Unforsaken by Lisa Higdon Read Free Book Online Page B

white sheets. Olivia presented him with a doll and whispered, “Miss Nellie."
    He nodded and laid the doll beside his daughter and smiled as she embraced it. “Good night, sweetheart.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Sweet dreams."
    Tears budded in her eyes once again, but she whispered, “G'night, Daddy."
    He hated leaving her. She was too young to understand why she couldn't stay in her own home, why someone else had to care for her while he struggled to hold on to the land. It had been hard enough making her understand that her mother wasn't coming back, that death was forever.
    He brushed a single tear from her face. “You be a good girl for Miss Olivia."
    She nodded, and he forced himself to his feet and turned to find that Olivia was waiting outside in the hall. “Just leave the door open,” she said as he stepped out of the room. “I'll stay up here with her. So she won't be afraid."
    He studied her in the soft light spilling out of the bedroom, deciding she looked older but hadn't aged. There was a staid elegance about her, and he fought the urge to trace the gentle curve of her face with his fingers, just to see if it felt as soft as it looked. “I'll never be able to thank you enough for doing this."
    Her only response was a slight nod of her head. “Good night, then."
    Knowing he had been dismissed, he nodded. “Good night."
* * * *
    Olivia closed the door behind her and sank against the smooth polished surface. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't. There was no way she could endure seeing Matthew Bowen at her dining-room table every night when the slightest touch of his hand nearly overwhelmed her.
    Already she felt bereft of his presence, the room oddly empty, and she caught the masculine scent of shaving soap and leather that lingered behind to taunt her. She folded her arms, as if to shield herself from the very thought of him, and crossed the room to turn the covers down on her bed.
    She hesitated before turning to retrieve her nightgown from the armoire and peered over the side of the bed. The little girl had drifted off to sleep, clutching the doll to her chest, and Olivia studied her for a long time.
    She was a pretty child, and the resemblance to her father was evident. Still, Olivia couldn't ignore the features she'd obviously inherited from her mother. She'd only once actually spoken to Matthew's wife, and she cringed now at the memory. She'd been hurrying down the street, on her way to the mill, when she'd encountered a group of women gathered in front of the dry goods store. Matthew's wife had stood in the center, holding her new baby, while everyone ooh'd and aah'd over the child.
    They'd all seen Olivia, and there was no way to turn and run. Instead, she nodded politely and tried to walk past them without stopping. But someone couldn't resist calling out to her, “Olivia, don't you want to see the baby?"
    She could have kept walking but the sweetly spoken dare had galled her to the core. She turned and glanced at the child and the mother.
    "She's just an angel,” the new mother said. “And looks just like Matthew."
    "Well, I'm sure you're both relieved by that."
    With that she turned and continued on her way, ignoring the collective gasps of shock and indignation. Let them say anything they liked about her except that she was a coward.
    Tonight she had felt so awkward, standing there while Matthew coaxed the child into staying behind, and shaken to realize how deeply he cared for her. Olivia tried to remember her father displaying such open affection toward her or her brother, even once. Dinners had been cold, tense affairs, and she never dared speak up during the meal, much less chatter on about her day.
    Shaking herself from such self-pitying thoughts, she turned toward the bureau and removed her nightgown and began undressing. The gown had barely settled around her feet before Aunt Eula tapped on the door and poked her head inside.
    "I see she's fast asleep."
    "Yes,”