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put up pretenses – just laid out the truth without a bunch of fuss.
    The kitchen door burst open. “Maggie! I’m starvin’ real bad.”
    Throwing his arm around Jerlund’s shoulder, Todd jostled him good-naturedly. “Strapping men earn their meals. What about you and me doing a few projects around here after breakfast?”

    “Best you men come in and fill up. You’ve been working so hard, steam’s puffing off the barn roof just like a locomotive.” Maggie stood over by the barn door and scanned the place. Stacks upon stacks of shingles filled the empty horse stall. Uncle Bo’s house and the barn both needed roof work, but the notion of him being up there gave her nightmares. Could Mr. Valmer . . . ?
    “I been cuttin’ joys, Maggie. Me. With a saw.” Jerlund finished cutting through the mark on a piece of wood. “Todd Valmer showed me how.”
    “Jerlund’s a natural at cutting joists.” Mr. Valmer climbed down from the ladder and scribbled numbers on a scrap of paper. “He’s got a powerful arm.”
    Though not academically bright, Jerlund had an uncanny ability to perceive the true feelings others tried to hide. Simply stating the fact in a bare-bones, man-to-man way, Mr. Valmer sparked a look of pride on her friend’s face she’d never before witnessed. Of all the beautiful treasures she owned and bartered, none came close to Jerlund’s squared shoulders and lifted chin.
    Mr. Valmer shut the barn door, then caught up with her. His elbow jutted out, and his brows rose in a silent offer. Jerlund rushed to her other side and stuck out his left elbow, too. “Miss Rose is on your right, Jerlund. Offer her your other elbow. When you walk beside a lady and the ground is slippery, it’s good manners to allow her to borrow your strength.”
    Looping her hand into Jerlund’s arm was sweet. Sliding her hand around and onto Mr. Valmer’s forearm was something entirely different. Even through his coat, the power of youth and vigor radiated to her. All the men in the holler were well past their prime. It was surprising to discover the tensile strength and bulk of a hardworking man at the zenith of his health. Up close like this, he smelled . . . good. If she were to take out her precious oils and try to match his scent, she’d start with musk and add sandalwood . . . then a touch of something complex. . . .
    “Is anything wrong?”
    “The wind robbed me of my breath for a moment.” Maggie took a step, and they all headed toward her house. “It’s extremely unusual for us to have such harsh weather.”
    “Here. Use my scarf.” Mr. Valmer had it off and around her in a flash.
    She’d already noticed how its blue matched his eyes. Now a deep breath gave her an overwhelming urge to gag. She wanted the wind back. That scarf hadn’t been laundered in . . . Had it ever been washed?
    Looking pleased with himself, Mr. Valmer smiled. “The blue. It matches your eyes.”
    It’s going to match the color of my face if I don’t get into the house and rip it off before I take my next breath!
    Whisking off the scarf once they reached the kitchen, Maggie shoved it into Mr. Valmer’s hands and croaked, “Lunch is ready!” Not that it mattered to her; she’d completely lost her appetite. “I’ll go see to Mrs. Crewel whilst you men eat.”
    Maybe because she was built like Mama and Aunt Maude, Mrs. Crewel drew forth a special warmth in Maggie’s heart. Funny, how all three of them had dimples in their elbows and at their knuckles. Arms and hands like those gave engulfing hugs and the softest of caresses. The women Maggie loved had gone to the Lord, and she wanted to do everything humanly possible to help Mr. Valmer continue to enjoy his mother.
    As a result of lying on her weak side, she’d drooled. Maggie reached over, replaced the soft cloth beneath her cheek, and used the edge of the damp one to tidy up the corner of her patient’s mouth.
    Mr. Valmer walked into the room and took a deep, noisy breath.