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break and sit down for a bit.”
    To his amusement, she hid her hand in her skirts. Just as if he couldn’t see it, he wouldn’t remember the cut. “That’s not necessary . . .”
    “But it would be yet another ‘good’ part of my day. Don’t deny me, Mary. I know you fussed all day to prepare this delicious dinner. And it was delicious, in spite of my clumsiness with the beans.”
    “I hardly noticed.”
    He knew she was lying. But he didn’t care. “I’m glad,” he said. “Now, let’s get these dishes done so I can have a few minutes to just sit with you.” Lowering his voice, he said, “That’s why I came over here, you know. I’ve been wanting to spend time with you and catch up. Just the two of us.”
    Her mouth popped into a little Oh, just as if his words shocked her. Then she swallowed. “John, the things you say.”
    Secretly, he thought she hadn’t heard anything yet. More and more, he found himself biding his time with her. Trying to be patient. To not scare her or spook her with too many touches or long looks.
    But he was a grown man, and all this waiting was getting old. There were lots of things to tell her. Things about how pretty he thought her skin was, and how he hated the idea of it getting scarred or damaged. And how he was entranced by her personality. By her sweet manner with Abel.
    And by the sadness that seemed to constantly shroud her. The veil was thin and he could tell that she ached to put her grief behind her.
    All he wanted to do was make her happy.
    Since they were alone, and he was tired of hiding, he reached out and ran his hand down her arm. He felt a tremor from his touch.
    One glance told him that she wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, she was feeling a lot of the same things he did. Encouraged, he linked his fingers through hers and rubbed her knuckle with his thumb.
    With a smile full of whimsy, she turned and faced him. “John, what are you up to?”
    “Nothing. Just trying to get a little closer.”
    An eyebrow arched. “Because?”
    “Because I want to kiss you. Just once.”
    Instead of looking shocked, he was pleased to see true amusement enter her gaze. “Only once?”
    Now it was his turn to feel flustered. Of course he wanted to kiss her more than once. But he would make do with what he said. “Just once right now,” he amended, then leaned close and brushed his lips against her slightly parted ones. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms loosely around her and kissed her again, pleased when she kissed him back.
    Perhaps the whole thing lasted one second.
    Maybe one minute.
    Whatever it was, it was over far too quickly. But it had been nice.
    Being with Mary was nice. Peaceful. Perfect.
    With reluctance, he stepped away and rolled up his sleeves. He squirted some dish soap into the sink and started the faucet. “Mary, please go fetch me some dishes, if you would.”
    After a pause, she answered. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, scurrying from the room, making John think that this was just about the sweetest moment he’d had in a terribly long time.

Chapter Eight
    J ust yesterday, they’d been treated to a newly fallen snow. Now a good foot of fresh white powder covered the whole area, making the path that Mattie often walked between her farm and the Weavers’ look like a secret passageway.
    The ground crunched under her feet as she forged a path, and she enjoyed seeing how her footprints were the only ones mixing in with the deer and raccoon tracks. Every once in a while, she saw a sleepy squirrel scamper among the pines, the only bright green dotting the landscape. All the rest of the elms, maples, and oaks were bare. Their dark silhouettes surrounded the path like protective arms shielding her from outside elements.
    At least, that was always how she’d come to think of them. The trees had been figures she could count on. Things she could see. For a time, they’d been far easier to depend on than the mythical being of their