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“Would you like to adopt twenty-two children?” Now, her face was the picture of sincerity, all her natural mirth gone.

“I … No?” Was this an option? Could an orphanage foist children onto unwitting seamstresses delivering goods?

“My God, Magdalene, your face!” Agatha laughed. “I’m only joking. Thank you so much for the clothes, the children will be delighted to have something new.”

Maggie’s limbs thawed out. “Of course. We were happy to help.”

Her guide, predictably, beamed. They turned towards the door, Agatha prattling on about the book club that several of the local ladies were members of, and Maggie nearly ran directly into Sam’s chest.

“Oh!” she let out, stumbling back. He reached out and steadied her shoulder with one hand, the other grasping his beloved hat. His eyes were wide. “Careful,” he said. He dropped his hand. “Pardon me, Miss Cruthers.”

She raised a hand to her stomach. “Excuse me, Reverend. Good Lord, you surprised me.”

“Clearly. What brings you here today?”

“Magdalene was dropping off the clothes for the children, Sam,” Agatha supplied, rocking on her heels. “They’ll be so delighted!

Sam nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Let me see you out.” His face had its usual impassive expression, but his eyes bore the dark blue smudges of the chronically exhausted.

They walked in silence for a moment before Maggie, who had fully intended on never speaking to this man except in the case of a life-or-death emergency, surprised herself by asking, “Are you all right?”

His brows rose. “Why do you ask?” Not an answer.

She knew her reply was a supremely rude thing to say, but surely she and the reverend were past formalities by now. “You look tired.”

Sam stopped in front of the door, absently patting the head of a small dark-haired child who briefly attached himself to the reverend’s legs before darting off in another direction. “That’s because I am. Things around here are somewhat hectic and we don’t have very many people to help.” His features tightened. “The children require more than they are being given, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help.” She imagined if Emmy was here … The home was clean and bright, and the children looked happy and healthy, but there simply was not enough attention to go around.

“You did help.” He smiled, and it looked natural on his face. She blinked. “Thank you.” He hesitated. “I spoke to your brothers some weeks ago,” he said, and Maggie nearly bolted out the door.

Instead, she made a hmmm low in her throat. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He paused. “And they told me what I should have known inherently, by virtue of knowing you, as slight as our acquaintance is.”

Maggie’s heart was in her throat; she felt as if she were waiting for a lodged arrow to be yanked from her flesh.

He looked at her frankly. “I like you, Miss Cruthers. I’d like to get to know you more. I know you’re unattached, as am I, and I think we could form a connection that would be beneficial to us both."

“Beneficial?” Of all the paths she had anticipated this conversation taking, a business proposition hadn’t even entered her mind. “Beneficial how?”

He drew in a breath, looking around the hallway. “Your reputation precedes you, Miss Cruthers, and I can offer some protection.”

“My what?” Her mind was blank, even as her nerves lit up. “My reputation?”

“I think you know what I’m referring to. Small towns talk, Miss Cruthers, and it isn’t always kind.” It was remarkable, in a way, how comfortable he looked. Another child ran past them, giggling, followed by a harried-looking woman, and Maggie took a step back.

"I appreciate your concern, Reverend, but I’m afraid I have no romantic inclinations at present.”

“At all, or towards me?”

Strangely, Maggie’s mother’s voice thundered through her head, imploring her to cling to some final, thin rope of civility. She opened her mouth to assure him that it was nothing personal, but his expression had both soured and softened.

“I see.” His posture relaxed, and he rolled his neck out. He wouldn’t look at her, gazing off into the window at the end of the hall. “I do encourage you to give it some thought. I only want the best for both of us.”

Maggie took another step backwards as a third child appeared, holding Agatha’s hand, and she idly wondered if she was going to meet all twenty-two small residents of the home before she left. The little boy looked up at Sam. “Dinner soon, Reverend?”

“Yes, Joe,” Sam said, ruffling the child’s hair. “Will you make sure the little ones are washed up? There’s a good fellow.” He patted Joe’s back, and Maggie was irritated that Sam could be both endlessly bothersome to her and gentle with a small child. It felt unfair.