Read Online Loving Helen by Michele Paige Holmes - Free Book Online

pair.”
    His head tilted to the side, and his look turned quizzical. Only then did Helen realize what she’d said. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to imply —”
    “I know.” He reached out, briefly touching her hand and silencing her apology. “But if you would be so kind as to help me rid my face of dirt.” He stood still, chin jutted forward, waiting expectantly.
    “You’ve some there — across the bridge of your nose,” Helen said, pointing. “And more across your brow.”
    He wiped at both but only made the smudges worse. Beth giggled.
    Mr. Preston turned pleading eyes to Helen. “Won’t you help me — please?”
    Her hand trembled as she reached out, brushing her fingers across his brow. She had never touched a man’s face before, not even Christopher’s. She’d kissed Grandfather’s cheek on occasion, but that felt different than this. Mr. Preston’s eyes closed beneath her ministrations as her mittens gently wiped his nose and forehead. “There. All gone.” Her hand fell to her side as she stepped back. His eyes opened with that same inquiring look he’d given her a few moments ago.
    “Thank you.” His voice was nearly as quiet as hers had been, and for a moment, they simply stood there, lost in each other’s gaze. Helen felt the ties of their friendship strengthening.
    He trusts me. He had shown some trust on many occasions, from the first morning in his garden to allowing her so much time with his daughter. But this felt like something new, something extraordinary, to be cherished. Helen clutched the moment close to her heart to be remembered and dwelt on many times later.
    “Papa?” Beth tugged on his hand. “Can we swing some more?”
    He turned to look at his daughter, and Helen felt whatever magic had been enveloping them disappear.
    “Not today,” Mr. Preston said. “I am going to the churchyard to take roses to your mother’s grave. Will you come with me?”
    “May Miss Helen come too?” Beth asked.
    Mr. Preston hesitated the barest second. “If she would like.” He glanced at Helen as he bent to collect the roses. “Come with us?”
    It wasn’t her place, but Helen felt uncertain how to properly decline. The last time they had discussed his wife — that ill-fated morning in the garden — she’d been so blunt as to be rude.
    Misinterpreting her silence, Mr. Preston excused her. “It’s all right. You don’t have to.”
    “But I want her to,” Beth said. “I want to show her Mommy’s grave.”
    “I — would like that,” Helen found herself saying. “Yes, I will come.”
    Mr. Preston seemed as surprised by her answer as he had been by her enthusiasm for the swing, but not displeased. He nodded, and they set off toward the drive and waiting carriage.
    Harrison stood by the landau.
    “My man has the day off,” Mr. Preston explained. “Harrison kindly agreed to drive us.” He gave the roses to Helen, then handed Beth into the carriage. Helen followed, seating herself opposite Beth.
    Mr. Preston climbed in, and they were off, down the drive to the road that led to the church. Beth chatted animatedly the entire way, monopolizing Mr. Preston’s attention, for which Helen felt immensely grateful. Their quarters were entirely too close for her comfort, and she wondered what had possessed her to agree to this journey, no matter how short.
    She looked out the window as they traveled, the barren landscape seeming to reflect the emptiness in her heart. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, and the fields lay fallow, brown until spring, when tender plants would rise from their rows once more. The world felt empty, and she did too, the people most dear to her close but unreachable.
    Harrison stopped the carriage in front of the churchyard and climbed down to help them out. As Helen descended, he gave her a tender look and her hand a squeeze. She still held the bouquet of flowers, and since Mr. Preston carried Beth, Helen assumed he wished her to continue holding