Haven

Chapter Seven

He hoped it wasn't obvious.

She was somehow within his reach.

Somehow having her didn't seem like an idealistic fantasy. One that he wouldn't admit to having.

He would admit that hurting himself was more of a blessing than a problem.

He now had an excuse to be near Isabella.

He allowed her to help as she wished. Though, on the farm, she only fed the animals.

It seemed to satisfy her.

Satisfying her was something he wanted to do.

He liked seeing her happy.

Still, it was peculiar to care for her.

Peculiar because they seemed to fit together.

She was prudent and delightful. She was a nervous wreck. She was dependent on God.

He was there. He lived for God. He didn't know how to receive help. He was independent.

They worked.

Friends.

Companions.

He could call them that.

But they were husband and wife.

He didn't know the words to say.

Part of him fought to convince himself that Isabella didn't want anything to do with him and that she was only trying to be helpful.

The louder part told him she liked something about him. She liked something about him enough to sit beside him and talk his ears off.

However it landed, Andrew didn't want to scare her with his affection that he wasn't sure how to use yet.

It was new.

With his ankle healing, he knew that soon enough, Isabella would step back, leaving him to do things for himself.

He liked having her near. He enjoyed getting to slow down and be.

Being near Isabella.

"Are you still here, Andrew?" Isabella waved her hand across his face.

Andrew watched her hand intently. "I am."

They were in the kitchen.

Isabella was cooking. Andrew was watching and listening to her talk about dinner.

Isabella tilted her head with her hand on her hip.

Andrew ruefully tore his eyes away from her hips and looked into her eyes.

She was beautiful. But his eyes could not and would not linger on her figure.

That would start something he couldn't finish.

Having her around messed him up. Things he had never thought of started making their way into his mind, and it wasn't easy ridding those thoughts.

No lingering.

"What was I saying?" She asked expectantly.

Andrew hummed as if he knew. "Lasagna."

Isabella tsked. "I think that fall messed up your focus,"

She was concerned.

Sometimes she'd catch Andrew staring at her. He'd look far away. Mesmerized.

Sometimes he'd follow her with his eyes.

It was nice and made her heart flutter, but she figured he was out of it from his injury.

"My focus is just right, Bella." Andrew said pointedly.