Loving Liza Jane by Sharlene MacLaren

tracks. “Oh,” was all she managed for the moment.

Chapter Four
     
     
    I have a classroom to organize and lessons to prepare for, but I suppose I could find time to help with your children,” she offered, folding her hands at her petite waist.
    He noticed that several strands of golden brown hair had pulled loose of the little knot she’d piled on top of her head. He wondered what she’d do if he simply tucked them back behind her ear. “No need. I’ll manage my personal affairs.”
    He had to get out of here, he told himself. The cabin was downright stifling, and the little woman inside it didn’t help matters. He hadn’t wanted to mention Miranda’s passing, but now that he had, he prayed her name would not come up again.
    “Do you have anyone in mind—to watch your children, that is?”
    “No—yes—no; well, sort of.” He couldn’t lie. “I have several women in mind I’m about to approach on the matter.” The truth was he had a few, not several. “They all have broods of their own and I’m thinking that adding two more to the litter won’t make that much difference to them.”
    There was the Johnson clan up the road. Mrs. Johnson had five little ones and another on the way. He seriously doubted she’d want to take on two more, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. Then there were the Bergens, the next farm over. They had four, but they were all very young. Their son, Thomas, a mere nine, was the oldest of the children. Mrs. Bergen likely had all she could handle right now.
    He’d thought about the widow Riley, but he was afraid, after the suggestion Mrs. Granger had made about courting the woman, she just might get designs on him. There was always the mail-order bride concept, but that option was a last resort.
    Liza tilted her head at him, as if to assess his situation. “Are you certain? The truth is, I want you to finish this place, and if watching over your children will speed things up, well…”
    “No. Mrs. Granger will be around a bit longer, and as you said, you have to tend to your classroom.”
    “How old are your children, Mr. Broughton?”
    “Molly is fourteen months and Lili is seven. They’re a handful, but very smart.”
    The teacher’s face brightened. “I’m sure they are.” Then, catching a hurried glance out the window, she said, “Well, I best be going. I have important things to see to.”
    They exchanged strained smiles.
    “I’ll stop by in a few days to check your progress,” she added. “I should think you’d be well on your way by then.”
    Demanding little woman.
    He watched her gather up her skirts and march down the slanted pathway toward her rented rig. She’d have to buy one of those getups if she planned to move out here. The three-mile walk was simple enough on warm, sunny days but downright bone-chilling in the winter months.
    He wondered if she had a clue of what lay ahead. Something told him she would learn as she went. She seemed made of tougher stuff than he’d expected. On the outside she was sweet and fragile looking, but on the inside he suspected her blood was mixed with grit and gravel.
    “Good-bye, Mr. Broughton,” she said from her high perch on the wagon.
    Leaning against the little cabin’s exterior, he managed a grunt and a simple nod of the head. He could see already that the woman was going to rub him the wrong way.
    As Eliza Jane Merriwether maneuvered the wagon back toward town, he mumbled a hasty prayer. “Lord, give me strength.”
    That evening, after putting both his girls down in the little room next to his, Lili on the cot, and Molly in the crib, he took a strong cup of coffee and pulled a chair up to the table.
    The day had been sweltering, but nighttime breezes now wafted through the open windows of his sturdy house, cooling and lending comfort. He tipped the chair back on its hind legs and hoisted his feet atop the table, something Miranda would never have allowed. Even as he did so, he had to push down a guilty