The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [77]
John hated his fickle thoughts. He either believed Bert wasn’t involved with the thieves, or he didn’t. He either loved her or he didn’t. He either trusted God or he didn’t. No wonder he was a grump.
God and John needed a long talk where he would do the listening and not the complaining.
Bert finished shoveling the ashes from the fireplace, a dirty job, but she was glad to be useful. The boys had been busy all day dragging dead trees back for firewood. She stood and surveyed the clean cookstove and now the fireplace. This was a sight easier than mucking stalls.
A lively tune came to her, and she hummed it before the words sprang to her lips.
Feels like I’m breathin’air so pure and real,
Feels like I’m livin’ and startin’ to feel.
For the first time in my life, my heart has a song.
The wind whispers Your name,
I’ll never be the same.
She finished sweeping the remaining ashes into a small shovel and poured them into a bucket.
For the first time in my life, my heart has a song
For the wind whispers Your name,
I’ll never be the same.
A shadow in the doorway caused her to spin around. Evan stood motionless. Not a smile. Not a frown.
“Is something wrong?” she said, while a dozen fears rushed through her.
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I was listening to your song. So sweet and pretty.”
“Thank you. But I don’t understand.”
Evan walked to her side, and she hoped he didn’t plan to try to touch or even kiss her. She’d allowed John in, but anyone else was forbidden. Evan’s eyes were liquid, and she saw pain. “I’d like to think your song was for me, but I’d be a fool.”
“Oh, Evan.” Her heart fluttered for the agony clouding his eyes.
“Hush.” He held up his hand. “Let me say this before I change my mind. John loves you, and I can tell you have feelings for him too. He’s a special man, and I think it’s time he started thinking about himself instead of the rest of us. I won’t be causing any more problems.”
Bert held her breath. How was she to react—to show Evan she valued his gift to his brother? Compassion rushed through her. She reached out with her hand, and Evan grasped it.
“What is this?” John stood in the open doorway, his hands on his hips and his face blood-red.
Bert’s gaze flew to his face. She stepped back. He’d never believe what had happened between her and Evan.
“I just made a confession to Bert.” Evan shoved his hands in his pockets.
No, Evan. He won’t understand.
“I can only guess.” John growled his words. “Look, I have work to do. Couldn’t find you and thought you might be here.”
“It’s not what you think.” Evan took two steps toward his brother. “I came looking for Mama, not Bert.”
“So where’s Mama?”
“She’s in the garden.” Bert’s voice sounded weak to her ears, as though she should be ashamed of talking to Evan.
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I never gave her a chance.”
Bert inwardly cringed. Now she looked like she’d encouraged Evan—what she’d promised John she’d never do.
“How good of you to take the blame.”
Fury rose inside her. Evan meant well. The words were coming out wrong, but he’d sacrificed his heart for John, and now John was accusing him—them — of something not true. Bert snatched up the bucket of ashes. “I’m not listening to this. John Timmons, you have no idea what happened here. Neither do I have the desire to explain it. You wouldn’t believe me anyway, not that I’ve given you much of a reason. But I won’t stand and listen to two men I care about fuss like two little boys.”
Bert stomped down the steps and hurried toward the barn where she’d dump the ashes behind it. John knew how she felt about him. Why would she behave differently?
CHAPTER 35
Two days crept by and John still couldn’t approach Bert to apologize. She avoided him like he had cholera. And as he went about the ranch pondering over his stupidity, how he’d met her,