A Hopeful Heart Read Online Free PDF

palms against the wood floor and stared at the cat. A creaking noise from the hall shifted her attention from the cat to the doorway. Mrs. Wyatt poked her head into the room.
    “Oh! Tressa, my apologies, dearie. I was tryin’ to put that old scalawag in the pantry, where she spends the night, but she got away from me.” The woman tiptoed into the room, casting a furtive glance toward the bed where Sallie slept on, unaware. “I forgot to tell you the latch on the door to this room doesn’t always hook. Izzy-B here can bat it right open. I’ll have one o’ my men take a look at it tomorrow an’ get it fixed so she won’t be sneakin’ in here an’ botherin’ you.”
    The cat examined Tressa with round, curious eyes before turning itself and coiling into a ball on her lap. Despite the start she’d been given, Tressa felt a small bubble of laughter form in her throat. “Oh, she’s not a bother, ma’am. She’s actually quite . . . nice.”
    Mrs. Wyatt’s smile warmed. “It’s good of you to say so. She’s a special girl to me, havin’ been a gift from my husband—God rest his soul—when she was just a scrawny kitten. She spent lots o’ years in the barn, chasin’ away the mice, but she’s earned her spot ’neath the stove in her later years.”
    Tressa stroked her hand down the length of the animal’s back. The cat responded by twisting around and bobbing her head against Tressa’s palm. The giggle trickled past Tressa’s lips.
    “I’ll take her now so I can put her to bed.”
    Somewhat disappointed, Tressa lifted the cat and handed it to its owner. Mrs. Wyatt cradled the cat beneath her chin. Suddenly she frowned. “What’re you doin’ over here on the floor instead of bein’ in bed at this hour?”
    Tressa struggled to her feet, careful to shield her bare limbs with the generous folds of her white cotton nightgown. She kept her gaze averted as she replied. “I was looking at the countryside. It’s so big . . . and open. Not like—” She started to say “home,” but had her aunt and uncle’s three-story townhouse ever truly been home?
    “I remember it seemin’ mighty big when Jed an’ me first settled here. An’ quiet, compared to the city.” Mrs. Wyatt paused, and then her quiet voice came again. “You missin’ the city?”
    Truthfully, Tressa didn’t miss the city, but she missed her former life. Her life with Mama and Papa. But she’d been missing that life since she was twelve years old. She shook her head, still clutching the cotton fabric of the worn nightgown.
    “I know it’s different here, Tressa, but it’s a fine place to put down roots. Good folks—salt o’ the earth, no matter what you might’ve thought about the men’s orneriness today. As a whole, they’re hard-workin’ an’ God-lovin’, even if some are a bit rough around the edges.” Mrs. Wyatt chuckled softly. “But nothin’ softens up a man like the care of a good woman.”
    Tressa lifted her head. The woman’s face, even shadowed by the scant moonlight shining through the window, appeared kind. For a moment she considered sharing her thoughts. Mrs. Wyatt had lost her husband; she would understand the deep hurt Tressa still carried at having to say good-bye to her parents far too soon. But her aunt’s warning about keeping her past a secret held her tongue. So she blurted, “I . . . I should go to bed now.”
    She scurried to the bed and climbed in, careful not to bounce the mattress and disturb Sallie. Mrs. Wyatt padded silently to the door and stepped into the hallway. Her whispered voice, crooning to the cat, slowly faded as she headed down the stairs. Tressa lay, wide-eyed, staring out the window. Although she wanted to sleep, a question kept her awake: If her childhood wish to marry a man like Papa came true, would this lonely ache finally depart for good?

4
    “Hey, boss?”
    Abel paused in lifting the pitchfork of hay to look at Cole. The hired hand straddled a low stool beside the milk