glanced toward Sadie, sure she would be irritated by that description. She was looking at his bruised hand. He folded his swollen fingers against his palm and moved his hand back out of her sight. “Hardly. I simply happened along at the right time and the right place. I never could have caught them if it weren’t for the hill.”
“Nonetheless, you saved them, Cole. And, from the looks of you, it was quite a task.” Rachel set her needlepoint aside, rose from the settee and bustled over to him. “Give me your coat. I’ll give it a good brushing and mend that tear for you.”
He glanced down at the three-cornered rip in his sleeve. “A branch must have caught it when I rode through the trees, but you don’t have to—”
“Do not argue with me, young man.” A mock scowl knit Rachel’s fine gray brows together. She held out her hand.
Warmth filled his chest. It had been four years since anyone had fussed over him. He slipped his arm out of a sleeve and wished he had the right to lean down and kiss her soft, wrinkled cheek.
“You’re busy with your needlepoint, Nanna, and I’m only entertaining myself reading. Why don’t I brush and mend the coat?”
His mouth didn’t exactly gape, but only because he caught himself in time. He froze with his coat half-off and shot a look at Sadie. She’d moved to the settee and was staring at Rachel’s needlepoint. He glanced down. There was a hodgepodge of large, red stitches scattered over the beautifully worked, unfinished piece. So that was it. She was protecting her grandmother. From what? His disapproval? Anger? She thought him so cruel that he would berate an ill woman?
He jerked his gaze up to Sadie’s face and his spurt of anger died. The sadness in her brown eyes tugged at his heart harder than Rachel was tugging on his arm. He looked down.
“Your coat.” She raised her arms, grasped the collar and slid it off his shoulder.
He couldn’t refuse her. He pulled his arm out of the sleeve. “You’re most kind, Mrs. Townsend. Thank you.”
“I’ll mend the coat, Nanna.” Sadie hurried over. He glanced at her taut face, wished she would look at him so he could let her know that it was all right, that he understood.
“Nonsense.” Rachel draped the coat over her arm and took hold of his hand, turned it palm up. “Come with me to the kitchen, Cole, your hand needs tending.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You come, too, Sadie. You can see to Cole’s hand while I brush his coat.”
Sadie’s face drained of color and panic flashed in her eyes. Did the thought of touching him do that to her? He clenched his jaw and gently withdrew his hand from Rachel’s grasp. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Mrs. Townsend. I need to go home and get cleaned up. And Cloud had a hard run in this heat—I want to get him fed and turned out to pasture. I’ll get my coat when I return this evening.” He dipped his head in farewell and strode from the room.
* * *
The dishes were finished at last. Sadie looked at her puckered fingers and swallowed the lump in her throat. Twice Nanna had taken the dishes she’d washed and rinsed, dried them and put them right back in the dishpan. She hadn’t known how to stop her without hurting her feelings or confusing her more. If Poppa hadn’t called for help, they’d be doing dishes still. How did Gertrude manage? Why couldn’t she?
The helpless feeling in her chest swelled. What happened to Nanna? What made her forget what she had done so that she did it over and over again? Why did her grandmother’s mind slip from the present to the past and back again? She wanted so much to help her, but how did you help a woman who forgot you? Who confused the child she had raised from a toddler with others?
She removed her apron, scooped some rose-scented oatmeal-and-beeswax cream from the small crock on the shelf over the washstand and rubbed it into her hands. If only she could tell when her grandmother was going to slip into
“Nonetheless, you saved them, Cole. And, from the looks of you, it was quite a task.” Rachel set her needlepoint aside, rose from the settee and bustled over to him. “Give me your coat. I’ll give it a good brushing and mend that tear for you.”
He glanced down at the three-cornered rip in his sleeve. “A branch must have caught it when I rode through the trees, but you don’t have to—”
“Do not argue with me, young man.” A mock scowl knit Rachel’s fine gray brows together. She held out her hand.
Warmth filled his chest. It had been four years since anyone had fussed over him. He slipped his arm out of a sleeve and wished he had the right to lean down and kiss her soft, wrinkled cheek.
“You’re busy with your needlepoint, Nanna, and I’m only entertaining myself reading. Why don’t I brush and mend the coat?”
His mouth didn’t exactly gape, but only because he caught himself in time. He froze with his coat half-off and shot a look at Sadie. She’d moved to the settee and was staring at Rachel’s needlepoint. He glanced down. There was a hodgepodge of large, red stitches scattered over the beautifully worked, unfinished piece. So that was it. She was protecting her grandmother. From what? His disapproval? Anger? She thought him so cruel that he would berate an ill woman?
He jerked his gaze up to Sadie’s face and his spurt of anger died. The sadness in her brown eyes tugged at his heart harder than Rachel was tugging on his arm. He looked down.
“Your coat.” She raised her arms, grasped the collar and slid it off his shoulder.
He couldn’t refuse her. He pulled his arm out of the sleeve. “You’re most kind, Mrs. Townsend. Thank you.”
“I’ll mend the coat, Nanna.” Sadie hurried over. He glanced at her taut face, wished she would look at him so he could let her know that it was all right, that he understood.
“Nonsense.” Rachel draped the coat over her arm and took hold of his hand, turned it palm up. “Come with me to the kitchen, Cole, your hand needs tending.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You come, too, Sadie. You can see to Cole’s hand while I brush his coat.”
Sadie’s face drained of color and panic flashed in her eyes. Did the thought of touching him do that to her? He clenched his jaw and gently withdrew his hand from Rachel’s grasp. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Mrs. Townsend. I need to go home and get cleaned up. And Cloud had a hard run in this heat—I want to get him fed and turned out to pasture. I’ll get my coat when I return this evening.” He dipped his head in farewell and strode from the room.
* * *
The dishes were finished at last. Sadie looked at her puckered fingers and swallowed the lump in her throat. Twice Nanna had taken the dishes she’d washed and rinsed, dried them and put them right back in the dishpan. She hadn’t known how to stop her without hurting her feelings or confusing her more. If Poppa hadn’t called for help, they’d be doing dishes still. How did Gertrude manage? Why couldn’t she?
The helpless feeling in her chest swelled. What happened to Nanna? What made her forget what she had done so that she did it over and over again? Why did her grandmother’s mind slip from the present to the past and back again? She wanted so much to help her, but how did you help a woman who forgot you? Who confused the child she had raised from a toddler with others?
She removed her apron, scooped some rose-scented oatmeal-and-beeswax cream from the small crock on the shelf over the washstand and rubbed it into her hands. If only she could tell when her grandmother was going to slip into
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