He shrugged again. “Seems fairly evident to me.”
It was far from evident to her. At his words, a sense of satisfaction grew inside her. If she appeared so competent to Blue, perhaps she might eventually feel confident in herself.
He spoke again. “I read a lot. I always have a couple of books with me.”
She realized Blue had returned to her former question as to what he did in the evenings.
“I’ve been reading the Bible. Is that one of the books you read?”
“No, ma’am.” He said it without rancor, without any emotion, as if he might have been talking about the color of snow.
“Why not? Don’t you believe in God?”
“I kind of quit believing when my wife and children died.”
She could not say if she would have had the same reaction to such a terrible event, but somehow the idea of not believing in God seemed even more terrible. “Tell me what happened.”
“They perished in a fire.”
She heard the tautness in his voice and ached for his pain. “How awful.”
“The worst part was I saw the house burning and couldn’t get there in time to do anything.”
Horror darkened her heart. “That’s dreadful. How old were the children?”
“Beau was four, Nancy five.” His hands had grown idle. He stared unblinkingly at the wall before him.
She shuddered, and for the space of a minute or two couldn’t pull a word to her mind. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if anything happened to my girls.”
“It’s a man’s job to protect his family.”
She pushed slowly to her feet. “I don’t need a man. I’m more than a pretty object.”
He rose and faced her, deep lines gouged in his face. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Silence echoed in the church as she wondered what he meant and if he would explain. “Not all men expect or want a woman who is pretty but helpless,” he finally said. He looked serious. “Some even teach a woman woodworking.”
She smiled, both surprised and pleased at his comment. “Yes, some do.”
He jerked away and picked up the saw.
She chose another piece of wood to plane.
Did he think a woman could be self-sufficient and yet benefit from the protection of a man? It certainly hadn’t been her experience. In her life protection had only brought with it a form of domination. That was not something she wanted for herself or her children.
Then the real meaning of his words reached her brain. He didn’t mean her or just any woman. He had been talking about his own loss and how he’d been unable to save his family.
She glanced at him, wishing she could undo the past few minutes or say something to acknowledge his pain, but he seemed absorbed in sawing a piece of wood.
After a moment of studying him, she turned away.
Anything she said now would draw attention to the fact that they each had their own problems and concerns.
Surely she could work at his side for a few days and keep their personal lives out of the picture. She realized with a shock that she’d told him more than she had meant to. Perhaps he’d done the same.
From now on, she’d be more cautious of her words lest he learn too much about her and put her future in jeopardy.
Chapter Six
Blue resisted the urge to slam his head into the wall. What had come over him to tell her how his children had died?
Yes, it had felt good to say the words even though they ripped a bloody trail through his heart. Maybe it had felt good because Clara didn’t try to console him with empty words. Only an acknowledgment of his pain. Of course, she knew what loss was like. She’d lost her husband. She’d offered condolences for his loss, but he’d not said a thing about hers.
What could he say to make up for his oversight?
“Clara?”
Her head came up. Her eyes were wide with surprise and blue as the morning sky.
“You’ve known loss, too. I’m sorry.”
Not a flicker of acknowledgment.
“Didn’t you say your husband died? No, wait. It was Eleanor who said she didn’t have a papa. I assumed...” He trailed to an end without finishing. Had he misunderstood?
“My husband is dead.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Shouldn’t she express more emotion, or was she trying to bury the pain even as he did?