The Bride of Willow Creek(100)

“I was. I’m not anymore.” Standing, she took the girls’ plates to the pan in the sink. “Like I said, what you do is your own affair. I’ve already apologized for losing sight of that.”

Sam listened to the weariness in her voice and studied the slump of her shoulders as she scraped the girls’ plates. He would have preferred to see a flash of that Italian temper.

“The reason I didn’t want to explain my plan is because I didn’t know how it would work out.”

“For a while I wondered if there really was a plan,” she said without turning around. “Then I thought about it, and I know you wouldn’t mention a plan if there wasn’t one.” She lifted her head and gazed out of the kitchen window. “You didn’t tell me because your plan is none of my business.”

Oh Lord. Standing, he started toward her, but the door flew open and Lucy and Daisy danced inside, sparkling with excitement. Their timing couldn’t have been worse.

“Can’t you come inside quietly?” Irritated, he changed direction and closed the door which they had left standing open to the flies and bugs. “Must you slam, bang, and run?”

They ignored him. At a nod from Lucy, Daisy skipped to Angie and tugged at her sleeve. To Sam’s eye, it seemed that she dipped and lurched more tonight. “You have to sit down and close your eyes,” she said excitedly.

“Whatever it is,” Angie said in that tired, defeated voice, “can it wait until I wash up the dishes?”

Both girls turned stricken gazes toward Sam.

He cleared his throat. “Angie? Could you . . . ?”

“Three against one,” she murmured. Then she flung down the utensils with a jarring clatter and wiped her hands on her apron. “All right. What is it you want me to do?”

Daisy took her hand and tugged her toward the table. “Sit here.” When Angie was settled, not looking any too happy, Daisy gave Lucy a sparkling look. “Now close your eyes.”

Frowning, Sam leaned against the sink, arms folded over his chest, wondering what this was about. Then Lucy came forward and he saw what she placed on the table in front of Angie. The irritation ran out of his chest like water out of the pump.

“Open your eyes,” Lucy said, watching Angie’s face.

“What . . . oh!”

Angie’s hands flew to her mouth and tears sprang in her eyes. She looked at both girls, then carefully picked up the mended cup and saucer, holding them as if they might shatter in her hands. The glued cup would never be strong enough to use again, and a piece was missing near the handle, but her mother’s cup and saucer had been returned to her.

“When . . . but how. . . ?” After cautiously placing the cup and saucer back on the table, Angie lifted the hem of her apron and wiped her eyes. “Oh my.”

Daisy leaned against Angie’s lap, smiling up at her. “I saved the pieces and Mrs. Molly helped Lucy put them back together again.”

“I wanted to tell about it!” Suddenly Lucy went shy, looking at the floor. “I know it isn’t good as new, but . . .” Now tears appeared in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Angie, I’m so sorry. Mrs. Molly says the cup isn’t strong enough to use, but you can still look at your mama’s cup and saucer.”

“Oh honey, thank you. Both of you.” Opening her arms, Angie pulled the girls close in a tight, tearful embrace. “This is the nicest thing anyone ever did for me.”

After a few minutes, Sam slipped out the door and sat on the stoop. He could hear them talking inside. Angie admiring the repairs, the girls relating every detail of gluing the cup and saucer and planning their surprise.

His daughters loved her. He’d seen that tonight, and he’d heard the love in their voices.

God help him, he loved her, too.





Chapter 19

“It was such a wonderful thing to do,” Angie murmured, a hitch in her voice.

They stood outside in the darkness beside the clothesline pole, looking back at the house. Daisy’s lamp stood in the sink, illuminating the mended cup and saucer on the sill.

“Are you warm enough?” Sam asked. At this altitude, the nights were always chilly, even at the end of August. But tonight an especially cold wind ruffled the edges of Angie’s shawl. The wavering glow of the lamp in the window reached far enough that he could see her hand clutching the shawl close to her throat, but her face remained in shadow.

“I’ll go inside in a minute. After you’ve said whatever you brought me out here to say.” A gust of wind fluttered the curtains at the kitchen window. “I put a couple of small stones in the cup so the wind won’t blow it off the sill.”