Blue had departed a few moments earlier and now Clara and the girls followed his footprints back to the church.
Clara suspected he might wish she’d change her mind about helping him, but he’d soon learn she wouldn’t.
Eleanor went to Blue. “Mama says we must do our share. What can we do?”
He straightened and met Clara’s eyes over the girls’ heads.
She gaped. She had not meant for the girls to feel they, too, must earn their food. Parents provided for children.
Libby teetered back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Mama says we should owe no man nothing. She says that’s in the Bible.”
Blue’s eyebrows rose, and his lips twitched. “Is that a fact?” His gaze rested on Clara.
“If Mama says it’s true, then it is.” Eleanor spoke with utmost loyalty.
Clara could almost believe she saw a twinkle in Blue’s eyes.
“Glad to see you girls listen to your mama.”
The pair nodded their heads as Clara floundered for a way to explain that although she’d said the words, she’d meant them for herself, not the girls.
Blue leaned back on his heels. “And now you want to help?”
More nodding.
“That’s a very noble thing. Let’s see.” He looked around the room.
Clara did, too. It might be good if the girls had something to do that made them feel useful, but what on earth could two little girls do that wouldn’t put them underfoot?
“Well, you could always make sure there are three pieces of firewood by the stove. You could keep the stack by the door neat. When I’m not sawing, you could clean up the sawdust and put it in that coal pail.” He pointed. “And I think you could keep those buckets full of snow. I melt it for my water. You think that’s enough?”
“Yes,” they chorused and sprang into action, grabbing the buckets and heading outdoors to find snow. There was plenty from a previous snowfall along the north side of the church and in the trees.
Clara waited until the door closed behind them. “Thank you. That’s most generous of you to give them useful tasks.”
He picked up a board and carried it to the sawhorse. “Children should feel useful and appreciated.”
“I certainly agree. Even if they’re girls.”
He put the board down and stared at her. “What difference does it make if they are boys or girls? Each child can contribute something.”
Not wanting to meet his gaze, she stared at the board between them. “Some people don’t value girls the same way.”
“Well, that’s just plumb foolish.”
She wondered if he truly believed it or only thought he did. “You said you had two children. Were they girls?”
“One of each.” His answer was curt, and she glanced at him. His eyes had grown cold and distant.
“Did you treat your daughter as you did your son?”
He grabbed the tape measure. “I have no idea what you mean. Here, let’s measure this.”
She took the end of the tape and held it where he pointed. She understood his reluctance to talk about his losses and would not press him even though she was a bit curious. But that was all. What events had shaped his life mattered little to her. Just as her life mattered little to him. They’d been thrown together by accident, and only temporarily. Not that she wasn’t grateful for a warm place to sleep, good food to eat and a job that allowed her to earn her own way.
He tossed aside the tape measure as if it had offended him. Then he grabbed it and stuffed it in his pocket. “Would you like to see how the pews are going to look?”
“I’d love to. You know, I never considered the workmanship that goes into furniture making.” She ran her hand along the smooth finish of a piece of wood ready to assemble. “But it’s kind of fun.”
He nodded, his eyes again alive with feelings. “Wait until you see the finished product. You’ll be amazed at how much pride it gives you to know you had a part in making it.” He stood up a piece of wood cut in an angled L shape. “Hold this.”
She did so as he stood up a matching piece. The girls skidded in at that moment, snow dusting their coats, their faces rosy from being outside.