the tea cakes, along with several mugs and the pot of coffee she’d brewed. They sat, and Mrs. Brooks asked Mrs. Warren to say grace. Livy noticed the ladies took the smallest cookies on the platter, only one each, and nibbled daintily at them.
After pouring coffee for everyone, she placed a hand on Mrs. Brooks’s shoulder. “I need to go check on the children. They’ve been awfully quiet the last hour or so.”
“Oh, Livy, I’ll do that and you visit with our guests.” Mrs. Brooks folded her napkin and threw a glance at Jake. “I’m sure Jake would much prefer your company to mine.”
Livy resisted the urge to look at him. “That’s all right, ma’am. I’ll get the younger ones down for naps, and the older ones can color with some of that charcoal and old paper we salvaged from the newspaper.”
“All right. Thank you, dear.”
* * *
With effort, Jake forced his attention away from Livy’s retreating form and found Mrs. Warren eyeing him with speculation.
“That girl is going to make some lucky man a good wife one day,” she said, smirking.
Heat climbed the back of his neck. Mrs. Warren might be a godly woman, but she could spill a bucket of coal faster than anybody he’d ever seen. Mrs. Brooks needed Livy here. She didn’t have any business gallivanting off somewhere and marrying some sodbuster or coal miner.
“She’s been a godsend, I tell you. I don’t know what I would have done without her.” Mrs. Brooks sighed. “My husband died several years ago, and my health isn’t what it used to be. But there are always little ones who need care. I reckon as long as I have breath in my body and older girls like Livy and Mary to come alongside me and help, I’ll keep taking in strays.”
“What a blessing,” Jake’s mother said.
Jake agreed. Even in the midst of taking care of a houseful of children, Livy took the time to think of Mrs. Brooks, make a pot of coffee, and offer their guests tea cakes. Something simmered on the stove for the evening meal, the aroma making his mouth water. Probably Livy’s handiwork as well. She reminded him of that woman in the Bible, the one who always worked in the kitchen to feed Jesus and the rest of the disciples. Which one? Martha? Mary? He always got those two mixed up but figured Livy must be the one always cooking and cleaning. Never still.
“Both girls have worked awful hard the last few days. They haven’t enjoyed a minute’s rest. Poor Mary is looking a mite peaked.”
Jake’s mother laid a hand on Mrs. Brooks’s arm. “I have a wonderful idea. Sunday is Jake’s birthday, and I’m cooking dinner for him. I’d love for Livy and Mary to come visit. They can ride out with Jake. My girls have missed Mary at school, and the fresh air will do them good.” She glanced at him. “You don’t mind, do you, Jake?”
“I reckon—”
“Oh, I don’t know—” Mrs. Brooks shook her head.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Mrs. Warren chimed in. “I’ll come over and help you with the children. We’ll have a regular little Sunday school since Reverend Warren will be away preaching on the circuit.”
“Thank you both. I’m sure the girls will enjoy a break.”
The ladies sat back, looking extremely pleased with themselves.
Jake eyed his mother and Mrs. Warren. What were those two up to? Seemed like they were determined to throw him and Livy together. Not that he intended to complain, but he could find ways to see Livy without the two of them sticking their noses into his business.
That was, if he wanted to.
Chapter Twelve
“Mary’s too sick to go. I’d better stay here too.”
“Stuff and nonsense. It’s just a little cold. A day or two and she’ll be fit as a fiddle. Besides, Mrs. Warren will be here any minute. We’ll be fine.”
Livy twisted her hands in her apron. “Mrs. Brooks—”
“Hush, child. Mrs. Russell is looking forward to your visit. You can’t disappoint her.” The woman gave her a little shove. “Now, go get dressed.”
Livy trudged down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Mary. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of riding alone all the way to the Russell homestead with Jake, spending the day with his family, and making the return trip.
She couldn’t let herself get close to him. She couldn’t let herself care or entertain thoughts of a future with him. She was a nobody from Chicago, a former pickpocket.