at The Trading Post an hour earlier. He’d fought the urge to give in to Earl’s suggestion—he liked to think of it as a suggestion rather than an order—but he’d realized that when somebody was right they were right. He had been incredibly rude last night. Especially considering that Cassidy had been seeking knowledge about the God he served—or was supposed to serve.
As he entered the parlor, Josh saw Cassidy sitting in the window seat looking out over the meadow that lay between the parsonage and the wide stream that formed the western border of the town. She seemed to be trying to memorize every rut and sleeping twig.
“That’s quite a scene,” he said after clearing his throat. It wasn’t a comment on the landscape beyond the window. He longed to tell her so, but knew he had to keep his feelings to himself.
“It must be beautiful in spring.” Cassie turned her head and looked up at him. “Josh, I’m sorry I shouted at you and that I embarrassed you in front of Earl.”
“It was no less than I deserved. I should be apologizing to you. Last night I was tired and cranky, but that’s no excuse.” Again he found himself shoving an offering into her hands. “I got you something. It’s sort of a souvenir.” There was confusion in her eyes again this time, too, but no hurt at least. Instead she smiled, and he tried to ignore the kick his heart gave in answer.
“It’s lovely.”
He grinned. “No, it isn’t. It’s tourist junk. But apology gifts are few and far between in the winter around here. If I’d waited till spring or summer to be rude, you could have had wildflowers. Instead you get a cedar box with a tacky pair of earrings inside.” He didn’t mention that he wished with everything in him that she’d be around come spring. But praying for such a thing went against what he believed.
She opened the box and sniffed the cedar—just like a tourist. Then she laughed at the earrings. It wasn’t a mocking laugh but one of delight. “Oh, they’re adorable,” she said, and held up a gold and rose-pink, minnow-shaped fishing lure that hung by its tail from what looked like a modified fishhook.
“Pearl’s son Jamie turns lures into earnings, then she sells them for him,” he told her.
“Thank you. I love them.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
Her eyes narrowed a bit as she considered him for a long moment. “Are you apologizing because Irma told you to?”
He shook his head. “I’m apologizing because I was a clod.”
She grinned. “In that case, you’re forgiven for being a clod.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“You’re welcome, I’m sure.”
“Josh, are you taking that parcel up to Stephanie Tully?” Irma asked as she came into the room. “I think it might be for her birthday from her aunt in Wilkes-Barre. It would be so nice if she got it today.”
Irma spied the box and earrings a split second later. Josh didn’t like her smile one bit.
“Oh, you bought yourself a pair of those clever earrings Jamie makes.”
Josh waited for the inevitable.
“Josh gave them to me as an apology for our misunderstanding,” explained Cassidy.
That I see eyebrow of Irma’s arched over one of her suddenly sparkling eyes. “Well, isn’t that interesting. You know, you should take Cassidy along today. Stephanie mentioned that she wanted her and Larry to have a long talk with you soon—when I saw her after last Sunday’s service. Cassidy could keep Krystal busy, while you work with her parents.”
“I don’t know anything about children,” Cassidy protested. “I don’t think I’ve been around a child since I was one myself.”
“Don’t be silly. Children are just little people with simple interests. You’d be fine,” Irma said.
“It would be a big help,” Josh admitted, however reluctantly. “I have a feeling that they really needed to talk out a problem.” He held his breath, unwilling to hope for her answer.
“If you really think I could be of some help, then sure. I’ll tag along.”
“Thanks,” he said, not sure he meant it. This meant hours with her. How much temptation could one man stand?
“Don’t thank me till the kid lives through the experience. I’ll just go get my jacket,” she said, her tone a forced brand of optimism that made him feel small and petty.
It wasn’t her fault he wanted things he couldn’t have, he chastised himself. How had he come to feel this much so quickly?
Josh shot Irma a disgruntled look. “Ma, please stop pushing us together. It’s crazy, and someone’s going to get hurt. I don’t want it to be Cassie.” He didn’t wait for a reply but stalked from the room in search of his own jacket and the package he had to deliver to Stephanie.
Josh already knew riding in the truck together would generate an intimacy he dreaded but also looked forward to. He couldn’t ignore the irony of his situation. He might be uncomfortable when he was with Cassie, but he’d utterly panicked when he’d thought she was about to leave town. There seemed to be no easy solution—no solution at all from where he stood. An heiress didn’t belong in Mountain View, and he was only marginally free to pursue a relationship, anyway.
Several hours later, Josh and Larry Tully walked across the fields toward Larry’s small house. It had been a productive afternoon. Josh now had a carpentry project lined up for next spring and summer. It would help boost the church’s dwindling treasury and would help solve the problem between Stephanie and Larry.
He’d gotten to the bottom of the issue between the couple quickly and had helped them see that it wasn’t as huge a gulf as they’d thought. Stephanie’s widowed mother was terribly lonely and afraid living several counties away, and had asked to move in with them. Though they wanted to help, neither really wanted to try fitting another adult into their little two-bedroom home. Unfortunately, Larry had put his foot down, and said no without asking his wife’s opinion first. Stephanie had taken the opposite stand even though she wasn’t exactly crazy about the idea herself.
Josh had gotten Larry to admit that he really liked his mother-in-law and wanted to help but that he felt the crowded conditions would be too much of a strain on their marriage. Stephanie had admitted that while she loved her mother dearly, she did not relish being the “daughter” in her own kitchen.
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