Rocky Mountain Proposal. Pamela Nissen

be, seeing as how this man considered it his job to make decisions for her, declining his hand was a very wise decision—just like breaking off her engagement with Jonas had been.

      “Aaron,” Ben called, motioning him to the other side of the grassy knoll, “Jane’s going to need your help here.”

      Hope followed in Aaron’s wake, lifting the skirts of her cobalt-blue dress as she picked her way around the tender spring flowers that had poked through the soil. She hadn’t dreamed she’d need traditional mourning attire upon her arrival, and her lack of it only seemed to irritate Jane further. Paul’s sister had scanned her up and down not once but several times today, as though to make some silent barbed statement.

      “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.