Elias wanted to stand up and toast him, so he did. Everyone rose with him. They talked about Charlie’s father and Elias told him that if he were the lad’s father, he would be bursting with pride in him. “As Richard no doubt was.”
Richard agreed.
“Well, ‘tis getting late.” Lily started to rise but the touch of Elias’ fingertips stopped her.
“But we have not heard anythin’ aboot ye yet.”
“I can help there,” Richard offered, raising his cup to himself and swigging the contents down his throat. “A week after we married, she tried to roast my supper on a spit over a fire in my kitchen and burned down my house.”
Simon and Charlie both held their hands over their mouths. Elias smiled at her. He understood it was the only way she knew how to cookoutdoors.
She didn’t seem to mind the mild teasing but laughed along and swiped at Richard’s arm when he said, “The next day, when we were homeless, she cooked my dinner over a makeshift spit and it was delicious.”
They admired the lavender and orange sunset and Elias found her looking at him more than once. “I do not usually get a chance to see this anymore.”
“Then,” he said, feeling ridiculously pleased with himself for making her so happy. “I am glad ye are seein’ it now.”
When Richard rose, the rest of them followed. “Simon, help Charlie clean up and bring the chairs inside. Elias, you will return my wife’s table. Lily, go fetch Cecily.”
He left the table with a wobble in his step and walked back to the house. Simon and Charlie left after him, but not before Lily gave them both a kiss on the cheek and thanked them for helping to make this night special in her mind forever.
She turned to Elias. Would it be even more obvious if she didn’t kiss his cheek? “I will see you inside when I return.”
“Wait fer me,” he pleaded and turned to hoist the table onto his back. He returned it to the kitchen, crossing paths with his friends going back for the stools.
Elias placed the table down and begged Simon to change the covering for him. “I dinna want her oot there alone,” he told Simon and then ran from the kitchen.
She hadn’t waited. He felt a surge of disappointment over it and then took off after her.
He spotted her walking quickly toward the village and Agnes’ house. He called her name into the indigo night. She turned and waited with a smile until he caught up. “Ye are fast,” he remarked.
“I wanted to hurry and get home.”
“Are ye still afraid?”
“A little. But not of being out here, and not of you, Elias. ‘Tis hard to explain. I just do not feel safe anymore.”
He moved a bit closer and offered her a confident grin. “Do not be afraid, Lily. I will stop at nothin’ to keep ye safe.”
He didn’t want to talk about dying. “Were ye verra pleased with supper, lass?”
She spun around to face him. “Oh, Elias! I loved it! I want to eat there every day and enjoy the beauty of my garden.”
He listened and thought of a thousand ways to build her a small table with a chair to match, for her and her alone. Someplace where she could sit in her garden and get away from everything.
They picked up Cecily and took her home, playing a game while they went.
None of them noticed the shed door swinging open in the gentle breeze.
Chapter Thirteen
Lily woke the next morning, thinking about the night before. She never wanted to forget it. If life was normal and children hadn’t lost their mother, she would have thought supper was one of the most pleasant times of her life that she could remember. All thanks to Elias. He knew she would enjoy sitting in the midst of her flowers and herbs. He’d carried out her kitchen table! He’d helped her forget, even for a little while, that they were saying farewell to Joan today.
She looked over at Cecily sleeping and said a prayer for them all, and for Joan’s dear soul.
Before long, her thoughts switched back to Elias. What he did last eve was one of the most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for her. Not to mention, he’d cooked a very elegant supper and provided her and Richard with the most wonderful company in him, Simon, and Charlie. She remembered how his lips pursed when he said the name of the French sauce, Poivre Jaunet. She would like to learn more French words from him.
She hated herself for feeling the way she did about Elias when she was a married woman. She loved Richard. But…had he told her the truth? Were they not truly bound until their marriage was consummated? Wasn’t there more to love than helping and cooking and cleaning?