“Now, why would I want to do that?” Belle laid her head back onto his shoulder.
Denver lowered his mouth to hers, tasting her goodness.
“Bama, they’re still here. They’re smooching again.”
Turning their heads, they saw Neva peering through the screen door.
“I do believe it’s time to head to work,” Denver said.
~~~~~
Belle was tired of people interrupting them to offer more congratulations on their marriage. They had work to do. It only added to her irritation at Denver. He’d gotten angry and broken her parasol. Luckily, it wasn’t one of her favorites.
They’d set up his surveying equipment so he could begin finalizing the measurements for the water and sewer pipes. They would be the first of the new service installations since the streets needed to be dug up so they could be laid. Now, that bricks were being shipped from Mr. Holt’s brickyard in Idaho, the business owners wanted to begin their rebuilding as soon as possible.
When Belle turned around and knocked the tripod over with her parasol, Denver caught his sensitive piece of equipment before it hit the ground. He’d set it up and grabbed her parasol, breaking it over his knee.
“That’s the last time you’ll hit either me or anything else with one of those infernal things. Don’t you have a wide brimmed hat you could wear to keep the sun off you?” He’d tossed the parasol on the ground and begun resetting his, whatever it was he was using.
Belle had pursed her lips. She really needed to apologize to him. She would, later, when she was less irritated. Right now all she wanted to do was pout a bit.
“Mama, where’s your parasol?” Neva’s little voice made them both turn their heads to look at her and Geneva, walking toward them. “Oh, it got busted.”
“It certainly looks like it,” Geneva said, lifting an inquiring brow at Belle.
Belle ignored the comments and knelt in front of her daughter. Denver mumbled a greeting and paced across the street to do whatever it was he was doing. She couldn’t quite figure it out and he hadn’t explained it to her. “What are you ladies doing here?”
“We’re going to the mercantile to see what we can buy so they don’t have to move as much stuff to the tent. We heard Mrs. Cutler say she was tired of moving since they just got settled in their new house. She doesn’t want to move all the ‘ventory of the store. So we thought we’d move some of it to our house.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Belle kissed Neva on the cheek.
“How about you buy your mother a wide brimmed straw hat? It will keep the sun off as well as a parasol, and she’ll have both hands to help me with my work.” Denver came back and picked Neva up, giving her a hug.
Neva’s face lit with excitement. “Oh, I’d love to do that. Maybe they have one with lots of pink flowers on it.”
“Just a plain one please. I’ll be wearing it for work, not church,” Belle said.
Neva’s face fell. “Can it at least have a ribbon on it?”
“Yes, it can, young lady, and here’s the money for you to buy it.” Denver handed her a bill and set her on her feet.
“Look, Bama, I get to buy it with my own money.” Neva held the dollar up to show her grandmother.
“My, you are a big girl. Let’s go get that hat right now so your mama can wear it before her nose turns red.”
Belle turned to Denver when Geneva and Neva were out of earshot. “That was sweet of you. And you don’t think you know anything about children.”
“Maybe I’m trying to make up for breaking your parasol. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” Denver took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“No, I don’t think you should have, but I should have been more careful. I’m sure that thing, whatever it is, is more valuable than my parasol.” She kicked it slightly with her foot as it lay on the ground.
“Mrs. Stew….Hughes, where is your parasol? You’ll burn your face to a crisp out in the sun like this.”
Denver and Belle rolled their eyes at each other, Denver releasing her hand, and they turned to see Mrs. Wallace walking toward them.
“My parasol met with an unfortunate accident. Geneva and Neva are purchasing a hat for me at this very moment.” Belle waved a hand toward the mercantile building. “How are you feeling today, Mrs. Wallace? We missed you at church yesterday. I hope Saturday didn’t leave you ill.”
“Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing? It was a very common social. I need to be on my way. It’s so difficult to sort the mail at the depot, especially with the repairs being made. All that hammering gives me a headache. Have a good day.” Mrs. Wallace stepped around them and stalked up the street.
“You too, Mrs. Wallace.” Belle looked at Denver and they both struggled to hold in their laughter.
“I don’t think she wanted to be reminded of the spectacle she made of herself Saturday, do you?” Denver whispered.
“No, I don’t think so.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Denver dropped into his desk chair with a sigh. He shouldn’t think of it as having escaped, but he did. It had been two weeks since the wedding and it had been the best and, if not the worst, at least the most trying of his life. The nights were certainly the best. The mornings were also delightful. The other parts of the day, well, they varied, a lot.
Breakfast was a joy. Belle would look at him with that smirk of hers, reminding him of the night before, and sometimes earlier that morning. Neva was always in a good mood after a night’s sleep. She’d chatter about what she and Bama were going to do that day. Connor dragged a little bit, not really wanting to go to school.
The days went on as they had before he and Belle were married. Several times they’d gone home for lunch. Neva was always glad to see them. At supper Connor would tell them about his day.
Those were the best of times. Then there were the other times. He couldn’t count the number of times a naked doll was plopped in his lap with orders of, ‘Dress Molly.’ Belle admonished her several times to say please. Denver began doing the same. Those big blue eyes in a cute little face with its halo of strawberry blonde curls made his heart turn over, even as he sighed inside, not wanting to dress the doll once again.
In the evening, Neva was grouchy and whiny. She was resisting taking a nap, saying she was too old. It was easy to tell when she hadn’t taken one.
Connor was in and out of the house, running over to the Cutlers’ and back, letting the screen door slam each time. The first time Denver had scolded the boy for the noise, he’d looked up at him with fear in his eyes. Belle had defused the situation by reminding Connor of the rule to close, not slam doors.
Then there was the time Denver had helped Connor put his blocks away before bed. As he’d done as a child, he’d stacked them along the wall in alphabetical order. Connor had knocked them over and laughed. It had taken all he could do to bite his tongue and not shake the boy. That Connor had gotten on his last nerve after a tough day at work, a whiney Neva, milk spilled over his trousers, and having to tell the boy that he didn’t need to yell to be heard made it all the more difficult.
The first Saturday morning, Denver woke to two sets of eyes peering at him next to the bed. He’d been so startled, he jerked away, knocking heads with Belle. Not the way he wanted to wake up ever again.
Today, the second Saturday, Denver had escaped, fleeing to his office, pleading pressing work needing to be finished. School was now out for the summer. Connor had announced last night that his friends were coming to spend the day. When Denver asked how many and who, Connor had said the names of so many boys, there was no way he was going to be able to stand being at home that day. Belle had promised she’d make sure Connor knew not to invite people without asking first.
He liked the children. He truly did. Getting used to them being around all the time when he was home, learning to be a patient father as well as a husband with a mother-in-law living with them was a challenge.
Denver heard
a knock on the door to the building. He’d locked it when he came in. Answering, he found Clay Cutler standing there.
“Hi, Clay, what can I do for you?”
Clay chuckled. “Hiding out, are you?”
Denver’s mouth dropped open. “How’d you know?” He waved Clay in and they went back to his office. Clay poured them each a cup of coffee.
“I’m the father of nine, soon to be ten children. Escaping is sometimes the only option.”
“How do you do it? Deal with the whining, the noise? I was an only child and made to be quiet all the time.” Denver waved his hand, not able to articulate the rest.
“Most of the time, having children comes gradually. The first baby is born and it’s the most miraculous thing ever. Every new baby is. That little gift of God is totally dependent on you. The love for it is instantaneous.
“You know they will be noisy and stink and spit up on you. The changes come gradually. You grow into parenthood that way too. You, my friend, moved smack dab into the totality of it in one fell swoop. I know what that feels like. I went from five to nine overnight.”
“Were you as overwhelmed as I feel?”
“Maybe not as much. After the third child, more doesn’t really change anything but the amount of food, clothes, laundry, bedrooms, noise, and bickering increases immensely.”
“Your children seem to get along so well.”
That made Clay laugh outright. “They do, but they are children. I remember, early on, Grace and Opal getting into a slapping match over which one liked Jackson McMillian the best. Ben and Reuben, best friends that they are, have had some knock down drag out fights. They’ve spent many more hours wiping shelves when it wasn’t their turn than I can count.”
“So Connor and Neva picking on each other is normal?”
“Yes, very.”
Denver thought about all Geneva and Belle did with only two children. “How does Millie manage with nine children and expecting another one?”
“We’ve hired a housekeeper. She also cooks and tends the little ones when Millie is at the store, busy, or resting. She’s a wife of one of the Chinese workers. She started just after we moved into the house.
“She’s about this high.” Clay held out his hand indicating how short the woman was. “The children really like her. She knows how to make them mind. When she starts scolding them in Chinese they know they are in real trouble.”
Both men laughed.
They sipped their coffee in silence, then Denver brought up a fear he had. “What if I do something that makes them hate me or ruins their lives?”
“Oh, they’ll hate you sometime, or at least they will tell you that. Just as we are sinners, they are too. They want their way and will let you know it in no uncertain terms. That too will pass. They’ll hate you one minute and be crying for your comfort the next. They’ll also tell you that you’ve ruined their lives. Don’t worry. Children are more resilient than we give them credit for. Unless you abuse them, do evil toward them or their mother, they’ll be fine.
“If you let them, worrying that you’ll ruin them, they’ll manipulate you with their selfish desires. Remember, the duty of a parent is to raise them in the fear and admonition of the Lord. Striking a little fear in them over the consequences of their behavior as their earthly father, leads to them having a healthy fear of the Lord who loves them more than you do.” Clay smiled at him.
At that moment, Denver realized he did love Connor and Neva. Having only known them a short while, he loved them as if they were his own. He also realized that he wanted them to have a happier, more joy filled childhood than he’d had.
Now he needed to figure out how to show them that he loved them. Neva would be easy. Dress her doll. Drink pretend tea with her. Comfort her when she skinned her knee. Be the loving accepting father she’d lost a year ago.
It would be more difficult with Connor. The boy challenged him and his authority just enough to show he was reluctant to accept him as a father. Denver didn’t want to replace Emery in that position. He just wanted to find a place in Connor’s heart just as the boy had in his.
After Clay left, Denver sat staring off into space, assessing his new life. In truth, the things that he’d thought drove him from the house that morning weren’t very important. Just different from what he was used to. Quiet had reigned supreme in his life. Well, not so much in college, after he had embraced doing something that wasn’t serious and productive. There’d been plenty of high jinx. Some he could share with the children, some not, especially a six-year-old boy. He didn’t want to give Connor any ideas.
His thoughts turned to Belle. She’d begun revealing herself to him. Rather than simply being his employee and remaining professional with him, she’d begun to tease him more. At least once a day, he’d find something out of place on his desk, on the drawing table he now had, in the case he carried with his equipment in it. It was never much, never damaging. Something was just not quite where he wanted it. Each time he noticed it, he’d look at her and see that smirking smile.
She was embracing him as her husband. They had talked some about Emery, but she never made comparisons. He appreciated that. Especially in the bedroom.
Belle supported him when he scolded the children, even if she disagreed. When she did, they discussed it later, out of earshot of the children.
She wasn’t perfect. She was as messy as he was neat. He’d tripped over her shoes left out of the wardrobe. If Belle was tired, she could snap an irritated answer to what he thought was a simple question. But he loved her.
That thought made him sit totally still. He’d only known her a little over six weeks. Been married only two. How could he love her so soon? He pushed the question away. It didn’t really matter. He loved her and that was all there was to it.
Denver got up. He was going home and spending the rest of the day with his family. As he passed the umbrella stand by the door, he thought, ‘At least she’s not carrying those darned parasols anymore.’
~~~~~
Belle watched Denver hurry down the block. She knew he was only trying to get some peace and quiet, but it hurt, none the less. The adjustment he was making to his life far exceeded her own. A wife, mother-in-law, and two young, noisy, very active children for someone so used to being by himself must be daunting for such a quiet, fastidious man.
She actually marveled at his patience. Neva and Connor were excited to have a man in the house again. He tried to spend some time with each of them almost every day. Last night, Denver had tossed a ball to Connor, who never was able to catch it. Neither one seemed to care. Neva would climb up into his lap with her doll and a book and ask him to read to her. He’d done so each time. That it was the same book didn’t seem to matter.
There had been some tense moments a few times. Denver thought they should eat everything that was put on their plates. He didn’t know that Neva would throw up beets, and that they shouldn’t have been served to her. When she’d seen them set before her, Neva started crying which upset Denver who didn’t know what caused her tears.
Belle had seen him clench his fists to keep from reacting when Connor knocked over the blocks Denver had so carefully arranged while putting them away. He’d also never said a word when Connor announced that all his friends were coming to play today. It was no wonder he wanted to get away from the madhouse that was their home this morning.
“Come have a cup of tea, Belle,” Geneva touched her shoulder. “The boys will be fine. They’ll let us know if there’s a problem. Neva went over to play with the Cutler girls.”
Belle chucked. “It was so cute when she put her hands on her hips and told the boys they were too rambunctious and that she was going to play with her sophisticated friends.”
“That she couldn’t pronounce the words made it even cuter.” Geneva poured them each a cup of tea.
They chatted for a while about the digging that was being done to install the pipes. The newly formed Silverpines Telephone Company was st
ringing wire on the electrical poles. Everyone was excited about being able to talk with their neighbors when each were in their own houses.
“You and Denver seem to be getting along as well as can be expected,” Geneva said and took a sip of her tea.
Belle could feel her cheeks turning pink. Yes, they were getting along quite well in some aspects of their lives. She wasn’t going to share that, however. “We are, though I know he wishes I’d be neater. I’m trying, but it’s difficult for me. I just don’t care.”
“He is extremely neat. I found him adjusting the antimacassars so they were all exactly the same on each arm of the chairs. He must not realize they’ll be knocked askew by little hands.”
Belle smiled. “Oh, I think he notices. He just needs to be straightening them. Don’t let the children know he does that, or they’ll mess them up on purpose.” She leaned forward and confided, “I mess with his pencils at work just to see how long it takes him to straighten them.”
When they finished their tea, Geneva went to work in the garden. Belle began preparing lunch. Her thoughts kept returning to Denver. She liked having him in her life more than simply as an employer. She liked working with him and coming home with him in the evening. It was wonderful to be held against him as they went to sleep at night, and to wake up next to him each morning. Remembering last Saturday morning, when the children startled him so when he woke made her giggle.
Belle was surprised at how he had captured such a large part of her heart. The marriage that she had thought would be only a friendship was quickly turning into much more. At least for her.
The realization that she was beginning to love Denver stopped her hands as she chopped cabbage. It was something she’d never thought to feel again, romantic love for a man. That’s what she was feeling, the beginnings of love for her husband.
On the heels of that came the question, did he, could he ever love her? Belle knew he liked her. Enjoyed being with her. Was doing what he could to make their marriage work. Was doing his best to be a good father figure for Neva and Connor. Accepted, without protest, Geneva continuing to live with them. Was that evidence that he loved her? She didn’t know. It showed his character. It showed he was trying to be what her family needed.
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