Free Child of Promise by Kathleen Morgan Page B

help a giggle. “And you a man of the cloth!”
    He shrugged, took the coffeepot from the stove, and removed the filter basket. He filled the pot with water and put it back on the stove to heat. Then, walking to the cupboard, Noah took down a tin canister of coffee. After filling the coffee mill, he carried it to the table, sat down, and began grinding.
    “Reckon I don’t know how to give out the compliments anymore,” he observed mildly. “I promise never to mention a flour sack in your presence ever again.”
    Beth gave a snort of disbelief. “Or, leastwise, until the next opportunity arises. You don’t fool me. Unless my memory fails me, if some prank was played at a church picnic, you were always the first suspect.”
    Noah smirked. “Well, somebody had to stir a little life into those picnics. If the church’s Ladies’ Social Club had anything to say about it, we would’ve spent an hour in prayer before the meal, then set down to eat in total silence before sending everyone on their way.”
    “Yes, I do recall some of those ladies were a bit stodgy when it came to innocent fun,” Beth admitted. She gestured toward the coffee mill Noah was still grinding. “Are you planning on pulverizing those beans to dust? If not, by the sound of the mill, the coffee’s ready to make.”
    With a jerk and rueful shake of his head, Noah grabbed the coffee mill and stood. “Sorry. For a minute there, my mind had wandered back to you and the flour sack.”
    If it had been anyone else but Noah, Beth would’ve suspected a man on the lookout for a flirtation or even more. But this was Noah, and she was well aware of his teasing bent.
    “Perhaps it’s time,” she said, “we get started on breakfast. Shall I go up and fetch Millie to help?”
    Noah shook his head emphatically. “No, let her sleep. She hasn’t been looking all that well in the past few months, and I’m worried about her.”
    Beth bit her tongue and glanced away. So Noah wasn’t as oblivious to Millie’s declining health as he may have appeared to be. And Millie’s heart wasn’t in good shape. With just chest percussion and stethoscope auscultation, along with a history of her symptoms, Doc had quickly ascertained Millie’s heart was enlarged, weakening, and failing to adequately remove the excess fluid from her lungs. He had put Millie on digitalis that very day Beth had brought her to see him. Only time would tell if they had begun treatment in time.
    “Perhaps it’s just the strain of caring for Emily as she grows bigger,” Beth offered. “And now that I’m here, I can help ease some of her load.”
    “Though I appreciate your offer, it’s not your responsibility. It’s mine.”
    The priest filled the coffee filter basket with the freshly ground beans and inserted the percolator tube. Then he walked back to the stove and put the contraption in the coffeepot.
    For a long moment, Beth watched him stand there, shoulders stiff, his back to her. He was correct—Emily and any and all of Noah’s other problems weren’t her responsibility. Besides, what possible good would be served involving herself in their lives? Indeed, in anyone’s lives? That wasn’t the reason she had returned to Grand View. She had come back to begin anew and rediscover what she had lost of herself during those grueling years of her medical training.
    “Yes, you’re right,” she agreed quietly. “Emily and Millie aren’t my responsibility. I imagine I’ll be busy enough helping Doc take care of all the folk in Grand View.” Beth paused to glance around the kitchen. “So what’s the plan for breakfast? I need to get over to the clinic, but I could sure use a good meal first to fortify me for the day.”
    “Well, there’s eggs, milk, and bacon in the icebox.” He indicated the four-foot-high carved hardwood box beside the sink. “The bread’s over there on the sideboard, in the breadbox.”Beth arched a brow. “So are you hinting I should make