Josiah stuck the pitchfork in the ground and mulled over the situation. Ever since Jess’s episode at the church picnic, she’d been quicker to help Corra with the household chores. She didn’t balk when asked to clear the dishes or hang wet clothes on the line. Of course, he didn’t see everything that went on between the two of them. He and Joe were busy breaking colts and mucking stalls. But he wasn’t so busy that he didn’t catch the way his family took to Corra, her cooking, and her Bible reading—the way she made a body nearly taste and smell the goings-on, as if they happened yesterday. And he had to admit, something in Corra’s manner stitched up a piece of his heart that had needed mending for a long time. He rubbed an itch on his chest. Morning chores could wait till after breakfast.
He headed for the house with a need to see Corra before he got caught up in the day. When he walked in, she and Jess stared as if expecting bad news. He hung his hat on a peg and addressed his daughter.
“Why don’t you pick eggs this morning? Let your grandpap sleep in.”
She cut a look to Corra, who handed her the egg basket, then without a word, ducked out the front door. Josiah took his seat at the table. “Coffee smells good.”
Corra looked at him like he had horns growing out of his head. Her hands pressed down her apron, and before he could holler, she grabbed the pot on the back of the stove.
He shot from his chair at the clatter and gripped her wrist. Her face went white, and he pulled her to the sink and shoved her hand into a pan of water. She grimaced and bit her lip. He reached for a towel and swathed her hand then pulled her close. She stood rigid as a tree, but he kept his arms around her until she relaxed, molding perfectly against his body.
Lord, how right it felt to hold her. How long he’d wanted to. He cupped the back of her head, and his heart stumbled when she looped her free arm around his waist. She turned her cheek against his chest, and he knew she could hear the pounding. Would she consider staying on with a man who knew nothing but breaking broncs and branding calves? Without letting her go, he reached for the grease can on the stove. Then he took a half step back, unwrapped her hand, and gently smoothed the fat on her blistered palm. She winced, but her teeth held her bottom lip while she watched him with brimming eyes. They glimmered like the creek of a morning, and he feared he would drown in them.
The sound of boots on the porch shoved them apart, but he held to Corra’s wrist. “Are you all right?”
She blinked, and the simple act pushed tears down her cheeks. She swiped them away with a nod and a whispered “yes.” A smile trembled on her lips. “Thank you.”
The door banged open and Jess blustered in like a summer storm. “Twelve! I got a full dozen. Bet that’s more than Pop ever gets.” She hauled up and glanced first at Josiah and then at Corra and then at Corra’s hand. “What happened? I wasn’t gone that long.”
Corra sucked in a laughing sob and swiped at her eyes again. “I’m glad you missed the lesson.”
Jess set the egg basket on the counter. “What lesson?”
“The lesson on why we never lift the hot coffeepot without a pad or towel or bunched apron.”
“Why’d you go and do that?”
Corra blushed. “A dozen you say?”
Pop’s door squeaked open. Joe came in from the barn, and before Corra could get her bearings, everyone was at the sink washing. Jessica took over without being told, and Corra stepped back to watch. In a quick moment the table was set, the food in the center, and fresh coffee set to cooking on the stove. Josiah mopped up what she’d spilled on the floor.
Heat flushed her face and her hand throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to run to her room and close the door. Not because of the pain, but because of the way she’d felt in Josiah’s strong embrace. Would she ever be able to look him in the eye again? She had willingly wrapped her arm around him. Because she wanted to.
She skirted the table and took two eggs from the basket. “Rinse these for me, please, Jess, then break them into a bowl and separate the yolk from the white.”
Jess did as she was asked. Perhaps she already knew the egg-white treatment. If nothing else, she’d get a second lesson today. Corra gingerly wiped away most of the grease, smeared the egg whites on her hand, and wrapped it in clean toweling before taking her seat at the table. Josiah raised his brows in a silent question, and she quickly nodded and looked away. How tenderly he had treated her wound and held her in his arms. And how reluctantly she’d left them.
He bowed his head. “Thank You, Lord, for this good food and the hands that prepared it. Please heal the burn, Lord. Amen.”
“What burn?” Joe spooned eggs onto his plate.
“Corra blistered her hand on the coffeepot.” Jessica helped herself to the hotcakes and passed them to her father.
“Why’d she do that?”
“That’s what I asked.”
Both children eyed Corra, mouths full but closed as they chewed—another small blessing. Josiah filled her plate and set it before her then laid his hand on her arm. “Can you manage with your left hand, or do you want me to feed you?”
The children snorted and Pop cackled. If Corra’s hand were not stinging like fire, she’d knock that grin off Josiah Hanacker’s face and him out of his chair.
And then she’d kiss him.