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 preacher.
“Annabelle still hasn’t forgiven me for giving away Peter’s. Barely nineteen years old, and my boy had his heart set on becoming a preacher. He would have wanted me to share God’s word, but Annabelle...she was furious.”
The older man’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have burdened you. I...”
“Forget it.” He’d already made Annabelle uncomfortable enough. “I’m sure I can find one in town tomorrow. It’s just I—Well, you reminded me of how much I’ve lost track of my faith.”
Some of the tiredness left Frank’s face. “I’m glad. As for the Bible, I’ll let you read my own tonight. When a man’s got a yearning for God’s word, it’s best to fill it immediately so nothing else sneaks in.”
He was about to tell Frank it wasn’t necessary, but Frank had already left the room. It humbled Joseph to see how freely the man shared all that he had. A lesson Aunt Ina would benefit to learn. Her last letter had complained of all the money she’d spent on his siblings and that she fully expected to be repaid for her sacrifice.
If he’d tried to pay Frank back, the man would be insulted. Joseph looked around the room that had once been occupied by a beloved son and brother. No wonder Annabelle had seemed so tense earlier. He sat on the bed and ran his hands along the fine quilt covering the bed.
Joseph didn’t know much about women’s handiwork, and had taken the blankets and quilts in their home for granted. But to Annabelle, who’d been upset over a Bible, this was probably yet another memory of her brother.
“That was the first quilt my wife
