“Your father had a store, you say?”
“Yes. It’s been a part of the family for as long as I can remember.”
“Well, Mr. Jorgensen has mentioned wanting an extra hand behind the counter now and again. Sometimes he’s busy in the back and I’m busy in the kitchen, and there’s no one to mind the front. But I’ll have to speak to him.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Forsythia offered another smile, never mind that they never seemed to gain a response. What an unhappy woman. “Also, I want to order some garden seeds. Do you have a catalog?”
“Bit late in the season for that.” With a grunt, Mrs. Jorgensen slapped a catalog on the counter in front of her. “But we can order whatever you want to take a chance on.”
“Thank you.” Forsythia perused the pages. Not corn or tomatoes or melons—there wasn’t time for those. But quick-growing beans would be good, and greens. Root vegetables, too, which they could harvest in the fall and store for winter. And pray for a late frost, not that root crops froze easily like corn or lettuce.
“That one of the orphaned young’uns I heard about?”
Forsythia looked up in surprise at Mrs. Jorgensen’s initiating conversation. Miracles did happen. “Yes. This is Robbie.” She reached for the little boy’s hand.
“Sure a shame about his ma. That doc didn’t do her much good, did he?”
“Dr. Brownsville did everything he could.” Forsythia swallowed and pulled Robbie closer. “As did I. Sadly, it wasn’t enough.”
“Seems it never is.” Mrs. Jorgensen sniffed and turned away.
So much bitterness. Forsythia smoothed her hand over Robbie’s hair. “I’m almost finished, dear one. Why don’t you pick out a stick of candy to take and share with Sofie?” There, that brought the light back to his brown eyes.
When a throat cleared behind them, Forsythia turned. “Why, hello, Jesse.”
“Hey, Miss F-Forsythia. Hey, Robbie.”
“How are you? We miss seeing you, now that you live in town.”
“We’re doing fine.” He shifted his feet. “You can tell Miss Larkspur that I’ll t-take the job like she said. Come out and h-help you all with the haying and whatever else you need.”
“That’s wonderful. We’ll look forward to seeing you. Can you come tomorrow morning?”
“Okay.” Jesse turned away, then looked back. “I think my uncle m-misses you.”
Her mind stuttered to a stop. “What?”
“He doesn’t t-talk about it, but I know.” With a little wave, Jesse sidled away toward the grocery section.
Her head abuzz, Forsythia placed an order for seeds, hoping she’d picked the right ones, and guided Robbie out of the store after a promise from Mrs. Jorgensen that they’d be in touch about the job.
Back out on the wooden sidewalk, Forsythia drew a steadying breath. Shadows of the buildings stretched long across the street, heralding suppertime, though the summer sun wouldn’t set for some hours.
“Can we go home? I wanna give Sofie her candy.” Robbie held up his small paper sack.
“Straightaway.” Forcing herself not to look at the building next to the store, lest she see Adam at the window, she led Robbie to Starbright, boosted him up, then climbed up behind him.
As she clucked to the mare, Forsythia couldn’t resist one glance back at the doctor’s window. And there he was—only a silhouette of his broad shoulders and bearded face, but enough to set her heart pounding. A figure somehow imprinted deep on her heart before she knew how it had happened.
And now what, Lord? She fought tears as she turned Starbright toward home. If we can’t even talk to each other, what’s to become of us?
The next day, Jesse arrived at sunup. He joined them for breakfast, eating as if he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in a week, which was most likely true. Once the sun had dried the dew, Lark, Jesse, Forsythia, and Del headed into the field of waving prairie grass armed with hats, gloves, and scythes. Lilac stayed near the soddy with the children, Mikael asleep on a blanket under the young cottonwood tree.
“We’ll start here and make our way east,” Lark said, tipping back her hat. “We don’t have a mowing machine, but try to cut it in rows as much as you can. Sythia, don’t work too long. You’re not strong yet. You can trade with Lilac as soon as you get tired.”
Forsythia nodded, but she wanted to help, at least a little. The July breeze, already warm for early in the morning, flapped her sunbonnet against her face.
“All right, spread out and get cutting.” Lark sent them out like a general ordering her troops.
Haying was new work to all of them, but soon Forsythia fell into a rhythm with her scythe, enjoying the pull of the muscles in her arms and the satisfying sweep of the blade against the grass. The repetitive motion gave her time to think about Adam.
When had he gone from being “the doctor” to Adam in her mind? Was it when they had tried to save Alice? No, but that had been the first thing to draw them together. Taking in the children, then? Or perhaps it wasn’t until she had fallen ill herself. She shook a grasshopper off her sleeve and paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Whenever, however, it happened, it had happened. Feelings had bloomed in her heart that she’d maybe no right to, not toward a so recently widowed man. And yet . . . from what Jesse had said, Adam cared for her too.
The thought rushed heat to her cheeks and pattered her heart. To have found a good man to love again, to love her again . . . It was
