It was the first time Mariah had ever despised honesty.
Mariah checked her appearance in the mirror. Again.
Nervously she tucked a stray lock of hair into the loosely woven braid that streamed down her back.
It wasnt much of a hairstyle; shed tried for hours to match the hoity-toity chignons and rolls in the magazines, but without success. Finally shed given up on looking sophisticated and elegant, and chosen instead to look relaxed.
It might have worked if she could unclench her jaw.
She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. It was just a braid, she told herself. Women had been braiding their hair for years. She had no reason to feel self-conscious.
But she was. Shed done this for Mad Dog; tried to look pretty. And now she didnt know which scared her more—that he would notice or that he wouldnt. She hadnt cared about her appearance in years, and she realized now what a blessing that was.
Just thinking about Mad Dogs response made her stomach knot up.
She almost hoped he didnt notice.
Stiffening, she smoothed her damp palms on her brown apron and turned away from the mirror. Head up, braid swinging, she marched down the stairs and sailed from the house.
Outside, the fires shed started earlier were burning brightly, belching smoke up around the sooty cast-iron caldrons that squatted above them. Jake stood at one caldron, stirring the bubbling applesauce with a long, wooden-handled paddle. Rass was sitting beside him, his folded body propped against the side of the spring-house. His soft, rumbling snores wafted through the air.
Jake looked up at her and smiled. "Gosh. "
She paused, fighting the urge to tuck the stray hairs from her face. "What is it?"
"You look pretty with your hair that way. "
An unfamiliar heat crawled up Mariahs throat. An uncertain smile pulled at her mouth. "Thanks. "
He eased the long paddle from the applesauce and carefully laid it on the makeshift canning table Mariah had set up earlier. "Wait here, okay? Ill be right back. " Without waiting for her response, Jake tore off across the farm and disappeared in the barn.
Mariah smiled. All of a sudden, she felt pretty. Whistling softly, she headed for the canning table and started peeling the last few apples of the harvest.
Jake came out of the barn at a dead run. Breathing hard, he raced across the orchard and skidded to a stop beside the table. "M-Mariah?"
She glanced at him. "Uh-huh?"
He chewed on his lower lip and swallowed hard. His knobby Adams apple slid up and down his throat. "I wanted you to have this. " He held out his fist. Slowly his fingers unfurled. On his palm lay a frayed, wrinkled pink ribbon.
Mariah stared down at it, feeling an absurd urge to cry.
Jake glanced down at his feet. "It belonged to someone I loved i lot. I want you to have it. "
Mariah stared at him, standing there so alone and frightened-lcoking, his hand outstretched, his face downcast, and felt a powerful rush of emotion. God, she wanted to surge toward him and take him in her arms and tell him how very much that scrap of a ribbon meant to hei But she was afraid of frightening him away, afraid she was blowing a molehill of a gift into a mountain of jmotion.
"Its just a dumb old ribbon-----" he said in a thick voice.
Mariah redized how long shed stood there, staring at him, sayirg nothing. She reached out and took the ribbon from him. It felt warm and satiny in her palm.
"Would you tie it on for me?"
He looked up then, and she saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. "Youll wear it?"
She swallcwed hard. "Id be proud to wear it, Jake. "
He came up beside her and took the ribbon back. She turned around.
Hesitantly, he pulled the coil of twine from the tail of her braid and replaced it with the ribbon.