Love Comes Home (Cutter's Creek Book 24) by Kit Morgan

Author:Kit Morgan [Morgan, Kit]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Women's Fiction, Victorian, 19th Century, Forever Love, Bachelor, Single Woman, Love Possibility, Frontier & Pioneer, Western, Hearts Desire, American West, Clean & Wholesome, Christian Stories, Faith Based, Inspirational Reads, Love Inspired, Life-Changes, Second Chances, Honesty & Trust, Home & Family, Lifetime Love, Romantic Schemes, Cutter's Creek Series, Multi-Author's, Novella Length Story, Short Stories, Montana Territory, Beautiful & Feisty
Publisher: Angel Creek Press
Published: 2017-10-22T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Jonathan stepped into the hall. The door to Maisie’s room was open a crack, and he wondered if he should close it. After Mrs. Woodhouse’s display of disdain downstairs, he’d decided to return to his room, get some money from the stash he’d hidden in one of his socks and buy a few things. Now that he had a job, he didn’t have to worry so much about parting with some of it. He’d need a better pair of boots to work in the mill, and a good strong pair of gloves …

Then he heard a sob, a sniffle and a whimper. Maisie was crying. His body tensed in response. She sounded awful, rousing every protective instinct he had. Before he knew it he was pushing open her door, improper or not. Doggone it, he couldn’t help himself!

She turned at the sound of the door creaking.

Jonathan stopped himself at the threshold. “Maisie? Are you all right, honey?” Honey?! Good grief …

“No,” she said, shaking her head, then “yes, I’m fine.”

Jonathan took a risk. “No, you’re not. Don’t lie – it doesn’t befit you.”

She looked at him, her eyes red from crying … and laughed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Thank you for your concern.”

He noticed her mother wasn’t in the room – she’d have no doubt made herself known if she was. “May I come in?”

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, now’s not the time.”

He took an involuntary step forward, glanced at his booted feet and rolled his eyes.

Maisie laughed. “You can’t seem to help yourself.”

“My feet aren’t so good at listening.” He smiled gently. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded but said nothing.

“Don’t let your mama make you feel bad, Maisie. I understand she’s not herself.”

She laughed again. “Well put. She hasn’t been herself since Father died. I’m not sure at this point if she ever will.”

“Don’t say that.” He took another step into the room. Drat – he’d better get a hold of himself and fast. But she looked so sad, so utterly defeated, as if her whole world had just come crumbling down at her feet. He had to do something …

He took another step forward. That wasn’t the something he’d had in mind. Or had he?

She faced him, her lower lip trembling, and swallowed hard. “It’s just that sometimes I don’t know where to draw strength from. I only have so much of my own.”

He smiled in relief. “Is that it? Well, there’s help for that.”

She looked incredulous. “You make it sound so easy, Mr. Bridger. Have you not known suffering?”

He was a little taken aback, but his feet propelled him toward her anyway. “Trust me when I say I’ve known what it is to suffer and then some. And I know you can either go through it alone or have the good Lord hold your hand.”

Now she looked stricken. One eyebrow rose in question. “Then why doesn’t He?”

Jonathan’s face softened further. “But He does.” He glanced around the room. “You have a roof over your head, food on the table, friends to talk to.

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