A Bride for Cameron by Barbara Goss (i like reading .txt) 📕

him filled him with something close to loathing.  She’d trapped him.  Now, he had to tell the children a story.  He raked his mind for one.  His aunt had read him most of his stories when he was a child.  He’d have to remember one of them.

He cleared his throat.  “There once were three goats, and they decided to build themselves houses.  The first built his out of straw—”  He stopped abruptly when Annabelle laughed.

He raised his eyebrows in her direction.  “What is it, Annabelle?”

She giggled. “They were pigs, not goats.”

Of course, they were pigs.  What had he been thinking?

“Very good, Annabelle.  I was just testing to see if you were paying attention.”

“So, the first pig built his house from straw, the second pig built his house out of sticks, and the third pig built his house out of bricks.  Along came a nasty bear, and he wanted to eat the pigs so he—” Annabelle’s giggle stopped him again.

“Now what, Annabelle?”

“It wasn’t a bear, Father; it was a big wolf.”

“It was a wolf come to think of it.  It’s been years since my aunt told me the story.”

Annabelle sat up.  “Your aunt?  Didn’t you have a mother and father?”

“No, I didn’t.  I lived with my aunt, and she raised me.”

“What happened to your parents?” Annabelle asked.

“My mother got sick and died when I was about Georgie’s age,” he told her.

Georgie’s eyes widened.

 “My father’s heart was broken, I suppose, because he left me with my aunt and ran off.”

Annabelle hopped from her bed and knelt before Cameron.  “Oh, father, I’m so sorry.”  Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Cameron felt a lump form in his throat.  He patted Annabelle’s head.  “It’s all right, Annabelle. Aunt Mary was a kind woman.  She was like a mother to me.”

Annabelle wiped her tears.  “Where is Aunt Mary?”

“She became very sick and died.”

 “Oh,” Annabelle said, drawing out the word with compassion.  “Well, now you have Mama, Georgie, and me.  We’re your family, and we love you.”  She jumped up and scampered back to her bed.

Cameron felt touched by her sweet sympathy.  “Since you’ve both heard my story already, I’ll bid you a good night.”

Cameron started to stand, but Hannah pushed him gently back down.  “First, we listen to their prayers, remember?”

“My favorite part,” Cameron grumbled.

Annabelle said, “I say the prayers for both of us since Georgie doesn’t know how yet.” She folded her hands, and Georgie imitated his sister.  “Dear Lord, thank you for the day, and bless Mama, Father, and Bessie.  Amen.”

Hannah nudged Cameron.  “Our goodnight kisses will give them good dreams.”

Cameron went to kiss Georgie’s forehead, but Georgie pulled him down to give him a hug.  Cameron pulled quickly away.  “Goodnight, Georgie.”

He kissed Annabelle’s forehead.  “Goodnight,  Annabelle.”

“Goodnight, Father.”

Hannah kissed and hugged both children, blew out the lamp,  and backed out of the room with Cameron.

When they reached Cameron’s office,  he pointed to a settee across the room from his desk.  “You wanted a word with me?” he said after they'd settled.

“Had the children never heard about your family?” Hannah asked.

“No, I thought them too young.”

Hannah nodded. “Of course.

“What I need to discuss is, I would like to take on a few outside projects, and I wondered if we could hire a nanny for the children for just four hours in the afternoon.  I’d start Annabelle on her schoolwork, so nanny would really only have to care for Georgie.”

“Outside projects?” he asked.  “Like what?”

“Oh, you know—church projects, mostly. It would give me the chance to meet more people in the community, as well as visit Mrs. Monroe and Mrs. Wilson.”

Cameron rubbed his chin.  “I don’t mind hiring a nanny or the church projects, but I’ve been thinking about your visits to those women, and I think it might be too dangerous.”

“How could a simple visit be dangerous?” she asked.

“Because the real killer—whether it is Wilson or someone else—might not like your poking around.”

“I’ll be careful.  It’s going to be a simple visit for tea and to invite them to church.”

Cameron laughed.  “I doubt they’ll come to church.”

While Cameron didn’t like the idea of her playing detective, he did want to give her some freedom.  She hadn't been anywhere since she'd arrived except to the meetings.  He gazed at her.  She was a handsome woman.  Maybe he should keep her at home.  He also feared that if she found out the truth about the children she’d leave him, so he’d try to make her as happy as he could.  Who knows? Maybe they'd fall in love someday.  It didn’t seem like such a stretch of the imagination—she was everything he could have ever wanted in a wife.

What would Hannah say if he'd confessed that the children weren’t his?  They loved her, so he knew his secret was safe with them.  Joe and Bessie were the only others who knew how he’d come by them, and they’d never tell.  So, why did he have to tell her?  Still, the dishonesty rocked his conscience.

Joe had suggested he confess, but then she’d never trust him again.  He’d have to think about it more.

Cameron gave her a slight grin before asking, “Why do you want to try to solve the mystery of who killed Mr. Wilson?”

“Several reasons:  so that you can’t ever be accused of letting a killer off and to rid the community of a murderer.  None of us are safe with one prowling around, are we?”

Cameron digested her answer before saying, “Promise me you’ll tell me if you find out anything important or you feel threatened in any way.”

“I promise,” she said, crossing her heart with her finger.

Cameron’s next move was unplanned and done completely on impulse; he took both of her hands in his.  “I don’t want anything