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ever married, thanks to their fathers.
    But Bridget might not return his affections. He would rather think she did than have his feelings crushed. At least for now.
    His children were fortunate to get to stay with her. He knew he spent every night at her supper table, but he wanted more.
    So much more.
    For now he would settle for spending all afternoon Sunday with her. If she would agree to another picnic.

Chapter 8
    T he next day while Lindley sat outside eating his lunch, Marcus and the other men talked in hushed tones of their meeting the previous night. In the light of a new day, some of the men were more pleased with the prospect of better conditions and others more fearful of retribution. Lindley would need to tread carefully so no one would be penalized.
    â€œYou’re awfully quiet, Thompson,” Gary Bennett said.
    He missed his children. It had been only one night, but he’d felt their absence. He was a sorry sap. “Just listening to you ninnies jabbering.”
    The men laughed.
    â€œYou’re not gonna back out on us, are you?” Jonesy asked.
    â€œOf course not. I’m determined to make all our situations better.”
    When the other men moved to head back to work, Marcus put a hand on Lindley’s shoulder. “I wanted to thank you. Between what you recommended and the doc looking at him, my boy is improving.”
    â€œI’m glad to hear it.”
    â€œIf there is anything I can do for you, holler.”
    Lindley paused. “May I ask you something?”
    Marcus furrowed his brow. “Your tone sounds personal.”
    â€œNo.” Only personal for Lindley. “How can you tell if a lady likes you?”
    Marcus’s face relaxed, and he chuckled. “Oh, the schoolteacher’s sweet on you, all right.”
    Lindley looked at his friend sideways. “How did you know I was talking about Miss Greene?”
    Marcus wiggled his fingers next to his big blue eyes. “Moony eyes at her. You wait for her before and after church. And, most days, you talk about her so much, the men are getting tired of it.”
    He hadn’t realized he was doing all that, but it was true. Back in his school days, he had friends who did those very things when they liked a girl. He supposed it was easier to see it in someone else rather than himself. “So how do you know she likes me?”
    Marcus wiggled his fingers next to his eyes again. “Moony eyes. Looking for you in church when she’s up there playing the pie-an-oh. Feeding you and your children supper every night. And her cheeks flush pink when you smile at her, which you do a lot.”
    He found himself smiling now. He would have to look for her blush.
    After work, Lindley washed up and hurried to Miss Greene’s. She opened the door, and her cheeks tinged pink. He’d always thought the color was either natural or that it had been from cooking over a hot stove. But he’d watched as the color bloomed and settled nicely on her face.
    Once seated at the table and eating, he wanted to ask if he could address her by her first name. Instead, he cleared his throat.
    * * *
    That was the fourth time Mr. Thompson had cleared his throat. He seemed nervous, the way he was fidgeting. “Is there something wrong with your food?”
    â€œNo.” He cleared his throat yet again. “So do you have family? I mean, are they on the island? Maybe a brother or sister?”
    Family? Bridget’s insides fluttered. She took her time in swallowing. She had tried to forget she once had a family. It only made her feel guilty. “No. No one on the island. Just me. No siblings. What about you? Brothers and sisters?” Maybe she could distract him.
    â€œFive sisters and one brother. He’s the youngest. My sisters doted on him, so he’s quite spoiled.”
    â€œAll on the islands?”
    â€œAll on this island.”
    â€œAre you the oldest?”
    â€œRachel’s oldest.