His threat, as much as he’d like it to have more power, floated on the air. Losing someone who cared for his children as much as Polly would be a blow. But already the rumors and innuendos swirling about were too much for Mitch to handle. All were complete lies, of course, but he’d seen how good friends had already closed their doors to him, not wanting to be involved with something so scandalous. And with the way the investigators had already twisted his words and actions, his lawyer had told him that the less he said to anyone, the better. One of the “witnesses” was Mitch’s former housekeeper, who’d told the investigators about the violent last argument he’d had with Hattie.
The argument had been violent. But it had been Hattie who’d thrown the lamp at him. Hattie who’d screamed obscenities. Hattie who’d slapped him so soundly it had made his cheek bleed from where her nails had scratched him. She’d stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and he hadn’t heard from her since.
Absently, he rubbed the spot on his cheek. The scratches had faded, leaving only invisible scars that left him wondering how he’d gotten caught up in the madness in the first place.
Polly remained standing where she’d been, the shadows too dark for him to see her eyes, and he was glad. He’d just begun to get to know her, just gotten to like her, and now he was driving her away.
Mitch cleared his throat. “I’d also like to make it clear that I won’t have you gossiping about my family. If anyone asks, a reporter shows up or anything of the like, you will say nothing. I was arrested based on rumor, and I will not have anyone in my employ who is prone to idle talk.”
“I would never gossip about anyone,” Polly said quietly.
“Perhaps,” Mitch said slowly. “But just as you needed to hear that I didn’t kill my wife, I need to hear that you won’t be talking to anyone about my family.”
Polly nodded. “You have my word.” Then she hesitated. “But...my family...”
“I would rather you not share with them.” Who knew what, even in innocence, might be shared. And, with all the comings and goings in the parsonage, what would be overheard and misconstrued.
She didn’t say anything, but instead, walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. Then, with those eyes that seemed to probe deeper into his soul than he was comfortable with, she spoke softly.
“It must be incredibly lonely keeping yourself so closed off. As much as they make me crazy sometimes, I don’t know what I would do without my family to talk to. I understand that it must be difficult to talk to someone you barely know, but I hope you know that you don’t have to go through this alone.”
Mitch’s throat clogged with anything he might have said in response. What did Polly know of his life? Of the difficulties he could not, would not, share?
Then she squeezed his arm, sending a current through him that seized his heart. “Even if you reject my friendship, please at least consider opening up to your brother. He cares for you deeply, and I know he wants to help even more than he has.”
He closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe. Andrew was the last person he’d confide in. Yes, he loved his brother, but how could he let his brother know just how bad things were? How could he disappoint him so?
Polly’s soft lilac scent filled his nostrils. She was the one he wanted to confide in. Wanted to wrap his arms around her, and have her tell him it was going to be all right. But then he would have to admit to feelings that he didn’t have the right to have.
Mitch took another deep breath. “I have everything under control,” he said, pulling away. “We should both turn in for the night. Morning will be here before you know it, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that the children are early risers.”
“Of course,” Polly said, bowing her head. She seemed to understand without him having to tell her that theirs needed to be a more formal relationship. There would be no confidences shared, no...none of the things that sometimes crossed his mind. He couldn’t afford to have his heart so ensnared again.
He started for his bedroom, but Polly stopped him. “If you’ll just give me a moment, I’ve been sleeping in there with Isabella. It seemed easier to be closer to the children.”
“It’s all right. I’ll take the other bedroom. After the nights I’ve spent in a cell, any bed has to be more comfortable.”
Another dip of the head. “As you wish.”
No, nothing was as he wished. But as he watched Polly retreat back into the bedroom, he knew it was the only way to keep his heart safe.
Chapter Five (#ulink_0ff127ce-8e3a-50e8-9299-03a702090a3d)
The children were already eating breakfast when Mitch entered the kitchen, hair tousled and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Polly had hoped he’d be able to sleep in, but with the room just off the kitchen, and the ruckus that always came with mealtime, she should have known his peace wouldn’t last long.
“Papa!” five voices chorused as they all jumped from the table and wrapped their arms around him.
As much as she wanted to hold Mitch’s inability to be forthcoming against him, and wanted to stay angry with him, she found that as she watched the loving interaction between father and children, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. For the first time since he’d gone away, Louisa was actually smiling.
“I see Polly still has all her hair,” Mitch said, looking up at her and smiling. “I hope that means you were all well behaved.”
The cross expression returned to Louisa’s face as she made a noise. “Well, she wasn’t as horrid as Mrs. Abernathy, but we would have done just fine without her.”
As the younger girl wound herself up for what Polly imagined was yet another argument for why she should be allowed to take care of her siblings, Mitch seemed to sense the direction Louisa was taking as well.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said, shaking his head. “I need an adult taking care of you, and Polly is doing a wonderful job.”
“How would you know? You’ve been gone.” Louisa’s dark eyes flashed, and she stepped away from her father, crossing her arms over her chest.
Polly turned to help Isabella get back in her chair, but not before she caught the reciprocal flash in Mitch’s eyes.
“It couldn’t be helped,” he said, his voice quiet, yet with an undercurrent of tension that made Polly’s heart ache.
She supposed he couldn’t be forthcoming with the children; after all, having their father be accused of killing their mother was a tragedy no child should have to experience. Losing their mother was bad enough, but to have to face the potential involvement of their father...
Polly took a deep breath. She’d been judging Mitch harshly, when he’d simply been doing the best he could do.
“Would you like some breakfast?” she said, straightening as she smiled at him. “Your brother thoughtfully provided a housekeeper to help with the cooking and such since apparently you hadn’t had time to engage one. Lucy has just gone down to get some more milk, but I think you’ll be pleased with her.”
Mitch nodded slowly, then sat at the head of the table. “Thank you. I guess I hadn’t realized what a mess I’d left behind.”
He spoke slowly, as though the remorse for the difficult position he’d left everyone in had finally dawned on him.
“We made it through just fine,” Polly said, handing him a plate. “Now we need to move forward as best as we can.”
She’d have liked to have told him that she was sorry for her accusations the previous night. The five accusing glances, even from little Isabella, must have weighed incredibly heavily on him. He didn’t need the additional pressure from her.
The back door opened, and Lucy bustled in. “There’s a crowd gathered out front, and they were asking me all sorts of questions.”
Mitch had just raised a forkful of eggs to his lips but hadn’t taken a bite yet. The fork clattered to the table as he jumped up and went to the front window.
He muttered something indistinguishable as he turned back toward the kitchen area. “Reporters.”
“Like when Mummy has a show?” Clara asked, her eyes lighting up momentarily, then dimming. “They don’t know she is gone?”
“No, you dolt. It’s because Mummy is dead. They all want to know how we feel about losing her.” Louisa’s face darkened, but fire filled her eyes. “Why won’t they leave us alone?”
Mitch looked over at Polly, his eyes locking with hers. A silent reminder that the children didn’t know the circumstances that hung over him.
How were they supposed to carry on with their lives with the reporters hanging about? One ill-placed question, and Mitch would have a great deal of explaining to do.
“Let’s forget about them and enjoy our breakfasts, shall we?” Polly tried to sound cheerful, but as the sullen children stared at their congealing eggs, she found she didn’t have much of an appetite either.
Isabella, however, was too innocent to understand the darkness surrounding her family, and she devoured her meal. At least one of her charges was eating.
Mitch made a show of finishing his breakfast. “It was delicious. Thank you, Lucy.”
He acknowledged their housekeeper with a smile, but his eyes weren’t in it.