A Baby Between Them. Winnie Griggs

a sadness about him, a sort of lost emptiness that seemed to weigh him down. Many’s a day he would spend walking along the beach and staring out over the ocean as if looking for a ship that never came.”

       Had he been yearning for her mother all that time? Better not to dwell on that. “Did he have many friends here?”

       “He kept to himself for the most part. He wasn’t shunned or outcast, mind you, he just never made much of an effort to get close to anyone, more’s the pity.”

       Nora’s curiosity got the better of her. “Did he ever speak of his life back in Ireland?”

       “Not to me or James. But then, he was a very private person and never spoke about much of anything.” Agnes sighed. “I always sensed the man had a good heart—he never uttered a harsh word in my hearing and he could be generous if he became aware of a need. It’s such a sadness that he spent so much time dwelling on his past rather than enjoying his present.”

       She knotted and snipped her thread, then began putting away her sewing things. “Anyway, in his own way, Mr. O’Malley provided for all of us in this household and I just thought you ought to know the sort of man he was.”

       Grace had finished her bottle by this time, and Nora lifted her to her shoulder. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It sounds as if he was a very lonely man.” How sad to have loved someone so deeply and not have had that love returned.

       She remembered how dejected and hurt Bridget had been when it looked as if Will would be honor bound to marry another woman. Thankfully, it had worked out happily for them in the end, but what if it hadn’t? Would her sister have recovered from that blow, especially after she’d already suffered being left at the altar once before?

       Giving your heart so completely to someone else was a dangerous thing, especially if one had no assurance that the feelings were returned. She had made that mistake once. Back in Castleville, there’d been a young man, Braydan Rourke, who’d lived in the village near their cottage. Braydan was handsome and strong and had a winning smile and generous heart, much like Cam. He’d been kind to the Murphy family, helping them out when Nora’s father had injured his foot and couldn’t tend to his crops for a few weeks.

       As she always had for their da, Nora had carried Braydan’s noonday meal and flasks of water out to the fields, and during those breaks they had shared many a conversation. She’d been sixteen at the time and was enthralled when Braydan had confided his dreams of a better life to her. It embarrassed her now to remember how quickly and completely she’d fallen for him. At least she could take some small comfort in knowing that no one had suspected what a love-struck fool she’d been. Because when her da returned to the fields three weeks later, Braydan had not only left their farm but left Castleville itself without a backward glance and she’d never heard from him again.

       It had been a painful lesson, but she’d learned it well. She would not so easily give her heart to a man again. Perhaps she was better off focusing her love on Grace.

       James and Cam entered the kitchen just then, pulling Nora from her somber thoughts. The two men were sharing a laugh and Nora was caught again by how caring the sheriff was toward the Coulters, how boyish he looked when he was in a good humor and how his laugh could draw you in and make you want to smile along.

       It would be so easy to develop stronger feelings for such a man. In fact, if she was honest with herself, she would admit that she already felt that little telling tug of attraction when he was around. His gaze snagged on hers and she could almost convince herself that his eyes took on a warmer glow. Almost without thought, she found herself responding in kind.

       But then she dropped her gaze. That way lay heartache. She would not become another Laird O’Malley. Sheriff Long was her employer, nothing more. And if at times he seemed to treat her with special warmness, she needed to remind herself that that was just his way. Despite his nonchalant manner, she’d seen over and again how caring and protective he was of those around him. It was what made him such a good lawman. But she wasn’t in need of his charity or his protection. Her life had been hard, but it had taught her how to take care of herself. And that was exactly what she would do.

       As she fussed with Grace, Nora heard Agnes invite the sheriff to stay for dinner. She mentally held her breath while she waited on his response. When he refused, she wasn’t certain if it was relief or disappointment that whooshed through her.

       Later that evening as she lay in her bed, Nora found herself restless and unable to sleep. Not that this vague sense of discontent had anything to do with her earlier realizations about her relationship with the sheriff. No, it was most likely due to knowing Bridget was no longer part of the household—nothing more.

       After all, it wasn’t as if her heart was in any real danger since she’d come to her senses in time. And she was perfectly content to settle for Cam’s friendship.

       Turning over on her side, she steadfastly ignored the little voice in her head that wanted to argue the matter with her.

      Chapter Four

      On Monday morning, Nora patted Grace’s back as she stared out the kitchen window at the gloomy weather. The rain had slacked off to a drizzle but it was still falling steadily. If it didn’t let up soon it would make for an unpleasant ride into town this morning.

       Not that she was one to let a bit of weather get in her way. There were four mouths to feed in this household, and, as her sisters had pointed out on Saturday, there was still lots of work to be done on the cottage itself before the cooler weather of autumn settled in. Work that required funds for supplies.

       And there were more immediate needs cropping up every day. She’d awakened this morning to the sound of water dripping from the ceiling onto her bedchamber floor. Two hand spans over and those drips would have landed right on Grace. That had been a sobering sight.

       But there was reason to be optimistic, as well. Just last night she’d had an idea for a way to bring in some extra money. She hadn’t worked out all the details in her mind yet, but that was another reason she was eager to get to town today despite the weather—she’d really like to get Sheriff Long’s opinion on this scheme of hers. After all, he had much more knowledge of Faith Glen and its people than she did.

       Grace hiccupped and Nora patted her back. Then she frowned as she came back to this morning’s weather. She didn’t mind getting wet herself, but it wouldn’t be right to take an infant out on such a day if it wasn’t truly necessary.

       But what other choice did she have?

       “Surely you’re not going to take that little lamb out in this rain.” Agnes Coulter crossed the room, a soft smile on her face.

       Nora shook her head. “I don’t really want to.” She glanced out the window once more. “Then again, perhaps if I wrap her really well…”

       Agnes tsked. “You have another choice. You can leave Grace with me and James.”

       Nora immediately thought of a half-dozen reasons why she couldn’t do that. The Coulters were elderly and frail. And they’d never had children of their own. Did they even know how to take care of an infant? And what about Grace’s favorite lullaby—could either of them sing it to her when she got fussy?

       She gave Agnes what she hoped was a convincing smile. “That’s very kind, but I wouldn’t want to impose on you that way. It’s not raining very hard. Perhaps it will let up—”

       “Don’t be silly. I know you’re as attached to that baby as a turtle is to its shell, but you can’t keep her by your side all day, every day. You both need a break from each other occasionally.”

       Both women turned as the back door opened and James limped in carrying a covered pail that no doubt contained fresh milk.

       Agnes immediately started back across the room, her finger wagging like a gossipmonger’s tongue. “James Barnabas Coulter, stop right there. Don’t you dare go tromping water and mud across my clean floor.” She made shooing