Priscilla opened the door, and the wonderful smells from within surrounded them. The combination of the scents and her standing there, an apron over her blue dress, dampened curls falling alongside her face, and a cooking spoon in her hand almost had him dropping to his knees and begging her to marry him.
Thank God good sense prevailed.
“It smells wonderful in here.” Ian sniffed as he wandered toward the kitchen.
Priscilla grinned at Mitch. “I hope you like my cooking.”
“I’m sure I will.” He was still having a hard time being this close without grabbing her and kissing her senseless. He hung his coat and hat up on the hook by the door. When he turned, Priscilla stood not five feet from him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you mad at me?”
“No. Why?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Ian checking the pots on the stove. Perhaps Mitch wasn’t mad at her, but something was going on. He’d been avoiding her since the last time they’d been together and they’d shared a kiss that had her distracted for the past week. In fact, until he sent over the turkey yesterday, she even had her doubts they would show up today.
“I don’t expect you to visit—I realize ours is a professional relationship—but you did a good job of ignoring me in church. I thought we were friends, at least.”
“I, um.” He closed the distance between them and, placing his hands on her shoulders, pulled her forward and kissed her. Not as thoroughly as the last time, but considering Ian was in the next room, certainly thoroughly enough.
“I’m not mad at you.” He walked off to join his son in the kitchen, leaving her heart pounding and her knees ready to melt.
Well, then.
She followed behind and smoothed her hair back, trying to appear as if nothing had happened.
“When do we eat?” the always hungry eleven-year-old boy asked.
“In about an hour. But if you can’t wait that long, I have soda crackers and cheese you can nibble on.” She pulled the cheese from the icebox and set it on the table, along with a basket of soda crackers and a knife. Her hands still shook as she went about her duties, and she dare not look at Mitch for fear of what would show on her face.
“Pa, Miss Cochran told us the story of the First Thanksgiving yesterday. Even though I knew all about it, it was fun to see the little kids as they heard the story.” Ian turned to Priscilla. “Did I tell you I think I want to be a teacher?”
Grateful for the distraction, she pulled out a chair and sat, still not meeting Mitch’s eyes. “I think that’s wonderful, Ian. I’m the fourth teacher in my family. My mama was a teacher, my cousin Ellie taught high school, and her husband, Max, is the principal of Guthrie High School now, but he was a teacher at one time.”
A knock sounded at the front door and she jumped up to answer. Feeling a bit calmer, she opened the door—and nearly fainted.
A tall, stern-looking Indian man stood on her doorstep. He was dressed in moccasins, deerskin pants and shirt, with a large blanket wrapped round his shoulders. A feather stuck out of his black bowler hat, and he held some type of a pole with feathers on it.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. I come for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Chapter Seven
“Iilápxe!” Ian rushed forward, throwing himself into the man’s arms.
Instinctively Priscilla reached for Ian and pulled him back against her. “Who are you?”
Mitch’s laughter sounded in her ears as he walked up to the man and threw his arms around him as well. “You found us.”
“Yes. Dúupe Bilítaachiia not miss Thanksgiving dinner with nephew.”
The man’s visage was as if carved in stone, his body tight. Priscilla was still a little leery of the stranger.
With his arm wrapped over the man’s shoulders, Mitch drew him into the room. “It’s all right, Priscilla, this is my uncle. My mother’s youngest brother.” He turned to him and frowned. “Who, by the way, speaks perfect English, not this strange language.”
“Dúupe Bilítaachiia not know what you mean. He has come for dinner as promised every year.”
“Cut it out, Two Moons.” Mitch took Priscilla’s hand and pulled her forward. “This is Miss Priscilla Cochran, the new teacher in Dogtown.”
The smile that broke out on the man’s face wiped away any reluctance she had toward him, as well as jarred her with the resemblance between him and Mitch. There was no doubting their family connection. “I am pleased to meet you. I’m sorry if I wasn’t very hospitable.”