the clasp, but he soon had the necklace secured around her neck.
Tracing the chain with her finger, she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. The way he stared back at her, she did believe she was worth more than rubies. He made her feel cherished and loved—everything she’d ever wanted.
Chapter Thirteen
Patrick hadn’t seen Candace at all since yesterday, and he was getting irritable. One thing after another had happened, and he’d been busy non-stop. He’d stopped by the house twice during the day, but Candace wasn’t available either time. The first time, Ma had been working on her wedding dress and insisted Patrick not see it until the day of the wedding.
The second time, she’d trekked to the chicken coop to collect what few eggs if any, the chicken had laid. He’d gone to meet her there, but their paths had unknowingly crossed. The truth was, he missed her. During the months they’d lived together, thinking they were married, he hadn’t truly appreciated her. He could see that now.
At least there was only one day left until they married. Starting tomorrow, they’d have a lot more time together, and wouldn’t have to worry about saying goodbye in the evenings. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough for him.
Someone knocked at the door. He went to answer it and saw Maeve standing there.
She handed him a pile of fabric. “I didn’t think I’d get them done in time, but here they are.”
“Thank you.” Taking the curtains, he looked around the tiny cabin that would be his and Candace’s home until spring, at least. Candace hadn’t stepped foot in it since the day of Burl’s visit, and over the last month, he’d enlisted Liza and Maeve’s help in making the place seem more like a home.
“This cabin has really transformed.” Maeve’s gaze circled the one room house. “Candace will be pleased.”
“I owe it all to you and Liza.” He chuckled. “You saw my attempt at making it home.”
Maeve also laughed. “You tried.”
A sudden silence fell between them. He’d formed a friendship of sorts with his sister-in-law, but there were still awkward moments when one of them would remember she’d come to Weatherton to marry him, not Sam, even though everything worked out for the best—Maeve married Sam, and he was going to marry Candace.
“I should go.” Maeve looked back toward her and Sam’s cabin. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“You’re not joining everyone in the family house?”
“Not tonight.”
He held up the curtains still in his hand. “Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.”
Closing the door behind her, he took a deep breath. He hoped Candace was pleased with the changes. There was a braided rug near the fireplace, and another by the bed. Liza had taken the old quilt and fixed the rips and tears. They’d never bothered him, but his sister had kindly informed him a girl wants a pretty covering. When she’d returned it, the quilt looked brand new. The best addition was a small stove in the corner.
After the frigid start to December, Harold Kennedy’s wife went crazy and insisted she couldn’t spend another winter in this forsaken place. Mid-December they’d pulled up roots and moved, but not before selling off much of their belongings. Patrick had been fortunate to purchase their cook stove at an affordable price vastly lower than that of a new one. Now, Candace and he could have their own dinners alone in the cabin.
Which reminded him, he had to leave soon. First, he hung the curtains from rods he’d secured to the wall yesterday. They were a sheer material, of what specifically, he didn’t know, but they had tiny yellow and blue flowers embroidered along the bottom. He’d specifically wanted that fabric because it reminded him of the dress he’d purchased for Candace when they’d married the first time. If his home was going to have feminine touches, he wanted them to remind him of Candace.
He glimpsed around. Everything was perfectly in place.
Tracing the chain with her finger, she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. The way he stared back at her, she did believe she was worth more than rubies. He made her feel cherished and loved—everything she’d ever wanted.
Chapter Thirteen
Patrick hadn’t seen Candace at all since yesterday, and he was getting irritable. One thing after another had happened, and he’d been busy non-stop. He’d stopped by the house twice during the day, but Candace wasn’t available either time. The first time, Ma had been working on her wedding dress and insisted Patrick not see it until the day of the wedding.
The second time, she’d trekked to the chicken coop to collect what few eggs if any, the chicken had laid. He’d gone to meet her there, but their paths had unknowingly crossed. The truth was, he missed her. During the months they’d lived together, thinking they were married, he hadn’t truly appreciated her. He could see that now.
At least there was only one day left until they married. Starting tomorrow, they’d have a lot more time together, and wouldn’t have to worry about saying goodbye in the evenings. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough for him.
Someone knocked at the door. He went to answer it and saw Maeve standing there.
She handed him a pile of fabric. “I didn’t think I’d get them done in time, but here they are.”
“Thank you.” Taking the curtains, he looked around the tiny cabin that would be his and Candace’s home until spring, at least. Candace hadn’t stepped foot in it since the day of Burl’s visit, and over the last month, he’d enlisted Liza and Maeve’s help in making the place seem more like a home.
“This cabin has really transformed.” Maeve’s gaze circled the one room house. “Candace will be pleased.”
“I owe it all to you and Liza.” He chuckled. “You saw my attempt at making it home.”
Maeve also laughed. “You tried.”
A sudden silence fell between them. He’d formed a friendship of sorts with his sister-in-law, but there were still awkward moments when one of them would remember she’d come to Weatherton to marry him, not Sam, even though everything worked out for the best—Maeve married Sam, and he was going to marry Candace.
“I should go.” Maeve looked back toward her and Sam’s cabin. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“You’re not joining everyone in the family house?”
“Not tonight.”
He held up the curtains still in his hand. “Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.”
Closing the door behind her, he took a deep breath. He hoped Candace was pleased with the changes. There was a braided rug near the fireplace, and another by the bed. Liza had taken the old quilt and fixed the rips and tears. They’d never bothered him, but his sister had kindly informed him a girl wants a pretty covering. When she’d returned it, the quilt looked brand new. The best addition was a small stove in the corner.
After the frigid start to December, Harold Kennedy’s wife went crazy and insisted she couldn’t spend another winter in this forsaken place. Mid-December they’d pulled up roots and moved, but not before selling off much of their belongings. Patrick had been fortunate to purchase their cook stove at an affordable price vastly lower than that of a new one. Now, Candace and he could have their own dinners alone in the cabin.
Which reminded him, he had to leave soon. First, he hung the curtains from rods he’d secured to the wall yesterday. They were a sheer material, of what specifically, he didn’t know, but they had tiny yellow and blue flowers embroidered along the bottom. He’d specifically wanted that fabric because it reminded him of the dress he’d purchased for Candace when they’d married the first time. If his home was going to have feminine touches, he wanted them to remind him of Candace.
He glimpsed around. Everything was perfectly in place.
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