He did not notice her until she stepped on the porch. He hurried to the door, mumbling and frowning. "I didn't expect you so soon."

She took a step backward. "I-I could leave."

"No." He hesitated as if afraid he might frighten her. "Don't go. I just wanted to have the tree up when you came." He glanced at the disaster behind him. "But that may be July."

"Not going well?"

"No." He held the door. "I could use some help, if you'd consider coming in."

When she did not move, he quickly added, "Or I could stop for tonight and we could sit on the swing. This is'nt something that can't wait."

"I can help," she said slowly. "Then we can sit on the swing and look at what we have done."

When she passed him at the door, she was so close she felt his warmth, but she was careful that they did not touch.

His furniture was so sparse, she considered asking him if he was moving in or out. One comfortable chair in front of a bookshelf filled with mostly paperback books. One couch on a worn rug with a coffee table decorated by scatterrd water rings and dents. There were no pictures on the wall. but the hardwood floors were polished to a royal shine and the room looked recently painted.

Bella's doing, Anna thought.

Zack read her mind. "My wife took most of the furniture when she left. Actually, when we married, she got rid of my junk claiming it was worthless. If I'd have known the marriage wasn't going to make the year, I would have stored a little of the junk in the barn."

"I like the space. Too much furniture weighs the room down."

"That's true. I could drive a herd through here."

She moved to the mess by the window. "I like your tree."

"Thanks. I got it half price, it being so close to Christmas." He looked as if he regretted telling her about the cost of the tree. "The ornaments were in a box my mother must have put in the attic. I haven't seen them in years." He picked up one yellowed satin ball. "I'm afraid they're in pretty bad shape."

She lifted one of the balls. "Do you have any paint?"

"Sure." He raised an eyebrow. "What color do you want. It's probably in the barn. My father never threw any paint away as long as there was enough left to cover the lid of the can. I inherited his disease."

"Yellows, as many shades as you have. And bright blue and red."

He shrugged his shoulders as if he thought she was wasting her time, but headed out the kitchen door toward the barn.

Anna looked around. The kitchen table was stacked with papers, mostly bills in disarray. However, the books on the shelves were placed in careful rows, almost like a treasured library. To her surprise, huge travel books filled the bottom shelf and each had tiny slips of paper sticking from them as if someone had marked pages in each book.

She decided to work on the coffee table. By the time she covered the old table with newspaper and spread the dilapilated ornaments out on the floor, Zack had returned with several buckets of paint and a few small worn brushes.

Without a word, she went to work doing what she loved most in the world. Painting. He straightened out the lights and got a few strings to work while he watched her. When hr finally had the tree in place and the lights evenly circled around, her first few ornaments were dry enough to hang.

He sat on the floor across from her as she worked. "They're beautiful. I've never seen anything like them."

Anna smiled. "Thank you." If she had her brushes, she could paint intricate designs on each ball, but with one-inch brushes that had seen better days, she made bold strokes with circles, starbursts and wavy lines.

The tree became magic, one ornament at a time. He did not talk as she worked, but each time he stood to add a ball, he stepped back and admired the tree. When she painted the last ornament, he carried it to the tree as she stood and stretched.

"You're an artist, Anna. A real one, like I've never seen before."

"I enjoy it."

She did not move as he slid his arms around her worked the tired muscles of her back. They had been together for hours and he had not touched her. He was embracing her now, only making her more comfortable.

"Tired?" As he relaxed her back, he swayed slightly almost as if they were dancing.

"Hungry," she answered honestly.

"Well, the least I can do is feed you after you saved the tree. I think I've still got some of them funny crackers and tea."

She frowned.

"Baloney sandwiches?" He laughed when she made a face. "No wait. After all that work, you need a real treat. How about a baloney bowl with cowboy beans and onions in it?"

Anna raised her eyebrows. Ten minutes later she stared.u a thick slice of baloney that had bowed to the shape of a bowl when fried. It was then filled with grilled onions and canned beans. Anna was not sure she could eat it.

But Zack acted like he was serving a delicacy. "My mom used to make this for me when I was a kid." He put a slip of flat yellow bread on her plate. "Corn bread," he added when she stared up at him with an eyebrow raised. "It tastes really good crumbled on top of the beans."

She seriously doubted anything could improve the taste of a baloney bowl filled with beans.

They ate at the coffee table while sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was surprised at how good the odd food tasted.

When he finished, Zack leaned back against the couch and stretched his long legs out beside her. "You're a great artist, Anna. I'm not just saying it to be nice. You should have your work in one of those high-priced studios in Dallas. Or maybe down on Sundance Square in Fort Worth. They've Remingtons and Russells side by side in a gallery down there.It doesn't get much better than that."

"And you, Mr. Larson, are a terrible cook."

He did not seem to mind her honesty. "I know, but at least it was edible." He glanced at her empty plate.

"I was starving."

"So am L" His voice lowered, his frankness frightening. Without another word, he leaned across the little table and kissed her.

Anna pulled away and stood. It had come time to deal with what had happened between them the last time he had walked her to the stile. She spoke slowly, trying to make the words come out without stuttering, but knowing it was hopeless "A-about the o-other night."

She felt the warmth of his body behind her, but he did nit touch her.

"What about it?" He didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about.

"I-I am not sure I am ready." She fought for words. "I'm not sure I will ever be ready."

Zack folded her into his arms. "It's all right." He felt her tremble but she did not step away. "Take your time, Anna. I'm not going anywhere. Only, do me a favor. Don't go kissing me like that unless you want me to follow you home. You'll never know how hard it was to stay on my side of the fence the other night."

Her body relaxed against his. He was not going to push her into anything. "A fair request."

"Now that's settled." His hand slid down her arm to her hand. "Let's see what the tree looks like from the porch swing."

He did not try to kiss her again or touch her in any way that was improper, but somehow their nearness had changed.

Wrapped in blankets, they sat on the swing drinking their coffee and tea but now, his every touch was somehow different. He was making love to her with each slight move and she knew it. The moon brightened the cold night. till saw his face clearly. He looked deep in thought.

"Tell me why you read travel books." She wanted to hear him talk. He was unlike any man she had ever known. Being with her seemed his only goal. He treated each hour as a gift.

"I don't know. I've collected them since I was a kid I love it here, but I'd like to see other places someday." He talked about all the countries he'd like to visit, all the beaches he wished he could walk on, all the roads he wonld wander down if he had the time.

Anna listened, not telling him that she had seen many of the things he described. The gentle sway of the swing kept time with his voice, making her almost believe the world was a wondrous place.

She had never known the pleasure of seduction. Davis kissed her twice before he proposed. Then he had seen little of her before the wedding. After they were married, he saw no need for courting.

She could not help but wonder if Zack had any idea how his slight touch affected her, now. The way he ran his hand up and down her back, playing along the imprint of her spine. How he brushed her leg as he rocked the swing. Or how his breath warmed her cheek.

Anna leaned against his shoulder and watched the light, of the Christmas tree twinkle through the window. "It is beautiful."

"That it is." He kissed her forehead. "Thanks for helping me."

"You are welcome."

"Want to stay the night with me right here? We could leave the tree lights on all night."

"Yes," she answered honestly, "but I have to be up early tomorrow. I am going shopping with the other widows."

He did not need more explanation. She had talked of Helean, Meredith and Crystal before.

They rocked for several minutes before she added, "I may not get to come back for a while."

His muscles tightened slightly as if he were forcing himpolf not to say a word about when she might return. She knew she was hurting him and he was trying not to let it show.

He did not ask her to explain. No questions. No strings. He had promised.

Cupping his chin with her hand, she whispered, "It is after midnight. Walk me to the stile."

He stood and helped her up, they retrieved their coats and hats from inside. They strolled, hand in hand to the walkover, slowing as they neared.

She did not want the night to end but reality had to win out this time. And she knew even after she left him, she would still have her memories. Sometimes she thought their few hours together were the only cherished memories she had. The only time she had been allowed to just be herself were the times she had crossed the fence and stepped onto his land. He asked nothing. He might never know how much he gave in return.