Page 99 of In These Hills

“It sure seems that way, doesn’t it.”

“Well, don’t you pay it much mind.” Miss Mary leaned closer. “We all know which bee is still in Miss Bethie’s bonnet, and as for Mrs. Gibbs . . .” She sighed. “Lord forgive me, but I think that woman could find fault in our Lord Jesus Christ himself. Truth be known, I doubt she likes me much either. But I pay her good, so she has to act like it!”

Miss Mary gently bumped shoulders with her and the gesture was so surprising, so unexpected, that Josephine didn’t know how to respond.

In recent days, Miss Mary’s mood had been undeniably lighter, and it occurred to Josephine that Mr. Bobo had left three days ago on out-of-town business. Then again, the few times she’d seen them together, the snippets of conversation she’d overheard from the couple had been anything but contentious. She’d even caught them laughing together more than once.

“Thank you, Miss Mary,” she finally whispered.

“For what exactly?”

Josephine looked around. “For all of this. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t said yes to me staying here that first night.”

Miss Mary’s expression grew thoughtful. “We all got our story, don’t we? Chapters we don’t want read aloud, and other parts we pray to God nobody ever reads at all. But the thing is . . . he reads them, every page, every word, and loves us anyway. Whatever it is you’re carrying, Josephine, remember that.” Her features sobered. “While also remembering you gave me your solemn word you wouldn’t bring trouble to my doorstep. I aim to hold you to that.”

Both goodwill and tempered steel shone in the woman’s gaze. “I know,” Josephine whispered again. “And I aim to keep that promise. No matter what.”

Miss Mary nodded as if the deal were done, then pressed a hand to her midsection, a shadow flitting across her face. “That bit of okra I sneaked earlier isn’t setting too well.” She exhaled. “But I best get out there and tend to our guests. Make sure Mr. Motlow and Mr. Parks aren’t about to come to blows.”

Josephine dished a spoonful of candied apples, fried okra, and pinto beans from the pots and pans on the stove onto her plate, but passed over the roasted pork, carrots, and potatoes. She pulled a warm yeast roll from the pan, the butter Calla had slathered on the top slicking her fingertips.

“If you call that supper, I might need to teach you a thing or two about eating here at Miss Mary’s.”

She briefly clenched her eyes before turning to face the inevitable. Dodge’s smile held humor, kindness, and a trace of something else. Apology, perhaps?

“I’m just not that hungry tonight, I guess. I think I’ll take my plate back to Calla’s room.”

“We’re going to have to see each other, Josephine,” he said softly. “Might as well stop avoiding the unavoidable. Namely . . . me.”

“I’m not avoiding you, I—”

A sense of knowing moved into his gaze. “The backroom? This morning?”

Her mouth slipped open. “You saw me?”

“Through the window. You’re going to have to move faster than that next time. Either that or keep the curtains in the office closed.”

She briefly bowed her head, then decided if he could face it directly then so could she. “If I keep the curtains closed then I won’t be able to see you coming.”

He laughed. “Well played.”

“Dodge . . .” She paused, her gaze fixed on the stove. “I don’t know what possessed me to—”

“I take full responsibility, Josephine.” The words, so softly spoken, held such certainty, such conviction and, for some unexplained reason, swept her back to that moment yesterday. While he was right in one sense—she would never have acted on what she’d been imagining—she also knew he didn’t bear sole responsibility.

“It wasn’t your fault alone,” she whispered, still not looking at him, unable to. Already suspecting he didn’t believe she was married, she guessed her actions yesterday pretty much confirmed it in his mind. Still, she determined to keep up the pretense.

Seconds ticked past, and he finally reached for a plate. “So . . . let an expert show you what eating at Miss Mary’s really looks like.” He started piling food onto his plate, and she couldn’t help but smile.

He motioned to the table where Calla and Bethie sat eating. “After you.”

She shook her head. “I think it might be best for me to eat elsewhere. Bethie’s still upset at me, and I can’t say that I blame her.”

“Nonsense. She’ll be fine.”

“Dodge, I—”

“Kathleen always taught her to face things head-on, and she made me promise to teach her the same. So—” He nodded toward the table. “Please, after you.”