She’d gladly—willingly—be his friend. But she couldn’t even offer that. She’d made a promise to her mother and was obligated to keep it. She checked the syrup again. “See how the little ball stays in shape?” She tipped the cup of water toward Colt for him to study. “When I take it out and press it, it holds its shape.” She held out her hand. “See for yourself.”
Colt extended a finger, and she slipped the candy onto it.
Flesh on flesh sent a jolt through her. She wanted to prolong the touch, examine her reaction, analyze the accompanying emotions—excitement, aliveness—but Colt, oblivious to her reaction, pulled away and felt the candy.
“That’s amazing.”
Yes, it was, though she understood he meant how the texture had changed. But what amazed and pleased her was the way he’d forgotten to be nervous and distant around her.
Little Joe leaned forward, his mouth open, his tongue out, begging to taste the sample.
“Can he eat it?” Colt asked.
“Certainly,” Becca answered.
Colt let the boy lick up the candy, and Little Joe smacked his lips. “Good.” He angled toward the kettle. “More.”
“It’s not ready yet. But it’s almost time for the fun part.” She poured the mixture into the prepared pan. “We all have to wash our hands while it cools.”
They washed and then waited, rather impatiently, for the candy to cool.
Pa came in and sat at the table, anticipating the time for pulling.
Becca turned the candy from the edges several times so it would cool equally. She tested it. How hot could the children handle? “It’s still a little warm. Pa, what do you think?”
“I’ll partner with Marie and show her what to do. You can show Colt and Little Joe how to pull it.”
That wasn’t exactly her question, but she readily agreed. Pa took half and showed Marie how to stretch and double it. Becca did the same with Colt as he held Little Joe in his lap. They held the candy mixture gingerly. She folded her end toward his, and their hands brushed. She was again so aware of him that her insides felt liquid. “We are working in air to make it light. Sometimes, if there’s any left overnight, it turns all creamy. Yum.” Think of candy. Think of how everyone will enjoy this. Think of anything but this silly reaction to a simple task.
Somehow she managed to explain every step until the candy was too stiff to work further, and they put it on the pan and cut it. “We could wait for it to cool and harden more. Or—” She let her voice trail off and laughed as three faces looked at her with wide-eyed begging. It felt so good to see all of them relaxed and enjoying themselves. Step one in making this the best Christmas ever for them.
“Or we could have some right now.” She grabbed the big knife and sliced off a piece. She handed a small piece to Little Joe. He plopped it into his mouth and his eyes grew big.
“Good.” Drool dribbled from his lips.
She grabbed a wet cloth and patted it away. “Anyone else want some?”
Marie nodded and received a piece.
“I do believe I’ll have some,” Pa said.
She cut a piece for him, then faced Colt. His eyes brimmed with eagerness, but his mouth remained flat. As clearly as if the words were written on his forehead, she understood he wanted to enjoy himself but feared to venture too close, perhaps cross a line that had always brought repercussions.
“It’s very tasty,” she teased, cutting off a piece and waving it before him.
“I wouldn’t know. Never had the stuff before, but I’m game to try it.” He’d asked for it without really asking.
Laughing, she let him take it from her fingers. She waited as he sucked the treat. Her heart felt light with success when his eyes widened with pleasure and he made appreciative noises.
They ate several more pieces until she suggested they should save some for the next day. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get a tummy ache.” She washed the children’s hands and faces.
“Pa, didn’t you put a box of my old trinkets in the back closet? Maybe Marie and Little Joe would like to play with the things we saved.”
“I suspect they would. I’ll fetch it.” He went to the closet past the two bedrooms and returned with an old satchel. He brought it to the table, where he opened it and began to pull out items.
Becca grabbed a little rag doll. “Ma made me this for Christmas one year. It was the first year we were in Fort Benton.” Her heart full of sweet memories, she smiled at Pa. “Just before she met you. Before you married her and became my new Pa.” She handed the doll to Marie. “Would you like to play with it?”
Marie took it gently. “I’ll be very careful.”
Becca let her gaze find Colt. But instead of the pleasure she expected, she saw a harsh expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“What if she damages it?”
“I don’t expect she will, but if she does it’s only a toy.”
“A special toy,” Pa said.
Becca shot him a questioning look.
“I think Colt is asking, will the child be punished if something happens?”
Becca’s insides twisted. “Do you think I would be angry with her?”
Colt’s eyes narrowed, and she sensed a heap of pain.
Her annoyance died as quickly as it came. “It’s what you’ve experienced, isn’t it?”
“Anger can make people very cruel.”
He didn’t need to explain further. She didn’t want him to. Her imagination filled in the details and they weren’t pleasant, but she knew Colt had experienced the cruelty of anger. Knowing the forms that could take brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She blinked them away, but not before Colt noticed.
The hardness in his face fled. “A person learns to be tough.”
“Sometimes a person can learn to be too tough.”
Pa paid them scant attention as he explored the contents of the bag and pulled out a wooden horse with moveable legs. “Do you remember this?”
“Uncle Martin sent it to me from Toronto one Christmas. I played with it for hours at a time. Look, Little Joe.” She showed him how she could make the horse walk across the table, then handed him the toy.
He scrambled from Colt’s lap, and the two children sat on the floor nearby playing.
Pa took the satchel back to the bedroom and set it on his bed. He stayed there, his back to them as he looked through the contents.
The bedrooms opened off the kitchen so Becca was able to watch him. She wondered why he chose to look at her toys in his room. Then she saw his shoulders rise and fall in a huge sigh, and a tiny suspicion grew in her thoughts. She knew he missed Ma. But perhaps he was also remembering the first time he saw her. Recalling all the fun they’d had together. Maybe even regretting their promise for her to leave. She didn’t want him to be sad when she left, though they’d both find the separation difficult.
If only they hadn’t promised Ma. If only Becca hadn’t insisted they return home.
Was she in any way responsible for Ma’s death because she’d begged to come back? She’d never asked, never considered it a possibility. And now it was too late. Responsible or not, she had given a