abigail glanced up from the etching, and for the first time ever, there wasn’t loathing in her eyes.

Swallowing a hiccup, Hannah handed Abigail the final piece of paper out of the basket. “Here’s the corresponding drawing.” It was much larger than the etching.

Abigail placed a hand over her mouth as she took the paper with her other hand and stared at it.

Not sure what to do next, Hannah lifted the pie out of the basket. “I brought this, too,” she said to Teddy. “You left before having any dessert on Thanksgiving.”

* * *

Teddy had never seen such a genuine act of kindness in his life, and may never witness one that would compare to this if he lived to be a hundred and one. He wanted to force Abigail to respond, to say something positive, but had accepted Abigail was her own person and needed to accept her own responsibilities.

So did he. “Thank you,” he said. “I was sorry to have missed tasting your pumpkin pie. I believe I’ll have a piece even before I start pulling type.”

“No.”

Teddy balled his hands into fists at Abigail’s voice, and at Hannah’s dejected look. To her credit, she never faltered in putting the cloth back into the basket.

“I’ll pull type, Teddy,” Abigail said. “While you escort Hannah home before Brett and Fiona start to worry about her.”

“That’s not necessary,” Hannah said.

As Abigail stacked the letters from the children into a pile, she said, “It’s the least we can do.”

Teddy was surprised, but agreed. “It is the least we can do.”

“These,” Abigail said, while picking up both etchings, “are amazing, and we will print them in this edition. Thank you for making them. And thank you for bringing them over this morning.”

Relief washed over Teddy, especially as Hannah’s face took on a glow as she placed a hand on her stomach.

“You’re very welcome,” Hannah said. “The children were so excited about the prospect.”

“We’ll print extra copies,” Teddy said, “so they each get their very own copy.”

“They’ll like that,” Hannah answered.

“Teddy,” Abigail said, “shouldn’t you get your coat so you can walk Hannah home?”

“Really, that’s not—”

“Yes, it is,” Teddy said, almost afraid to leave the two women alone. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He hurried around the counter and then through a doorway into the back of the building to grab his coat. Rushing back toward the office, he heard Abigail speak again.

“This was very thoughtful of you,” she said. “Very thoughtful.”

He entered the room as Hannah lifted the basket off the counter.

“I—I sincerely appreciate you providing me with the opportunity to make etchings for the newspaper,” she said. “It’s helped me and my situation considerably. More than you know.”

“It has helped us considerably,” Teddy said. He wasn’t totally sure if Abigail was being sincere, or just acting. It was hard to tell at times, but either way, he was glad she’d behaved. Shrugging into his coat, he rounded the counter and told her, “I won’t be gone long.”

“Take your time,” Abigail said. “I’ll just be pulling type.”

“I can do that when I get back.”

“No,” she replied, looking at the picture of herself. “I can do it. I want to make some changes to the story, too.”

The likeness was very good. It reminded him of her when she was younger.

“I’m sorry to have caused more work for both of you,” Hannah said as he took the basket from her.

“It’s no problem,” he said. “We’re used to last-minute changes. It’s part of the publishing businesses. Isn’t it, Abigail?”

“Yes.” Abigail held up one of the children’s drawings. “And the Gazette is the best newspaper in all of Kansas.”

That was exactly what the piece of paper she held said, with a couple of misspelled words and backward letters. Teddy had to take a second look at his sister. He hadn’t seen her smile so big in a long time. The giggle beside him had him shifting his gaze.

The shine in Hannah’s eyes was the brightest he’d ever seen, and was enough to make his heart hammer harder than his printing press when cranking out newspapers.

“That was one of my favorites,” she said.

“I look forward to reading them all,” he said, opening the door and gesturing for her to cross the threshold first.

“You’ll enjoy them,” she said.

“I’m sure I will. Thank you for delivering them. And thank you for the etchings. They are remarkable, Hannah.”

“Thank you, Teddy.”

It sounded as if she’d said his name as a test, or an afterthought, which was how he’d said her name. A sort of test to see if she’d protest.

“I enjoyed making them, and the children were thrilled with the idea of being in the newspaper. The thank-you notes were Miss Burnett’s idea.”

The wind tugged at her bonnet as they walked and he took her elbow to direct her closer to the buildings for a bit of protection. “I’m sorry for the way I left the other day.”

“That’s why I brought you some pie. I knew you’d been looking forward to it.”

“Thank you for that as well, and I will eat it as soon as I get home, but I meant for how I left you. You were upset. I should have—”

“No, you shouldn’t have, Teddy. I needed to be alone.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have said what I did about Jules Carmichael and Jess Radar. They are good men and once married, I’m sure they would secure different living quarters.”

“Probably, and I’m sure they are good men. Don Carlson, too.” She glanced up at him.

“Yes,” he admitted, with a hint of chagrin. “Don, too. The others on your list are as well, and—”

“I burned it.”

Taken aback by her interruption, he asked, “Burned what?”

“The list. Right after you gave it back to me.” She wasn’t looking at him, but straight ahead, toward the corner they would soon turn down and head east toward Brett’s house.

“Hannah, I—”

“It wasn’t because of anything you said or did. It was me.” She glanced his way. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Were you in love with the woman who didn’t marry you?”

He paused before answering. “I thought I was at the time.” He wasn’t so sure now. Becky had been young and alone, not so different from Hannah, except that Hannah had Brett and Fiona. Becky hadn’t had anyone and that had worried him.

“You thought?”

Becky had been in his thoughts lately, as well as what his life might have been like if she had married him, and he questioned the absence of any ache, of any sense of loss. “I was worried about her and wanted to help her.”

“Why? Was something wrong?”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from darting to her waist. Lifting his gaze, he shook his head. “Not necessarily wrong.” Becky had left him for a man she loved. Hannah still loved Eric, and he had to wonder if that would be worse. She might always love Eric, and where would that leave him? Needing to change the subject, and curious, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Her smile increased. “I loved etching all of the children. I’d never drawn people before, and wasn’t sure if I could.”

“Well, those etchings are amazing. Your grandfather must have been an excellent teacher.”

“Oh, he was. He and Gram are the best.”

“You miss them.”

She nodded and put one hand on her stomach. “I do. Very much.” Her sigh caught on the breeze as they turned the corner to walk toward the blacksmith shop. “I was never scared or worried while at their house.”

“But you were at your own home?”

She nodded.

“I’ve already told you my father wanted a boy instead of me. It was worse that Eric’s family continued to have children. Boys to carry on the family name, and our side of the family didn’t.”

Anger rolled inside Teddy. He couldn’t imagine a father—any man—blaming a child for something that was so out of their control. It was ludicrous. “Being born a girl was not your fault, Hannah. You had nothing to do with it.”

She shook her head solemnly. “It went beyond that. I couldn’t do anything right in his eyes. Including my etchings.”

“Well, I believe your etchings are remarkable. And I’m not the only one. Every time someone inquires about an advertisement, they ask if you’d be able to create a picture to accompany it.”

“They do?”

The shine in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. “Yes, they do. You’ve been very good for our business.” He added a wink, hoping that she understood it was the truth, but he was also teasing her a bit.

She giggled. “I’m glad. It feels good to know I’m helping someone and I do enjoy it very much.”

“Good, because we’d lose customers if you stopped.”

She playfully slapped his arm. “You would not. You’re just teasing.”

He patted the hand she still had on his arm as his mind came full circle back to the list she’d created. If she did marry one of those men, she might become too busy to etch any more pictures. “I’m not teasing,” he admitted. “I’m proud of you, Hannah. Proud of your etchings.”

Her expression grew serious, yet content. “Thank you, Teddy. Thank you very much.”

Rhett and Wyatt shot from around the blacksmith shop and ran toward them. “Are you going to print the picture, Teddy? Are you?” Rhett asked.

Hannah laughed and leaned a bit closer to say, “I warned them you might not be able to, but if you did, they were to keep it a secret.”

He knelt down as the boys arrived and put on a serious expression as he whispered, “I can’t tell you if you’re going to run around shouting about it.”

“We won’t,” Wyatt assured, casting a glare toward his younger brother.

“I was only shouting ’cause it was you,” Rhett said. “I won’t tell anyone else. I promise.”

“Cross-your-heart promise?” Teddy asked.

Both boys nodded and used a fingertip to draw an X over their chests.

“Then, yes, I’m going to print it, and I’ll make sure you each get your very own copy.”

The giggle from Hannah, and the way she squeezed his arm as he stood up, filled him with more happiness than he might ever have known before.

Fiona and Brett walked around the building just then.

An unusual wave of disappointment washed over him as Hannah let go of his arm.

“Thank you for walking me home,” she said. “I hope you enjoy the pie.”

“I will,” Teddy answered, having totally forgotten about the pie. He graced Fiona with a smile before nodding at Brett.

When the women were several steps away Brett said, “I don’t know what she was etching, but she worked all day on it yesterday.”

Still watching her walk away, and knowing the boys were within hearing distance, Teddy replied, “It’s a secret. That’s all I can tell you.”

The boys giggled before they ran off, and a thought shot across Teddy’s mind. He wondered what Brett would say if he said he wanted to marry Hannah. It wasn’t the first time he’d had that thought, but he was still unsure if that was what his heart truly wanted, or if he was just worried about her like he had been about Becky.

“I wasn’t happy about letting Hannah do all this work for your paper in the beginning, but Fiona insisted it would be good for her,” Brett said. “I guess she was right.”

“She enjoys it,” Teddy replied. “And she is also very good at it.”

“Yes, she is,” Brett replied. “She’ll make some man a wonderful wife.”

Teddy buckled a bit inside. He’d thought he’d kept his thoughts buried too deep for anyone to see. Before he could say anything, Brett slapped his shoulder.

“I got a wagon wheel calling my name,” Brett said. “See you later.”

Teddy nodded, yet his eyes were once again on Hannah as she and Fiona disappeared into the house across the field. “See you later,” he said, after swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat at the idea of Hannah making someone a wonderful wife. And that someone not being him.

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