Jonathan stared at the bouquet. Why had he brought flowers for her again—to church? What was she supposed to do, sit through service holding a bouquet? What was he thinking?
The answer was that he wasn’t thinking, because he was desperate. A desperate man was a weak man, according to his father. Yet here Jonathan was sitting like a fool, holding a bouquet of flowers. One would think after being acquainted with a few rejections that he would be more cautious when it came to revealing his affections. Of course that was hard to do with Meg, because he felt something so strong for her. Perhaps it was because she herself was so strong. How many women could take the abuse she had suffered and come out with a strong spirit and gentle heart? All in all he found her amazing, and as such he was not acting like the intelligent doctor he was.
Jonathan straightened his shoulder knowing full well that his mind was running wild. He turned to Sheriff Bill, who was sharing a pew with him, trying to think of a topic of conversation.“Are you studying me, doctor?” Ben asked without looking up. “Do you see any indications of bad health?”
Jonathan chuckled without chagrin. “Passing time while the church fills up,” he replied. “I know everyone here. Have taken their temperatures, stitched them up, mended broken bones, but you—I know very little about you.”
Ben smiled with pride. “I am usually in good health.” He jerked his head at the flowers. “Those aren’t for me, are they?” he teased.
Jonathan felt his face turn crimson and was grateful when Pastor Will and Abigail began making their rounds of welcoming everyone before the sermon.
“Doctor McPherson,” Will smiled and shook his hand. “Good to see you.”
“You as well Pastor and Abigail,” Jonathan nodded at the ethereal gray-eyed woman who stood beside Will.
“Lovely flowers,” Abby cocked her head. “Are they for a special occasion?” She grinned.
“Well, they aren’t for me,” Ben said, pretending to be disappointed.
Will threw his head back and laughed. “Do you need flowers, Sheriff?” he asked.
Abigail gave a playful tap on Will’s arm. “You’re only allowed to give flowers to me, no matter how pretty Sheriff Ben looks on Sundays.”
An instant hush settled over the church. Jonathan thought he knew why; even still, he turned his head to see Cade Walker escorting Rose through the doorway. On one arm he had Rose’s hand laced through his elbow. Her face was serene, her smile sincere; only Jonathan could tell her eyes were dim and her skin a bit paler than its usual flush.
Cade’s left arm was what clearly surprised people. He held Daisy confidently, allowing the child to tug on his hair while he patiently smiled at her and led the two girls to an empty pew. When Rose sat, she reached for Daisy, stiffening slightly when Cade put his arm around her. A buzz of voices murmured throughout the church.
Jonathan’s attention was quickly averted, however, as he saw Meg walk in with the twins, holding their hands lovingly. Meg was like a cool stream on a hot day. Jonathan felt all tension leave his body. Seeming to sense someone staring at her, Meg looked over into the locked eyes of Jonathan. She smiled, her skin warming on the cheeks and the constellation of freckles on her nose looking so kissable that it made Jonathan’s chest ache with the need to press his lips against her nose, her cheekbones, her chin, her neck, her—”
“Good Sunday Morning!” the Pastor greeted everyone, making Jonathan shake his head and blink out the desires.
/
Cade had removed his arm as soon as Rose flinched. He leaned into her whispering an apology. “People need to think things are alright,” he explained, “I won’t touch you again,” he looked over at her, his eyes boring into her own, “until you beg me to.” The timbre in his voice growled through the whisper.
Rose tilted her head and pursed her lips, “I don’t beg, Cade,” she said looking ahead, “not anymore.”
Cade did not reply; instead he looked over at the pew to his left. Something had caught his eye and held his attention throughout the sermon. Rose tried to resist looking over, keeping her own attention on Daisy, wiggling a rag doll to hold the child’s attention. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her when she’d noticed Cade clench his fist, his knuckles popping with the motion.
“What are you looking at?” she whispered.
Cade was silent for a moment before answering. “That kid keeps looking at you,” he hissed between his teeth. “I am trying to decide if I need to let him know it’s not polite to admire a married woman.”
Rose leaned over and tossed a quick look to see Phillip Hugh flash her a charming smile and then another one at Daisy.
“That’s Phillip Hugh.”
“I know who he is,” Cade growled. “He’s an arrogant kid who has won every case he’s had—odd cases, too.”
Rose ignored the last comment. “He is just being polite.” Rose sighed and joined in the hymns now being sung. Cade continued meeting Phillip’s smile with a scowl. Rose looked over beneath her lashes. Most men could not stand under Cade’s intimidating presence. To her surprise Phillip’s smile widened into both a challenging and an amused grin. He jutted his chin at Cade and wiggled his fingers in a mock greeting.
Rose could have sworn the hymn book Cade held dented in the middle.
After the service, Anna found Eliza right away and dragged her over to Cade. Rose felt nauseous; she knew her mother was counseling with Eliza on an affordable house for Rose and Cade. When he’d taken her to the Walker mansion for the first time she’d nearly fainted with shock. Now buying a small, simple home filled her with dread. She felt like God was treating her a bit like a feather in the wind. Stay with Cade, leave Cade, give Cade another chance. Was she simply a confused woman?
“I’d say you look in desperate need of black coffee,” Meg’s steady voice said. Rose looked over at the kind eyes: supportive, nonjudgmental. She thought God had directed her to Meg for Meg’s sake, but now Rose was grateful for a friend. One who, although young, was seasoned with conflict and trials that made her strong, even if she herself did not realize it. Meg was a blessing.
“Coffee works,” Rose forced a good-humored shrug. “Chocolate may even be better.”
Meg allowed a corner of her mouth to tilt upward. “I am sorry. I know most women dream of a man chasing them down, but in your case …” her voice drifted off as Jonathan approached.
“How are you, Rose?” He looked uneasy. “I knew Cade was in town, but I didn’t think you two would—”
“It’s a trial, Jonathan,” Rose cut him off, feeling too exhausted to explain it all, even to her dear friend. “We are seeing if being together will cool the animosity I have seen towards Daisy. I am not saying the marriage will work, but for Daisy I am willing to try.”
“Are you sure, Rose?” Jonathan looked concerned.
Rose knew Jonathan meant to be kind, but the comment made her feel worse and unsure about her decision.
Meg cleared her throat. “I don’t think that trying to save a marriage can be a bad thing,” she said as if reading Rose’s thoughts, “I think it’s very brave. Especially when a child is involved.”
Rose could have kissed Meg on both cheeks for saying that. Instead, she gave Meg a subtle nod of gratitude. “Jonathan, are you still planning on coming over Tuesday for a cooking lesson?”
He shot a look at Meg, whose wide-set eyes had become still, expressionless.
“If that is still all right. I am a little tired of burned eggs and watery soup. But I don’t want to be a burden.” He held out the flowers. “However, if it is alright for me to come by, then consider these a sign of gratitude.”
Meg’s lips curled shyly as she took the flowers. “More flowers? Well, Doctor, I must say I prefer these over medicine. You are welcome to prescribe them to me any day.”
“I will be over to help, Meg,” Rose said quickly, and she slid a wink at Meg. “I will be grateful for the excuse to come over.”
Meg smiled, looking down at the floor briefly. “Cooking class it is,” she said, lifting her eyes to Jonathan, the gold rings around her irises branding his skin. “I shall teach you how to cook French Brule and Spanish Tarts.”
When Jonathan merely frowned like she was speaking another language, Meg laughed joyfully, “I am merely teasing you, Doctor McPherson. I’ll show you how to make eggs and soup and flapjacks. We may even start with toast if your skills are indeed as bad as you say.”