Chapter Three
“You can come in.” Liam appeared at the door after at least fifteen minutes, just about when Isabel was certain that she was going to collapse in the sun.
She looked up at him and reached to pick up her bags, but he had jumped off the steps of the house and rushed towards her. “Leave them be, I’ll bring them in. You go in,” he said, at her side in a few quick strides. He was suddenly standing very close to her and Isabel felt a little faint. The scent of him had overtaken her senses. He smelled of the sun, of hard labor mixed with a sweet smell of his sweat. She suddenly began to imagine him naked – all of it was too overwhelming.
“Thank you,” she said, clutching her chest to steady herself. He didn’t move away or give her the space to walk towards the house. Instead, he stood in front of her, looking directly into her eyes.
“You’ve come all the way from New York?” he asked as she blushed and squirmed under his gaze. She couldn’t understand him; he was indecipherable.
“Yes, like I said in my letter,” she told him, growing nervous. He looked like this was not what he was expecting. Isabel was so afraid that he was disappointed in her.
“What made you decide to become a mail-order bride?” he asked, and she felt her nostrils flare. She wasn’t prepared to relay her whole life history to a stranger, let alone to a man who seemed so hostile towards her.
“Personal reasons,” she stated. She tried to raise her chin up and meet his eyes directly, but she was too shy to hold his gaze.
“You gave up your life and now you’re in Mitchell Town… for personal reasons?” he asked. She noticed how his eyebrows arched up sharply.
“Is that a problem for you?” she asked.
He suddenly bent down to pick up the bags. He only grunted in response. “Follow me.” He turned on his heels and started walking towards the house. The bags looked like simple empty sacks in his hands. They were not a problem for him to carry, and Isabel felt herself stir with a sudden desire for this strong rugged man even though he was proving to be more difficult than she had hoped he would be.
“Is there a problem, Liam?” she asked in lieu of following him and watched as he stopped in his tracks.
“What do you mean?” he asked and turned to look at her. That face again. Those piercing blue eyes, the tanned skin, those thin serious lips. Isabel felt nervous every time he looked at her.
“You don’t seem too pleased with my arrival. Have you changed your mind?” she asked him, and realized that her voice was quivering. She didn’t want him to change his mind. Where would she go? She didn’t want to go back to New York. Not after everything that had happened. This was the only way to get away. And the thought that he could ruin all of it by claiming that he had changed his mind filled her with dread again.
“Stop worrying, Isabel, and just follow me in. You need to get out of the sun before your skin starts sizzling like bacon,” he said, turning away from her again.
He didn’t sound encouraging or friendly… but at least he wasn’t turning her away. Isabel picked at the pleats of her thin cotton dress with her fingers and followed him towards the house. He was right, she needed to get out of the sun.
She climbed the stairs and Liam held the screen door open so that she could walk through. Their arms lightly grazed each other when she passed him and goosebumps bloomed on her flesh.
There was another surprise waiting for her indoors. The inside of the house looked nothing like the outside. The best word to describe it would be “cozy.” The house was small, indeed, but everything was clean and neatly in its place. There were lace curtains covering the windows. A flood of bright sunlight streamed into the cute living room and its adjoining kitchen. The furniture looked immaculate in beautifully polished wood. The wood floors were clean – no dusty footprints from outside to be found.
There was a small television facing two couches in the living room. There was even a bookshelf with a small collection, decorated with a few crystal figurines at its ends. The upholstery was all done in a pastel paisley design, and even though a bit old and faded, none of it looked ill-maintained. The ramshackle, dilapidated interior that Isabel had expected was nowhere to be found.
Sophie was at the kitchen counter, stirring a spoon in a jug full of what looked iced tea.
“Your home is lovely,” Isabel said, twirling around on the spot, noticing the stairs that led to a floor upstairs.
“Daddy and I take turns in keeping the house clean. Just the way mom left it,” Sophie said and placed the glass gently on a metal tray.
Behind her, Liam had dropped the bags on the floor by the door. The mention of the word “mom” had garnered a reaction from them both. Liam appeared to be inflamed upon hearing the word and it made Isabel nervous.
“Hand the glass to the lady and go to your room, Sophie,” Liam growled behind her. Isabel didn’t dare to turn around and look at him.
“She can stay here if she wants. We can get to know each other,” she said in a meek voice as Sophie handed the glass to Isabel.
“No, I think you both should get to know each other first,” Sophie said with a sly wink and a toothy grin. And then she was gone, bouncing up the stairs to her room and whistling a happy tune.