She waited until the milk had been strained and set to cool before she spoke quietly to Harry. “Take Donald outside to play for awhile.” Harry gave her a questioning look, then seeing her little nod, took Donald and led him away.

Zach headed toward the door, but she blocked his escape, facing him squarely. “I wanted to be able to help you and the boys.” Her chest ached so hard it hurt to speak, but she forged ahead, ignoring the pain. “I wanted to live up to my name; Irene, bringer of peace.”

He faced her, arms at his sides, a cautious look on his face.

She continued past the tightness in her throat. “Instead I’ve driven you away. Away from your own home. I’m sorry.” She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, her nose stinging with unshed tears, but she was past the point of caring whether her eyes glittered, giving away the depth of her emotion.

He drew his mouth back, trying to smile. “I know. You promised all buttons and bows, and it hasn’t worked out that way, has it?”

She shook her head and swiped the back of her hand across her nose.

He sighed. “Don’t blame yourself. It isn’t you. It’s stuff that happened before you came. You couldn’t know what you were getting into.”

She swallowed hard, the lump in her chest swelling to unreal proportions.

He lifted his hands imploringly. “I’ve been thinking.”

She nodded. “So have I.”

He gave a crooked grin. “I’m sure of that. But let me say what I have to say first.”

She wagged her head, unable to speak for fear of crying.

“I’ve been up all night.” He paused.

She longed to ask about it, but waited, letting him find his own way of telling her.

“I rode for awhile. All the way to town.” His gaze grew dark, and he looked past her, to a place she couldn’t go. “I went to Esther’s grave, and I sat and thought a long time.” His gaze returned to her, sharpening as he focused on her. “You’re right. I need to talk to the boys.”

She jerked like someone had yanked on her hair. She didn’t know what she expected, but his sudden capitulation surprised her, and she stepped aside as he reached around her for the doorknob.

“Boys,” he called out the door. “Come here.”

The boys hurried inside.

Zach sat down. “Come here.” He drew the boys to his knees and faced them squarely, looking at each solemn face for a long time.

Irene quietly sat down, unashamedly interested in the proceedings.

Zach touched Donald’s face, running his hand under the boy’s chin, pressing his thumb to the blunt little nose. “It’s time we had a family talk.” He turned to Harry, his big fist closing over the thin shoulder. “Some bad things happened to the three of us, and we need to talk about them to make sure you’re all right.”

Harry pressed closer to Zach’s knees. Irene could feel the tension in him. Donald’s gaze, dark and unblinking, bored into his father’s.

Zach nodded as if they had spoken. “I know it must have scared you when your mama died.”

Harry shuddered.

Zach continued. “I want you to know it wasn’t your fault. It had nothing to do with you.”

Harry looked like he would explode if he held himself any tighter. Donald’s eyes were far too large for his face.

Irene edged her chair closer and pulled Donald to her lap, holding him close, letting him face his dad as Zach continued to talk.

“Your mama got very sick, and no one knew in time to help her.” He sought Irene’s gaze as if begging for help. She nodded encouragement. He continued. “Maybe she said or did things when she was sick that made you think she didn’t love you anymore.”

Donald shuddered. Irene closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Had Zach suspected this all along?

“But she loved you right to the end.”

Silence hung around them, filled with tension and unanswered questions.

“She made us stay in our room,” Harry whispered.

Zach pulled the shivering boy into his lap. “Why did she do that?”

“Because we were bad. We made too much noise.”

Irene could bear the child’s pain no longer and edged closer, so she could wrap one arm around him.

Zach gave her a desperate, pleading look, silently begging for help in dealing with this child’s confession.

She gave a tiny nod. “Can you remember what she said, Sweetheart?” Irene asked the shivering child.

“She said she was too tired to look after two noisy boys and said to stay in our room and play quietly.”

“Don’t you see? She was so sick she couldn’t take care of you properly. Poor Mama.”

Harry digested the information. “She was mad at us.”

Irene shook her head. “I don’t think so. But she was too sick to be able to tell you. I think she made you stay in your room because she wanted you to be safe.” She pressed her face to his hair, tears stinging her eyes.

“Why did she throw out Donald’s bear?”

Irene drew back, studying the demanding eyes. “I don’t know. You’ll have to tell me what bear you mean and what happened.”

“You know, Donald’s bear?”

“You mean the stuffed toy he brought me to fix?”

He nodded. “He took it to her when she was so tired.” He and Donald looked at each other. The little boy on her lap tensed as he and his brother shared a secret memory, then Harry tipped his face to Irene. “He wanted her to feel better.”

Irene nodded, squeezing the boy she held. “What happened?”

“Mommy shouted at him to leave her alone.” He struggled with his thoughts and shuddered again. “Then she threw it out the window and told him to never bring it in again.”

Zach groaned.

Irene blinked, unable to meet Zach’s eyes, barely able to contain the pain that went on and on like a great, wild wind inside her.

“But how did Donald get it?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know.” He studied his brother then smiled slowly. “I guess he sneaked out and hid it somewhere.” He took Donald’s hand. “Pretty smart, Donald.”

Harry struggled with another question. “Do mommies and daddies always get sick?”

“Not very often.”

“Your mommy died.” His eyes accused her.

“Yes, but my daddy is still alive. And most of my friends still have a mommy and daddy, and they’re all quite grown-up now. In fact, most of them have children of their own, and still their parents are alive and well.” No need to tell the child how the war had upset many a home with losses, often of sons and young husbands.

“Will you get sick?”

Irene managed a little chuckle. “I don’t imagine I will. I haven’t been sick a day in my life.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to demand of Zach, “Will you get sick and die?”

Zach grunted. “Not if I can help it. I hate being sick. Yuck.”

Harry giggled.

Irene stroked his hair. “Things happen that none of us plan. We can’t promise you we will never get hurt or sick, but I promise if we do we’ll be sure to explain it to you so you know it’s not your fault.” She met Zach’s eyes over the child’s head, silently making him agree to the promise.

Harry sighed. “I guess that’s all right then.” He touched her face. “I’m glad you’re my new mommy.”

“Me, too,” she managed around the lump in her throat. A tear trickled down her cheek as she hugged the boys closer. Zach’s muscular arms wrapped them all together in one big hug. Donald squeezed in tight against her chest as they all enfolded him.

“Too squishy,” a thin voice protested.

Zach loosened his grasp as Irene drew back. All of them stared at Donald.

“Did you say that, Son?” Zach demanded.

Donald nodded.

Zach jumped to his feet, tossing Donald high over his head. “That’s my boy!” He shook Donald until a deep-throated chuckle escaped the boy. Zach held him in his arms, and father and son, dark eyes matching, stared at each other. Donald’s expression remained solemn, but his twinkling eyes gave him away. Zach grinned widely. “Donald Marshall, it is so good to hear your voice again.”

The little boy nodded solemnly.

Zach turned to face Irene. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Her eyes brimming with tears, she shook her head. “You did it. You allowed them to be free.”

“I wouldn’t have done it without your prodding and your help. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Zach’s happiness colored the day. He whooped, sweeping Donald into the air every time he entered the house. Irene knew he did it for the sheer joy of hearing Donald’s chuckle.

When they sat down to supper, Zach bowed his head and added a special prayer of thanks to his customary grace.

He grinned at the boys as he passed them the bowl of tiny new potatoes cooked in their skins. “This is the best day I’ve had in a long time thanks to you two.”

Irene smiled as she watched Harry wriggle under the warmth of his father’s wide grin. The boy seemed to have shed a layer of worry before her eyes.

Donald watched as Zach spooned three tiny potatoes on his plate, then lifted his face and demanded, “More.”

Zach roared with laughter. “Have you been starving to death all this time rather than say something?”

Donald nodded solemnly, his little pink tongue licking his lips as Zach added several more potatoes to the child’s plate.

By bedtime, Irene knew the children were exhausted, the emotions unleashed this day having drained them.

“What would you like me to read to you tonight?” she asked them.

Donald ran and got her favorite book.

“You like this one, do you?”

He nodded as he handed it to her.

She ruffled his hair. “I think you’ll remain a man of few words.”

He nodded again.

Harry grinned at his brother. As they played outside this afternoon, Irene had stood at the window, watching and listening. As usual, Harry carried on a one-sided conversation, but occasionally she caught a word or two uttered by Donald. And her heart overflowed.

Shortly after the boys were tucked in, Irene stifled a huge yawn. The day had left her exhausted. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

Zach sat reading and nodded as she left.

In the bedroom, she leaned against the window, looking out at the garden, now barely discernable in the dark shadows of the trees. A bird called a note then fell silent. The first of the sweet peas filled the evening air with a heady scent that left her feeling empty. It was stupid. Considering all that had happened today, she should be supremely happy. And she was. She rejoiced that the boys had faced their memories. She wasn’t naive enough to imagine they wouldn’t have to deal with their past again and again, but today they had taken the first step.

And to hear Donald talk and laugh—she held the joy of the moment to her heart. It was the dearest thing she could have asked for.

Except for one thing—one selfish thing. She wanted Zach’s love with a hunger that edged over her joy.

She pushed herself away from the window and prepared for bed, knowing Zach must be tired and waiting to get to sleep. She crawled under the blankets and opened her Bible, then looked up, startled when the door edged open and Zach came in.

Irene felt her eyes grow wide with shock.

Acting as if his actions were perfectly normal, he flopped down atop the covers.

She watched him, nervousness ticking inside her chest. What did he want?

But he lay staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t begin to tell you how good it was to hear Donald speak again.”

She could feel his barely contained tension.

He laughed low in his throat. “I feel a bit like Donald. Like I finally found my voice.” Suddenly he turned and impaled her with his dark gaze. “I think it did me as much good to talk about what happened as it did the boys.”

She nodded, her voice trapped inside the tightness that had become her body.

“And I have you to thank for it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she protested, her voice breathless.

He touched her cheek. “You made me face a few facts. You made it possible for me to realize I needed to let go of some things and let God fill those places with His love.” His finger trailed down her cheekbone and around her chin.

His eyes darkened. Then he tweaked her nose and turned on his back. “What are you doing?” He nodded toward her Bible.

She pulled together her scattered thoughts. “Reading my Bible.”

“Read a chapter to me,” he demanded.

She wet her lips and focused her skittish brain on the words before her. At first her words were stiff, almost stammering, and then her voice smoothed out, and she read steadily to the end.

“Thanks for everything.” He squeezed her hand then jumped up and strode from the room, murmuring, “Good night,” before he pulled the door shut.

She lay staring at the door, speechless at his behavior. For a minute she had thought he was going to kiss her, declare his love—but all he did was thank her for forcing him to talk to the boys. “Anyone could have done that,” she muttered to herself. She pressed her fingers to her cheek, following the tingling trail Zach had left. She soared at the memory of his touch, crashed again as she contemplated his sudden departure. The whole thing was far too unsettling.

She pulled her hands from her face. It was no use fooling herself. He had made his decision plain from the very beginning. It was she who had changed. And she might as well change right back. A marriage of convenience was what she had agreed to, she reminded herself. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with the arrangement instead of longing for more? But even as she argued the point, the ache deepened until she groaned. She turned the lantern off, grateful Zach didn’t return until she had calmed herself and was able to lie still and quiet when he finally crawled under the covers.

The next morning, Zach grabbed Donald and plunked him onto a chair. “Ready for breakfast, big man?”

“Unhuh.”

Donald’s grunt elicited a shout of laughter from his father. He caught Harry in his arm and swung the boy off his feet, landing him on the chair next to Donald. “So did that little brother of yours keep you awake all night with his chattering?”

Harry grinned, amused at his father’s nonsense. “He’s still a man of few words,” Harry said and nodded.

Zach laughed, catching Irene’s eye. “Your new mama understands us pretty well, doesn’t she?” He regarded his sons. The three of them grinned at each other.

Over breakfast, Zach asked Irene, “What are your plans for the day?”

“Nothing special. I’ll check the beans, and if they’re ready to pick I will can some. Or maybe I’ll do some weeding. Why?”

He dragged his gaze away from the boys. “Because we’re going on a picnic.”

Harry interrupted with a shout. “Yay!”

Zach laughed then turned back to Irene. “How about we leave right after dinner and have a picnic supper. Is that all right with you?”

Irene nodded. “I’ll be ready.” She studied the three smiling faces. “I think we’ll have a fine time.”

She was glad for the time to prepare food and pick the beans to can tomorrow, but the boys could barely contain themselves.

“Is it dinnertime yet?” Harry asked for the hundredth time.

“Soon,” Irene murmured. “Why don’t you go find me a clean box to put the supper in?”

He raced out to the shed with Donald on his heels but was back in a matter of minutes. “Is this good enough?”

“It will do fine.” She piled the sandwiches and cake in carefully while Harry and Donald bounced at her side, silently willing her to hurry. “I can’t make time go any faster,” she protested.

Harry sank into a chair. “I know.”

“But I’ll tell you what. Set the table, then run and find your dad. We’ll eat early.”

The boys needed no second invitation. They scurried about putting out dishes and cutlery then raced outside to find Zach.

She heard them returning, Zach laughing as he roughhoused with them. She smiled at their noise. How good it was to hear them laughing and playing together.

“Where are we going?” Harry demanded as Zach turned the wagon westward.

“How’d you like to go to the river?”

“Great,” Harry replied.

“River?” Donald asked.

Zach ruffled his hair. “Yes, young man, the river. You can go wading or climb trees or throw rocks. Whatever you like.”

“Good,” Harry said, his eyes sparkling.

“Good,” Donald echoed, crossing his arms in perfect imitation of Harry’s stance.

Chuckling, Irene met Zach’s gaze over the boys’ heads. Her heart almost stalled at the warm depth of it. She fought a sudden impulse to sing. Then Zach turned to Harry as the boy explained to Donald how to skip rocks.

They lost no time in eating so they could be on their way. A short wagon ride later, they pulled in under a canopy of trees, the dappled shade cool and moist. Zach leapt to the ground and swung the boys down before he reached up and lifted Irene to her feet. “Isn’t this grand?” he asked. She agreed without knowing if he meant the weather, the day, or life in general and decided he probably meant them all; he fairly bubbled with joy.

He allowed the boys to pull him to the shore of the river, looking over his shoulder once to make sure Irene followed. Then the three of them had a rock-throwing contest. Harry had developed a deadly aim. “I see you’ve been practicing.” Zach grunted and threw a rock across the water. “You’ve developed a good throw.”

Harry’s chest swelled with pride.

Then Zach’s attention was drawn to his younger son as Donald grabbed his arm. “Watch,” the boy demanded.

Irene settled on the grassy bank, her back against a tall pine and watched the trio. They seemed completely absorbed in each other. She knew they were unconsciously trying to make up for lost time. Despite her pleasure in their unity and healing, she felt shut out. She shook her head, dismayed at her selfishness. She had prayed for this to happen. She should feel nothing but gratitude.

Zach plopped down at her feet. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just content,” she said. And it was suddenly true.

“Come on.” He jumped up and grabbed her hand.

She let him pull her to her feet. When he retained her hand, she felt the last of her unsettledness flee.

“Come on, boys. I’ve got something to show you.” He led them along the river until it widened.

Harry saw it first. “A boat!” He jumped up and down. “Can we go for a ride?”

“That’s what I had in mind.”

“Goody!” Harry yelled.

“Goody!” Donald echoed.

It was a wide, flat boat, large enough to seat six comfortably. Zach handed Irene in first so she could sit at one end. The two boys sat in the middle seat. Zach shoved the boat away from shore and jumped in, facing Irene. He unlocked the oars and rowed, grinning at them all. For a minute she thought he would burst his buttons, he looked so proud. He gave her a look brimming with gratitude.

She nodded and smiled but when he turned his attention back to his sons, she looked down over the side of the boat, trailing her fingers in the water. She did not resent his happiness in his sons. She did not even mind being shut out by their love for each other. But she did not want his gratitude. It wasn’t enough. She wanted his love.

They rowed down the river, Zach pointing out different things. “It wasn’t so long ago that explorers and fur traders paddled up and down this river.”

“And Indians?” Harry asked.

“Indians, too, I’m sure.” He grinned lopsidedly at Irene. “You see our country is still new and raw, not like England.”

Harry turned to study her as if trying to picture her in a different country. “Did you go rowing in England?”

She nodded, smiling as she remembered. “Yes, we certainly did. Ladies in white lawn dresses and big straw hats with their beaus trying to impress them with their skill and strength. Sometimes they’d let the boat drift while the young men played a banjo or sang for his fair maiden. And there were fine lawns and lots of flowers along the edge of the lake.”

“Like you and Daddy?” Harry regarded her with wide, curious eyes.

“How do you mean, like me and Daddy?”

“The young ladies and their—what did you call them?”

“Beaus?” she supplied.

“Yes. Beaus. Is that like you and Daddy?”

Her grin grew wide. She could feel the sparkle in her eyes. “Look at your daddy. Do you think he needs to prove how strong he is?” Two little heads turned toward Zach. Two little heads shook back and forth in answer to her question. “Me neither.” An imp of mischief took control of her mind. “Though perhaps he could sing for us.”

Zach shot her a half amused, half annoyed look. Then to her surprise and delight, he began singing in a low, deep voice, “Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me.”

A deep, warm glow began in the pit of her stomach and spread upward like a low flame licking at wood.

It wasn’t until Zach jumped from the boat and pushed it the last few feet to shore that she realized they were back where they’d begun. Her palm tingling at his touch, she allowed him to help her from the boat, grateful that he dropped her hand immediately so he could secure the boat. She rubbed her hand against the material of her dress, trying desperately to settle her nerves into a semblance of order.

“Who’s hungry?”

“We are!” Harry yelled, and the boys raced back down the trail toward the wagon.

Zach waited for Irene to fall in beside him. Thankfully his attention was on the boys, and he didn’t notice her nervous movements. By the time they reached the little clearing, Irene had her emotions firmly in control and had persuaded herself not to let them get away from her again.

Zach lifted the box from the wagon; Irene spread the quilt. Their hands brushed as they both reached to set out the food. Her nerve endings felt raw and oversensitive, as if she’d stepped too close to the fire.

She ducked her head and busied herself with distributing sandwiches and glasses of water. Zach, for his part, seemed not to notice. She smiled as she handed Harry another sandwich.

Why should Zach notice? She somehow managed to maintain a calm, almost detached exterior while her insides boiled and churned like water in the washing machine when Harry pumped it back and forth.

Slowly, calmness settled through her. It was a lesson she’d learned long ago; act like you want to feel and soon you’ll feel like you act. Or almost so.

The boys finished eating and wandered down to the water’s edge.

“Don’t get too close and fall in,” Zach warned as he settled with his back against the trunk of a tree. He locked his fingers behind his neck and let out a long sigh. “I guess I really had forgotten how to have fun.”

“It takes time to heal,” Irene muttered, studiously keeping her gaze on her hands.

“Time and a little prodding, perhaps.”

She could hear the amusement and gratitude in his voice. She could not look at him for fear he would see the hunger of her heart. Gratitude was great, she supposed. It simply didn’t satisfy.

“Irene, come and sit down. Relax. It’s a holiday.” He patted the ground beside him.

Her hands clenched into tight fists. If she refused, he would demand to know what the problem was, yet she feared she could not sit so close and retain her composure.

Slowly, almost against her will, she turned to meet his eyes, dark insisting eyes, sparkling with his newfound joy. She swallowed loudly, unable to tear her gaze away.

Again he patted the ground beside him. “Come on.”

She nodded and scuttled toward him, knowing she entered a danger zone, yet drawn inexplicably by his smile. She knew she should run while she could—run from her own emotions, run from the risk of revealing too much and turning him against her. But she could no more stop herself than she could swim back to England.

She pressed her back to the rough bark, keeping several inches between them. But he would have none of it. He dropped his arm across her lap and tucked her close to his side.

“There, that’s better.” He sat back with all the confidence of a man content with his world, grinning at her while her nerves twitched.

“Look,” Harry called, pulling Zach’s attention back to the boys. “I skipped a rock.”

Irene let her breath ease out over her teeth and forced herself to relax. All those times of hiding her emotions as she worked in the hospital enabled her to order her body to appear calm.

“Good job,” Zach called, his voice rumbling through her, stirring alive all the emotions she’d managed to calm.

She bit the inside of her lip and deliberately forced herself to concentrate on the boys’ activities and called, “You try now, Donald.” Cheering the boys provided an outlet for her riotous emotions.

“Throw like this.” Zach called instructions to Donald, lifting his arm and pulling it back to illustrate.

It was more than she could bear, and she sprang to her feet. “Say, weren’t we promised we could go wading?” She slipped off her shoes and stockings and gathered up her skirt. “Last one in is a rotten egg.”

The boys struggled to remove shoes and socks before she reached them. She raced past, splashing water over them.

“Come on, Dad,” Harry yelled.

Irene thought Zach might refuse, but he rolled up his pant legs and headed for the water.

Zach and the boys stood ankle deep in the water, not moving.

Irene faced them, several feet out, the water to her calves. “You’re supposed to play in it,” she called, scooping up a handful of water and tossing it at the threesome.

Harry laughed, licking water drops from his face, then bent over and skimmed his fingers over the water, sending a spray over Donald.

Donald giggled and jumped up and down, making little waves.

Zach grunted. “Play, huh?” He plowed through the water toward Irene.

Guessing his intention, she squealed and tried to escape, but she only got a few feet before his arms wrapped around her, crushing her to his chest. She struggled. “Let me go.”

He lifted her off her feet.

She kicked at the water, splashing as hard as she could.

He held her out, silently threatening to dunk her.

“You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes were so close, so intense, she could barely speak, but the threat of being dunked overcame all other emotions.

“Wouldn’t I?” his breath whispered over her.

She began to struggle, trying to regain her footing, squealing as he loosened his hold. She grabbed his shirt and held on.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her to his chest. Their faces inches apart, she could see the darkening purpose in his eyes. Her insides calmed. Nothing else existed. She strained toward him, lifting her face, silently asking for his kiss.

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you, Dad?” Harry’s voice thinned with worry.

Zach froze. He blinked, and his arms slowly released her until she stood in the water, still clutching his arm.

“No, I wouldn’t hurt her.” Their gazes locked. He looked deep into her eyes, promising her something. She blinked and pulled away. Was it a promise not to hurt her? Was it a promise to be grateful? She churned her way back to shore. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted it all.