Isabelle and Alexander, Rebecca Anderson [nonfiction book recommendations .TXT] 📗

were delighted to see him looking relatively unharmed. Had the workers so obviously adored him in this manner prior to his marriage, to his accident?

Isabelle wondered that she could ever have failed to notice such esteem. Perhaps it was evident to her now because she wanted Edwin and Charlotte to see it as well. To know that he was cherished by those his business supported and who, in their turn and in their way, supported him.

Alexander spoke to the workers for a few moments, complimenting them on their good work and thanking them for the fine inventory they were producing. When he had finished speaking, they lined up to shake his hand, touch his arm, and speak a few words. Isabelle stood back at a distance, watching with a sense of pride.

Mr. Connor came to stand beside her. “He’s looking well,” he said.

“At the risk of impropriety, I cannot say the same of you,” Isabelle said, hoping her gentle tone took some of the sting out of her words.

Mr. Connor shook his head. “Ah, no. I am well enough. Perhaps not sleeping as much as I’d like,” he said with a smile. “But the mill does not sleep.”

“The mill is not human, and humans ought to rest,” she said. “I fear you are overworked to a dangerous degree.”

“Now, don’t you let the mill hear you say she’s not human,” Mr. Connor joked. “And take no thought for me, Mrs. Osgood. Help your husband get well so he can come back, and we will all feel better.”

As much as Isabelle wished to assure herself that Mr. Connor would indeed care for his own well-being, she knew that any further prodding on her part would appear as distrust, a feeling she was far from experiencing.

“I hope it is not forward of me to thank you.”

Unsurprisingly, he looked a bit startled, but she continued. “I honor your sacrifices.” She gave Mr. Connor a smile, which he returned.

When the crowd began to disperse from Alexander’s side, Mr. Connor shouted the order for everyone to go back to their places. At the startup of the machinery, Isabelle watched Alexander’s face relax into pleasure. She could not deny he loved his mill.

Edwin asked if he could explore the upper floors of the mill, and Mr. Connor agreed to take him up as he made his rounds. Alexander looked as though nothing would please him more than to be able to bound up the steps to the other levels as well. Isabelle stood at his side as Mr. Connor led Edwin and Charlotte to the stairway. As they disappeared, she caught Alexander’s eye and pointed toward the office. He nodded, and she pushed his chair around the perimeter of the room to his office in the corner.

She closed the door behind them, sealing out a large percentage of the noise.

“Thank you for bringing us here,” she said.

“Your cousin seems to find the mechanisms interesting,” Alexander said.

“More important, the workers have great joy in seeing you here.”

She was sure such a remark would bring a denial, or at least cause Alexander to look away, but she was mistaken. He looked directly at her and smiled. “Thank you for saying so. And I hope it is clear that I have great joy in seeing them too.”

The shudder of happiness that ran through her was, she thought, due in equal measure to his smile and his satisfaction. She took delight in his apparent pleasure.

His next words brought an increase in her happiness. “It felt right to thank them for their efforts. They are my employees, and I could not make a living without them. Because they sustain my mill, I ought to acknowledge them.”

He reached for her hand, an impossibility only a few short weeks ago. Isabelle felt a shiver run from her fingertips up her entire arm. “And I ought to thank you,” he said, his voice lowered. “There are a great many things for which I have not been sufficiently grateful.”

She felt warmth behind her eyes and pressed his hand. “I feel the same way,” she whispered.

Isabelle held Alexander’s gaze as well as his hand. Some­thing flickered in his eyes, and she felt a pull toward him, an overwhelming urge to touch him, reach out, hold him. Be held.

Would she ever feel his arms wrap around her? Would that desire for his affectionate, longing closeness ever be fulfilled? At his gentle gaze, a whisper of assurance touched her mind, and her occasional hope rose to a level of possibility, if not promise. In gratitude, she watched Alexander’s face until a loud crashing pulled her attention.

The noise startled them both, and Isabelle laughed nervously as she rolled Alexander to the door so he could see what had befallen the machinery.

With only a glance at the spinning room, Alexander seemed to understand what had happened. He reassured her with a word that Mr. Connor would direct needed repair.

She nodded her understanding, but she felt she must bring up her concern about Mr. Connor’s health. How to mention it?

“I fear Mr. Connor might be overworking himself,” she said, unable to find appropriate preliminaries.

Alexander looked at her as though trying to see what lay behind her eyes.

“I agree,” he said after a moment.

Isabelle noted the compassion in his voice, and she continued. “I know nothing of his schedule, of course, but I fear he may be working day and night without leaving the mill.”

Alexander nodded. “In the past,” he said, avoiding naming his accident, “Kenworthy and I oversaw the day workers. The majority of the workers are here in the daytime hours. Connor would superintend the overnight period, repairing machines that were not in use in those hours.” He looked down at his hands. “Since I have been unable to carry my share, Connor has, I am afraid, attempted to stretch himself to do both of our jobs.”

Isabelle felt a jolt of concern for the poor man. Alongside that feeling, she experienced a small thrill of happiness at being included in this