by P. Creeden
“I really hope I get to meet Fredrick soon.”
“You will. I’m surprised he hasn’t been by the house yet.”
She smiled and nodded. “Why were you living on the street in the first place?”
“Like you, my mother also died in childbirth with a sibling. I was only four at the time. But my father remarried to a very hard woman. Each day, he worked in the mines, until they had a tunnel collapse. I lost my father when I was ten. My stepmother wanted nothing to do with me and kicked me out of the house. She might even still live back there with my half-brother. I don’t know.”
Abby frowned. “I’d like to give that woman a piece of my mind. Abandoning a child to the elements.”
He laughed. “I think I turned out okay. It was worse for some other people, you know?”
She sighed. “I imagine so. And then you found Fredrick?”
He nodded and smiled wide. “I did. Or rather, he found me...”
The night wore on. Instead of doing dishes, they talked. Instead of clearing the table, they told each other stories about their past. When one of the candles was burnt down to the nub, they lit another candle and continued communing with one another until late into the night. Then Abby’s body had to go and ruin it by making her stifle a yawn.
James frowned. “It’s late, and you’re still getting over your fever. You really ought to get on to bed and rest.”
She frowned back at him, wanting to tell him that going to that bed alone was the last thing she wanted to do. The time they had spent together that evening had been one of the best nights she’d had since her brother had left for war. The siblings had long, deep conversations like this, and she’d never had them with another person after. Her heart fluttered when she thought about how much she just wanted to continue being with James in some fashion.
When she didn’t answer him or move, he finally huffed a self-deprecating laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t trying to order you around, if you took it that way.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t. It’s just that I’m having so much fun that I really don’t want to go on to bed.”
“I understand how you feel,” he said as he took her hand across the table. His touch was warm and soft even though the skin on his fingers was a bit rough and calloused.
Her heart flipped in her chest.
“But,” he said. “We both need a good rest after a long day.”
If it meant he was tired, too, she needed to let him sleep. Slowly, she stood, giving into the demands of life. After letting out another sigh, she said her goodnight and headed toward the bedroom, taking one long look at the pallet in the parlor. She wasn’t sure she’d get a wink of sleep that night, but she’d try.
Chapter Eleven
Abby woke to the sound of chopping wood. The gray light of dawn barely slipped through the crack between the curtains in the bedroom. She spread out across the bed, relishing in how well she slept in it, even with its large size. Then when she remembered that the bed was made for two, heat rose to her cheeks. She inhaled a slow breath and thought about how James was chopping wood outside right now, sweat dripping from his brow. Her cheeks heated more as her eyes went wide. Why was she thinking about such a thing? She patted her cheeks and pushed those thoughts from her mind. Then she pulled the quilted cover from herself and worked to get up from bed.
In the kitchen, she started making flapjacks, happy they at least had honey to pour over them instead of the molasses she was used to. Over the years, Momma June had taught her several recipes and made sure that Abby was able to make her way about a kitchen and to make several Southern dishes. James had bought the seeds she’d asked for so that she could plant carrots, peas, spinach, and radishes for a late fall harvest. She hoped that they’d get them in well before the first frost. Once the table was set with food, she stepped out into the front yard and came around the side to find James, his shirt removed, so that every muscle on his body laid bare before her eyes. Sweat glistened in the sunlight when he moved the hoe in his hands as he made furrows in the ground for the garden she wanted to start. She swallowed, squealed, and turned away.
“Oh! Mercy,” James cried out, shuffling behind her. “I’m sorry, Abby. I just got hot. It’s all right now. I’m dressed.”
When she turned about again, slowly, he pulled his other suspender over his shoulder and eyed her with his brow furrowed. She let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Breakfast is ready,” she squeaked out. Then she put a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart, took another breath and said, “I made flapjacks.”
He smiled, his brow smoothing as he set the hoe to the side of the house. “That sounds delicious, and I’ve worked up a mighty hunger. I’ll be inside once I wash up.”
She returned his smile, even though her heart refused to calm no matter how hard she willed it. Her body still felt stiff, and she had a hard time turning away. She’d thought he’d been in a state of undress once upon their meeting, but this was something different. A spectacle. And for some reason she had a hard time turning her mind away from it, even though she tried hard. She swallowed again and headed into the house. He followed behind her soon after.
Together they sat at the table for the meal, falling into a comfortable conversation about the garden she planned and how he didn’t want her to do too much work, but would do most of it himself, if she would just watch over him and tell him what to do. After breakfast, they put that plan into action and got the fall garden finished just before the sun had reached its zenith in the sky. They were just about to head inside to make some lunch when they heard whistling coming up the lane.
Abby frowned. “Who could that be?”
James stepped from the porch, a wide smile on his face. “I’d know that whistle anywhere. Abby, you’re about to meet Fredrick.”
A smile came to Abby’s face unbidden. For some reason it felt like a piece of home... a piece of Cecilia was coming to visit her. That thought already made the man she’d never met dear to her heart. When he came around the bend, his hands were shoved in his trouser pockets, though his sleeves were rolled up to just past the elbows, making his strong, dark-skinned arms easily visible. He removed his hat as soon as he saw Abby. “Hello to the house!” he called out as he came closer.
“Fredrick!” James called back and met him several yards away and gave him a handshake and a pat on the back. “Come meet my wife. Abby has already been asking for you.”
Perfect white teeth shined in the sunlight as Fredrick offered Abby a smile and bent at the waist in a bow. She curtsied back and nearly skipped toward him, offering him a hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Fredrick. I’m excited to see one of Cecilia’s relatives. Have you eaten lunch yet? We’re just about to settle in and have some biscuits with sausage gravy.”
“Biscuits? Do you mean real, Southern biscuits?” His eyes went wide.
“Yes, sir. Your aunt, Momma June, shared all of her cooking secrets with me at the same time as she did Cecilia.”
He rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, pretending to wipe away drool. “Then your cooking is something that I am very much looking forward to.”
The men settled in, and though they didn’t have ice, Abby had some tea that she’d kept cool in the larder to serve to them while they sat at the table and caught up with the goings on at the pugilist society. Meanwhile, Abby fried up the sausage in her iron skillet and mixed the gravy in the fatty juices afterward. Once she finished making the plates, she set them in front of the two gentlemen.
Fredrick blinked and stood. “Miss Abby, I didn’t realize there were only two chairs, I’ll stand as I eat mine.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “No. Don’t trouble yourself, I’ve been eating while I cooked. Please have a seat; you’re our guest.”
Fredrick gave her a humble smile and nod of the head. Then he took his seat again and the two continued to eat while talking some more. He even had a letter fr
om Cecilia to deliver to Abby from the post office.
He smiled. “She sent me the letter, since she didn’t know if you would be able to make it to the post office in the city. I will let her know that for now she can keep sending them to me, and I’ll bring them over every week if you like, since it’s a bit of a walk for you.”
“Actually,” James said with a smile. “We have a horse now. I got a job as deputy with the sheriff’s office.”
Fredrick’s eyes went wide. “That’s wonderful news.”
James nodded. “When we’re done with lunch, let’s head out back and you can help me get some practice with shooting. You can use the rifle while I use the pistol.”
The two friends spent the rest of the afternoon with each other, but when they invited Fredrick to stay for dinner, he said that he had to get back to town. After Fredrick left, James pulled the horse out of the paddock to practice riding up and down the road a few times as well. Cicadas continued to sing their evening song while the birds settled in for the night. The breeze blew in, but the chill of autumn was barely a whisper upon it.
Still, it wasn’t as hot or sticky, and there weren’t nearly as many mosquitoes as there were back home in Suffolk, Virginia. Sitting out on the porch in the evening was fast becoming a pleasant experience. And she loved watching James work and ride. If she were being honest with herself, her affection for him was growing with each day that passed. She wanted to get to know him more. Would it be too much to hope that his affection might be growing for her? Right now, she wasn’t sure. He was a pure gentleman with her. He kept his distance from her and didn’t treat her yet as a woman. She almost felt that he was closer to Fredrick right now. A laugh huffed out of her. Of course they were close; they’d been together since childhood. How could she be jealous of that?
Her stomach growled. It wouldn’t be long before her husband would grow hungry as well. She decided to head into the house and fix something up for supper. Tomorrow would be James’s first day working as a deputy. She needed to make sure he was well rested and had good solid meals. It was her duty as his wife.
Chapter Twelve
It had been a long, hard day for James by the time that he made it home mid-afternoon for a meal and rest. And it wasn’t over. He’d only get a four-hour break before he had to head back to town. Friday night. According to the other deputy and the sheriff, it was the one evening a week they had to be especially on their toes. Not only did they have to deal with people who were unruly due to drinking, but gambling was heavy in the saloons, whether it was cards or pugilism. And the loss of money would often make saloon-goers ornery. Fights sometimes broke out between them. But for now, he got to eat a delicious stew with his beautiful wife. He wanted to spend every minute with her that he could. His heart fluttered just to watch her waltz about the kitchen. They said grace together before they tucked in.
When she set a pale stew in front of him, he had lifted a brow. But after taking the first bite, he wondered aloud. “What is in this? It’s delicious.”
She smiled at him from her place across the table. “It’s rabbit. I set out a couple snares this morning after you left and found one of them sprung this afternoon already. I’m pretty sure that you might get sick of rabbit by the end of fall, but they make good eating until then.”
His brow furrowed. “You know how to make rabbit snares?”
She laughed and smiled demurely. “I do. Momma June’s sons showed both me and Cecilia how to make snares when we were younger. Sometimes we’d catch rabbits, other times squirrels. Either way, it’s good enough to give us some fresh meat instead of the salted stuff we get at the general store.”
John frowned a moment at his bowl. He didn’t like that Abby was doing things that he was responsible for. “I’ll invite Fredrick to go hunting with me when I’m off on Monday. We’ll see if we can’t get ourselves a deer, too.”
Her smile widened. “That would be great. Is there a lake or river nearby? Maybe we could go fishing sometime, too.”
“You fish?” He lifted a brow at his wife. She surprised him at every turn.
“I do.” Her lip stuck out a little as her face scrunched up. It was adorable. “I guess I was raised a bit differently because my father and brother weren’t around. I learned to do some hunting and fishing because I wanted to help with my own survival and not just rely upon the kindness of others.”
“That’s noble. And a lady who can fish or hunt is much better than one always getting attacked by the vapors.”
She laughed. “As much as I was stricken and sickly upon our first meeting, James Fisher, I am not one of those kinds of ladies.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Their banter made him happy. He’d never had much experience talking with women, and he’d feared that he would run out of things to say or put his foot in his mouth. But with Abby, they got along just as comfortably as James did with any man... even Fredrick. She was beautiful and smart but didn’t make him feel as ugly or as stupid as he knew he was. He genuinely enjoyed being with her and looked forward to their future together if she would like to stay with him. Someday he hoped to have the courage to ask her. Maybe even ask her to be his bride for real. Heat rushed to the surface of his skin as it felt his whole body blushed at the thought of holding her in his arms and kissing her.
He’d never been with a woman before. Although the society looked down upon drinking and gambling, they didn’t mind if boxers enjoyed the company of saloon girls in the upstairs of the saloon—as long is it was after the fight and not the night before. But James had never partaken in that pastime. The preacher’s wife at church had always been kind to him, even when he was a kid living on the street. She’d set an example of what kind of lady James wanted in his life, and she and the pastor lived the kind of biblical marriage that they preached about in the church. It was the kind of relationship he desired. Although he felt bad about the proxy marriage he now had, as it felt as though it was fake, albeit legal, he still held hope that Abby wouldn’t ask for an annulment and might make this work as a real union someday.
After he finished his early dinner, he yawned.
“What time to do you need to be back in town?” Abby asked as she sat down at the kitchen table across from him with her sewing kit. She had found one of his shirts that needed the buttons mended and had told him she would fix it.
“I need to be back at eight p.m. Things stay pretty quiet until a little after that.”
“It’s going to be a late night for you. Why don’t you take a nap until then?” Her brow was wrinkled with worry as she looked up at him from her mending. Somehow it made him feel better that she would worry for him.
He shrugged. “I was thinking that I might, but I didn’t want to be in your way in the parlor.”
“Then, sleep in the bed,” she said off-handedly as she put the needle in between her lips and tied a knot in the thread.
His stomach flipped, and his heart rate picked up. “I couldn’t do that. It’s your bed.”
She shook her head and pulled the needle from her lips. “Nonsense. You might allow me to sleep in it, but it’s your bed.”
“If I gave it to you—it’s yours. Don’t return gifts,” he said with a frown as his heart pinched in his chest.
She tilted her head, and her face softened. “I’m not giving it back. We are married. It’s as much your bed as mine. Sleep in it. Please. It will make me feel better. I’ll wake you in two hours so that you can feel refreshed and not tired later.”
His brow furrowed as he watched her continue with her sewing. “Are you sure?”
She smiled sweetly at him. “Absolutely.”
Slowly, he stood from his chair. She continued her sewing, and for a few moments he watched. With a sigh, he headed into the bedroom. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that his body craved the bed. Just looking at it made his back and muscles cry out to lie in it. He’d never slept in it when the society delivered it. That very day, he’d picked
up Abby at the train station, and the bed had become hers. He’d been sleeping on a pallet for nearly a week. Though he didn’t mind doing it, he woke with stiffness every morning that he had to stretch out of, and, honestly, chopping the wood helped.
He pulled off his boots and suspenders but left on his trousers. The last thing he wanted to do was put Abby into shock if she should see him undressed again. He thought back to the way she’d squealed the other morning when she’d found him chopping wood shirtless. For some reason, the sound of the squeal both appealed to him and appalled him at the same time. He swallowed down those thoughts and feelings and then sat on the softness of the bed. His muscles cried out for more.
Then he lay in the bed and tucked the pillow under his head. Suddenly, the sweet smell of cinnamon and lilac surrounded him. Abby’s scent. His vision went blurry for a second as his heart skipped a beat. He pushed his nose into the pillow and breathed in deeply. Her scent was intoxicating, and the bed was drenched in it. His heart continued to race as he turned and chided himself for getting so excited by the smell of a woman. His woman. Oh, how he wanted that to be true.
For a long moment, he just lay on his back, trying to bring his heart and body under control. Although the bed felt amazingly comfortable, would he ever get used to this scent enough to calm down and go to sleep?
Abby stepped into the darkened bedroom, greeted by James’s soft snore. She tiptoed around to the other side of the bed to peer into his face in the candlelight from the lantern she held. He had the beginnings of a stubble growing on his strong chin. It matched the sand-color of his hair. His lips parted slightly, and she marveled at how long his eyelashes were as they rested against his cheek. She hated to wake him and ruin this moment, but knew it was her duty. After setting the lantern on the bedside table, she patted his shoulder and whispered quietly, “James, it’s time to wake.”