when I looked at Israel, he had that yearning expression again, the sad, burning smile, and he dared to slide his little finger across the cloth and hook it about mine. It was a small thing, our fingers wrapped like vines, but the intimacy of it flooded me, and I caught my breath. The sound made Catherine turn her head and peer at us over her shoulder. Israel snatched his finger from mine. Or did I snatch mine from his? She leveled her eyes on him. “So, it is as I suspected.” “This is not your business,” he told her. Getting to his feet, he smiled regretfully at me and walked back up the hill.
He leaves sarah to deal w her
