Freyda watched Ward tumble about with his sons. He might say they were all he needed or wanted, but she’d had a glimpse of a lonely, disillusioned man who longed for a real home. A large, empty spot in her own heart ached for the same. But an even greater need swallowed it up. She wanted to prove she could do something worthwhile on her own. Without the help of her brother, her cousin or even a neighbor. The only help she could allow herself to accept was one that involved a fair trade such as the agreement she had with Ward. They helped each other. They needed each other.

She looked at the picnic basket on the ground and could not explain where picnics and outings fit into that arrangement.

“I’m hungry,” Kit said.

It was for the two motherless boys she did these extra things. She was obeying God’s word. For it said, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’

“Good thing I brought a picnic,” she said, as she opened the basket of sandwiches. “Who else would like to eat?”

Ward spread the blankets nearby and the three males sat cross-legged, waiting.

She looked at them and started to laugh.

They looked at each other then back to her.

“What’s so funny?” Ward asked.

“I feel like a mama bird. All I need is for the three of you to open your mouths so I can drop in the food.”

Ward tipped his head back and opened his mouth. The boys followed his example.

Freyda laughed and shook her head. “I’ll put out the food, but you’ll have to feed yourselves.”

Ward pulled off his hat. “First, I will pray.” He bowed his head. “Father in heaven. We thank you for family, for a good neighbor, and for the food. Amen.” He barely finished when the boys reached for a sandwich.

Freyda gave far more attention to passing around the food then it required. A good neighbor? That was all she was? Well, what did she expect? Hadn’t she given herself a similar reminder not five minutes ago?

She might have fallen into silence except the boys chattered like little birds. Papa this and Papa that. Then Mrs. Haevre, don’t you think so too? It was impossible to remain distant with them so eager to include her.

Kit launched into a long story about what the birds in the trees were doing. It seemed to involve a fight between the mama bird and other mama birds. Someone threatened to hurt the baby birds and a big crow rescued them all.

Freyda nodded as she listened to the story.

Finally done, he grabbed a cookie. “Can I go watch the birds?” he asked Ward.

Ward nodded. “Stay where we can see you.”

Milo and Kit trotted down the slope, their feet going faster and faster. The boys’ laughter rang out and Freyda leaned forward to watch them.

“That was quite a story,” Ward said.

“I think he sees himself as the baby birds but I’m not sure who the crow is supposed to be. You, I expect.” She turned so she could watch his reaction.

He grinned. “I fit the crow description. You are more like a bluebird.”

Neither of them turned away. Their gazes held, his full of warmth. Freyda could not say what he saw in her eyes, nor would she confess that she hoped he would see a longing to—

She stopped her thoughts before she could finish them. “It must feel good to know he sees you as someone to rescue him. Save him from the wicked birds.”

His eyes darkened. “Except for the times I failed. I should have known what Mrs. Wright was doing, but she was always pleasant and patient when I was around. I began to suspect something was amiss when Milo constantly ran away from the house and Kit started to rock back and forth with a worried look on his face. But I could hardly accuse the woman without evidence.”

Freyda turned to watch the boys. They went from tree to tree, looking up into the branches. “They’re hoping to find a nest.”

The boys stopped and pointed then lay down on their backs to watch the nest they found. The pair lay still, though Kit squirmed from time to time.

Freyda’s gaze searched the air and the nearby trees. “I hope there are babies there to reward them for their patience.”

Then Milo pointed and shushed Kit.

Ward chuckled. “They’ve seen something. Can you believe how quiet they are being?”

“No. I’m used to seeing them run and hearing them laugh and shout.” She shook her head in mock dismay. “It feels unnatural.”

Ward laughed. “I don’t expect it will last long.”

A moment later, a cow with a calf at her side emerged from the trees, saw the boys, and stared.

Ward sucked in his breath. If that cow should object to the intrusion of two small boys… He was on his feet and had taken two racing steps down the hill when the cow tossed her head and trotted off with the calf running at her side.

Both boys sat up and watched them then lay back down.

Ward returned to his spot beside Freyda. “I was worried for a moment.”

“Me too.”

That made him think. “What would you have done if you were alone with them and a cow charged?”

“I would chase her off.” She said it with such conviction that for a moment he had no doubt she would.

“Umm. I don’t know if you noticed, but that cow outweighs you by fifteen hundred pounds, more or less. And an upset mama cow is not easily discouraged.”

She sniffed. “Neither is a protective mother of little boys. Or in this case, someone in charge of two little boys. I would stop her or chase her or divert her.”

Or die doing it. “Let’s hope the situation never arises.”

“Agreed.”

They sat in companionable silence watching the boys, who had lost interest in the birds and pulled at a heavy branch caught in the grass and bushes.

They tugged. They pushed. They ripped at the live branches and stomped away at the grass.

Freyda chuckled. “They aren’t going to give up. I like their spirit.”

“You would.”

She jerked about to face him. “What do you mean?”

He grinned teasingly, liking the blue blaze in her eyes. “Isn’t it your philosophy? Never give up? Never admit defeat?” She had not said it in those exact words but he understood how determined she was.

She chuckled. “I might have given that impression.” The humor fled from her eyes. “It hurts to always be treated like I can’t do anything on my own.”

“Is there more to it than that?”

“Maybe.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “I was told most of my life that I was stubborn and headstrong because I insisted on doing things others thought me incapable of. I thought it would change when I grew older. That people would accept that I could do things. Whatever I truly desired to do. I had a dream to go to America. No one understood that. Why would I want to leave when I had my family to love me and take care of me right there in Norway?”

Ward touched her hand. “I think that was part of the reason you wanted to leave.”

“It was. I didn’t want to be taken care of like they meant.”

He wondered if she wanted to be taken care of in a different way, but he wouldn’t ask.

“When I was seventeen Jens Solberg started to court me. At first, he seemed to understand my need for—” She wagged her hands. “I’m not even sure what to call it—independence, freedom—I just don’t know.”

“Maybe you just wanted to be seen as a person worthy of recognition.”

She nodded. “That’s right. Anyway, when I told Jens of my dream to go to America he couldn’t understand. He put it down to a childish wish that I needed to outgrow.”

“What happened to Jens?” He wanted to know if the young man had broken her heart.

“I told him I wasn’t giving up my dream. He said he wasn’t leaving Norway, so I would have to choose between him or America. The choice was easy.”

“And then you met Baruk?”

“Yes, he was cousin to a girl I knew well. He came to visit his aunt and uncle and help on their farm as his uncle had been injured felling a tree. I was very guarded around him. Then I heard of his plans to go to America. I knew then he was a man I could care about.”

Ward wondered if the attraction between them was over the dream of America.

“We made plans to leave shortly after we married.” She squeezed her hands between her knees and lowered her voice. “That’s when he informed me I couldn’t go with him. Not until the house was built.” She stared into the distance. “When he died everyone assumed I would give up on America. Instead, here I am.” The look she gave him blared with determination.

He nodded. “Here you are. You’ve achieved your dream, but without your husband.” He waited, wondering if she would give an indication of what she was feeling.

“I spent more time without Baruk after I met him than with him. I know it sounds disloyal, but I hardly remember him.” Her gaze sought his. He couldn’t say if she hoped for understanding or expected otherwise. But he had to be honest.

“We are in similar positions.” Hope filled her eyes at his words. He continued, slowly, hoping she wouldn’t misunderstand him. “Seems we married wanting one thing and getting another.”

“I don’t even know if I loved him,” she whispered. “Admitting that makes me feel so awful. I suppose it’s part of the reason I must fulfill our dream. To make our marriage have some value.” She looked at him, her eyes dark with pain.

His heart stalled at the agony of her confession. Without giving himself time to consider his actions, he wrapped his arms about her and pulled her to his chest. “Maybe it’s time you stopped trying to prove something to everyone else and decide what it is you want.”

She sniffled. “I thought I knew, but now I’m not certain.”

Had knowing him and the boys had anything to do with her uncertainty? Was she seeing that being alone and independent was not as satisfying as she hoped it to be?

She shuddered back a sob.

He rubbed her back, much as he did with Kit when the boy was upset. “I have no doubt you will figure it out.”

“I’m glad you have so much confidence in me.”

He grinned at the doubt in her voice. He leaned back, caught her chin with his finger, turned her face toward him and smiled down at her. “Freyda Haevre, I have no doubt that you can and will do whatever you set your mind to.”

“Are you calling me stubborn?” Her voice contained a hint of teasing and a whole lot of longing.

“You are strong and capable.”

Her eyes held his, seeking more of what he offered. There seemed only one way to convince her she was a strong woman. His gaze went to her mouth, lingered there a moment. He sought her eyes. She tipped her head toward him. He needed no more invitation and lowered his head to capture her lips. A jolt of surprise, pleasure, and awareness raced through him.

Freyda’s arms crept around his waist and she leaned into the kiss.

Ward was at a loss to know what was happening. This kiss was like nothing he’d ever experienced before despite having had a wife. The kiss filled his heart with yearning and a sweet knowledge that he could find the answer to his longings with this woman.

Bells rang in the distance. Warning of danger. It took him a moment to realize the bells came from his head. Reluctantly, slowly, his lips lingering on hers, he eased back, removed his arms from around her.

Freyda sat up and edged away. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it was my fault. And you’re right. It won’t happen again.”

She turned to him. Her blue eyes were sheened with tears. “I want. I don’t want.” She shrugged.

Despite his previous words he could not leave her in such misery and he leaned close, planting a kiss on her trembling lips.

He withdrew before she could respond. “A kiss is just a kiss. Sometimes it offers nothing more than comfort.” If only he could believe it.

“Nice to know,” she said, with a touch of sass.

He chuckled, but decided it wisest to hold his tongue or he’d be kissing her again to prove his point.

* * *

Freyda rubbed her lips together and tried to think. Ward had kissed her. Or had she kissed him? And then he’d said it was only to comfort her. To her, it had felt like much more than that. She knew it couldn’t be, but at the moment she imagined them having more than a work agreement.

They sat elbow to elbow, neither of them making a move to put distance between them.

He was right about her finding comfort in the kiss. And in his presence and his understanding. He’d said she needed to decide what she wanted. Those words cleared a tangle in her brain. She thought she had to prove something to her family. To Baruk. But she didn’t.

She watched the boys playing. They grabbed the end of the branch and pulled. She laughed. “It’s a tug of war between them and the branch.”

“I’m proud of them for not giving up.”

“Me too.”

The boys leaned back, putting all their weight into trying to free the branch. It snapped and they fell to the ground.

They were up in an instant and examined their treasure. They picked it up, one boy on each end, and carried it away to the edge of the trees.

“What are they doing?” Ward asked.

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

The boys leaned the branch against a crook in a tree and set to work gathering up smaller sticks and brushwood.

“It’s a tent. Or fort.” Ward chuckled. “They’re putting in a lot of effort.”

“They’re hard working. Just like their father.”

Ward grinned at her. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Heaven help her, she couldn’t keep her gaze from slipping to his lips. Having once tasted—

She had no idea where those words came from, nor would she allow her brain to finish the thought. Or was it having once loved?

She shook her head and concentrated on Milo and Kit. Their fort had taken on the shape of a tent. Milo ducked into the enclosure and Kit followed.

The sound of laughter reached them on the hill.

She enjoyed listening to them. The hardest thing about her choice to come to America was saying good-bye to her large and happy family. She shivered and looked about.

The sun had dipped toward the west and the air grew cool.

Ward got to his feet. “It’s late. Time to go home.”

She rose and folded the blankets. Ward called the boys.

She watched them leave their fort and head toward Ward and herself. Several times they glanced back at the work of their hands. “It’s a shame to make them leave after all their hard work.”

“I know, but it will soon be dark.”

“Maybe we can come again.” She did not look at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invite myself.”

“It wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t accompany us.”

She looked at him.

He looked at her lips. She resisted an urge to lick them. And an even greater longing to press her lips to his.

She dropped the blankets into the cart as the boys reached them.

“Can we ride?” Kit asked.

“Okay.” Ward lifted the younger boy in and Milo climbed in on his own.

“I’ll help push.” Freyda would not admit that she wanted to help so she could walk close to Ward nor that she wanted to feel a part of this family.

By the time they reached the house, Kit’s head lulled against his brother’s chest. Freyda’s throat tightened at the tender picture. Kit wakened and shivered. “I’m cold.”

“Why don’t I make hot cocoa?” Freyda offered, not allowing herself to admit she welcomed a chance to prolong the day.

“That would be nice.” Ward carried Kit into the house.

Freyda hurried to the kitchen and set the milk to heat while she put out four heavy china cups. Minutes later, they sat down at the table, hot cocoa before each of them.

Kit could barely keep his eyes open as he drank.

Milo giggled at his brother, but his amusement ended in a wide yawn.

Ward chuckled. “Finish up, you two, and then into bed.”

The boys downed the last of their drink. Ward carried Kit to the bedroom, Milo trudging along behind.

Freyda put away the picnic things and washed the cups and saucepan. She put milk into a saucer for the kitten. She dried the last item and hung the towel to dry just as Ward emerged from the bedroom.

“They are already asleep. Are you in a hurry to leave?”

She should go home and check on Smokey. Shut in the chickens. Leave Ward and the memories of the shared afternoon. The memory of a kiss. Instead, she said, “I’m in no hurry.”

“Are you warm enough to sit outside and watch the sunset?”

“I’m fine.” She wouldn’t complain in the midst of a snowstorm if he asked her to share an evening with him.

He took two chairs out and put them side by side. They sat close enough she could feel and welcome some body heat.

“It’s chilly.” He went inside and brought back one of the picnic blankets and draped it around her shoulders.

Her imagination suggested his fingers lingered on her shoulders a moment longer than necessary to put the blanket in place, then he returned to his chair and tipped back. “I think that was one of the nicest afternoons I’ve ever had.”

Freyda allowed herself to think that might be in part, from her being with him. “What are some of your other good afternoons?”

He grew still. “Apart from the birth of my sons, I don’t have a lot of good memories. Seems even the ones that started out good turned sour.”

She stifled a protest at how he’d been raised. “Tell me about a good one.”

He thought a moment. “I remember one day my aunt had company. Ladies of the church all dressed in their very best. I think they were having a prayer meeting about something. I was seven. In fact, it was my birthday, not that it meant anything to anyone but me and the only reason I even knew was because I found it in the Bible. June fifteenth. Ward Allen Rollins. It also had the deaths of my parents. But that has nothing to do with my story. Aunt had made me put on my very best clothes and warned me I must act like a real little gentlemen. I was to greet the ladies nicely and then go away and leave them alone. One lady in particular was so nice to me. She shook my hand and said how nice I looked. ‘Your aunt and uncle must be so proud of you.’ I thought my heart would burst from my chest. Every time I saw the woman at church after that she would smile at me and pat my shoulder if she was close enough. I lived for that.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I’m trying to remember only that part and not the rest.”

She stiffened, not liking the bitterness in his voice. “What happened?” She didn’t want to know and yet had to in order to understand this man.

“Aunt nudged me. ‘Say thank you.’ I did. Then Aunt pushed me toward the door with a warning whisper to stay out of the way. I sat on the step trying to hear that nice woman’s voice. I heard it several times and it made me happy. But I got bored and wandered away. I found a patch of flowers nearby. Wild roses. I tried to pick some for that lady but the petals fell off so I looked about for something else and found some pretty purple ones. I picked them and took them to the lady. Aunt Myra snatched them away and later used the switch on me for bringing those dirty weeds into the house.”

“Oh, Ward. That’s terrible.” She could hardly force the words from her tight throat.

He shrugged, his eyes glazed. “It’s in the past.”

“Feelings don’t die just because we want them to. Or order them to.” She pressed her hand to his forearm. “Every little boy deserves to be loved and valued.”

His gaze came to hers. “That is what I want for Milo and Kit.”

She rubbed her hand in a little circle. “And you give it to them.”

He nodded, his eyes not revealing anything.

She understood he was used to hiding his feelings in order to protect himself from the cruelty of his aunt. Her heart ached for the little boy who had been treated so unkindly. And the man who had lost his wife and for the fact she had not been the sort of woman he needed and wanted. Her aching heart wanted to soothe away his hurts. Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “Ward, I wish I could erase all the pain inflicted on your heart by your aunt.”

He pressed his hand to hers, trapping it. The roughness of his day-old whiskers brushed her palm. The coolness of his skin gave way to warmth. His eyes darkened and filled with hunger. He brought her palm to his lips and kissed it.

“The past can’t be erased.” His voice was hoarse.

“No, it can’t. But know this. It could have turned you into a cruel and bitter man. Instead, you’ve become a gentle, kind man.”

His fingers closed around hers and he lowered their clasped hands to his knee. “You think that?”

She smiled. “I know it. Your boys know it and so do you.”

His smile began as a flash of light in his eyes then spread to his mouth until his whole face was wreathed in joy. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He touched her cheek and studied her as if seeing her for the first time. Really seeing her.

She let him look. Let him see her sincerity. And her concern. And her wish for—

He blinked and looked around as if coming from a dream. “It’s cold and dark. You should be home safe and sound. Instead, I’ve kept you here.” He banged the heel of his hand to his head.

She half expected he would call himself stupid just as Milo had earlier. She caught his hand. “You didn’t keep me. I stayed.”

He sucked in air. “But now it will be dark before you get back and I can’t leave the boys and go with you.”

“I’ll be fine. Do you mind if I keep the blanket?” She pulled it tighter about her against the cool, damp air.

“Keep it. Do you need another?” His restless worry made her yearn to comfort him again.

“I’ll be fine. After all, haven’t I come all the way from Norway to prove I can manage on my own? Let me believe I can.”

He drew his mouth down in resignation. “I suppose I am overreacting. Remembering my aunt and talking about her makes me anxious not to do something wrong.”

“Ward Rollins.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Stop right there. I am responsible for my choices. Not you. Now I am going to walk home. I will get there safely so don’t worry.”

“I don’t like it. How will I know you’ve arrived safely?”

“I tell you what. I will light the lantern and swing it back and forth when I get home.”

“Thank you. I will watch for it and I will light my lantern to acknowledge I have seen it.”

“Then good night.” She paused half a second, wondering if he would try and kiss her again.

“Good night. I’ll be watching.”

She took a step toward her house when he spoke again.

“I enjoyed the day. Every part of it.”

She heard the smile in his voice, knew he meant to remind her of certain aspects of the day, and she held that cherished moment in her heart all the way home. As soon as she arrived, she swung the lit lantern back and forth until she saw the answering light from Ward’s house.

Only then did she go to the barn and get Smokey and carry him as she shut the chicken house door. Inside the house, she realized she still smiled. She stood still. Why had his concern about her getting home safely felt so different from the concern her family showed when she wanted to do things on her own? She couldn’t say and didn’t want to think too deeply about the afternoon for fear she would drown out the joy bubbling in her heart.

Instead, she fed the kitten and played with him until bedtime. But once she lay between the covers in the dark, pictures of the day raced through her head.

She pressed her fingers to her lips. Had his kiss really been only an attempt to comfort her? Did she want it to mean more than that?