Page 18 of Mail Order Meeting
Some evenings, as they sat together after supper, he would watch the firelight move across her face and feel as though he were standing just outside a closed door—welcome in the house, welcomed in the bed, yet barred from something deeper.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he said one evening as she stitched by lamplight.
“So are you,” Lula replied with a small smile.
He nodded.“Thinking.”
“About what?”
He hesitated.“You.”
Her needle paused for just a breath too long.“I hope that isn’t a bad thing.”Why would he be thinking about her?Did he somehow know?How could he know?
“No,” he said quickly.“Not bad.Just...I worry sometimes that you’re hiding something from your past.Something about your first marriage.”
She looked down at her hands.“Everyone hides something.”
“Yes,” he agreed softly.“But I’d like to help you through whatever it is you’re afraid to tell me about.”
She smiled at him then—warm, grateful, and closed all at once.“You already do.”
He wanted to believe her, but she still hadn’t revealed anything.What could she be so afraid for him to know?He’d obviously accepted her as his wife.
Lula felt him slipping away even as she felt herself drawing closer.Each day, she noticed something new about him—the way he checked the weather before leaving for work, the quiet care with which he stacked firewood, the way he asked after the other families without being prompted.She was falling for him, slowly and against her will, and the fear of losing what they were building consumed her.
If he knew the truth...
She didn’t—couldn’t—finish the thought.
When Belle stayed home with a feverish, teething baby, Lula volunteered to hunt alone.It would give her time to think.
“You don’t have to,” Sebastian said as she packed her supplies.“I could come with you.”
She shook her head.“You need to work.I know these woods, and hunting alone has never bothered me.”
He studied her for a long moment.“Leave a note where you’ll be.In case something happens.”
“I will,” she promised
The woods were quiet, the air sharp and clean.Lula moved easily, her body remembering what her mind no longer needed to instruct.When she spotted the deer, the shot was clean and sure.
“Thank you,” she murmured, resting a hand against the earth.
She was halfway through field dressing when she sensed movement behind her—not danger, but attention.
Ella stepped into view, rope and knife in hand.
“I heard the shot,” Ella said.
“I thought you might,” Lula replied.She used her rifle more than the bow and arrow.It suited her better.And it made her feel as if she was still connected to Bill in some way.
They worked without wasting words.Ella steadied while Lula cut, her hands sure, efficient.When Lula hesitated, Ella spoke quietly.
“There,” she said.“Cut there.”
Lula adjusted.“Better?”
Ella nodded once.
