until they could pass her on.
Silent tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks as she remembered a Christmas when all the gifts had been passed out and none were for her. When someone noticed, they'd said it was all right because she'd be moving the next day. But there was nothing waiting for her at the next home. She was just the poor relative each family took in as part of their Christian duty. The relative never remembered at holidays. The child without a birthday.
Karlee slipped to the darkest point at the corner of the house and pressed her body against the painted wood. She didn't belong here either. There was no adventure waiting here. One night changed nothing. As always she was too different, too strange, too alone. She pushed harder as if she could move into the frame of the house and finally belong somewhere. Maybe being invisible wasn't so bad. If she were invisible no one could hurt her.
She could just vanish. No one would notice. No one would care. Maybe, years after she was gone, one of her relatives would wonder, “whatever happened to that funny little redhead who couldn't do anything right?” But no one would answer, or think of her again.
Karlee closed her eyes, wishing that there was a real place called “Nowhere” where people who were “ nobodies” could go. She'd go there and be happy with all the other invisible people.
From house to house she was always given the chores no one wanted to do. The clothes no one wanted to wear. She'd been a fool to believe this time would be any different. The aunts had pushed her toward Texas not because they thought it would be better, but only to have her move on, out of their lives.
Adventures only happened in books and belonging anywhere was too much to ask for.
Fighting down a cry, Karlee faced the truth. Here was no different than anywhere else. She didn't belong.
“Miss Whitworth?” a voice said from behind her.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on being invisible.
“Karlee, are you all right?”
Pushing harder into the side of the house, she tried not to think about having to face the reverend. Karlee knew what he was going to say. She'd heard good-bye a hundred times in her life. Maybe he'd tell her how much she was needed somewhere else. Or maybe he'd say he couldn't afford to feed another. Or maybe he'd just tell her it was time for her to go, as if somewhere in the overall makeup of the world there existed a chart of when she had to leave a place.
“Miss Whitworth?”
She sensed him standing just behind her. He shifted nervously, but she couldn't bring herself to make it easy for him. Not this time in her life. This man she barely knew would have to say what most had only hinted at when they handed her a ticket or loaded her suitcase in the back of a wagon.
He'd have to tell her to go.
Karlee waited, tears dripping off her face and onto the white frame of the house.
But Daniel didn't say a word. He waited, her short intakes in breath the only break in the silence of the darkness.
Finally, he rested his hand on her shoulder, at first so lightly she wasn't sure it was there, then firmer, comfortingly in an awkward way.
She tried not to shake with her grief. Over the years she'd learned to cry quietly, so that no one would know. But when he touched her, he could feel her sorrow, she knew he could.
His body leaned closer until she felt the heat of him through her clothes and his breath brush over her damp cheek. His hand moved hesitantly against her face, stroking her hair back away from her eyes.
The palm of his hand filled with her tears as he turned her face slowly toward him.
Karlee moved into his arms as though it were the most natural act in the world. She'd never felt a man's arms around her. The warmth of him. The experience of being enclosed in strength as he leaned against her.
He held her to him, letting his calm warmth seep into her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed deep. There was a rock-solid feel to him that made her believe the world might settle into place enough to allow her to grow roots and belong.
“We have to talk,” he whispered without easing his hold around her.
“I know,” she answered wanting the closeness to never end.
“Are you sure Gerilyn didn't send you?”
Karlee let out a little laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. “If you mean your late wife's sister, no. She hasn't spoken to me in years.”
Karlee didn't add that Gerilyn's quick tongue had cut her to the bone when they'd met once several years back. “Gerilyn considered herself the grand lady of the family. I seem to be the embarrassment to her. Even the few times she invited the aunts to a holiday, she made a point of not including me in the invitation. We'd have nothing to say to one another even if we did meet.”
She felt his hand brush her shoulder slightly in comfort. “I believe you,” he finally said. “But she's told me often enough that this is no place for a woman or children for that matter. And she's probably right. The town may break out in war at any moment.” He rested his hands at Karlee's waist.
“So I've heard.”
“It's not fair to ask you to stay.” He pulled a few inches away. His light grip at her waist kept her from moving against him once more.
Karlee lowered her head, realizing what he was trying to say. “I understand. I can't cook and I'm not even sure I can take care of children. I tend to act before I think and…”
“I know,” he chuckled. “In truth, I'm not an easy person to be around either. Wolf complains that I make hailstorms look cheery most days.”
Karlee brushed away her last tear, thinking she'd like to get to know this man if things were different. He made her feel calm and protected even though she could see the banked turmoil in his eyes. He was a man whose kind soul showed in his eyes.
“To be honest.” He let out a long breath. “All I care about is my daughters. I died inside a long time ago, but they keep me going each day. If Gerilyn knew I needed help, she'd fight me for the twins in every court from here to New Orleans.”
Karlee touched his arm, knowing he was showing her more of himself in the shadows than he allowed most people to see in sunlight. Despite all his strength, he was a man wounded so deeply he had to remember to breathe.
“I'd never tell her.” Karlee guessed Daniel had his secrets but there was a goodness about him anyone should be able to see. She'd never want to hurt him.
He placed his hand over hers. “That's why, despite the trouble here, I'm asking you to stay and help me raise the twins. With you, a relative here, Gerilyn wouldn't stand a chance.”
“What?” Karlee tried to see his face in the darkness.
“Stay,” he said. “Help me protect the twins, Karlee.”
“Say it again.” She closed her eyes so that all her energy could concentrate on listening.
“Stay, Karlee,” he repeated. “Stay with me.”
FOUR
KARLEE FELT SUDDENLY SHY AS SHE FOLLOWED Daniel up the stairs. He carried her huge trunk as if it were no more than a carpetbag. He didn't fit the mold of what she thought a preacher should look like. Maybe it was his size, or the quiet air about him, but she'd never have guessed him a reverend.
At the small second floor landing, he turned left and entered the first door. “The twins' room is larger and has a small bed in it where Willow always slept, but I thought you'd like the privacy of your own room.”
Karlee set the lantern down on a small chest of drawers. He hadn't lied, the room was small yet neat and clean. Through the window, she could see a barn in the back and a garden plot, newly plowed, waiting for spring. Everything about the house was plain and simple as though it had been built only a short time before. A house to look like a home, she thought-walls, white paint, a porch-but something was missing. Somehow this little place with its square rooms and blank walls was not a home.
