miner standing in front of her? Now that he’d had a bath, she could tell that his hair truly was the color of soot, and it curled around the top of this collar ever so slightly. His eyes, too, were dark, and the light caught them just enough that she knew he meant business. This wasn’t some miner. Not anymore.
Bad enough that he had to sleep in Peter’s room, worse that by closing herself off to him, she now had to admit the truth.
“I lied. I don’t know if missing someone gets easier. I wake up every day wishing I could hear my brothers or my sister, and especially my mother, walking through the door. But they don’t. And I guess having you here makes it more real that they never will.”
Everyone expressed sympathy over her losses. But what she saw shining in Joseph’s eyes was deeper, more personal. She couldn’t afford to get personal, not again. They were both supposed to say the proper things, like that Annabelle was getting over the loss of her mother and brothers and sister, and that Joseph was sorry to hear about it, and every other pithy comment that everyone said because it was what you were supposed to say.
Because she’d already said all of those deeply personal things to another man, another miner, and despite her offering up everything her heart had, he’d left, chasing after rumors of gold in the Yukon.
Getting personal was no longer an option.
“Annabelle?” Her father’s voice boomed through the room as he pushed open the door. “You’ve made sure Joseph is comfortable?”
Annabelle let out a long sigh, exhaling all of the thoughts she shouldn’t have been thinking. “Of course I have.” She turned to the miner. “You have everything you need, don’t you?”
He glanced at her, the sympathy still shining in his eyes. “Yes.” He turned to her father. “Your daughter is most gracious.”
At least he brought it back to what people were supposed to say.
Her father came into the room and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
She smiled up at him, trying not to let the guilt over all of her wrong thoughts drag her down. As much as she hated this position, her father was all she had left of her immediate family.
“I think that’s all then.” She leaned up on tiptoes and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. “Good night.” Then turned and gave the miner as much of a smile as she could muster. “And good night to you, too, Joseph.”
Before either man could say anything else, she turned and left the room, retreating to the once-safe haven of her bedroom. There, Nugget slept, her tiny body reminding her that even the slightest bit of sweetness still had a bitter taste. Because as much as she wanted to take this little girl into her arms and give her the love she deserved, Annabelle absolutely was not going to get attached. Not when, like every other child she encountered in her work, Nugget would soon be gone.
Because that was the reality of life in a mining town. People either went broke and left, struck it rich and left, left in search of a better prospect, or left the earth completely. Regardless of the reason, they all left.
There wasn’t enough of Annabelle’s heart remaining to let anyone take any more.
* * *
Joseph watched Annabelle’s retreating figure, her skirts swishing behind her. She moved with the grace of any of the fine ladies he’d encountered, but there was a humility to her that he’d never known.
Back in Ohio, he’d encountered plenty of girls who turned up their noses at the Stones’ poverty. Only Margaret had openly accepted him and promised to love him no matter what. She’d been filled with grand dreams of the farm they’d build together and how everything would work out. But when his ma died and he’d made it clear that his siblings were part of the package, Margaret had a change of heart and married another.
He once thought Margaret was made of the cloth he believed he saw in Annabelle, but appearances were deceiving. As much as he’d like to admire Annabelle, he had to remind himself that he had too many other responsibilities to put any energy in that direction.
He forced his attention to Frank. “Thank you again for your hospitality. Your daughter went above and beyond in preparing rooms for us.”
Frank gave that wistful look Joseph was beginning to see as the Annabelle look. “It’ll be good for her to have another little girl in the house. She used to share her room with her sister Susannah. She likes to pretend that she’s fine, but don’t let her fool you. Annabelle misses her terribly.”
Joseph’s gut churned. He’d liked to have credited it to a filling supper after going so long without, but he knew better. Not after her hard-won admission of grief. He’d thought about offering her comfort for her loss, but at Frank’s expression, Joseph was glad they’d been interrupted. His thoughts and questions were better left for the man of the house, not a woman he found himself inappropriately attracted to.
“She mentioned this room belonged to her departed brother. I didn’t realize that she’d lost another sibling, as well.”
Sorrow filled Frank’s eyes as he looked around the room. “Yes. This was Peter’s room. Sickness hit Leadville hard this past winter. We lost my wife and four of my children. Annabelle is all I have left.”
Maddie’s biscuits thudded in the pit of Joseph’s stomach. Having spent the better part of a month trying to track down his father to save his own siblings, he couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to watch them all die.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Joseph spoke softly, realizing that the other man had retreated into his own grief. “It’s good of you to let us use their rooms.”
Frank’s head snapped up. “What else would we do with them? The good Lord provided, and it seems wrong to not share what He has given us. Just...” He looked around the room, then his gaze settled back on Joseph.
“Go easy on Annabelle. She gets awful mad when I give away any of the family’s possessions, and even though she’s playing the part of the gracious hostess, I know she’s upset.”
He gave another wry smile, and Joseph realized that Frank was trying as hard as Annabelle seemed to be in dealing with his heavy losses.
“Then why do this? If it pains her, then perhaps I—”
“I can’t allow her to wallow in her grief. Her mother, brothers and sister are with the Lord. There’s no reason to be sorrowful.”
Except the preacher’s face spoke of his own great sorrow. “Having you and Nugget here will be good for her. Already I see a light in her eyes I haven’t seen since...”
His shoulders rose and fell. “I know you feel guilty at accepting my charity, but you’re doing me the favor. It was good to hear laughter in this house again.”
Frank turned to leave, but his final words burned through Joseph’s heart.
A house without laughter. Without noise. Even Joseph would admit that this month without the cacophony of his siblings’ voices had made for some lonely nights. He’d gotten through by telling himself it was temporary. But for Annabelle and her father, the silence was permanent.
Lord, forgive me for judging.
The biscuits collided angrily against each other, reminding him that he had a lot to beg the Lord’s forgiveness for. He’d been angry and resentful over his situation, but as he looked at what the Lassiters were going through, he realized that he had no call to complain.
“Sir?”
Frank turned. “I told you to call me Frank.”
Joseph nodded slowly. “Yes. Frank. I...I was wondering if you had a spare Bible in the house.”
Silence echoed briefly against the walls. Joseph’s heart thudded. It shouldn’t have been that difficult a question to ask a