“Why are you painting instead of Hyke or Uncle Cecil?” The boy walked up the stairs.
“Hyke has already started up there,” Hester pointed toward the roof. “He’s painting the second floor.”
“Can I help?” the boy grinned looking for the ladder.
“Only if you stay down here with me,” Hester gave the boy a hard look.
“Who’s staying where?” Beverly walked around the corner.
“I’m going to help Hester paint,” Jonas grinned.
“I want to help,” Beverly enthused.
“You can’t help,” Jonas retorted. “You’re a girl.”
“Hester’s a girl too,” Beverly placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head at her brother.
“You can both help,” Hester laughed. “I’ll show you how.” Within minutes, both children held brushes in their hands, and Hester was glad that the porch floor would also be getting a coat of fresh paint, since dribbles were already coating the faded wood. She wasn’t sure if she was painting or cleaning up after the children, but soon they seemed to settle into a steady rhythm, and both children began to improve.
***
Cecil staked the last goat out near an overgrown area of the property, smiling as a baby goat leapt in the air, twisting, and landing with another hop. Turning, he caught a glimpse of Hester teaching the children to paint their new home. He never would have dreamed that his two spoiled wards would deign to lift a paintbrush.
Crossing his arms, Cecil watched the scene before him, his heart swelling in his chest. Hester Johnson was more than he had expected. He had hired her out of desperation, and now he couldn’t imagine his life without her. His offer of friendship from the night before was a pale reflection of how he truly felt about her.
Over the years of wandering a country full of beauty and wonder, Cecil had always believed that love would be a lightning strike from the blue, but this had crept up on him, like a stalking cat. Perhaps it was really just a sense of relief and appreciation for all the things the young woman had done, but something told Cecil that the truth was he had fallen in love with Hester Johnson.
Running a hand along his stubbled jaw, he pondered the situation. Could he win Miss Johnson’s heart and hand? Could he make her a part of his life and heart for good?
“What are you standing around for,” Hyke’s voice over his shoulder made Cecil jump guiltily. “I’ve been up on the porch roof for an hour already, and it’s your turn to paint the eaves. My neck hurts.”
The old man handed Cecil a bucket and paintbrush turning and heading for the kitchen and a well earned break.
Cecil chuckled. It hadn’t taken Hyke long to find his balance in this new home. The man never shirked any job, and had done as much and more to make the place a home. The lack of formal attire, staid conversation and fancy fare seemed to be exactly what the man needed to reach his stride.
“Don’t drink all the coffee!” Cecil shouted after Hyke, who simply waved a hand in dismissal.
Life had changed so much in the past few months, leaving Cecil uncertain of his future, at least until now.
Chapter 25
Hester bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the mess the children were becoming. She suspected that almost as much paint was on them as was on the wall, but they were so determined and satisfied that she couldn’t scold them.
“You two carry on,” she said, straightening from where she had been trimming around the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll keep an eye on Jonas,” Beverly replied seriously.
“I don’t need you to watch me,” Jonas barked back.
Hester’s heart was light as she flounced around the side of the house, grabbing a bucket and heading for the pump. If she had the children wash their hands regularly, cleaning them up later would be much easier. Their clothing however was another issue all together. Hester could wash them and keep them for the next time they painted.
Peering behind her to see that the children were still working well, Hester slammed into something solid, a woof of air springing from her lips as strong arms grasped her.
“Excuse me,” she blustered looking up into Mr. Payton’s face. “I should have been watching where I was going.”
Cecil’s smile seemed to send little shivers into Hester’s stomach and she grew silent meeting his warm eyes.
“You aren’t hurt are you?” Cecil asked.
Hester shook her head, not trusting her voice.
Cecil reached out brushing a spot of paint from Hester’s face with the pad of his thumb, feeling warmth run through him at her soft sigh. “You have paint on your face,” he whispered, his eyes still glued to hers.
“What?” Hester asked. She felt like she was going to fly into the sky, her whole body felt light and weightless.
“Paint,” Cecil leaned closer, brushing his thumb down her cheek.
“Oh.”
“The children seem happy,” Cecil felt like he couldn’t put a cohesive thought together. He was speaking nonsense, but didn’t care as long as Hester would stay there in his arms.
“Yes, the children.” Hester couldn’t get her brain to function as her eyes traced the line of Cecil’s lips. “Happy.”
Cecil’s lips met Hester’s in a gentle kiss, growing deeper as she draped her arms around his neck, the tin bucket in her hand bumping his back.
His arms wound tighter around her waist, pulling her close as his heart reached for her. “Hester,” he whispered against her lips. Kissing her again as she hummed softly.
Slowly, Cecil released the woman in his arms. He had no right to kiss her. “I’m sorry,” he said dropping his head. “I have no right.”
Hester took a step back feeling the cool air whisk away the heat from a moment ago. “Of course,” she stammered, stepping around him and heading toward the pump, her face flaming.
“No!” Cecil growled turning and grasping Hester’s arm, spinning her toward him. “I’m not sorry. I’m not
