Lizzie saw the way Holt's mouth grew flat. Sensed a stiffening of his spine. Bad enough Emma demanded he hold her doll. Now to ask him to read her a story...
"Emma, don't bother him. I'll read to you as soon as I'm done with Pa."
Holt shuddered so slightly she would have missed it if she hadn't been looking carefully. "Not a bother." He reached for the book.
Emma took his hand and led him to the rocking chair that had once been Ma's. The girl waited for him to sit then indicated she had to perch on his knee.
Lizzie watched anxiously, torn between allowing her sister this pleasure and wanting to protect her from a man who would walk out of their lives as suddenly as he'd walked in. Someone they knew next to nothing about. But she remembered how she'd sat on Pa's knee as he read to her. How could she deny her little sister this simple happiness? So Lizzie only observed, prepared to intervene if needed.
Holt pulled Emma to his chest, allowed her to snuggle close, and read from the Bible storybook.
Lizzie's eyes stung as she blinked away tears. She would not cry even though the scene reminded her of all she'd lost. And Emma, too. She concentrated on helping Pa get settled for the night.
After a while, Holt stopped reading. Lizzie glanced over at them and saw that Emma had fallen asleep.
She kissed her father's forehead and went to her sister. "Emma, honey, time for bed." She bent over to pick Emma up, bringing her so close to Holt she could see the flecks of gold in his irises, feel the heat from his body, inhale the scent of wood and wide spaces from his skin. She tried to pull back but was caught in a net of longing and loneliness.
Emma stirred and Lizzie jumped away. "Come along." She escorted her sister to the ladder, made sure she climbed up safely and crawled under the covers. Miss Ellen rested on her cheek as Emma sighed and slept.
Slowly Lizzie turned, finding Holt watching her. Her breath stalled halfway up her throat at the intensity of his gaze. She couldn't move. Couldn't tear herself from that look.
He jerked to his feet. "I'll bid you good night." He grabbed his coat, slammed his hat on his head and reached for the doorknob. Then he paused. She felt the air stiffen between them. "Ma'am." He pivoted to face her. "I thank you for your hospitality."
"You'll be back for breakfast?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound half as desperate as she felt about his answer.
"I...can't say. I may go to the mine early. Good night," he said again and left without looking back.