Wanted(20)

Eyes sparkling, he murmured, “You are not the first person to trip.” With an amused expression, he glanced down at Roman, who was inspecting a spider in the corner of the room. “And puppies do have a lot of toys.”

“I know, but it’s just so silly.”

“No one is judging you, Anna. Truth be told, everyone is in awe of your efforts.”

“Even you?” She didn’t want him to regret choosing her.

Heat replaced mischief in his expression. “Especially me,” he murmured.

To her delight, he reached for both of her hands once again and linked his fingers through hers. “Most especially me.”

“I just hope you know what you are getting. I’m not perfect. And what’s more, I don’t think I ever will be perfect.”

Gently, surprisingly, he rubbed the tops of her knuckles with his thumb. Though slightly calloused, it felt warm and sent yet another spark of awareness through her. And another jolt of longing for him. “Hush, now. I don’t want perfection, I want you. What’s more, I never forget the sacrifices you are making for me. It is not an easy way of life, ours.”

“I don’t mind. This is the place for me.”

“I am grateful for that. But, what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

A knowing look entered his eyes. “You’re getting the same old Henry. Perhaps you are disappointed?”

“Never. I could never be disappointed with you.”

Anna glimpsed a hint of satisfaction, completely male and especially tender, enter his eyes before she closed her own, just as he kissed her.

When they parted, Anna couldn’t resist pressing her fingers to her lips. “Oh.”

“You are not alone, Anna. I promise, you are not alone.”

She didn’t know if his words or his actions flustered her more. “I…I better go work on the laundry again. The clothespins don’t always stay…”

“I’ll see you at supper.”

“Yes.” And then she ran. Maybe everything was going to be just fine, after all.



“And, Katie, this is where you will sleep,” Winnie finished, pointing to a bare guest room. Only a twin bed with a dark pair of quilts, a forlorn bedside table with an ancient-looking kerosene lamp, and a thick shade decorated the room. Though the November sun was shining merrily outside, no one inside of this guest room would ever guess that such a thing was happening. It was as dark and gloomy as if the sun never peeked out among the clouds.

“I don’t see hooks for clothes. Are there any?”

“Oh yes, I forgot. Jonathan said he would bring in a chest of drawers from the daadi haus and nail up some hooks soon.”

It was a most unpleasant, bare, and cold space, devoid of even a bright quilt to warm things. Everything looked cold and stark—so different from the guest rooms at the inn.

At their inn, each room had been given particular care and attention. Framed quilts adorned the walls, while a pleasing mix of traditional quilts and thick goose-down comforters covered the beds. Fluffy feather pillows and thick, crisp sheets made each bed a welcoming sight after a day of sightseeing or hard work. And the rooms smelled different—like lemon oil and sunshine.

This room smelled musty and worn, as if it hadn’t been opened or aired out in years. Surely that couldn’t be the truth? “Did you empty it for me and my things?”

Winnie blinked. “No, it’s never been used all that much. It’s just an extra place to sleep, after all.”

“Back at the inn—”

“Neither Jonathan nor I have had the time or intention to worry about decorating a bedroom.” Softening, she added, “I’m sorry, Katie. I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

Now Katie felt ashamed, indeed, of worrying about such vanities. “It’s fine.”

As Winnie scanned the room again, she frowned, regret in her gaze. “I suppose things do look a bit gloomy. You are more than welcome to spruce things up to suit you.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. Jonathan and I want you to be happy here.”

But Katie heard every word that was unspoken, clear as day. Winnie was saying if Katie thought a cozy, pretty bedroom was important, then she was spending her time focusing on the wrong things.

“This room is…fine.”

As if looking at the room for the first time, Winnie scrunched up her brow. “Your inn is a beautiful place, to be sure.”

“It’s fine,” she said again. Yes, the inn was beautiful, but Katie was very aware of the amount of time she’d spent polishing spindles, starching and ironing curtains, washing walls, and waxing floors. “I didn’t come here to have fancy knickknacks.”