Page 14 of If the Boot Fits

“I’m your only niece,” Samantha teased back, her grin widening.

Aunt Regina winked, her eyes dancing with merriment. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite.” She steered Samantha to the side of the church building, to a place that afforded a bit of privacy. Her expression grew serious. “What is it, dear heart? Are you worried about Clint? He seems much recovered.” Her gaze lifted to a place in front of the building.

Samantha turned and spotted a group of boys running and slapping at one another’s back in what seemed to be a team version of tag. Clint ran with the rest of them, laughing and not appearing the least bit winded by the activity.

Thank you, Lord.

“Looking at him, one wouldn’t know he almost drowned two nights ago.” Samantha shook her head, then turned back to face her aunt. “I do worry about him pushing himself too hard, too fast, but Dr. Abbott said his lungs sounded clear when he checked in on him yesterday, and Daddy saw no reason to keep him home from church. On the way here, I made Clint promise to slow down if he felt winded.” She shrugged. “I think he agreed just to keep me from harping at him, but I trust him to honor his word.”

“So if not Clint,” Aunt Regina nudged, “who or what is weighing down your thoughts?”

“Daddy thinks it’s time for me to marry.”

“You disagree?”

“Yes. Well, at least with the way he’s going about it.” Samantha blew out a breath. “He thinks it’s his job to wrangle a husband for me, but it should be my choice.”

“Have you chosen someone?” Aunt Regina’s eyes held no judgment, only patience and curiosity.

“Not yet, but that doesn’t mean I want him shoving random cowboys down my throat.”

Aunt Regina laughed softly. “My, but you do love a dramatic turn of phrase.”

Well, yes. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a layer of truth beneath it.

“If I know your father,” Aunt Regina said with a gentle smile, “those cowboys he’s herding your way are anything but random.”

“That may be true, but I still don’t like the idea of him trying to control my life.”

“Oh, honey, it’s not your daddy who’s been controlling your life.”

What?

“Mrs. Hopewell?” Dottie Philpot, leader of the Palo Pinto quilting club and usurper of private conversations, closed in on them, hand waving. “Mrs. Hopewell, I really must speak to you.” She spared a brief glance for Samantha. “Pardon me, Miss Dearing, but this is an urgent matter. It has just come to my attention that the Benevolence Committee Picnic is scheduled on the same day as my quilting bee. Something must be changed. Immediately.”

“Is that so?” Without agreeing or disagreeing, Aunt Regina slid her arm around Mrs. Philpot’s and deftly aimed her away from Samantha. “Why don’t we seek out Mrs. Henshaw? I’m sure between the three of us, we can resolve this complication.”

As the older woman shuffled past Samantha, buzzing about her quilting bee always being on the third Saturday of the month, Aunt Regina cast a look back to her niece.

“Call on me tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “We can talk more then.”

Without interruption.

“All right.” Samantha’s mind whirled as the ladies left her to her own devices.

What could her aunt have possibly meant by that comment about her father not controlling her life? He’d been making decisions on her behalf since childhood. Had she been trying to make some kind of spiritual point about God being the one in control? Possibly, but Samantha didn’t think so. Something about the way her aunt said it had felt much more . . . earthly.

She’d call early. Right after lunch. Aunt Regina wouldn’t mind. She knew patience wasn’t one of Samantha’s stronger virtues. Besides, Samantha had another matter to discuss with her aunt. One requiring guidance from a minister’s wife more than a family member. It might take two pots of tea to get everything sorted. But if anyone could navigate the muddy waters of suitors, fathers, and a woman’s desire for autonomy, it was Aunt Regina. She was the wisest woman Samantha knew.

Aunt Regina and Uncle Obadiah hadn’t been blessed with children of their own, which was probably why they’d made such a concerted effort to be involved in the lives of their niece and nephew. After Mama passed, Aunt Regina had stayed at the Three Cedars for two months, taking care of Clint and soothing Samantha’s broken heart. It had been a balm Samantha had desperately needed since her father had dealt with his grief by burying himself in work. Feeling abandoned by both parents, Samantha had begged Aunt Regina to take her home with her. Her aunt didn’t consider it for even a moment. She’d hugged Samantha tightly, then said words Samantha would never forget, even though she found them hard to believe.

“Your father needs you. And you need him. If I took you away, it would break his heart, and it would harden yours. I don’t want that for either of you.”

Yet her heart had hardened. Even now, it was still a little crusty around the edges. If her father needed her, loved her, why had he never invited her into his life the way he had Clint? Was being a girl such a sin? He hadn’t even taught her how to ride. He’d brought in some fancy Easterner to teach her how to ride sidesaddle. Sidesaddle! As if she didn’t feel ostracized enough from her peers. She’d given her instructor fits and never finished her lessons, hoping her father would give in and teach her to ride like a normal Texan. She’d even gotten Mrs. Stewart to help her remake one of her skirts into a split style so he couldn’t make the modesty argument. Not only had he refused to teach her to ride astride, he’d sold the horse he’d bought for her lessons the next day.

How could Aunt Regina think he hadn’t controlled her life? He’d controlled everything.

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