Loving Liza Jane Read Online Free PDF

for not lingering there. Bitterness got him nowhere. Besides, he’d had little time for it. Neither had he taken the time for self-pity, much as he could have enjoyed wallowing in that particular venue. Self-pity was a luxury, something he couldn’t afford with two daughters to raise and a farm to maintain.
    No, the practical side of things kept him moving in a forward direction. The problem was, all signs pointed to his inability to continue his forward progress. For the past several weeks, it appeared he was stuck in muck up to his eyebrows, spinning his wheels, and getting nowhere. If anything, the farm was suffering. Already there were crops wasting only because he hadn’t the time to work them properly.
    Even Mrs. Granger was petering out on him, complaining of aches and pains she’d never had before, confessing to him that taking on two children when she’d already raised nearly a dozen of her own was a bit more than she could handle at this stage of her life.
    “I’m not as young as I used to be, Ben,” she’d said nearly two weeks ago after he’d put both girls on the wagon, then gone back into the house to pay her. “I promise I will help you for a bit longer, but only until you manage to find someone you can count on permanently.”
    “I thought I could count on you permanently,” he’d protested.
    Her frown told him he’d thought wrong. “I’m getting up there, Ben. Heavens’ sake, child, I watched you grow up.”
    It was true; she was an old family friend, the epitome of a good neighbor. She’d nursed his own sick mother when she’d come down with an uncommonly high fever, had even sat with her and clutched her hand until she’d breathed her last. Consumption was what they’d called the lung-destroying disease that took his mother. Not long after her fateful death, his father had fallen ill and perished from something similar.
    Orphaned at fourteen, Ben had moved in with his crusty, eccentric, yet somehow lovable Grandfather Broughton, even though he’d claimed impoverishment. When the old man died, however, Ben discovered a suitcase full of money stashed beneath his grandfather’s rusted bedsprings, squashing all rumors of destitution.
    The find had been a bittersweet blessing, for it put Miranda and him in a much better financial position to begin their marriage. Still, he’d figured his life would never be quite the same without the old man. He’d put a stamp on his heart that would forever affect his life’s decisions. “God first, boy. Remember that,” he’d repeatedly said.
    “You could always court Emma Browning,” Mrs. Granger had said, pulling his thoughts back to their conversation. “She’s very pretty, don’t you think? And she has a good heart. Granted, she’s a bit on the wild side…”
    “Mrs. Granger, Emma is a tiger on the loose. I like her enough, but I’d certainly never marry her! And that father of hers is a drunken dolt.”
    Mrs. Granger nodded. “You’re right, of course.” Deep in thought, she pursed her lips, then blossomed with a ready smile. “What about the widow Riley?”
    “The widow Riley is ten years my senior, Mrs. Granger, and well, plump—she’s plump.” Plump had not been a good choice of words. Whopping might have better described her, but he had more class than to be completely forthright when it came to another’s looks.
    “Well, you can’t be too choosy, Ben. You have motherless daughters. How much longer do you think you can properly care for them?”
    “That’s why I’ve hired you, Mrs. Granger.”
    “And I’ve told you that you need to start looking elsewhere, Benjamin. Besides, my Althea is expecting another baby any day, and she’s asked me to come to St. Louis to look after the rest of her brood.”
    “But you just said you’re getting too old for this.”
    “Althea is my daughter. I can’t refuse my own children.” As if a light had just come on, Mrs. Granger brightened. “I have it. How about looking into a