Maryelle (War Brides Book 2)

by Linda Ford

  Kingston’s finger halted. His expression flattened. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why ever not? I thought it was a good idea.”

  Kingston flopped to his back, his hands under his head. “Trust me—it’s not.”

  She waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to explain himself.

  “Is there some reason?”

  His eyes were neither blue nor green, but a strange stormy color. “I suppose there must be or I wouldn’t have said it.”

  He offered no more.

  “Are you going to tell me the reason, or is it a secret?”

  He jerked his head to indicate his uncertainty.

  “Now I’m really curious. Remember we promised no secrets.” She pushed back the nagging accusation of her own withheld information.

  “Come on, Kingston. Tell me what you’re hiding.” She tickled his ribs. He jerked away, capturing her hands.

  “It’s not a big deal, I guess. It’s just that Dad doesn’t like women folk around outside. He figures a woman’s place is in the house.”

  Maryelle drew back and pulled in her chin. “Where has he been the last four years? Doesn’t he know that it was women who kept the country running while the men went off to the trenches? Why, I ran my father’s business single-handedly. I even went on the annual spring buying trip on my own after he was killed.” She glowered at Kingston.

  “Hey, wait. Don’t be mad at me. I just told you how my dad felt. Not how I feel.” He pulled her down on his chest. She remained stiff. “Don’t you think I’d keep you by my side day and night if I had a choice?” He chuckled. The sound rumbling in her ear broke down her defenses, and she smiled against his chest. “Course I probably wouldn’t get a lot of work done, would I?” He hugged her tight.

  She let her breath out in a whoosh. “It seems you work all day long. I barely get to see you except at mealtimes, and then everyone else is there.”

  “There’s always a lot of work to be done on a farm. You should have seen that already. Even the women have an endless round of work to do.”

  “Then you’d think they’d let me help.” She hadn’t meant to tell him.

  “What do you mean?”

  She sat up so she could see him. “I didn’t mean to say anything. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  His eyes darkened. “No secrets, remember?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been aching to tell you anyway.” She took a deep breath. “I want to help. I want to learn how to do everything.” She tried to smile and failed. “But it seems they don’t want my help.” A shudder raced across her shoulders. Her eyes flooded with tears.

  Kingston jerked up and pulled her into his arms. “I didn’t know. I’ve seen Lena looking nasty, but I didn’t know what she was doing.” He tipped her head back and wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. “Lena is bitter because the boy she cared about didn’t come back from the war.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “I am too, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior. She has no right to resent you for it.” He gazed across the room. “I’m guessing Katherine follows her lead, and Mom turns her back and ignores what’s going on.”

  Maryelle nodded. “I’ve tried. I do what I can without Lena jumping in and telling me they don’t need my help. About all I’ve been allowed to do is one of the little girls’ jobs.” Until now, saying it aloud, she hadn’t admitted even to herself how it hurt to be treated as an incompetent child. “I’ve worked all my life. I was knee-high to a grasshopper when Dad showed me how to sort and display potatoes and carrots. By the time I was school age, I could unpack crates and fill the bins as well as he. I was only sixteen when he went off to France, leaving me to run the business with Mom’s help. Two weeks later he was dead.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And when Mom quit living, I managed to care for her and run the business without any help.” She flung her hands out in defeat. “Now here I am. Treated like a child.” She gulped hard.

  Kingston pulled her into his arms, crooning, “My poor Maryelle. What are we going to do?” He rocked her until her breathing grew steady, then tipped her chin up. “What do you want to do about it?”

  She wanted to say, What can I do? Everything I try fails. Besides, all she wanted was reassurance of Kingston’s love. And to have him to herself. But she couldn’t bring herself to say so. What if he told her he never intended to leave the farm? Not even for her? So she gave a little shrug. “What do you mean?”

  She watched him struggle with his answer. “I suppose if you really want to we could find someplace else to live.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Thank you, Kingston, my love, but where would we go? What would you do? You said yourself that all you know and care about is farming.” She refrained from adding “this farm.” She was certain it mattered more than she did, but she would not resort to self-pitying remarks.

  “I’m sure we could find something.”

  She smiled. He sounded as uncertain as she felt.

  “I would like to have things work out,” she said, hoping to drive away the confusion in his expression. “But I’m not sure what more I can do.”

  “I will speak to Lena.”

  “Won’t that make things worse?”

  “I hope not. Lena hasn’t always been like this.” He snorted. “Not that she’s been easy to live with. But let me give it a try.” He gripped her shoulders. “But I want you to promise me you’ll tell me if things get worse.” He crushed her to his chest. “I want you to be happy.”

  “And I want you to be happy.” She understood that his happiness was wrapped up in the farm he loved. “I will find a way of making peace with the others.” The vow was as much for her as for him. “Somehow things will work out.”

  “We will pray about it.”

  Maryelle closed her eyes as Kingston prayed aloud for a solution to their problem.

  When she woke the next morning, Kingston’s side of the bed was empty. Why was he up so early on a Sunday, the only day there was any rest around the farm? She scrambled from the bed and donned her Sunday clothes. Must have been something mighty important to take him from her side so early.

  Downstairs she found Kingston packing sandwiches in a tin and explaining to his mother, “Maryelle and I are going for a picnic after church.” He flashed Maryelle a look full of promise.

  She couldn’t contain her smile. An afternoon alone with Kingston. The thought of it made breakfast pass quickly.

  As soon as they finished the meal, she followed him outside, where he had the buggy waiting. Since the first Sunday, they had gone to church in the buggy while the others crowded into the car that was Father Brown’s pride and joy.

  “It’s not much better than a tin Lizzie,” he’d said that first Sunday.

  “What’s a tin Lizzie?” Lily had asked.

  “That’s what we called the tin hats we had in the war. We used them to carry water in. We even washed in them.” He shook his head. “I won’t be riding in anything that reminds me of one.”

  And so Maryelle and Kingston had gone in the buggy while the rest rode proudly in the motor vehicle, a fact that Maryelle envied them not at all. She much preferred having Kingston to herself. And this Sunday she would have him to herself in the afternoon too. She hugged the thought to her.

  Maryelle had discovered the kindly old minister to be full of the wisdom of God. Every Sunday she came away refreshed and encouraged for the week ahead, and today was no exception, even though her anticipation of the afternoon made it difficult to sit still.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as soon as they drove away from the church.

  “I’ve neglected to show you this beautiful country. Today I will begin to make up for my failing.”

  He sounded so serious, she hugged his arm. “You have no failings, my dear Kingston.”

  He laughed and pulled her into the hollow under his arm. “I’ll see that you are rewarded for that, sweet brown e
yes.”

  “What wonderful thing are you showing me today?” Not that it really mattered. Having the day together was wonder enough. For one whole afternoon she would push aside the way her insides had grown tighter and tighter, like a knot pulled from both ends, at the way his family shut her out.

  “The river,” he answered.

  “The river?”

  “It’s one of the prettiest sights around. Hope there aren’t too many others with the same idea.”

  “Me too,” she whispered.

  “It is beautiful,” she agreed a short time later when he pulled under the trees.

  “I’ll show you around after we eat.” He jumped down and helped her, then reached for the box containing the lunch. He spread a blanket under the pine trees. “Come on, Mrs. Brown—let’s eat.” He took her hand and prayed for the meal, then handed her a sandwich. “Built with my own hands,” he bragged.

  She took a bite. “Um. No wonder it tastes so good.”

  “Oh, that special taste is because I forgot to wash.” He laughed as she wrinkled her nose.

  She took a couple more bites, then stared at him wide-eyed, gulped hard, and let her mouth drop open.

  “What? What’s the matter?” he demanded.

  “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Did what?”

  “Ate that horrible big bug without even slowing down. Was he tasty?”

  Kingston spat, practically dropping the rest of his sandwich. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I did.”

  He cast her an annoyed look. “I mean before I ate it.”

  She shrugged, keeping an indifferent expression on her face. “I figured anyone who would make sandwiches without washing wouldn’t mind a bug or two.”

  He gaped at her as he grasped the idea that she had tricked him. “Why, you dirty rotten stinker.” And he lunged for her.

  She knew what to expect and jumped out of his reach. “Tsk, tsk. No need to resort to name calling.”

  He rose to his feet, growling. “Count yourself lucky that so far name calling is all you’ve experienced.”

  He grabbed for her. She danced away and, shrieking, ran headlong through the trees.

  He crashed after her.

  She knew she couldn’t hope to outrun him; her only hope of escape was to find someplace to hide. She skidded around the next tree, saw some bushes, and veered to the right. The ground dropped away without warning. She lost her footing and stumbled behind a thicket, landing in a heap.

  With a loud roar, Kingston barreled down the slope after her, landing on his feet at her side. He threw himself to the ground beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “Now I’ve got you,” he jeered.

  “Right where I want you.” She laughed.

  “You’re a tease,” he said.

  “You like it.”

  She wanted to continue teasing, but his face was so close, his breath hot on her cheek, his eyes so green, his hair falling over his forehead and catching the sunshine in flames of red. Her eyes rested on his lips. He lowered his head until their lips met in a warm, gentle touch.

  He pulled back. “Seems I’ve waited a long time to have you all to myself.”

  She turned on her side so she could study him. “Too long. But you’re certainly worth waiting for.”

  “You think so? Then you aren’t having any regrets about marrying me?”

  She trailed a finger down his nose and across his lips.

  He captured her hand and pressed it to his heart.

  “Not a one,” she whispered. “Not a one.” Her only regret was she couldn’t have him to herself every day, but there wasn’t any point in ruining the day by thinking about it.

  He drew her close. She rested her forearms on his chest and smiled down on him.

  “You’re right. I like everything about you from your lovely dark hair to your warm brown eyes to your sweet little mouth.”

  Her cheeks grew warm. “Now who’s crazy?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, but you like it.” He scrambled to his feet, pulling her up. “Come on—let’s go for a walk by the river.”

  They walked along the bank of the river on a narrow path.

  “It’s lovely here,” Maryelle said. “And so peaceful. I love the sound of the water rippling over the rocks.”

  “Do you hear a squirrel scolding us?”

  “And crows too.” They walked on. Maryelle strained to catch the sound of many different birds. “I’ve noticed one thing about this country.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It smells so good. At the farm I can smell the trees and flowers.”

  “And the barns?”

  “When the wind is right, I do. But I’m used to petrol and dust and garbage bins.” She filled her lungs. “Smell the pines.”

  He pulled her to his side. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I do like this country.”

  “How do you feel about the farm?” His voice was calm, but she knew it was a question with special importance. She carefully considered her words.

  “What I’ve seen of it, I find fascinating. I love the new calves and baby pigs. I love being able to go outside and see the fields.” She hugged his arm. “I love living on a farm.”

  She felt his tension ease.

  He found a fallen tree and pulled her down beside him to sit on it. “You sure you don’t miss London?”

  She considered his question. “I miss my home, but it’s no longer my home. The couple who bought the shop could hardly wait for me to leave so they could start changing things.” She shrugged. “Things are different here, but it’s all I have.” The truth of her words sent an ache into her heart. Even if she wasn’t determined to make this situation work for Kingston’s sake, she didn’t have any other alternative. This was all she had.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you told me last night. I confess it’s bothered me. But I haven’t been able to come up with anything I think will help.”

  “I’ve been thinking too.”

  “Did you come up with something?”

  “Maybe. You know how I told you every year Dad took me with him to visit the different market gardens and purchase produce for the season?”

  He nodded.

  “I loved walking through the gardens and seeing how different people did different things. I always wanted to try my hand at growing a garden. Kingston, is there some reason I couldn’t have a garden? It would give me something useful to do.”

  “But Mom already grows a big garden.”

  “I know. I thought we could sell or give away the extra produce.” Her shoulders slumped. “I guess it doesn’t make much sense.”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll help you myself.”

  She flew into his arms. “Thank you.”

  He squeezed her tight. “It’s nothing.”

  She put her head against his shoulder. “Is it any wonder I love you so much?”

  “Come on, brown eyes—let’s see some more of the river.”

  “Umm.” She didn’t move. “If we don’t, I suppose I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Laughing, he pulled her to her feet. “And you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

  “That I doubt, but come on.”

  They continued until they came to a grassy spot. “Want to rest?”

  “I’m not—” She hesitated. What did it matter if she was tired or not? The thought of cuddling in his arms was reason enough to stop.

  They found a broad tree to lean on. Kingston waited until she eased herself to the ground and got her back comfortable on the trunk before he dropped to her side, squirming around to lay his head in her lap.

  “This is the life,” he said softly. “You and me forever.”

  She spread her fingers through his hair, liking the feel of it between her fingers. He reached up one hand and cupped her head. “I can’t imagine life getting any better than this.”

  She nodded, ignoring the warning voice in h
er mind that reminded her things had not changed at home.

  He must have read her mind for he hugged her. “I’m sure things will get better. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t ask you to bear with it.”

  She nodded. “It will just take time.”

  “That’s right.” He brushed her nose with the back of his finger. “Why are we wasting our time talking about it when we could be doing this?” He pulled her down and kissed her.

  The next evening he announced after supper, “Maryelle and I are going to plant a garden.”

  Maryelle felt the stunned silence to the soles of her feet.

  Father Brown harrumphed. “The garden is Mom’s doing.”

  “This will be ours.” Kingston folded his arms and waited. “I figure that spot past the trees would work up real nice. I’ll plow it this evening.”

  “Sounds like a waste of time to me,” Lena said.

  “I have nothing else to do.” Maryelle was determined to remain firm.

  “Sure, and why not let her do it?” Father Brown made it sound as if it were somehow a great sacrifice.

  Lena darted a look at Katherine, then said half under her breath, “Probably won’t grow anyway.”

  Angus watched the reaction of the others, reveling, Maryelle thought, in their disapproval.

  Only Lily approved. “Will you grow flowers? Mom never does.”

  Maryelle smiled. “I hadn’t decided, but it sounds good. Maybe you can help me select which ones to plant.”

  She fairly bounced in her chair. “Goody goody gumcakes.”

  “Planted much before, have you?” It was Father Brown, and she was not deceived by his innocent question. They all hoped she’d fail, but she would not. It would be the best garden any of them had ever seen.

  “No, but I know vegetables, and I like to see them growing.”

  “Sometimes they don’t grow as we hope.” It was the first thing Mother Brown had said on the subject, and Maryelle guessed it would probably be the last. Mother Brown seemed to have developed an incredible ability to ignore the world around her and retreat into her thoughts.

  “I guess we’ll learn as we go.” Kingston pushed himself away from the table. “You coming?” he asked Maryelle.