took all his energy. But she didn’t mind. She’d let him sleep while she cleaned up their picnic, and then she’d walk him home. She spied the fishing poles lying in the grass. They never did get around to fishing today, but that was all right. There were plenty of days ahead.
After she packed everything back up in the basket, Lillian folded the blanket and stared at Jimmy’s little form. No wonder Mr. Colton had been worried. The little guy was way too small for his age. And if he hadn’t been eating, it was a wonder he hadn’t gotten seriously ill.
Lord, help me to know what to do to help this child. You’ve brought me this far. Thank You.
Her heart swelled with love for her little charge. The first day of her new job hadn’t even finished yet, but she knew that God had given her love for Jimmy Colton.
Sunday morning Lillian dressed with great care for church. She wanted to make a good impression on the people of AngelsCamp, if for no other reason than to prove to them that she was healthy and happy. She took up her hand mirror and made certain her hair looked all right. She’d had to work quite a bit to style it as the maid had back in Indianapolis. It wasn’t even close to the elaborate looks her maid had achieved, but it would do. She smiled, feeling reassured. It looked just fine.
She left her hat and gloves on the bed and headed to the kitchen to work with Mrs. Goodman. The older woman never shooed her out and seemed to enjoy Lillian’s company. For the first time since her grandmother had passed, she felt like she belonged.
Mrs. Goodman stood over the stove frying bacon.
“Good morning.” Lillian grabbed an apron.
“Good morning, dear.” Mrs. Goodman turned and smiled and looked up and down at her dress. “Well, isn’t that lovely?”
Lillian gave a quick turn, letting the layers of pale pink silk gauze over a darker pink taffeta swirl around her. “I wanted to look a little nicer for church today.”
Mrs. Goodman’s face fell. “Mr. Colton doesn’t go to church right now. Not since his wife . . . well, you know . . . all the rumors.”
“Well, do you go to church? I could ride with you.”
“No, I’m afraid not, dearie. I almost slapped Mrs. Francis last time I went.”
“What?” Lillian laughed. “You almost slapped someone? I can hardly believe it.”
But Mrs. Goodman was very serious. “Oh, you’d believe it if you heard what they were saying.”
Lillian furrowed her brow and placed her hands on her hips. “Let me guess. They were saying that Mr. Colton murdered his wife. That he was a despicable human being, and that he shouldn’t be allowed around women and children.”
Mrs. Goodman gasped. “You’ve heard?”
“From more than one squawking hen, if you’ll pardon my expression.” It angered her more each day she spent on the Colton farm. “How could anyone ever think that?”
The older woman removed the bacon from the pan and sat down at the table. “Sit down, Lillian. Please.”
“Of course.” Whatever was bothering the older woman was about to come out. And it was serious.
“Mr. Colton said that you knew about the rumors and about how his wife died, but he didn’t tell me that you’d heard it all firsthand from town.”
Lillian nodded. “He was late to pick me up because he had to repair the wagon. I had the lovely experience of waiting inside the general store. And while Mrs. Clark is a wonderful woman, I can’t say much about the rest of the town that I had the chance to meet.”
“I can well imagine.” Mrs. Goodman got up and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Would you like one? This might take a while.”
Lillian nodded again and accepted the cup.
“While there are a few people who refuse to believe the rumors about Woody, they don’t have much say. The loudest and gossipiest ones get all the attention. And I don’t mean to say that all the people are bad. They’re not. They’ve just bought into the lie. Relying on rumors
After she packed everything back up in the basket, Lillian folded the blanket and stared at Jimmy’s little form. No wonder Mr. Colton had been worried. The little guy was way too small for his age. And if he hadn’t been eating, it was a wonder he hadn’t gotten seriously ill.
Lord, help me to know what to do to help this child. You’ve brought me this far. Thank You.
Her heart swelled with love for her little charge. The first day of her new job hadn’t even finished yet, but she knew that God had given her love for Jimmy Colton.
Sunday morning Lillian dressed with great care for church. She wanted to make a good impression on the people of AngelsCamp, if for no other reason than to prove to them that she was healthy and happy. She took up her hand mirror and made certain her hair looked all right. She’d had to work quite a bit to style it as the maid had back in Indianapolis. It wasn’t even close to the elaborate looks her maid had achieved, but it would do. She smiled, feeling reassured. It looked just fine.
She left her hat and gloves on the bed and headed to the kitchen to work with Mrs. Goodman. The older woman never shooed her out and seemed to enjoy Lillian’s company. For the first time since her grandmother had passed, she felt like she belonged.
Mrs. Goodman stood over the stove frying bacon.
“Good morning.” Lillian grabbed an apron.
“Good morning, dear.” Mrs. Goodman turned and smiled and looked up and down at her dress. “Well, isn’t that lovely?”
Lillian gave a quick turn, letting the layers of pale pink silk gauze over a darker pink taffeta swirl around her. “I wanted to look a little nicer for church today.”
Mrs. Goodman’s face fell. “Mr. Colton doesn’t go to church right now. Not since his wife . . . well, you know . . . all the rumors.”
“Well, do you go to church? I could ride with you.”
“No, I’m afraid not, dearie. I almost slapped Mrs. Francis last time I went.”
“What?” Lillian laughed. “You almost slapped someone? I can hardly believe it.”
But Mrs. Goodman was very serious. “Oh, you’d believe it if you heard what they were saying.”
Lillian furrowed her brow and placed her hands on her hips. “Let me guess. They were saying that Mr. Colton murdered his wife. That he was a despicable human being, and that he shouldn’t be allowed around women and children.”
Mrs. Goodman gasped. “You’ve heard?”
“From more than one squawking hen, if you’ll pardon my expression.” It angered her more each day she spent on the Colton farm. “How could anyone ever think that?”
The older woman removed the bacon from the pan and sat down at the table. “Sit down, Lillian. Please.”
“Of course.” Whatever was bothering the older woman was about to come out. And it was serious.
“Mr. Colton said that you knew about the rumors and about how his wife died, but he didn’t tell me that you’d heard it all firsthand from town.”
Lillian nodded. “He was late to pick me up because he had to repair the wagon. I had the lovely experience of waiting inside the general store. And while Mrs. Clark is a wonderful woman, I can’t say much about the rest of the town that I had the chance to meet.”
“I can well imagine.” Mrs. Goodman got up and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Would you like one? This might take a while.”
Lillian nodded again and accepted the cup.
“While there are a few people who refuse to believe the rumors about Woody, they don’t have much say. The loudest and gossipiest ones get all the attention. And I don’t mean to say that all the people are bad. They’re not. They’ve just bought into the lie. Relying on rumors
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