The fact that her husband was working himself to a frazzle didn’t sit well with Nancy. Hal was so tired at night he could barely stand, and yet he pushed himself to the point of being too tired to eat. And so she began taking lunch to her husband each day.
Hal would tell her she didn’t need to interrupt her day to carry a meal to the mill for him. But she was through listening to his ridiculous protests. He was a grown man who needed to eat to keep up with the many demands on his time and body. The man needed to eat more than an apple for lunch and to take better care of himself.
Each day Hal would thank her and say he couldn’t stop to eat just now. She wouldn’t press him, knowing he would return home that evening with an empty lunch sack. His work was hard and demanding, but her visits seemed to lighten his burden and bring them a little closer. Spending time, however brief, with her husband provided glimpses into his mind and character.
After two weeks of delivering his lunch and being promptly chased from the mill, Nancy decided that her stubborn husband was in need of an education. A wife needed more than a roof over her head. She needed companionship.
When Nancy arrived at the mill, Hal was deeply engrossed with the waterwheel that powered the mill, and he didn’t look happy.
He nodded when he saw her arrive. A quizzical look crossed his face when he saw the large basket she was carrying. Drawing a soiled handkerchief across his wet forehead, he crossed the yard to meet her. “Looks as if you brought enough for two,” he said.
“I did. I thought it would be enjoyable to share a mid-day meal together.”
“Thank you, Nancy, but I can’t take the time. I’ve got a jam in the waterwheel that I need to fix.”
“How long will that take?”
He shrugged and huffed out a breath. “I don’t know. I’ve been at it since first thing this morning and I can’t loosen the jam.”
“Perhaps I can help?”
He shook his head. “I have a snarl of timber jammed in the waterwheel and it caused the sawblade to bind in another piece of timber.”
“I’m quite adept at problem solving,” she said, smiling up at him. “I unravel thread all the time.”
“This isn’t thread, Nancy.” He shoved his fingers into his hair and sighed. “This isn’t woman’s work.”
“Then you need to focus on something else and let your mind rest. After a good lunch you’ll be refreshed and see everything in a new light.”
“I can’t—”
“Hal Grayson!” The crack of her voice commanded his full attention. “You need to sit down, eat lunch, and rest your back for a few minutes. I’ll not accept any excuses today. That oak timber poking above the other logs is your problem and it’s as plain as the nose on your face, but you can’t see it because you’re tired and hungry.” She thrust the basket into his dirty hands. “That spot of shade beneath the maple will make a lovely picnic area. Surely you can give your wife fifteen minutes of your day?”
For a minute she thought she’d gone too far, but in the face of his scowl she merely raised her chin. Her husband was ready to drop from fatigue and someone needed to drive some sense into his hard head.
“Do I smell roast pork in here?” he asked, nodding at the basket in his hands.
Her mouth fell open in surprise. She’d expected him to express his displeasure or perhaps even reprimand her, but his empty stomach must have taken the reins and directed his thoughts straight to the source of the food. “I... yes, I brought leftovers from our supper last evening.”
“Since you went to the trouble to carry this heavy basket all the way here, I’ll take time to eat.”
Nancy bit her lip to ward off a smile. She hadn’t meant to be demanding or to bribe him with food, but now that she knew where her leverage lay, she tucked the information away in the event her husband insisted on being difficult again.
Hal spread the threadbare tablecloth on the grass and she sat the basket between them. As Nancy unpacked a small dish laden with moist pork roast and added thick slices of bread to their plates, Hal studied the mill. The longer he looked the deeper his scowl grew.
Finally, she shook her head and sighed. “You’re like a dog with a bone, Hal Grayson. Sometimes the best thing you can do is step away from a perplexing problem so that when you return you can see it from a different perspective.”
“Perhaps,” he said, but his gaze and his thoughts remained on the mill.
“Did I mention that I once raced my father’s thoroughbred?” she asked, casually taking a sip of cold water from the jar she’d brought along.
That statement got Hal’s full attention. A sheepish look crossed his face and he said, “I’m sorry, Nancy, I was preoccupied and fear I wasn’t listening. I believe you said something about your father buying you a horse?”
“No, Hal. I said I raced one of his thoroughbreds.”
He laughed. “You’ve made your point, Nancy. I’m properly chastised for not listening. You don’t have to shock me to get my attention. “
“I’m utterly serious,” she said, delighting in his surprise.
His eyebrow quirked, a habit of his that she was growing fond of. “You raced a horse?”
“I was fourteen and frustrated with my father continually telling me this is a man’s world. No matter what I desired to do he would tell me it wasn’t proper for a woman. Daddy and I crossed words every day. I would say I want and he would say you can’t.” Those tiresome memories agitated her and straightened her spine. “One day I decided to show him that he was wrong about a woman’s place. I borrowed clothes from my cousin Joseph and hoodwinked my father — and the man who was interested in buying a pair of my father’s best thoroughbreds — into believing me a boy.”
Plate forgotten in his lap, Hal seemed completely captivated by her story. A breeze ruffled the tree leaves and tossed a lock of his hair across his forehead, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Delighted by his full attention, Nancy continued her story. “I spent time in our stables every day. I knew everything about our horses. I rode like a proper lady within sight of the house, but the moment I was out of sight I rode like a boy chasing the wind.” She sighed and leaned back on her hands. “I loved riding, but I was forbidden to ride Maverick and Renegade. So I forced Joseph to loan me some clothes and let me ride Maverick that day.” The memory made her smile. “It was a moment I’ll not forget.”
“I’m dying from suspense,” Hal said, a mix of dread and eager anticipation on his face. “Do tell.”
His reaction made Nancy laugh. She faced him and leaned in as if sharing a secret, loving their unexpected moment of connection. “Joseph was supposed to show each horse individually; to race him from the stable to the creek at the far edge of the meadow and back through a series of jumps. But we took the horses out together and oh my...” A fit of girlish giggles overtook her for a moment and she covered her mouth to stop them. “Maverick and Renegade seldom got the chance to test their skill against each other, but Joseph and I had ridden together many times. We were thick as mud and had many adventures out of eyesight of the stables. I wasn’t riding my gentle mare, though, and I felt the difference in Maverick’s powerful stride. Joseph and I were as eager as the horses and so we abandoned all good sense and raced like the wind across the meadow.” She clasped her hands in front of her heart, now beating double-time from the memory. “I’ll never know how I kept Joseph’s cap on my head because we fairly flew over the jumps. We arrived in a flurry of flashing hooves and wild laughter. When my father realized it was me sitting astride his favorite horse he was nearly apoplectic.”
Disbelief filled Hal’s eyes. “You’re going to tell me this is a tall tale intended to distract me, right?”
Grinning and thrilled with her husband’s attention, Nancy shook her head. “At the risk of horrifying you, I must admit it’s true. Mr. Hewitt was so taken with the horses and our race that he never noticed he was addressing a girl. My father was livid, but he didn’t expose me.
Hewitt spent several minutes inspecting the horses and asking us how they handled and other questions that Joseph and I readily answered. In all that time the poor man never caught on to my deception, but Daddy was seething.”
Hal stared at her in stunned fascination. “I don’t know you at all, Nancy.”
“You know all you need to know.”
“Not true,” he said, smiling. “I need to know what happened when your father got you home.
Nancy laughed. “He took me to the library and roundly chastised me for pulling such a dangerous prank.”
“I’ll bet he did. What did your mother think of your exploit?”
The heavy weight of sadness filled Nancy’s chest and her smile faltered. “He didn’t tell her. Daddy always protected me, even when I deserved to be punished.”
“So you didn’t get disciplined for your daring stunt?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. Daddy thanked me for selling his horses.”
“Good heavens!” Rich laughter burst from Hal. “Is this tomfoolery what I’m in for with you?”
“Not if you don’t challenge me.”
Hal laughed again and shook his head as if he didn’t know whether to admire or fear her.
They lounged beneath the tree and ate their lunch. Hal finished off the pork and two slices of bread. When Nancy retrieved a piece of mince pie from the basket, he raised his eyebrows.
“While you eat this tell me about your family,” she said. “Do you have any sisters?”
“Yes,” he said around a mouthful of pie.
“Older or younger?”
“Both.” After swallowing, he told her he had six siblings including John Radford. A cloud seemed to darken his eyes and he stared off toward the mill. Nancy waited, knowing he needed a moment, but hoping he would share something of himself today. She’d seen the haunted look in his eyes each time John’s name was mentioned and she knew Hal was deeply wounded by his brother’s death.
But instead sharing his heartache, Hal sat upright, eyes squinted and fixed on the oak timber. “That’s it!” He glanced at Nancy. “I’ve figured out how to remove the log jam. You were right about the oak timber.”
“I don’t want to say I told you so, but...” She shrugged one shoulder to help keep the mood light.
“But you did.” He leaned over and pressed his warm lips to her cheek. “Thank you for an utterly intriguing afternoon.”
His kiss surprised her. She’d only been kissed once, on her wedding day, by Hal. She had never shared a picnic blanket with a man. She had no experience in romance, but she knew she loved the feel of her husband’s lips and the new closeness she felt with him.
That feeling of warmth, the prickle of his whiskers and his lips against her cheek, stayed with her for days... and haunted her for many lonely nights.
Chapter Fifteen
Each evening, immediately before or after supper, Hal sat at the kitchen table and retrieved a dirty scrap of paper from his pocket. He would spend several minutes, and sometimes much longer, transferring numbers to a worn ledger he kept on a shelf in the kitchen.
Nancy finished cleaning up supper dishes and then sat across from him, seeming to be waiting for him to finish. But he had several entries to make, so he looked up to let her know he would be a while.
“What is it that’s making you frown so?” she asked, concern in her dark eyes.
“I’m trying to recall how long it took me to sand those spindles, and I’m also recording the number of board feet of oak, pine, cherry and other woods that I sawed today.” He’d answered, but his mind was still preoccupied with trying to determine if recording the information was of any value, or if it was just one more burden on his time.
Nancy sighed. “I’d hoped for a few minutes of conversation before you head to the barn.”
“What would you like to talk about?” he asked, feeling impatient to get back to his ledger. The crackling sound of the stove cooling seemed to keep time with the tapping of his pencil upon the wooden table top.
“You must have sawed an awful lot of trees today because you’ve been working on your ledger for nearly an hour now.”
“I have?” He glanced at his pocket watch and frowned. He released a hard sigh. “I thought that noting the time and process involved for building the furniture I’m making for A. B. Edwards would help me determine which items yield the most profit, but it seems I’m wasting more time on my notes than the effort is worth.”
“Not if I help you,” Nancy said. “Keeping books is something for which I’m most qualified.”
“I’ve no doubt you are,” he said, “but you can’t record what’s only in my mind.”
“I can if you tell me what to put down.”
“Then I may as well record it myself.” He tossed the pencil onto the table and leaned back in his chair, his eyes burning with fatigue.
“What if I joined you in the barn tonight? If you dictate to me while you’re working, you can accomplish two things at once. And I won’t be spending another evening alone.”
For a minute Hal thought to immediately reject her offer, but to his surprise her idea had merit. He passed the dirty scrap of paper to her. “If you’re certain you want to keep my ledger then you’ll need to know what my abbreviations mean.” With the tip of his pencil he tapped the first line that read O–84—#1C. “That means I sawed eighty-four board feet of oak with a grade number of One Common.” He moved the pencil tip to the second line that read WP–128–SM. “This means I sawed one-hundred-twenty-eight board feet of white pine graded as Select Merchantable.”
Nancy groaned and wrinkled her nose, a reaction so adorable Hal nearly kissed her.
She said, “I think I can manage your abbreviations for the type of wood and the number of board feet you sawed, but I’ll need to make a list of your abbreviations for these grading equivalents.”
“All right,” he said, but the whole while his eyes were drinking her in, absorbing every detail of her creamy skin, her flushed cheeks, the fringe of dark lashes around her eyes. “I’m afraid that will have to wait until tomorrow night, though,” he said, getting to his feet. “I need to get out to the shop and work on that cabinet or it’ll take me another week to finish it.”
Nancy scooped up the paper, ledger, and pencil and said, “I’ll come with you. You can share your abbreviations and other information with me and I’ll record it all while you work.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t it getting a bit late for you? I thought you’d prefer to relax in the parlor for a while before turning in.”
“I’d rather spend the time with you.” Her forthright statement surprised him.
“Are you certain, Nancy?”
“Yes.” Her wide eyes seemed to beseech him. “I enjoy spending time with you and I’m more than capable of tending your ledger, so I’d like to come along if you don’t mind the company.”
A half-smile tilted his lips. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, and gestured for her to precede him from the kitchen.
And so they went together to the barn where Nancy set up a makeshift desk using one end of Hal’s workbench and a wooden staved milk churn for a seat. Hal playfully scoffed at her ingenuity and she countered that she could be quite creative when necessary.
“I see that,” he said, giving her a tired smile. “You never cease to surprise me, Nancy.” And it was true. She was such a fascinating mix of grit and tenderness, of demanding and giving, that she’d kept him in a spin since her arrival.
For a moment their eyes held, hers filled with curiosity and warmth.
“I hope I always surprise you,” she said, her voice quiet.
Captured by the dark depths of her gaze, Hal forgot himself and slid his palms up her forearms, drawing her close.
Nancy held her breath in anticipation. She wanted her husband to kiss her. She wanted to shock him awake and please him and make him laugh and forget that he hadn’t chosen her... that he hadn’t fallen in love wit
h her... that everything, including love, was possible between them.
But instead of kissing her he sighed and stepped away. “You also distract me to no end,” he said, his own voice quiet. “I suspect I’ll get far less done with you here.”
“But you’ll also get your ledger updated.” She offered a half-smile to disguise her disappointment.
“That is one benefit,” he agreed with a laugh.
“I would hope that spending time together would be another benefit,” she said, her face heating at her boldness.
One dark eyebrow arched above his golden gaze, but he seemed amused rather than shocked. “Any time with you is a benefit, Nancy.” A look of amusement crossed his face and he gestured to her makeshift desk. “You have apparently chosen to use Captain’s bed for a desk.”
Confused, Nancy glanced behind her and saw Captain sprawled across the work table sniffing at the leather ledger. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said, reaching out to stroke Captain’s furry head. “Were you trying to sneak up on me?”
The cat ignored her, making them both laugh.
“Typical,” Nancy said.
“You’re getting more of a welcome than I’ve received,” he said. “At least Captain’s fascination with the ledger explains why I’m finding cat hair on my tools.”
“Perhaps he wants to help.”
“If that’s the case, he can help by staying off my workbench.” Hal leaned in, reached past her shoulder, and retrieved a cloth from the workbench. “If I don’t work, we don’t eat. And Captain has made it clear we have another mouth to feed.”
He was jesting about feeding the cat, of course, because they had both fallen in love with the furry little rascal who was picking his way across Hal’s tools. But the thought of having another mouth to feed — a baby’s mouth — sent a warm rush through Nancy’s chest. They would make a fine family indeed.
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