Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(38)

“I hope you like Norwegian food, because that’s what I’ve prepared for you.”

Wanting to ease the worried tone from her voice, he said, “I’m not familiar with Norwegian food, but I can tell by looking at you that it is good.”

She stopped to stare at him, her gaze guarded. “What does that mean?”

He hadn’t thought before he spoke and now couldn’t think how to explain what he meant. He could hardly say Norwegian food made for a beautiful woman. “Well, you’re strong and stubborn.”

At the way her eyes narrowed he corrected himself.

“I mean determined. It’s a good thing.”

She nodded, still not satisfied.

What did he have to lose if he said what he was thinking? “Yup, you’re strong, determined, and beautiful.”

Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. She clicked it shut, swallowed hard. “Me? Beautiful?” The words squeaked from her throat.

“Don’t you own a looking glass?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you already know it.” He shrugged and continued toward the house.

It took three seconds for her to follow. “My looking glass doesn’t talk.”

That struck him so funny he tipped his head back and roared with laughter.

The boys caught his hands on either side, and even though they didn’t understand what amused him so, they laughed.

Freyda slipped by them, a pleased smile on her lips and opened the door. “Welcome to my home.”

He stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the little thing on the door with hanging bells and strings that played musical notes as the balls moved.

She noticed his interest. “My door harp to welcome you.”

“Nice.” He glanced around. He’d been in the house many times when Baruk lived there. But it looked different. It might have been the scallops of lace on the front of the shelves, or the bright red flowers decorating the chest by the door.

He sniffed. “Smells good.”

“I hope you enjoy it. Please sit.”

The four of them sat around the square table with lots of room on either side. As if expecting a growing family. He pushed aside the silly thought.

She indicated he should ask the blessing.

“Don’t I get to see what I’m grateful for first?” He sounded slightly worried.

“Nope.” She smiled like she had a secret.

“Okay.” He bowed his head and thanked God for sunshine, for rain, and for food. “Amen.”

Then she brought serving dishes to the table. Mounds of mashed potatoes, little discs of carrots, and large meatballs. “It looks about the same as what we’ve been eating.”

She chuckled. “Norwegians are good at making meals from what is handy. These—” She pointed to the meatballs. “Are known as meat cakes.”

He tasted everything and gave an expansive sigh. “I like Norwegian cooking.” A beat. “And Norwegian neighbors.” He meant it as a compliment and would have said even more, but he had to honor their agreement even when he ached for things he couldn’t name. But her eyes darkened and narrowed as if she found his words not to her liking. He couldn’t imagine why.

They didn’t linger over the meal. Both of them understood there was an urgency to get the crop planted as quickly as possible.

Freyda and the boys followed him back to the barn, but she stood aside and let him deal with the horses. His heart lurched to the side. Did it mean she no longer wanted to be independent? “You’ve given up on handling them?”

“I’ve decided I’ll give them a day or two to settle down. I got to thinking that by struggling with them and constantly losing that I am teaching them bad habits. Instead, I am going to let you get them used to working. I’m going to teach them to see me as a friend.” She pulled two carrots from her pocket and offered them to the horses, who took them eagerly. While they munched the treat, she patted their necks. “Good boys,” she murmured. Her voice remained gentle as she added, “Sooner or later we will settle who is boss, but for now, enjoy a treat.”

She stepped aside so he could drive them back to the field.

Laughing, he spoke to the horses. “You might as well get used to the idea. Freyda isn’t one to change her mind.” He glanced back at her with a grin. He meant to be amusing, but knowing how unlikely it was that she would change her mind about being independent turned his insides sour.



Freyda spent much of the afternoon playing with the boys and her kitten before she turned her attention to supper preparations. Ward hadn’t said, but she assumed he would continue to work until almost dark. It was already June. The crop needed to be in the ground.

As she set the boys at tasks to help prepare the meal, she hummed. It was nice sharing her home with them. The future looked bleak and lonely. No. she would not allow those sort of thoughts.

She gave the boys a hearty snack, deciding she would feed them supper along with their father.

As meal time approached, she grew breathless as if her heart had taken up too much room in her chest. She told herself it was not so. It was only hunger. Only anxiety. Only…only…

She could not finish, for the word that begged to be said sucked her heart back to half its normal size. Still she could not fill her lungs.