Read Online A Promise for Spring by Kim Vogel Sawyer - Free Book Online Page B

and Emmaline lifted her chin. “How do I know I can trust you? You did not keep past promises.”
    He grimaced, hanging his head for a moment. “I cannot change the past. I can only work to earn your trust again. You will decide what our relationship will be—husband and wife, or . . .”
    Emmaline quietly offered, “Friends?”
    A wistful expression flitted across his features. “Yes. I pray that we should at least part as friends.”
    Emmaline’s heart twisted at his words. A longing to turn back the years washed over her, to regain the fondness she had once held for Geoffrey Garrett. Perhaps she would never grow to love him as she once had, but at least they could part with no animosity between them.
    She drew a deep breath and made her decision. “All right, Geoffrey. I will stay. Until the winter is past.”
    His shoulders dropped in relief, and he grinned at her. “Thank you, Emmaline. Now, let us retrieve your trunk and I will take you home.”

EIGHT
    E VENING DUSK HAMPERED EMMALINE’S view of her new home. Long shadows fell across the yard, giving the surrounding landscape an eerie appearance. Even the trees—the massive cottonwoods Geoffrey had promised—appeared to send out tentacles of danger. But a lantern burning inside the rock house highlighted an oval stained-glass window, the bright reds and blues incongruous against the black and gray shadows. The window seemed to shine a welcome, and she focused on the colored glass as Geoffrey brought the wagon to a stop inside the iron fence surrounding the front yard.
    “Welcome to Chetwynd Valley, Emmaline.” Geoffrey’s voice, whisper soft, held a hint of melancholy. She knew it wasn’t the homecoming he had envisioned.
    Turning her gaze from Geoffrey, she examined the house. Small and L-shaped, it was built of rough, oblong stone blocks identical to those used to construct Ronald Senger’s barn. A porch sporting gingerbread trim that resembled a row of triangles on point ran the full width of the house. A bay window jutted from the shorter side of the L.
    Geoffrey pointed to the trio of tall windows. “That room is your parlor, Emmaline. I planned it so you would have plenty of light.”
    Emmaline managed to give him a small smile. A parlor was nice, but whom would she entertain on this barren prairie? Her gaze lifted to the sod roof of the little dwelling, then across the empty yard. Her heart fell as she realized there was nothing growing in the yard—no bushes or flowers or grass. Just dirt. Brown, dismal dirt. She straightened her spine. As temporary mistress of this house, that would be the first change she would make. She would plant grass and flowers immediately. She would not accept the forlorn prairie landscape creeping right up to her doorstep.
    The front door opened and a splash of light fell across the wide wood planks of the porch floor. A tall man, his face as heavily whiskered as Geoffrey’s, stepped into the bright rectangle of light and raised a hand in greeting. “Mr. Garrett, welcome back!” He turned a broad smile in Emmaline’s direction as he moved easily across the ground toward the wagon.
    Emmaline observed he wore tan trousers and a shirt with its top buttons unfastened. She turned her gaze from the tanned wedge of exposed skin beneath his taut neck.
    “And this must be Mrs. Garrett. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”
    Emmaline waited for Geoffrey to explain she was Miss Bradford and not Mrs. Garrett, but Geoffrey simply climbed past her and leaped to the ground. He reached to assist her from the wagon.
    Her hips felt stiff from the bouncing journey, and for a moment she feared her legs would give way. Geoffrey must have sensed her debility, for he kept hold of her arm until she was steady. Then he placed his hand on the small of her back. The familiar gesture sent a shiver up her spine.
    “Emmaline, this is Chris Cotler. He serves as foreman of the ranch.”
    Emmaline moved away from Geoffrey’s