So, no, I won't use my children to keep you here. The yard seemed suddenly too quiet. Hannah thought of the harvest supper. My children do. She had heard it as a boundary.
Maybe Grant had meant it as one, but not the boundary she thought. He had not been saying only his children wanted her. He had been refusing to say what he wanted while she stood humiliated in front of them. Hannah looked at his hands, huge hands, open at his sides, not reaching for her, not trapping. For the first time, his restraint did not feel like rejection.
It felt expensive. Marion remained at High Meadow for the next 4 days. She slept in the small sewing room downstairs and spent her mornings with Molly. Hannah expected the children to cling to their aunt. They loved Marion.
That was obvious. But they did not rearrange themselves around her. Henry still brought the ledger to Hannah after breakfast. Molly still followed Hannah into the pantry. At supper, Molly climbed into the chair beside Hannah before Marion had even sat down.
The second evening, Henry and Grant argued over the last biscuit. "You had three," Grant said. "I'm growing. You grow slower than you eat." Henry reached for it. Grant took it first.
Molly laughed. Hannah broke the biscuit in half and gave them each a piece. Marian watched the whole exchange. Later that night, Hannah found her alone in the kitchen washing a coffee mug. You don't need to do that.
Marian smiled faintly. I know. She dried the mug with a towel. Anne used to complain Grant never knew when he was happy. Hannah looked toward the doorway.
Marion continued. He'd work all day fixing something, come inside, sit with the children, drink coffee, and look like a man waiting for bad weather. That sounds familiar. Marian laughed softly. Then she folded the towel.
I came prepared to take them. I know I won't. Hannah looked at her. Marian rested both hands on the worktable. Not unless Grant asks me again.
He won't. Marian's eyes moved toward the ceiling where the children slept. No, she paused. I don't think he will. The next morning, Marian repacked the extra children's clothes.
Molly watched from the doorway. You going home? Yes. Without us? Marian knelt.
Without you. Molly considered that then threw her arms around her aunt. Henry carried Marian's to the wagon. Grant loaded it. Hannah stood on the porch.
Before climbing into the buggy, Marian turned to her. She did not say thank you. Did not ask Hannah to stay. She merely reached out and squeezed Hannah's hand. That restraint ran in the family.
Apparently, the wagon rolled down the road. Henry watched until it disappeared among the pines. Then he went to the pantry and returned with the household ledger. We're low on flour. Hannah looked at him.
How low? 42 lb. You sure? He opened the ledger, counted twice. Hannah smiled.