Why was she reluctant to tell him what she meant to say?
He reached for her, relieved when she didn’t resist. “What’s wrong?”
“They’ve never had someone—” she spoke in a strangled voice “—treat them like you do. You listen to them and talk to them and encourage them.” She shook her head, her eyes damp.
Moved by the threat of her tears, he pulled her close. “It’s because I care about them.”
Her fingers burrowed into the fabric of his shirt. “I know.”
Just as he cared for her. He didn’t know how to say it without making her grow defensive. So he settled for tipping her head back and smiling. “Clara.” Was that hoarse voice his?
The look of anticipation in her eyes touched a tender spot inside him. His gaze drifted to her sweet, smiling, kissable mouth.
“Clara.” Her name came out as a sigh as he lowered his head, intent on capturing her lips.
The door rattled. Libby laughed and banged a bucket against the frame.
Blue sprang back. He wondered if he looked as regretful as Clara did at having their kiss prevented by two curious little girls. She indeed looked disappointed over being denied that kiss. He tucked the thought into his heart.
He stepped aside as the girls shuffled past with their buckets of snow. He’d offer to help them but understood their need to do it for themselves.
The truth of his thoughts made him blink. It was the same with Clara. She needed to prove she could take care of herself and the girls. For her sake as much as for her father’s. And he could do little but wait patiently for her to see the truth of how strong she was.
Chapter Sixteen
Clara stood, content to watch, as Blue sat on a pew and took the girls to his knees.
When she’d realized he was in the church, her relief had been so great she’d grabbed the wall to steady herself. To have his forgiveness made the room brighter, and she knew it wasn’t because of the morning sun.
She scrubbed her lips together. Forgiveness had mended the rift between them. She cradled her arms about herself to contain the disappointment in the pit of her stomach. Funny that a missed kiss could matter so much. She’d never been one for kissing. Rolland’s kisses had been perfunctory at best, and as he grew weaker and less interested in her and the girls, they’d stopped altogether. In some ways, she’d felt like a widow years before he died.
She brought her attention back to the scene before her.
“I’m sorry I was abrupt last night,” Blue explained to the girls.
Libby tipped her head to one side. “You didn’t come for supper.”
“Or breakfast,” Eleanor added.
“I went for a ride.”
“We wondered where you were.” Libby studied him hard.
She thought poor Blue would be squirming inside before Libby’s demanding look, but he smiled gently then dipped his head and touched his forehead to Libby’s. “I should have told you.”
Clara wanted to interrupt, to remind the children he didn’t need to inform them of his whereabouts. The girls had no such claim on him, any more than she did.
Eleanor caught his chin and brought him about to face her. “We thought you left. Everyone leaves.” Sorrow dripped from each word.
“Or we leave,” Libby pointed out.
Eleanor shrugged. “Doesn’t matter who goes.”
“Remember the sermon yesterday?” Blue said.
Two little heads nodded.
“Then you know that Jesus is your good shepherd who leads you to still waters and green pastures.”
Libby made a protesting noise. “Too bad God doesn’t lead us to a nice home. I wanted to stay at the ranch, but Mama said no.” She scowled at Clara.
“Sometimes we have to do things that are hard.” Blue pressed their heads to his chest and gave Clara a look of such regret she had to blink back tears.
He cared for the girls. Did he care for her? What would it mean if he did?
Did she care for him? Perhaps more than was wise.
Before she could examine that admission, Eleanor and Libby scrambled from Blue’s lap and went to the corner to play. He rose and turned her attention to work.
The pews would soon be finished. A mixture of regret and satisfaction tugged at her thoughts.