Robin Lee Hatcher by Promised to Me Page B

something under his breath.
    “I am sorry, Jakob.”
    “It’s not your fault.” Both his tone and his expression belied his words.
    She returned the coffeepot to the stove, the mug still empty. “Father never owned a horse.”
    “I thought after all this time that—” He gave his head a shake. “I guess I’ll have to teach you, but not today. Lance can take you to town when he gets here.”
    Jakob felt about an inch tall. There wasn’t any good reason for talking to Karola in such a sharp tone, and yet it seemed he did it every time they were together. One minute a smile would be lifting the corners of her pretty, bow-shaped mouth, and the next something he said would wipe it away. When she’d entered the kitchen this morning, she’d looked happy. There’d been a sparkle in her blue eyes that seemed to brighten the entire room. Even he’d felt brighter for a moment. It had seemed right that she was with him in that early morning hour. He’d felt an unmistakable desire to kiss smiling lips, as if there would have been a rightness in that, too.
    But it wouldn’t have been right. She’d made that clear when she called off their wedding.
    Maybe that was why he spoke to her so sharply. Maybe he wanted her to be miserable instead of happy. Maybe he was punishing her. If so, he knew that wasn’t fair of him. Karola was doing her best in a less-than-perfect situation. She could have refused to help him out. There wouldn’t have been much he could do about it if she had. So why didn’t he show her a little appreciation? Had he really become so hardened by the circumstances of life that there was no kindness left in him?
    Calling himself several kinds of a fool, he scooped the fried eggs from the skillet and added them to the plates that already held crisp strips of bacon and several slices of toast. Then he carried the plates to the kitchen table. “Let’s eat while it’s hot.”
    Karola sat opposite him, her gaze downcast. She looked so sad.
    Jakob wished for a way to put the sparkle back into her eyes and the smile back on her lips. At one time taking her in his arms and kissing her would have done the trick, but that wasn’t the answer now. Not knowing what else to do, he settled for speaking a brief thanks over the food, then reached for his fork and began to eat. As soon as he was done, he excused himself and headed outside, eager to get on with his morning chores.
    Or was his haste really because he wanted to escape Karola’s disturbing presence?
    Karola was glad to see Jakob go.
    His words and tone of voice had hurt. Clearly she was more of a burden than a help because of her inability to drive a team of horses into town. But what caused her the most discomfort was the way her heart had skittered whenever their gazes met, no matter how briefly.
    I am not a silly schoolgirl, she reminded herself as she hid her face in her hands while resting her elbows on the table. I will not act like one.
    Lowering her hands, Karola drew a deep breath. “I would not be here if not for my promise to let you lead me, Father. Do not let me lose sight of my work. Do not let me make a fool of myself again.”
    “Who you talkin’ to?”
    With a start, Karola twisted on her chair. Maeve stood near the kitchen doorway, her hair all in tangles, her eyes sleepy pools of green. Her nightgown hit her at midcalf, and her feet were bare.
    “I was talking to God,” Karola answered.
    Maeve frowned.
    “I am only now learning to do that. To ask God for help.”
    “What you need help with?”
    “With everything, it seems.” Karola knew her smile was sad. “With everything.”
    One day at a time, Karola restored order to the Hirsch household.
    On Monday, she returned from her trip to town with an abundance of foods with which to restock the pantry shelves. That evening, she prepared what she considered her first real meal. It was only a stew made with beef, stewed tomatoes, chunks of potatoes and carrots, and chopped onions,