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Her eyes met Mother’s. A soft smile touched Mother’s lips as her gaze returned to Gregory and Bianca. Helene sighed and watched him as well. What joy he’d brought to their lives.

“Play ‘Lorena,’” Bianca said to Liam when the dance had ended. “Play it, and I’ll sing.”

Helene had never heard Bianca sing; it seemed they were in for a night of firsts.

As Liam strummed the chords to the slower, lilting tune, Gregory turned to where Helene sat and offered the same wordless invitation he’d extended to Bianca. Her heart flipped about. She slipped her fingers in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

Bianca sang with feeling, “‘Oh, the years creep slowly by, Lorena. The snow is on the ground again. . .’”

Gregory pulled Helene into his arms and led her into a slow and meandering dance. He hummed the tune as they wove around the room. The song was one Josiah had mentioned in his letters. Its lyrics of loss and longing spoke deeply of the lonely soldiers thinking of their loved ones far away.

Who had Gregory longed for?

She looked up into his eyes, bracing herself to see mourning and sadness there. But his gaze was firmly on her, with nothing but contentment and enjoyment in his eyes.

“We sang this song every night of the war,” he whispered, pulling her ever closer. “I like it far better when dancing with you than I ever did sitting about a fire with a bunch of scraggly soldiers.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. How she hoped he was as upright and honest as he seemed. She was quickly growing quite fond of his company. Her heart would break if he proved a disappointment.

Chapter Six

The promise of an evening with the family, and most especially with Helene, gave Gregory a healthy dose of motivation for his day’s work. The hours flew by. He hardly noted his own exhaustion, filled as he was with the anticipation of seeing her again. He no longer felt like a stranger interrupting the family’s life but almost as though he was part of it. He could only hope that, given time, such would truly be the case.

The heat of July hadn’t dampened his enjoyment of Nebraska. Three weeks had flown swiftly by since his arrival. Three weeks exactly. He’d excused himself from that night’s gathering in the parlor, having his laundry to see to, but his thoughts were in the house.

He couldn’t know for certain what Helene’s feelings for him were. The air sparked and jumped when they were near each other. She danced with him anytime Liam played music for the family. She let him put an arm around her shoulders when they sat on the sofa. Those all seemed like good signs to him. Yet she didn’t seek out his company nor send him longing, lingering glances. She’d certainly never said anything that would convince anyone that she had feelings for him.

He scrubbed his trousers more vigorously against the washboard. A man ought to respect a woman’s feelings for him, or lack of feelings for him. He meant to do just that. But the uncertainty was eating at him. He had half a mind to simply ask what she thought of him, but he wasn’t certain he was ready to hear a negative answer, so he opted not to chance it.

You’re a coward, Gregory. You know that.

He bent over the washbasin in only his tattered uniform trousers; he was washing all the rest of his clothing. The necessary state of undress had led him to choose a more isolated spot along the river for his work. The loneliness of it was helpful on two fronts. First, he needn’t worry about being embarrassed at his appearance, and second, he wouldn’t be interrupted while sorting through his confused thoughts.

It’ll be awkward, but you need to talk to her, find out where she stands. And somewhere in all of that, you really do need to tell her your history with her family.

He wrung out the excess water in his work trousers. Laundry was far from his favorite chore, but he had more than adequate motivation to keep at it. Helene wasn’t likely to think of him as anything other than the hired hand if he walked about with half of the dirt in the fields caked all over his clothes.

He snapped the trousers open once more, then hung them over the rope he’d strung between two trees along the riverbank. He turned back to begin washing his socks, but stopped at the sound of footsteps. An instant later, Helene rounded the corner.

Her eyes pulled wide. His did the same.

Good heavens, I’m only in my trousers.

“Miss Helene, I’m sorry I—”

She turned away enough to no longer be looking directly at him, but her profile was fully visible, as was the blush stealing up her cheeks.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be coming this direction,” he explained. “You said you meant to spend the evening sewing with your mother and Bianca.”

“I had intended to,” she said, still looking at the river. “But those two are like peas in a pod, and it became quickly apparent that my presence wasn’t needed. I’m sorry to have caught you unawares and for any embarrassment it has caused.”

She was worried about his embarrassment? He could see that he’d caused her a great deal more embarrassment than he felt. “Both of my shirts are drying on the line. I’m afraid I haven’t the means of making myself more presentable just yet.”

She smiled a little. “We seem to be enacting our very own comedy of errors.” She glanced at him for a brief moment. “I wish you had told me you needed your clothes laundered. I would gladly have added them to the family’s washing.”

He shook his head at that. “I’m not here to make more work for you.”

Her eyes were on him again. “What is it you are here for?”