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“Nana Dovie’s not one to panic easily,” she said. “We discussed this trip before I left, and much as I’d hoped to make the trip in two days, we both knew it might take longer. But if she doesn’t hear from me by tomorrow, she’ll fear the worst.” Ivy hated the idea of putting the only mother she’d ever known through such needless worry.
“Don’t worry—we’ll send word as soon as we’re able.”
Ivy found it interesting that he’d said “we” and not “you.”
“There’s something else. Nana Dovie doesn’t leave the farm, ever, so she’ll have to wait until the reverend pays a visit to send an inquiry.”
She saw the flicker of speculation in his eyes at her statement, but he didn’t press. She was coming to appreciate his tact.
He stood and carried his dishes to the counter. “Then it’s best we plan to leave first thing in the morning.”
It wasn’t ideal, but perhaps Nana Dovie wouldn’t start imagining the worst before then. She followed him to the counter with her own dishes. “So you think Jubal will be ready for the trip by then?”
“We’ll get to town tomorrow, one way or the other.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why don’t we wait and see what tomorrow brings?”
Was he being deliberately evasive?
Before she could ask for an explanation, he changed the subject. “Now, Miss Feagan, do you prefer to wash or dry?”
She grabbed a dishrag. “Wash.” She dunked a plate in the basin, which already contained fresh water. “And don’t you think, all things considered, there’s no need for you to continue to refer to me as Miss Feagan? The name’s Ivy.”
Predictably, he raised a brow. “All things considered, I think it best we stick to the formalities.”
She refused to back down. “Hogwash. You’ve bandaged me, bodily lifted me onto your horse, removed my shoes and stockings, practically tucked me in—you even did my laundry, for goodness’ sake. Standing on ceremony at this point is just silly.”
Mitch stiffened and she hid a grin. He probably didn’t get called silly very often.
He accepted the clean plate and rubbed it with extra vigor. “Miss Feagan, we’ll have enough speculation to deal with when we ride into town together from this all-but-forsaken backwoods. Any overfamiliarity we show with each other will just intensify that scrutiny.”
She sighed melodramatically. “I’ve never met such a fusspot before.” She’d deliberately used that word, knowing it would get his back up. And she was right.
She quickly spoke up again before he could protest further. “If you feel that strongly, why don’t we compromise? While we’re alone, we use first names. When we get to town, we get all formal and particular again. After all, I don’t expect to be in Turnabout more than a couple of days.”
He frowned but finally nodded stiffly. “Very well.”
She rewarded him with a broad smile as she handed him another plate. “Good to see you can unbend on occasion.”
That earned her a startled look and then the hint of a sheepish grin.
Five minutes later, Ivy patted Jubal’s side sympathetically as Mitch set the animal’s hoof down and brushed his hands against his pants. Unfortunately, she agreed with his assessment—Jubal was in no shape to make that trip today. She only hoped one more day would improve his condition enough to let them get underway again.
As they strolled back to the front of the cabin, she looked at the trail thoughtfully. “You did say there was a lake out that way, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Thinking about going fishing?”
She hesitated a moment. He was so straightlaced—would he think her indelicate if she told him what was on her mind?
Then again, he’d likely already figured out she wasn’t a prim and proper miss. And the urge to get clean was almost overwhelming.
She tilted her chin up. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate a chance to take a bath.”
He didn’t so much as blink. “Of course. Gather what you need and I’ll show you the way.”
Relieved that he hadn’t argued with her, she nodded and all but sprinted up the porch steps.
In addition to a change of clothes, she grabbed the borrowed nightdress and the sheets from the bed. Might as well do laundry while she was bathing.
When she stepped outside, she discovered Mitch had towels and a bar of soap. He also had his sketchpad.
That last gave her pause. “Just what is it you aim to do with that?”
“While you’re occupied at the lake, I thought I’d search out a spot to do some sketching.”
Of course. He was probably tired of playing nursemaid to her and was ready for some privacy of his own.
He insisted she hold his arm for steadying support as they walked down the trail. That and the slow pace he set had her rolling her eyes. Even Rufus didn’t stay beside them for long—within a few minutes he’d scampered ahead to explore on his own.
Ivy wasn’t used to being treated as if she were fragile and she’d never cottoned much to being mollycoddled. But she had to admit, at least to herself, that it wasn’t altogether unpleasant to have someone so concerned for her well-being.
In fact, it made her feel special.
When the trail finally opened to reveal the lake, her eyes widened, trying to take everything in at once. Everywhere she looked there was something to delight the eye. The sun glinted across the water like crystals from a chandelier. Colorful dragonflies darted here and there A pair of turtles sunned on a half-submerged log as a hawk skimmed the air high overhead.
She turned and touched his arm. “It’s perfect. And the water looks so inviting—I can’t wait to wade in.”
He glanced at her hand on his sleeve and she quickly removed it, embarrassed by her impulsive gesture.
But his expression didn’t change. “Then I’ll leave you to it. And don’t worry. It’s not deep on this end, and it’s entirely private.” He took a step back. “I’ll be up the trail just a little ways, close enough to hear if you call. Take whatever time you need.”
Ivy watched him until he rounded a turn. Then she began unbraiding her hair. If she had to be stuck somewhere while Jubal healed, this was not a bad place to be.
And the company was quite nice, as well.
In fact, if she weren’t in such a hurry to get back and check on Nana Dovie, she wouldn’t mind the delay at all.
* * *
Mitch found a comfortable spot and settled on the ground with his back against a tree. He heard her break out in song and smiled at her slightly off-key but enthusiastic rendition of “Shall We Gather at the River?” as he opened his sketchbook.
Even injured, she was the most attack-life-head-on woman he’d ever met. Now that she was feeling better, she was definitely a force to be reckoned with. It was exhausting just being around her.
And strangely exhilarating, as well.
Did she really think him a fusspot? He wasn’t exactly certain what that was, but it definitely didn’t sound flattering. He had to admit, if only to himself, that it had been her name-calling that had made him give in on the subject of using first names. Was he so easily manipulated?
But the smile she’d given him when he capitulated had seemed strangely compelling. It had been quite some time since anyone had looked at him with such unabashed approval.
Shaking off the thought, Mitch took up his pencil and waited for inspiration. Normally he had no trouble finding a subject, but for some reason today was different. He finally settled on the image of the turtles sunning down by the lake.
Forty-five minutes later, Mitch looked up to see Ivy approaching. Her still-damp hair was loosely braided and she carried a load of wet laundry. The smile on her face reflected satisfaction and her eyes sparkled.
Her pleasure was infectious.
Closing his sketchbook, he stood and moved to meet her.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said, “but the water felt absolutely wonderful and I didn’t want to get out.” She nodded toward his sketchbook. “Did you get any drawing done?”
“I did.” He set his pad and pencil down. “Here, let’s swap. I’ll take those wet things from you and you take my sketch pad.”
To his surprise, she didn’t argue, but merely said thank you as she surrendered her load of soggy laundry.
Then he discovered why. As soon as she retrieved his pad, she opened it and studied the image inside. “It’s beautiful. You have such a wonderful God-given talent.”
Ivy certainly had a way about her.
“I see why you like coming here,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s such a marvelous place.”
“It’s only my second visit, but I’m enjoying this visit more than the first.” He was definitely enjoying the company more than he had that first time.
She gave him a questioning look. Then her gaze sharpened. “Aren’t those blackberries?”
Mitch followed the line of her gaze. “What do you know, a few end-of-season stragglers.”
She was already moving toward the brambly vines, and before he could so much as blink, she had popped one in her mouth. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up. “Mmm.”
He watched, captivated by her expression of pure bliss. He couldn’t have moved if his boots were on fire.
She opened her eyes again.
“You should try some of these. They’re really good.” Then she looked contrite. “Oh, your hands are full. Allow me.”
She plucked a couple of berries and held them up to him. Without a word, he opened his mouth. Their eyes locked and she froze with her hand inches from his lips. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched. They were so close, he could count the freckles on her nose if he tried. He knew he should step back, but for the life of him he couldn’t do it. But closer, oh, yes, he could move closer with very little effort.
Then Rufus returned and Ivy took a step back.
Mitch silently berated himself. The temptation to kiss her had caught him unawares, surprising him with its swift intensity. But that was no excuse. He should have had tighter control of himself. What would have happened if Rufus hadn’t interrupted them?
He’d assured her he was an honorable man, that she had nothing to fear from him. Did she still believe it?
Did he?
His earlier thoughts about enjoying her company had come back to haunt him. For the first time since Gretchen’s death he’d let his guard down enough to take pleasure in a woman’s company. And look what had happened.
What was it about Ivy that she could get under his skin so easily?
Then he focused on her again.
Her cheeks were a becoming shade of pink, her expression reflected confusion. He felt a cad for having done that to her.
She turned to greet her dog, giving them both an opportunity to gather their composure.
He knew offering an apology would only make matters worse. His best course of action was to get things back on an easy, comfortable footing.
He cleared his throat. “What do you say we try out those cane poles? I’ve a hankering for some fried fish for lunch.”
“That sounds like fun.” She stood. “I seem to recall I’m supposed to show you how it’s done.”
He was relieved to see she’d already recovered some of her spirit. “Is that a challenge?”
“Yes, sir, I do believe it is.”
* * *
Ivy arranged the wet laundry on the porch railings. As soon as they’d made it back to the cabin, Mitch had disappeared around back to fetch the poles.
She wasn’t sure what had happened back there, but she was fairly certain it had been her fault. And she’d hate to think she’d done anything to make him think less of her. What on earth had she been thinking, offering to feed him those berries?
Mitch reappeared carrying a pair of cane poles and leading his horse.
She nodded toward Seeley. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Since we’re headed to the lake, I thought I’d refill the water barrel.”
She frowned. “You use your horse for that?”
“Yep.”
Puzzled, she watched as he maneuvered Seeley so the animal was backed up to the barrel. She moved closer and discovered the barrel sat on a low wooden platform outfitted with wheels. “How clever.”
“Reggie’s husband built it. It has a harness so you can hitch a horse for easy transport.”
She nodded appreciatively. “That would definitely save lots of time and effort hauling buckets of water.”
“That’s the idea.” Mitch started fitting his horse with the special harness. “I figure, once I fill it, Seeley can graze until we’re done fishing.”
He had the horse hitched in short order and then they retraced their steps to the lake.
“If I help you fill the barrel,” she offered, “it’ll get done in half the time.”
“No need—I’ve got the job in hand and it won’t take long.”
She knew he was mollycoddling her again, but before she could protest he picked up the small spade he’d brought along.
“I’ll dig some worms for you so you can start fishing while I fill the barrel.”
