Legacy of Love. Christine Johnson

from the room, joining her at the front entry.

      “You stayed.” She whispered the words as an accusation, but part of her was also glad. How could this man both tempt and frustrate her at the same time?

      Sadness swept across his features, and he gazed far beyond her into the distant past. “My mother died when I was younger than you. I know how frightening it can be to think you might lose a parent.” He swallowed and returned to the present. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

      Her wall of anger cracked. He did know how she felt. In fact, he’d suffered more, for both his mother and father were gone. She’d called him insensitive but she was the one who hadn’t given him a chance.

      “No, I’m sorry.” She nipped her lip to stem the sudden swell of emotion. “I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. You meant well by offering us your apartment.”

      His gaze dropped again. “The fault is mine. I should have realized the offer would insult you.”

      She shook her head. “I was acting childishly, thinking only of myself.” A little sob escaped. “I should have considered Ma. She wants to stay in the carriage house. She believes God ordained it.”

      He stiffened slightly. “I doubt divine intervention, but the offer still stands.”

      “But Ma can’t work, and I won’t accept charity.”

      “I know.” The faintest smile briefly lifted his lips. “Perhaps you would be willing to clean until she recovers.”

      Anna shook her head. “It’s not proper.”

      “I’ve been considering that. There’s an old wheelchair in the attic. Perhaps if your mother came to the house with you...”

      Anna paused, trying to regain control of her senses. His plan made sense, but he stood too close, the raw scent of him muddling her mind. She stepped back and was relieved when he didn’t follow. At this moment, she needed to think clearly.

      Ma had to live somewhere without stairs. The carriage house was a single-story building. It didn’t have any stairs. Presumably the house could also be entered without climbing steps or he wouldn’t have suggested Ma supervise from the wheelchair. She had to put her mother’s needs first.

      “You said you required housekeeping just two or three days a week?”

      He nodded. “And prepare breakfast and supper.”

      That wasn’t part of the original agreement, but she couldn’t quibble over details when Ma needed a warm single-story place to live. He’d regret that addition when he tasted her cooking. “Then thank you. I accept.”

      For a month. Then she and Ma would move as far as possible from the man who sent her nerves fluttering every time he drew near.

      Chapter Four

      “It’s perfect,” Ma exclaimed as Brandon pushed her wheelchair into the tiny carriage-house apartment.

      Anna could think of many other ways to describe the cramped rooms. Musty, cool and damp came readily to mind, but for Ma’s sake she held her tongue and walked into the sitting room. Two windows faced the house. Under one sat a small wooden table and chairs.

      She pushed open the dusty curtain and a cobweb drifted onto her face. She swatted away the sticky threads. If this apartment was any indication, she’d be working full-time getting the house in order.

      “It is lovely.” Ma patted Brandon’s hand. “Thank you for the use of the wheelchair. I can manage from here.”

      “Not on my watch, ma’am.” Brandon hastened to help Ma out of the cane wheelchair and into one of the two armchairs by the fireplace. A cloud of dust motes rose when she sat.

      “Here’s a cane to help you get around.” Brandon placed a stout walnut cane against the side of the chair, within ready reach should Ma need to walk. “I apologize again for the privy.”

      Ma waved a hand. “I’ve used privies and chamber pots my entire life.”

      “Still, with your injury,” he murmured, “it’s an inconvenience. Please consider staying in the house. It has indoor plumbing.”

      “I’ll be just fine.” Ma clucked her tongue softly. “This is so cozy. We’re looking forward to settling in here, aren’t we, Anna?”

      Anna poked at the embers in the fireplace and added another log. “Is this the only source of heat?”

      Brandon looked pained. “There are only the two rooms. The fire should be sufficient to heat both.”

      “Of course it will,” Ma seconded.

      “Too bad there’s not a kitchen,” Anna said.

      Brandon cleared his throat. “This apartment was built at the same time as the house, in the 1840s. No one thought to put a kitchen in an apartment in those days.”

      Probably because the apartment was intended for servants. Anna pushed the bedroom door open. This room was even smaller than the sitting room, with the back left corner walled off into a closet. She stepped around the bed that she and Ma would have to share and opened the closet door. None of the rooms had electrical lighting. That made it difficult to see the small iron sink in the back corner. It had a pump to draw water. She tested the squeaky handle and with a few pumps cold, clear water gushed into the sink. Across from the sink, a rack had been nailed to the wall. Perhaps ten or twelve garments could be squeezed onto it.

      “I hope it will suffice.” Brandon stood anxiously between the bed and the heavy chest of drawers. “I wish I could fit two beds into the room, but the man I hired to open up the place assured me the space was too small.”

      “Yet someone added a sink.”

      He nervously swiped at his face. “Sometime before the turn of the century. It was probably the height of luxury at the time.”

      Anna couldn’t do more than nod at his attempted levity. She rubbed her arms. “It’s cold in here. I hope the pipe doesn’t freeze.”

      Brandon reached around her and pushed the closet door completely open. The brush of his arm sent an unbidden yet pleasant sensation down her back.

      “If it does,” he said, “let me know. I’ll hire someone to fix it. In fact, if anything breaks or doesn’t work—any problem at all—tell me.”

      Though she kept her gaze locked on the clothes rack, she could feel him near.

      He tipped her chin so she looked up into those stormy gray eyes. “I mean it, Anna. If you need anything, tell me. Anything at all.”

      His touch stole her breath. They were alone. Ma faced the fire in the other room and could hear but not see them. Anna’s heart pounded wildly. Was he going to kiss her? Impossible. They’d barely been civil to each other these past two days. Yet he’d just touched her, and that touch made her knees tremble. What would it feel like to be kissed? What if she did it wrong? She’d read about it in novels, but no man had ever kissed her.

      She let her lids drift almost shut, terribly conscious of how close his lips were to hers. Mere inches. And he smelled...well...masculine.

      “Good.” He cleared his throat and stepped away. “I’m glad that’s cleared up.”

      What had happened? Why hadn’t he kissed her? Her chin still burned where he’d touched it. She unconsciously rubbed the spot as she followed him into the sitting room. He stooped to talk to Ma in tones Anna couldn’t hear.

      “Hendrick will bring our things over this afternoon,” Ma answered, her voice honey smooth.

      Clearly she adored Brandon. Every gesture, every concession told Anna so. For whatever reason, this was where Ma wanted to settle, and she would apparently put up with a great deal of deprivation and discomfort to do so.

      “Now