Her Captain's Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

someone he’d come to depend on. With any luck, she’d be gone soon. “When you’re busy teaching, it would be better to have household help.” It wasn’t shading the truth, since the decision as to whether she would stay or go was not up to him. After all, he might end up stuck with this woman indefinitely. With her early arrival the Freedman’s Bureau had demonstrated that it could make mistakes.
    â€œVery well. I’ll see about hiring a housekeeper.”
    He sipped more of her good coffee, brooding over all he couldn’t change in the situation. After four years of following orders, he’d wanted to be free, on his own. And then here she was. And then the question he dreaded came.
    â€œThee didn’t tell me that thee had ever lived here before.”
    Yes, I didn’t, and I don’t want to tell you now. “I lived here with my parents until I was around twelve. Then we moved to New York State.” And that’s all you need to know.
    â€œI see.”
    Was she too polite to ask why? He waited. Evidently she was. Good. Feeling suddenly freer, he rose. “I’m going out to settle the stock. I see your father-in-law is already working on that fence that needed fixing.”
    â€œYes, Joseph is very handy to have around. When it’s time for dinner, I’ll ring the bell. I bought only bacon, eggs and cornbread, so the menu will be somewhat limited. But soon I’ll have the kitchen completely stocked, and with a cow and some chickens, we’ll only need to buy meat and greens from a local farmer.”
    Matt nodded and walked outside into the hot sunshine. As he stood there, the muscles in his neck tightened. He remembered the look on Mary’s face when she’d recognized him. Well, the fat would sizzle soon. Word that he was indeed back in town would whip through Fiddlers Grove like a tornado. It couldn’t be avoided. But he’d given his word and he’d stand by it.
    The concerned look the widow had given him poured acid on his already lacerated nerves. He wanted no sympathy—just to do his work and move on. Oh, he hoped that telegram would come soon. He wanted this disturbing Quaker widow anywhere but here.
    Â 
    Later that afternoon, Verity was putting the final touches on the freshly hemmed and pressed white kitchen curtains she’d had sense enough to bring. When someone knocked on her back door, she started. Scolding herself for lingering jitters, she went to open the door and found a tall, sturdily built black woman looking back at her.
    Her visitor appeared to be in her middle years with the beginning of silver hair around the edges of a red kerchief tied at the front of her head.
    â€œMay I help thee?”
    â€œI’m Hannah. I’ve come to meet y’all Yankees.”
    The woman’s directness made Verity smile, and some of the tightness inside her eased. “Please come in, Hannah. I’m Verity Hardy.”
    â€œAre you a Miss or Mrs.?” The woman looked at her pointedly.
    â€œI’m a widow, but I’m a Quaker and prefer to be called by name.” Verity opened the door and gestured the woman in. Please, Lord, help me do better with this new neighbor.
    â€œYes, ma’am.” The woman entered the kitchen.
    Footsteps sounded in the hall and Beth ran into the kitchen. She halted at the sight of Hannah.
    â€œHello.” Beth curtsied. “I’m Beth.”
    â€œYou can call me Aunt Hannah, you sweet child.” The woman’s face and voice softened.
    Beth looked to her mother for direction. Verity nodded. “If the woman wishes to be called Aunt Hannah, Beth, thee may address her in that way.” Then she turned Hannah. “Won’t thee sit down? I have coffee on the stove.”
    Hannah stared at her and then at the table. “This Virginia. Whites and blacks don’t never sit down together.”
    Verity did not know what to say to this. It made