The Engagement Charade. Karen Kirst

poked and prodded his armor with disturbing regularity.

      On his knees in the vegetable garden, pulling weeds and plucking beetles from his cabbage plants, he scolded himself for getting involved in Ellie’s troubles. He couldn’t seem to help himself, however...old habits reasserting themselves. Well, he was done. She had her belongings. She had a place to stay. She didn’t need a reluctant protector.

      The knowledge didn’t keep him from getting angry every time he recalled her emerging from the woods after being sick. That awful gray outfit had washed out her complexion. Even her delicately-shaped lips had lost their color. She’d looked miserable. And he’d felt the insane urge to shelter her in his arms until she’d recovered.

      And then there were her troublesome in-laws. He’d been tempted to deliver a scathing set-down to that woman, Nadine. Ellie’s goodness, her lack of bitterness, astounded him. Her bravery, too. Sarah would’ve jumped at the chance to let him take control of the situation. Not Ellie. Although anxious, she’d tackled her dilemma with reason and self-control.

      “Good afternoon.”

      Surprised to see the object of his thoughts at the edge of his garden, Alexander thumbed his old Stetson farther up his forehead and squinted into the late afternoon rays slanting over the mountains. His mouth dried up like the ranch’s creeks after a drought. Ellie looked different today. Gone was the nondescript outfit and perky ponytail. She’d paired a crimson, high-necked blouse with a sturdy navy skirt whose only nod to femininity was a wide ruffle along the hem. Dangly silver and amber earrings adorned her dainty ears. Her brown hair rippled about her shoulders, the top section pulled back and tied with a crimson-and-navy polka-dot ribbon. The hairstyle softened her gamine features, and the rich hue of her blouse made her coffee eyes shine. Bathed in the tawny light of approaching autumn, she was as pretty as a picture.

      “How old are you?” he blurted.

      Her brows lifted a notch. “Twenty-two. Why?”

      “I assumed you were much younger.”

      She adjusted the bundle in her arms. “How old are you?”

      “How old do you think I am?”

      She inspected him openly until he felt his ears burn. Did she realize how expressive her eyes could be? Admiration shone in the sparkling depths. No one had regarded him like that for a long time.

      “Thirty.”

      “Close.” Dusting his gloves on his pants, he stood and gathered the piles of weeds. “I’m twenty-eight.”

      Ellie watched as he dumped the weeds in an old seed bag to be discarded later. As he walked to her side, a gentle breeze teased her loose strands, forcing her to shift her burden in order to dislodge them from where they’d snagged on her mouth.

      “What’s this?” he said, indicating the mound of fabric.

      “The new cloths and curtains. I thought I’d switch them out if you don’t mind.”

      Alexander wasn’t as perturbed by her unannounced visit as he should’ve been. He stuffed his gloves in his back pocket and held out his hands. “Let me carry that inside.”

      She released them into his hold, and he caught a whiff of her light verbena perfume.

      “You finished these in record time.”

      She fell into step beside him, her rosebud mouth curving in a bright smile. “June insisted on helping me. I tried to share my earnings with her, but she refused. Said I had to save up money for the—”

      He shot her a side glance. “For the what?”

      Moistening her lips, she said, “For the future.”

      “You’re a widow like her. Makes sense she’d be sensitive to your position.”

      “Yes,” she softly agreed.

      They entered the unusually quiet café. Passing through the kitchen and hallway and into the dining area, he was very aware of her proximity, the differences in their heights, the way she walked and gestured and carried herself. Being alone with Ellie was becoming a habit, one he was growing too comfortable with and must take efforts to curtail.

      When she started to drag a chair over to the first window, he intercepted her.

      “You take care of the tables. I’ll see to the curtains.”

      Finger to her chin, she studied the room. “How about we work together? You remove the old curtains, and I’ll hand you the replacements.”

      “All right.”

      While they worked, she gave him a commentary on that morning’s services. Apparently a bird had gotten inside and had interrupted the sermon, swooping toward women’s hats and causing mayhem as a few of the men attempted to capture it. She described the scene in such detail, Alexander couldn’t help smiling.

      “I’ve never seen you there,” she mused. “Why don’t you attend?”

      His smile faded. Rolling the ratty curtains into a bundle, he twisted to hand it to her. Why must she persist in stirring up painful issues? First she’d questioned him about Texas. Now this.

      He stepped down from the chair, bringing him close enough to notice her thick, curling eyelashes and a tiny scar edging her lower lip. Once again, he became distracted by her loveliness.

      The change in her wasn’t that dramatic, he reprimanded himself. Ellie was simply the first woman he’d spent any significant amount of time with since arriving in Tennessee several years ago.

      “I haven’t gone to church in ages,” he said. “I have no desire to sit and listen about God’s goodness and love.”

      Compassion softened her eyes. “I’ve suspected for some time that you suffered a horrible hurt, something you haven’t shared with anyone. But God sees your private struggle. He’ll give you the grace to work through it, if you let Him.”

      Alexander couldn’t deny he craved freedom from the burdens coiled around him like heavy chains. Her gentle understanding and the conviction of her words tempted him to let go of the hatred he carried for his enemy, the disillusion directed toward his Creator, the guilt and anger he felt over his own actions.

      Her small, soft hand curved around his forearm. “You don’t have to shoulder your burdens alone, you know. You could talk to me. Or Duncan. Reverend Munroe. No one will judge you.”

      “Please, Ellie, don’t press me on this.”

      Her countenance pensive, she gave a reluctant nod. “I can still pray for you, can’t I?”

      Startled, he was trying to form a response when there came a rap on the door. Moving blindly to release the latch, he stared at the couple on the boardwalk wearing matching grins.

      “Alexander.” Duncan McKenna clapped him on the shoulder. “We were passing by and saw you through the window. Mind if we come in for a minute?”

      He absently moved aside as the auburn-haired Scotsman escorted his wife, Caroline, into the midst of their redecoration project. The pair was partly responsible for hiring Ellie. While he hadn’t been happy about their meddling, and he’d been pulled into his new cook’s affairs, he no longer resented their actions. The Plum was better because of it.

      “How are you getting along, Ellie?” Caroline inquired, her blue eyes softening with fondness. “We’ve come in to eat several times, and we’ve yet to be disappointed.”

      A blush tinted her cheeks. “Satisfying customers is my top priority. It’s nice to hear I’m succeeding.”

      “I’m still learning my way around the kitchen. Eating here is a treat for both of us, trust me.”

      Laughter rumbled deep in Duncan’s chest. Taking hold of his wife’s hand, he placed a gallant kiss on her knuckles. “You’re improving every day, my love.”

      The