Free Carolyn Davidson by The Forever Man Page A

down this trip. I wanted to get all of it.”
    Johanna eyed the three boxes he carried. “Those look heavy. Can I help?”
    “No.” He shook his head. “They’re mostly books. Some papers, too, and the contents of my desk. It’s a big thing—probably foolish of me to pack it on the wagon, but I hated to leave it behind. I kept my records in it, and all the paperwork it takes to run a farm and family in one place, back in Ohio.”
    “There’s a small room off the dining room you can have if you like,” Johanna offered. Her face grew pensive as she thought of the evenings she’d spent by herself over the past ten years, wondering what her father did in that small room, while she sat by herself in the kitchen or in the parlor.
    “Is it furnished?”
    “Somewhat. You may as well bring those things on in here,” Johanna said, leading the way. She went through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, which had been used so seldom that she kept the table and buffet covered with sheets. Across from the three wide windows was a door, and it was there that she headed. Turning the knob, she stepped within.
    “It’s dark in here,” she called over her shoulder. “But there’s not much to trip over. My father only kept a chair and ottoman by the window, and a table for his lamp and account books.”
    Tate looked around in the shadowed interior of the small room. An air of musty disuse assailed him, and he wrinkled his nose. “We need to open the windows in the morning and let in some fresh air and sunshine,” he told her, bending to deposit his boxes on the floor against one wall.
    “I haven’t been in here since he died,” Johanna admitted quietly. “It was his room. I guess I didn’t feel welcome, even after he was gone.”
    “You’ll be welcome, once it’s mine.” As a statement of fact, it couldn’t have been any plainer. Tate would harbor no secrets from his wife. She doubted he would leave his bedroom door ajar for her to peek inside, but this room would be a part of the house once more.
    Maybe she’d even remove the coverings from the dining room furniture and use the room for Sunday dining, as they had when her mother was alive. The thought cheered her.
    “This is still your home, Johanna. When I pay off your mortgage this next week, it will be in my name along with yours, but the house is still whatever you want it to be.”
    She looked up at him, peering to make out his features in the dim light. “That all sounds well and good, Tate, but as a man, you have more rights than I’ll ever have. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I wasn’t pretty sure of you. As far as I know, a woman only has the rights her husband allows her, no matter what the deed says.”
    “It’s a matter of trust, isn’t it? When it comes to the bottom line, Johanna, you have to trust me. Can you do that?”
    “Can I trust you? To keep up the place? I suppose so. Just don’t expect more than that of me. I’ve learned to take care of myself over the years. I don’t need anyone to do for me. I’ll let you tend to the heavy work, gladly. But I’ll not come to depend on you, Tate. I’ve learned that lesson well. I’ve allowed myself to…care about people. It won’t happen again.”
    “You care already for my sons.”
    Spoken as a statement of fact, the words drew no argument from her. “Yes, you’re right there. They’re young and helpless. They need someone to tend them.”
    “And you don’t?”
    “Need someone? No, I’ve learned better.” She folded her arms around her waist, a shiver passing through her slim shoulders beneath the warmth of the shawl.
    His eyes caught the movement, even in the shadowed room. “You’re cold, Johanna. Leave this for tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough to set things to rights in here.”
    She walked out the door before him, her steps taking her into the hallway and toward the staircase. “I don’t hear the boys. They must have gone to sleep.” She looked up