“She says she’s feeling pretty weak,” Ben commented, his voice low and measured. When he slid a cautious gaze to Hope, she couldn’t miss the hint of apology there.
“Oh, I am, Aaron. Very weak. I’m so glad you’re here.” Jane’s breathy whisper filtered to Hope. The woman threw herself into Aaron’s arms—almost.
When he sidestepped to gain his balance, Hope stifled a gasp. But she could hardly fault the woman for being given to exceptional outbursts of emotion after suffering such shock.
“You are a great strength to me. I’m sure that Paul would offer his gratitude if he was—” Jane’s eyes suddenly pooled with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Aaron. Honestly, you are meant for me.”
He passed a disconcerted glance to Ben, his throat convulsing as though he’d just swallowed a small horse. He stared down at where Jane had circled her arms around his chest and burrowed her cheek into his dark gray vest. “Well, I, uh…I’m glad to help.”
“Thank you,” Jane whispered, one side of her thin lips lifting in what looked to Hope like a triumphant grin.
Clearing his throat, Aaron pried her arms loose and took one sizable step away from her. “Don’t you think we should probably go since the others will be coming soon?”
“Yes, of course. You’re right, as always, Aaron.” The way Jane latched onto Aaron and led the way, Hope half wondered if she was making a silent claim. The icy look she sent Hope could’ve frozen one of the yellow spring blooms dotting the grassy knoll within seconds and furthered her suspicion.
“We’ll be right behind you to help with the meal, Hope. Don’t you worry about a thing,” Ben’s wife, Callie, called as she took her husband’s hand and climbed into their wagon.
Hope waved and trailed behind Jane and Aaron, watching as Jane nearly sprinted the last few feet to claim a seat at the front of the wagon, not even bothering to wait for assistance.
“You’ll have to sit in the back again, Hope. There’s just not room up here. You won’t mind, will you?” She gave Hope a sickeningly sweet look, her face all pinched in apology as she took great care spreading out her skirts as though decorating an elaborate layered cake.
Hope struggled to prevent her disbelief from making its way to an all-out expression. “Of course, I don’t mind.”
With a firm but gentle touch, Aaron easily lifted her into the wagon and then took his own seat next to Jane. When Jane clasped a possessive hand over Aaron’s muscular arm, Hope determined that Paul’s sister was definitely marking her territory. As far as Hope was concerned, Jane could have the man. But being a woman of principle, the fact that Jane was being so nasty about the whole thing just didn’t sit right.
Once Aaron had the wagon headed down the road, he glanced at her with a concern-filled look. “Are you sure you don’t mind all of us coming to your house for a gather—”
“Paul’s house,” Jane corrected darting her attention to Aaron then back at Hope. “It’s Paul’s house.”
Hope determined to find some common ground on which to stand with Jane if this day was going to be anything more than horrible. “I’m sure that Paul would’ve wanted it that way.”
Jane twisted in her seat. “Excuse me for saying so, but honestly, how would you know what Paul would’ve wanted?” She narrowed her hazel-eyed gaze and pursed her thin lips, making them nearly disappear. “You never even met him.”
“I—I just thought that Paul, being as kind-hearted and giving as he was—”
“Yes he was, wasn’t he? So generous that he gave you his estate.”
“Jane,” Aaron admonished.
“It’s all right, Aaron,” Hope placated. “She’s had a very difficult day.”
Jane’s shrewd expression suddenly turned sorrowful just like that. “Oh, I’m just so beside myself with grief. My dear, dear brother Paul…dead,” she sobbed, hugging her arms to her chest and dabbing at her eyes.
Surely, this woman couldn’t be so shallow as to exercise such pettiness—especially at a time like this. Hope would love to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she’d deny her own intelligence in doing so. Instead, Hope reminded herself that she was irrevocably connected to this woman, and although she couldn’t help feeling incredulous at Jane’s flagrant show of melodramatics, she must be as gracious as humanly possible.
Aaron gave Jane’s arm a brief squeeze, bringing a peculiar stop to the lamenting. “Why don’t you decide where you think we should have the gathering? How does that sound?”
Jane sniffled. Dabbed at her eyes. Hiccupped. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
After several moments of silence, the woman sniffled once again as if for good measure. She stared up at Aaron, her shapeless loglike eyebrows bunched inward. “I know my brother better than anyone. Why don’t we all gather at Paul’s home?” she announced, as though the idea was brand new. “I’m sure he would have wanted it that way.”
Hope nearly bit clear through her tongue. She couldn’t imagine how a woman could be so petty—especially at a time like this. Determined to stay strong, she silently conceded that Paul’s sister would be no help at all. Hope was in this alone.
Chapter Five
Aaron watched from the front room as Hope made her way to the small spare bedroom to put her shawl away. His throat grew tight as she passed by Paul’s bedroom, pausing momentarily and peering inside, her slender hand curled around the etched metal doorknob. She quietly closed the door and entered the room across the hallway.
She’d been stalwart all day long, from the time he’d dragged himself from the hayloft early this morning to take care of the chores until now, when at least two dozen people she didn’t even know were set to arrive. And she’d been so patient with Jane.
It’d taken Aaron by surprise, the downright rude way Jane responded to Hope about the gathering on the ride here. Paul had mentioned that Jane could be testy, but Aaron had never seen that side of her.
Ever since his wife and baby’s death, Jane had been the picture of neighborly support. She’d shown up at least once a week at the wood shop, a basket laden with baked goods hanging from her arm. She’d even brought a noontime meal by on several occasions. Aaron had been grateful for the offerings, but he’d never seen them as anything more than kindly gestures.
Now he wasn’t so sure—especially with the way Jane had taken to clinging to him like mud to a pig.
Hope had held her own with Jane. Oddly enough, that had struck a chord of satisfaction and pride in his heart, but still he felt compelled to watch over the situation. He’d dropped Jane off at her house on the edge of Paul’s property, hoping that a little rest before the meal was served would remove the woman’s sharp edge. Although Hope had smoothed over Jane’s rudeness today with understanding—a surprising trait, given her fancy ways and attire—he hadn’t missed the way embarrassment had colored Hope’s fair cheeks when Jane had glared at her earlier today as she’d climbed aboard the buckboard in her bright blue dress.
As far as Aaron was concerned, it shouldn’t matter a lick what color a person wore to a funeral. And frankly he didn’t think God much cared, either. What mattered most in Aaron’s book was honoring life. Paul’s life had been honored today—that was certain. It was honored by his friends and neighbors who’d recalled his kindness and acts of mercy and also by this woman he’d been set to wed. She’d honored him in the quiet strength she’d shown in the face of a difficult set of circumstances, in the gracious way she’d answered questions from some of the townsfolk earlier and in the patient way she’d endured Jane’s near-tantrum this morning when Aaron and Ben had informed Jane of Paul’s deathbed