glanced at the bucket before he met her gaze again.
“She told me repairs are underway and that they’re your doing.”
Instead of answering, Kate walked over to the drop-leaf table and ran her finger over it. She stared at the dust on her fingertip, brushed it off, and shrugged.
“It’s the least I can do.”
“I don’t want your help. I thought I made that clear.”
“It’s not for you, Colin. My childhood would have been a very lonely time if not for Amelie and your parents. I’m doing this as a way of showing my gratitude for their many kindnesses.” Her voice was soft and melodic with a hint of an accent atop the slow languid cadence of Louisiana.
“Well, they aren’t here and I have no money. Your efforts are wasted.”
“The repairs are very limited. You have no need to repay me. The South may be in ruins, but thanks to my father, I am not.”
“How nice for you, but I don’t need or want your charity.” He paused, watching her wipe off the tabletop with a floppy rag. “What are you doing?”
“Dusting.”
“Well, stop it.”
“This place is a pigsty.”
“I have expressly told Eugenie to leave it alone, that’s why.”
“I’m not faulting her.” She reached up and wiped the dusty picture frame around a badly executed watercolor. “Amelie painted this one. Do you recall?”
He didn’t recall, though lately he’d spent hours staring across the room at the painting, wondering who had wasted his or her time.
“She was never very good at watercolors,” Kate said. “But she tried.” Suddenly she turned, the dusting momentarily suspended. “It would do well for you to take some pride in this place, not to mention yourself, Colin. Amelie could return anytime, and I, for one, certainly pray she will. Do you want her to see you like this?”
“Did you suffer some kind of head injury, Kate? A fall maybe?”
“No. Nor am I insane. Why wouldn’t Amelie come to visit you? When she does, things should be in order. She would expect that.”
She turned away and started dusting a cane chair. After she finished the cane bottom, she tilted the chair and wiped off the legs and rungs beneath the seat. When Colin found himself admiring her backside beneath the fall of ruffles down her skirt, he sighedand forced himself to concentrate on the misshapen cluster of roses in Amelie’s watercolor.
“After what she’s done, do you think I’m going to welcome her home with open arms?”
“I really don’t care. At least this place will be looking better when and if Amelie ever does come home.”
He cursed under his breath and saw Kate wince before she started dusting the second chair.
“You’ve been in the company of soldiers too long,” she said.
“What do you know about where I’ve been?”
She considered him for a moment. “I heard you were out west fighting Indians. Wearing Union blue.” She finished the chair and turned to him directly, the dust rag forgotten at her side.
“Colin, there’s every chance that with a little faith and time, you’ll recover—”
He turned to stare out the window.
“It’s been months,” he said.
“Locked inside all the time, I assume.” She picked up a chair and carried it over to the French doors facing the garden. She opened the doors wide and set the chair just outside on the small stone veranda.
“You need sunlight, fresh air, and a change of view.” Suddenly she was beside the bed, touching his arm. “Let me help you up.”
“Get your hands off me!” She startled him so much his demand came out far harsher than he intended. Kate ducked her head and quickly stepped back.
Does she think I’ve sunk that far? To think that I would hit her?
“You are very irritating, Miss Keene, but I would never strike a woman.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to holler like that.” She blinked, her round eyes wide behind her spectacles. “Would you like me to help you outside?” She reached for his cane.
He didn’t want her help, and
“She told me repairs are underway and that they’re your doing.”
Instead of answering, Kate walked over to the drop-leaf table and ran her finger over it. She stared at the dust on her fingertip, brushed it off, and shrugged.
“It’s the least I can do.”
“I don’t want your help. I thought I made that clear.”
“It’s not for you, Colin. My childhood would have been a very lonely time if not for Amelie and your parents. I’m doing this as a way of showing my gratitude for their many kindnesses.” Her voice was soft and melodic with a hint of an accent atop the slow languid cadence of Louisiana.
“Well, they aren’t here and I have no money. Your efforts are wasted.”
“The repairs are very limited. You have no need to repay me. The South may be in ruins, but thanks to my father, I am not.”
“How nice for you, but I don’t need or want your charity.” He paused, watching her wipe off the tabletop with a floppy rag. “What are you doing?”
“Dusting.”
“Well, stop it.”
“This place is a pigsty.”
“I have expressly told Eugenie to leave it alone, that’s why.”
“I’m not faulting her.” She reached up and wiped the dusty picture frame around a badly executed watercolor. “Amelie painted this one. Do you recall?”
He didn’t recall, though lately he’d spent hours staring across the room at the painting, wondering who had wasted his or her time.
“She was never very good at watercolors,” Kate said. “But she tried.” Suddenly she turned, the dusting momentarily suspended. “It would do well for you to take some pride in this place, not to mention yourself, Colin. Amelie could return anytime, and I, for one, certainly pray she will. Do you want her to see you like this?”
“Did you suffer some kind of head injury, Kate? A fall maybe?”
“No. Nor am I insane. Why wouldn’t Amelie come to visit you? When she does, things should be in order. She would expect that.”
She turned away and started dusting a cane chair. After she finished the cane bottom, she tilted the chair and wiped off the legs and rungs beneath the seat. When Colin found himself admiring her backside beneath the fall of ruffles down her skirt, he sighedand forced himself to concentrate on the misshapen cluster of roses in Amelie’s watercolor.
“After what she’s done, do you think I’m going to welcome her home with open arms?”
“I really don’t care. At least this place will be looking better when and if Amelie ever does come home.”
He cursed under his breath and saw Kate wince before she started dusting the second chair.
“You’ve been in the company of soldiers too long,” she said.
“What do you know about where I’ve been?”
She considered him for a moment. “I heard you were out west fighting Indians. Wearing Union blue.” She finished the chair and turned to him directly, the dust rag forgotten at her side.
“Colin, there’s every chance that with a little faith and time, you’ll recover—”
He turned to stare out the window.
“It’s been months,” he said.
“Locked inside all the time, I assume.” She picked up a chair and carried it over to the French doors facing the garden. She opened the doors wide and set the chair just outside on the small stone veranda.
“You need sunlight, fresh air, and a change of view.” Suddenly she was beside the bed, touching his arm. “Let me help you up.”
“Get your hands off me!” She startled him so much his demand came out far harsher than he intended. Kate ducked her head and quickly stepped back.
Does she think I’ve sunk that far? To think that I would hit her?
“You are very irritating, Miss Keene, but I would never strike a woman.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to holler like that.” She blinked, her round eyes wide behind her spectacles. “Would you like me to help you outside?” She reached for his cane.
He didn’t want her help, and
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