Matthew, the 9-year-old, stood with his arms crossed, and his jaw set in a way that reminded her painfully of her own brother when he was angry. Levi, true to his father's description, watched her with enormous eyes, but said nothing. The twin stood together, Nathaniel curious and Meera partially hiding behind her brother. "Hello," Eliza said, unsure whether to smile or maintain a serious expression. "I'm pleased to meet you all. " Silence.
The children stared at her like she was a puzzle they didn't particularly want to solve. "Is she going to be our new ma? " Meera asked, her voice small. "No," Bo said firmly. "Your ma is your ma. Always will be.
Miss Eliza is here to help. That's all. We don't need help, James repeated, but there was less conviction in his voice now. He looked tired, Eliza realized bone deep tired in the way that came from carrying too much weight for too long. "Well, you've got it anyway," Bo said.
"Now, James, take Miss Morland's bag and show her to the spare room. The rest of you, bed. It's late. " "But P, bed now. " The children dispersed, though not without plenty of foot dragging and mutinous looks. James snatched Eliza's carpet bag with barely contained hostility, and disappeared into the house. The others followed, casting looks back over their shoulders.
Bo waited until they were inside, then turned to Eliza. In the lantern light, his face looked haggarded, older than it had in the harsh sun of Ash Ridge. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "They're not usually this rude. They're just protecting themselves, Eliza finished.
I understand. I'm a stranger coming into their home, into their mother's space. Of course, they're suspicious. Bo looked at her for a long moment, something like surprise flickering in his winter sky eyes. "You do understand.
I know what it's like to feel like the world is against you," Eliza said simply. "I know what it's like to build walls just to survive. Those children have walls I can't even see yet. But Mr. Thatcher, I meant what I said.
I'll show up. I'll be here. Whether they accept me or not. For the first time since she'd met him, Bo Thatcher smiled. It was a small smile, barely there, but it transformed his face from stern to almost gentle.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get you settled. " The interior of the house spoke of recent chaos and long-term neglect. Dishes were piled in the kitchen basin. Clothes hung haphazardly over chairbacks. The floor needed sweeping, and dust coated every surface that wasn't in daily use.