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He laughed again, just as she’d hoped he would. “I am happy to oblige. When next you see me, you’ll hardly recognize me, I’ll be so clean.”

“I look forward to not recognizing you.”

Gregory finished his bowl of soup, sighing contentedly. “I don’t think I worked hard enough to deserve such a good meal, Miss Helene, but I assure you, I’ll work that much harder tomorrow.”

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you simply because you told me a sad tale of not having even a change of clothes. I mean to work you hard this summer. You’ll be so tired of laboring in the fields that you’ll be begging for another line of work.”

“I look forward to begging,” he said, echoing her earlier quip.

She watched him walk back to the barn. Something about him had awakened in her a sense of longing, as though she’d known him before and had lost him, only to have him return to her again. He intended to spend the evening cleaning himself up. She intended to spend as much of the night as possible straightening out her own jumbled feelings.

Chapter Three

You should have told her who you really are.

He’d had few opportunities. She’d sat beside him as he’d eaten supper. She’d spoken with him for a time before that. But both times, his tongue had been tied. He was continually struck by how very pretty she was, which was a bit intimidating on its own. But to know who she was, to have been granted a glimpse of her character through two years’ worth of letters, made the situation overwhelming.

Gregory had washed himself in the creek, even taking time to shave. He hadn’t cleaned his appearance in a few weeks, so his beard had been scraggly and thick. He could use a haircut but knew his limitations too well to attempt to give himself one.

The clothes Helene had given him were a bit large, as she’d predicted. They were also a far sight cleaner than what he’d been wearing since the war ended. He transferred the suspenders from his uniform trousers to the pair he had on now, grateful he wouldn’t find himself with his pants puddled about his ankles at an inopportune moment.

He carried his shaving kit, towel, soap, blanket, and folded uniform back to the dim barn. He’d slept in his share of barns over the past eight weeks, most of which had smelled far worse than this one. Helene must have worked herself to the bone day in and day out to keep up with the running of an entire farm with only her mother to help. She’d managed to keep up with the mucking and caring for the animals.

“You’re Mr. Gregory?” a voice asked, one that sounded like a child.

Gregory scanned the barn but didn’t spot the source. “I am,” he answered. “And who might you be?”

A blond head popped up over the side of the horse stall. By the look of the boy, he was somewhere near twelve or thirteen. “I’m Liam Milner.”

“Do you live near here?” If Helene had a child living out of her barn but wasn’t aware of it, he intended to let her know.

“I live in the house,” Liam said. “With Mrs. Bowen and Miss Helene and my sister.”

“Are you kin to them?”

“My sister and I only have each other for kin, but the ladies took us in when our folks died.”

Gregory didn’t think Helene had written anything about that to Josiah. “How long ago was that?”

“I ain’t gotta answer all your questions,” the boy insisted. “How long are you staying around to work?”

“If you don’t have to answer my questions, why do I have to answer yours?” Gregory set his armful on a nearby stool.

“Because I’m the man of the house around here.” Liam stepped out of the stall. “I won’t have you sniffin’ about the place if you’re a no-good, low-down snake.”

The boy had gumption; he’d give him that. “In exchange for your honesty, I’ll give you a straight answer. I don’t know how long I’ll be here helping around the place, but I’ll work for as long as Miss Helene needs me to.”

Liam strutted right up to Gregory, eying him with unflinching confidence. Gregory liked the boy all the better for it. An orphan with a sister to look after needed to be tough and sure of himself.

“Have you got ideas where Miss Helene is concerned?” Liam asked. “’Cause she’s not the kind of woman who goes about kissing every hired hand who comes around.”

“That is a good thing,” Gregory answered, “because I am not the kind of hired hand who goes about kissing every woman he works for.”

Liam was unimpressed with the witty turn of phrase. “I’ve half a mind to believe you, mister. But don’t think that means I like you being here.”

“I was thinking when I came into the barn just now that whoever looks after it does a fine job,” Gregory said. “Is that you?”

Liam’s chest puffed out with pride. “Miss Helene says she doesn’t know what she’d do without me.”