She hated that they’d had to resort to the destruction. But what choice did they have if they didn’t want to freeze to death? “That was smart. Much better than burning the furniture, which was what I was seriously contemplating.”
“Then you don’t mind?”
“Without more heat, I’m afraid Mr. Keller may not survive the night.” She whispered her fear, praying Mrs. Keller couldn’t hear her morbid prediction.
Philip nodded and then began to fumble at his coat, his fingers clearly stiff and frozen.
She crossed to him and pushed his hand out of the way and began to assist him. Even though the kitchen was unlit, the glow from the other room provided enough light that she could find his snow-covered buttons.
“I had to shovel at least three feet of snow away from the barn door before I could open it.” His body radiated cold that only made her shiver all the more.
“Will the livestock make it?”
“They seem to be okay.” His warm whisper bathed her forehead. “I think the drifts of snow are insulating at least one wall of the barn, where most of them have gathered.”
“Good.” Even so, she wouldn’t be surprised if some of the animals—the weakest or youngest—didn’t make it.
Her own fingers were stiffening with each button she touched on his frozen coat.
But he waited patiently for her help, almost as if he’d run out of energy to help himself. She could only guess how exhausted he was. After sitting the previous two nights at Mr. Keller’s bedside and only getting a few hours of sleep during the day, and now having spent part of the night chopping fuel in the barn, he would grow ill if he wasn’t more careful. She ought to know.
“I’m sorry for all that you’re having to do.” She slipped open the last button and started to tug off a sleeve.
“Don’t be sorry.” Weariness etched his voice, leaving no room for his usual teasing.
As a matter of fact, he’d been more serious since the photography session that afternoon.
Warmth puddled in her stomach at the remembrance of how he’d stared at her during the picture-taking. From the moment she’d stepped into the room until she’d exited again after they’d finished, he’d hardly taken his eyes from her. Even when he’d been under the black cloth and looking through his camera lens, his attention had been intense, so much that her skin felt as though it were burning, and she’d almost gone after her smelling salts except that she hadn’t been sure she’d be able to cross the room without fainting.
He’d taken a dozen pictures of her in a variety of poses—some sitting, some standing, some smiling, some serious. He’d even convinced her to uncoil her hair for the last two pictures and let it hang down.
At the end of the session, he’d stepped out onto the front porch. She hadn’t needed Mrs. Keller to smile and tell her that Philip was overheated because of her. The smolder in his eyes had already clued her in to how he’d viewed her.
After he came in, he’d asked if he could turn her bedroom into a temporary darkroom so he could develop the pictures. She hadn’t minded. And while she’d busied herself in the kitchen with baking projects and preparing the evening meal, he’d locked himself away with trays of water and chemicals.
By the time supper was ready, they’d formed a makeshift table near the sofa and Mrs. Keller to include her in the meal and conversation. Philip had been as gracious and talkative as usual except that he hadn’t been quite as teasing or lighthearted.
And now, with tiredness shrouding him, she guessed he’d simply reached his limit. The hour was well past midnight. And he’d taken the burden of keeping them from freezing upon his shoulders.
“You should get some sleep.” She draped his coat over the worktable so that hopefully it would dry.
“I will in a little bit.” He was already gathering up an armful of the wooden stall beams that he’d chopped into pieces small enough to fit into the stove.
She approached him and began to take the load from him. “I can do this.”
He halted, his tired eyes drifting across her face. “I won’t be able to rest until I know that you and the Kellers are safe from the cold.”
She paused in dragging a log from his hold. A deep sense of gratitude welled up within her. This man was so kind, so giving, so self-sacrificing. Her first impressions about him being a spoiled and wealthy womanizer had been wrong. So very wrong.
For whatever reason, he gave the aura that was who he was. But underneath the bluster, he was really and truly one of the nicest men she’d ever met.
“You might have everyone else fooled.” She jabbed a finger against his chest, his flannel shirt cold. “But I know who you really are.”
“You do?” His eyes widened and panic flitted across his face.
“Yes.” She hadn’t been expecting such a reaction from him, as if he was hiding something about himself.
“Then who am I?” His tone was almost demanding.
She’d meant for the interaction to be playful. But the moment wasn’t exactly going the way she’d planned. She hesitated. Now that she’d started, she needed to finish. After all he’d done, the least she could do was express her thankfulness. “You hide yourself well behind your teasing and wit, but I’ve seen the real you—the man who walks miles in a storm, who stays up every night, who chops wood, and who won’t stop, even when he’s exhausted.”
His expression softened. “I’ve been learning from you.”
“No, you’re already a good man and didn’t need any help in learning that from me.”
His lips tugged up. “Are you finally paying me a compliment?”
“Maybe.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Not with how much there is to say about me.”
And the teasing was back. She smiled just a little. “Actually, I had to scrape hard at the bottom of the barrel to find the compliment, so cherish it, because there won’t be any more.”
She finished helping him pick up the rest of the wood pieces, and they carried them into the front sitting room. Moments later, the fire in the stove blazed out heat. And as she took her place on the pallet near the stove, Philip laid his blankets out on the floor across from her—after unsuccessfully trying to convince Mrs. Keller to let him sit with her husband for a while.
As Philip settled in with his broad back facing her, Felicity let her eyes close in satisfaction. Now that Philip was nearby, her racing heart calmed, and she let herself drift into a peaceful sleep.
*
She awoke shivering, with limbs stiff from the cold.
The room was frigid, and at the clanking of the stove, she rolled to find Philip kneeling in front of the open stove door, adding fuel to low flames.
Mrs. Keller remained in her chair beside the sofa, and Mr. Keller was still sleeping underneath the heavy stack of blankets.
As the fire caught on the dry barn wood, Philip leaned back and watched the glowing flickers. After a few moments, he closed the door and pivoted, his gaze sweeping across her.
“How is—our—supply?” She could barely get the words past her chattering teeth.
“It’s adequate for now.” He frowned and dropped his attention to the blanket she’d wound around her body. “I just overslept and neglected to add more fuel.”