Where The Heart Is (Choices of the Heart, book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

comfortable farm and respectable reputation were enough to satisfy them. They’d shown little emotion at their only child’s wedding, and no more at her funeral.
    “I can’t pretend I’m not surprised, Hugh. You’ve never mentioned this before, but Leah is your granddaughter. I thank you for your offer, and I’ll consider it. Have you been to see her, then?”
    Margaret spoke, her thin, reedy voice so different from Eleanor’s rich contralto. “Nay. We saw no reason to impose on the McShannons before Leah was ready to be weaned. If you let them know at the forge that we’ll be calling, we can begin getting to know the child.”
    Thinking past his surprise, Martin guessed that the Paxtons had gotten a whiff of gossip. Someone had criticized them for allowing their granddaughter to go to strangers, and they wouldn’t stand for it. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms, as his temper, always at a flashpoint these days, threatened to explode.
    Mind your tongue, Martin. It would be a cold day in hell before he’d send Leah to the Paxtons to be raised in the same rigid, cheerless way they’d raised Eleanor, but they could make trouble for him if they chose. He’d be wise to mollify them.
    “I’ll tell Caroline the next time I see her that we’ve spoken. You can visit Leah, and we’ll see how you get on before I make a decision.”
    Apparently satisfied, Hugh and Margaret rose together. Hugh cleared his throat one more time. “Aye. We’ll see how it goes. We’ll call at the forge the next time we’re in Mallonby.”
    After watching them drive away, Martin lit the lamp. He burnt his finger with the match and clouded the chimney with smoke before he got the wick properly set. He muttered a few choice words, dumped the chimney in the wash basin and scrubbed it clean.
    You might be a poor excuse for a father, but no child of yours will grow up in their house while you’re still drawing breath. But time was passing. He couldn’t put off making a decision about Leah’s future much longer.
    * * *
    “Oh, drat!” Chelle rolled her eyes at the wrapped pound of butter on the pantry shelf. Aunt Caroline had intended to take that to Mr. Rainnie today, but she’d been called out to a birth and might not be home till late.
    As part of the arrangements for keeping Leah, Mr. Rainnie supplied the McShannons with milk and cream. Aunt Caroline converted some of the cream to butter, most of which went to the Binghams’ store, but she always kept some back for Mr. Rainnie. He insisted on paying for it, which put Caroline’s nose a little out of joint, but she forgave him because he also said she made the best butter in the district.
    The men were in the middle of a full day’s work and Jean had gone to visit her mother for the afternoon, with little Peter. Leah had just woken from her nap. Chelle could deliver the butter, but she’d have to take the baby with her.
    So, she would. It couldn’t be a better day for a walk, and it was cool enough to keep the butter from melting on the way. She wasn’t keen to see Mr. Rainnie again, but he’d likely be out in the fields haying. Aunt Caroline had mentioned once that she just stepped in and left the butter on the kitchen table if he wasn’t in.
    Chelle tied a shawl into a sling for Leah, settled her in it and set off, carrying the butter by the string that bound the brown paper wrapping. The walk took longer than she expected because she hadn’t realized that the lane to the house wound a good half mile back from the track to Mr. Rainnie’s pasture. When she came to the lane’s last bend, Chelle stopped to adjust the sling and take the place in from a distance.
    The lines of the house, softened by the branches of an ash tree at either end, blended into the landscape from which its stone had come. Rough grass grew up to the walls of the buildings, except for one spot by the house where the remains of a perennial bed offered a few splashes of color. As she