Free Marriage by Mail (Grace Church Book 1) by Jan Holly Page B

too short. There, she did hear hoof beats. Shyly, she went into the parlor. Then she turned around. He would go to the barn, first, to see to Rascal. Then, he would come to the back door. She went outside and waited by the paddock gate. She saw Charles glance toward the front porch before he led Rascal into the barn. After a few moments, he headed to the back of the house. Then, he stopped, after catching sight of Rose.
    “Hello,” she said. Why did she feel shy of him? She felt shyer than ever. She would have surmised that after such a convivial evening together, the ice would have been broken once and for all. Apparently, that was not the case.
    He stood stock still, staring at her, before he walked on to meet her. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her. He opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he cleared his throat and hitched his thumbs in his pockets. “You look mighty pretty.”
    “Oh,” she said, flustered. “You pick out a very nice dress, sir.”
    “The dress…” he trailed off. “I think I picked a very nice wife.”
    Rose pressed her lips together, knowing she was blushing violently. “Why, thank you, Mr. Smith. I am glad that you were pleased with… with… The Genteel Correspondence.”
    He smiled, slowly, his eyes crinkling. “I’m all… I’m a mess from working all day,” he said, running his hand down his shirt.
    She wondered suddenly if he wished to embrace her, prevented only by the concern that he would get blacksmith dust on her dress. She couldn’t wish that she was wearing her old dress, but she had a sense of wondering what that would be like, to be encircled in his arms and held closely. Perhaps she should have kept her apron on. “I’d better check on the bread,” she said, her voice sounding higher pitched than usual.
    “Sure smells good,” he said, heading for the pump.
    She peeked at the bread and put her apron back on. Having already set the table, she began setting the warmed food on the table. Hearing the pump, she glanced out the window when she got a serving spoon. Her heart skipped a beat, seeing Charles splash himself with the cold well water. Quickly, she stepped back to the table, placing the spoon into the bowl of mashed potatoes. Soon she had everything ready, and she could tell by the scent that the bread was perfectly baked.
    “Let me,” said Charles quietly, coming up behind her and taking the cloths from her hand. He took out the bread and set it on the counter to cool a bit. He turned back to her, and she smiled. He pulled out her chair and she sat down. After blessing the meal, Charles asked her about her day. She described waking up and seeing the dresses. She explained how different the climate was in northern California compared to Boston, Massachusetts. She recounted how she turned her other old dress into things they could use. Charles ate quickly, his eyes never leaving her face as she talked about Mrs. Chang’s quick and helpful visit, the luncheon that she ate, and the vegetables. She described Mrs. Wentworth’s visit and her comment about the bread. Finally, she caught her breath, and ate a bite of food. “And your day? How was your day?” She asked.
    Charles blinked, his fork held suspended. “I…”
    “I’m sorry!” She felt mortified. “I prattled on like an addlepated fool, didn’t I? I probably flummoxed your senses!”
    “What? No!” He looked alarmed. “No, not at all. I just got caught up in hearing you talk, that’s all. I liked it. I like how you talk about things.” He looked down at his plate and ate some more food quickly.
    “Oh,” she said, relieved, but still embarrassed.
    He was quiet, and she ate her food silently.
    “It’s just that, well,” he said. “It’s just that before, I’d come home, there’d be nobody to talk with, nobody to eat with. Now, everything is different. Now, it’s so that I can’t wait to head home. I like to hear you talk.”
    “Really?” Rose whispered. Her heart felt as