A Headstrong Woman(102)



“Alexandria, what happened?” Jonathon asked her.

Alexandria took a deep breath and shuddered from head to toe. “We were arguing and then he was kissing me… all I could think of was Nick in the barn…” Alexandria closed her eyes. She felt like a fool for the way she had reacted.

“That jerk!” Jonathon stood and paced the room for a moment. “Come here, Alexandria,” he offered her his hand. Alexandria let him pull her to her feet and offered no resistance when he pulled her into his arms. “You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded against his shoulder.

Anna, her heart aching a little, slipped around them. She was trying to come to terms with the fact that Jonathon cared for her sister and not her, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.





Chapter Nineteen





Alexandria stood in the circle and safety of Jonathon’s arms for several minutes as she gathered her courage. She really was feeling foolish now that the threat was gone.

“I’m sorry; I overreacted,” she apologized as she stepped away from Jonathon.

He reluctantly let her go. “It’s understandable.”

Alexandria suddenly felt at loose ends and nervous with Jonathon; she clutched at the first thought that came to her mind.

“Oh! Here’s your present,” she rushed to pull the flat wrapped object from the drawer of a nearby table.

Jonathon pulled the brown paper from it; a smile split his face.

“Longfellow!”

“You said he was one of your favorite poets and I came across that in the Morris’s store and had to buy it,” she explained. “It’s got all his best poems and The Courtship of Miles Standish. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you, Alexandria,” he hugged her.

“Well it isn’t a horse and I don’t suppose it’s practical, but I thought you’d like it,” she joked.

Jonathon smiled and Alexandria noticed the smile lines at the corner of his eyes. A clap of thunder burst overhead and Alexandria startled and stepped closer to Jonathon.

“I think the bottom just fell out,” Jonathon commented and went to peer out the window. “Whatever you ladies are cooking smells great,” Jonathon said as he turned back to her.

“It’s almost finished; it’s your birthday meal.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he told her, but his smile said he was thankful.

“Oh it’s not much,” her eyes twinkling, “just chicken, biscuits, mashed potatoes, milk gravy, peas, green beans, okra, fresh brewed tea, and a chocolate cake.”

“Maybe I should thank Moody,” Jonathon’s voice was low and eyes dark. Alexandria swallowed hard. Good Lord! If the man was going to go bizarre on her every time she cooked his favorite foods maybe she shouldn’t, she speculated.

Had she asked Jonathon what caused the reaction, which she didn’t, he would have explained that it was the effort she had put into it and her bothering to know what his favorite foods were. It made him believe that maybe she could come to care for him. They joined the others in the kitchen and were soon seated at the table, a feast spread before them. After dinner, Alexandria sat Lilly down with pencil and paper to keep her entertained and started cleaning.

“I hope the men are dressed for this messy weather,” she fretted as more thunder rumbled overhead.

“Don’t worry, Alexandria. They’re more prepared than you are,” he teased her.

“Funny,” she shot at him, her look was annoyed.

He smiled.

“Want a poem?” he offered as he thumbed through the book. Alexandria nodded and Jonathon settled on one.

“The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the moldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.



My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the moldering past,

But hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the day is dark and dreary.



Be still sad heart and cease repining;

Behind the clouds the suns still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary,” Jonathon read with perfect inflection.

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