Maryelle

by Linda Ford

  He pulled her into his arms, and the rise and fall of his chest rocked her gently.

  “Maybe I haven’t done the right thing bringing you here.”

  She jerked up and faced him. “Are you saying you should have left me in London?” She tucked in her chin. “Because if you are, I think you would find I had something to say about it. I would have come and found you one way or another.”

  “No, Silly.” Ignoring her resistance, he pulled her back to his chest. “I mean maybe I should have found us a place to rent in town.”

  There was no mistaking the pain in his voice as he uttered the words, and she hugged him tight. “Oh, Kingston, I know how much you love this farm, how much you missed it.”

  “I guess you should. I’m sure it was all I ever talked about or wrote about.”

  “Almost.” She snuggled against him. “That’s why you can count on me to make sure this works.”

  She felt the tension drain from him as he buried his face in her hair. “Mrs. Brown, I love you. Did you know that?”

  “I won’t expect you to remind me too often—no more than ten or twelve times a day.”

  He laughed softly against her hair. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  Weariness overtook Maryelle. It had been a long trip. She could gladly fall asleep in his arms, but he shifted.

  “I have to go help fix the loft.”

  “Not even one day for ourselves?”

  “Dad will be expecting me to help.” He sounded half asleep himself.

  “Umm. I suppose.”

  They breathed gently in unison.

  “What will I do while you’re working?” Her eyelids were heavy.

  He tried to sit up, but she slumped against him. “Looks to me like you need a nap.”

  “I’m feeling a bit fatigued.” It seemed her head had grown too heavy for her neck. “I’d really cherish a bath though. Where is the bathroom?”

  He chuckled. “There is the outhouse out back.”

  Having already encountered the accommodations he spoke of, she wrinkled her nose. “But where could I bathe?”

  “In a big galvanized tub.” He grinned at her.

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “First, you have to haul it in and up the stairs if you want to bathe in the privacy of our room. Then you have to heat water and haul it up.”

  Her mouth hung wide.

  His eyes flashed a vivid blue-green. “Then when you’re done, you haul it all out.”

  “You think I’m naive enough to believe that?”

  “I’m not pulling your leg. It’s the truth.”

  “I suppose that makes a bath impossible then?”

  He gently held her as he stood to his feet. “For now. But I’ll see that you get your bath this evening.”

  “I’m awfully tired.”

  He practically dragged her to bed. “I’ll explain to Mother that you’re resting.” He pulled a quilt around her shoulders.

  “Umm.” Somehow she didn’t think it would matter to Mother Brown or the girls that she wouldn’t be around to help for a little while. “I’ll be down as soon as I wake up.”

  “Rest well, my sweet Maryelle.” He chuckled. “See now. I’m a poet, and I didn’t know it.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and left the room.

  When she awoke, she bolted upright in bed. She’d dreamed she was with Kingston. She glanced around the strange room and remembered where she was. Being with Kingston was now more than a dream that ended with the morning light. How wonderful.

  From outside came the sound of hammering; from below, the faint murmur of voices. She flung herself back on the pillow. This was not the reality she had imagined. If only it could be just she and Kingston. If only she didn’t have to go down and face his family.

  But Kingston wanted to be here. She crawled from bed, found the mirror over the dresser, and tidied her hair. With a deep breath to fortify herself, she headed for the stairs.

  The murmur of voices stopped the minute she stepped into the room. She ground to a halt as three pairs of eyes stared at her—Lena at the table peeling potatoes, Katherine holding a sock to darn, Mother Brown rolling out dough at the end of the table.

  “What can I do to help?” Maryelle asked.

  Mother Brown turned her attention back to the dough, cutting it into neat diamond shapes; Katherine busily weaved her needle in and out. Only Lena returned her look, dark hazel eyes snapping, mouth tight and drawn up like a prune.

  “I am perfectly capable, you know. I managed to run a business in London, after all.”

  Lena sniffed. “This is not the big city. We do things differently here.”

  Maryelle bit her bottom lip to keep from saying that rudeness to guests seemed one thing they did differently. But she wasn’t a guest, she reminded herself. She was family now, and somehow she had to find a way of proving herself to these women. “Surely there’s something I can do.”

  “Mom, see what I found.” Lily raced across the kitchen and plunked a furry branch on the table. “There’s a bunch of them on the tree at the end of the road.”

  “Pussy willows,” Mother Brown said. “Put them in a jar of water if you want to keep them.”

  Lily filled a jar with water. “I like pussy willows.”

  “What have you two been up to?” Lena demanded of Jeanie, who was following in Lily’s trail.

  “Nothing.”

  Lily bounced around, her Kingston-like eyes darting from one person to the next. “We were ’sploring. Maybe we’ll find some kittens or baby birds.”

  Lena shook her head. “It’s too early. The snow has barely left.”

  Jeanie lifted one shoulder. “Told ya.”

  “Don’t care,” the little one said, jamming her pussy willows in the jar.

  Maryelle smiled at the stubborn cheerfulness of the child. She couldn’t help wondering if Kingston had been like her when he was small.

  Lena dumped the peelings into a bucket. “Here—take these to the chickens and check to see if there’re any eggs.”

  Lily took the pail and rocked from one foot to the other. “She come?” She tipped her head toward Maryelle.

  Lena’s eyes narrowed. “Sure. Take her with you.”

  Maryelle met the older girl’s look, knowing Lena meant to put her in her place. But she didn’t care. Anything was better than feeling like an unwelcome intruder. She held Lena’s gaze long enough to let her know she wasn’t accepting defeat before she followed the child.

  “Put on your coat,” Mother Brown called.

  Maryelle grabbed her own coat from the hook as Lily pulled on hers.

  The little girl skipped ahead, swinging the pail in a wide arc.

  Jeanie stayed at Maryelle’s side, studying her. Maryelle ignored her scrutiny and focused on the bright-spirited child ahead.

  “Angus says we’ll have baby everythings pretty soon,” Lily announced over her shoulder.

  “Baby what?”

  Lily paused, the pail still for an instant. “Baby chicks, baby calves—we already got one—baby birds.” She paused as if reciting a memorized list. “Oh, yeah. Baby geese, baby crows, baby robins.” She took a deep breath, her face brightening. “And our horse, May, is going to have a colt.” She resumed skipping, singing, “Babies, babies everywhere.”

  A tattered calico cat ran under the fence and wrapped itself around Lily’s legs. The child paused to pet it. “Nice momma cat.” She tipped her head up to study Maryelle. “You like cats?”

  Maryelle stroked the cat meowing up at her. “I love cats, though I haven’t known too many—just one special one.”

  “One? She was yours?”

  “She was mine.” Maryelle smiled at the memories of that one special cat. “My dad gave her to me when I was six years old, and she was my best friend. I used to dress her up, and she’d have tea with me.”

  Lily’s eyes grew round. Jeanie inched closer.

  “She slept with me every night as long as she lived.”
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br />   Lily’s mouth dropped open. “Your dad let her sleep with you?”

  “He did.”

  Lily turned her wide eyes to her sister. “I’m going to ask my dad.”

  “You better not.” Jeanie shook her head. “He doesn’t like cats.”

  “I know.” Her little shoulders sagged.

  “Come on,” Jeanie said. “Let’s feed the chickens.”

  “Okay.” Lily trudged toward the low building surrounded by a high wire fence.

  At their approach, chickens ran toward the fence clucking. Lily backed up and handed the pail to Jeanie. “You feed them.”

  Jeanie snorted. “You baby. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She took the pail and edged through the gate.

  “Make sure it’s closed.”

  “Big baby. I might as well check for eggs.” She ducked into the low building.

  “I don’t like chickens.” Lily shook her head emphatically. “Only baby ones.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Baby chickens is soft and little.” Lily’s voice grew hard. “Big chickens have these huge claws.” She held out her hand with her fingers splayed to show what she meant. “And mean beaks.” Wrinkling her nose, she made a snapping motion. “I don’t like them.” She shuddered.

  “Five eggs.” Jeanie slipped out the gate and rejoined them.

  “Now what?” Lily asked.

  “We should take them to Mom,” Jeanie said.

  “But before that?”

  Jeanie rocked back and forth as Lily stubbornly stood with her hands on her hips.

  Maryelle watched the exchange with interest, wondering who was the stronger of the two. Finally Jeanie relented. “I guess we could do something else.” She set the basket of eggs on the ground. “We’ll get them later.”

  Lily bounced up and down. “What do you want to do?” She directed the question at Maryelle, catching her off guard.

  “I don’t know what there is to do.” She looked toward the barn, where she caught the occasional sound of a man’s voice and sporadic hammering. “I know. Let’s go see Kingston.”

  The girls stopped motionless and turned big eyes at her. “We can’t go where the men are working,” Lily explained. “Dad won’t allow it.”

  Maryelle blinked. She should have known better. It wasn’t a safe place for little girls. “I should have thought. How about you tell me what we should do?”

  Jeanie continued to stare at her. “Lena’s right. You don’t know much, do you?”

  Stung by the child’s words and even more hurt knowing the child overheard things said by her older sister, Maryelle struggled to control her emotions. “I guess maybe I don’t know a lot about farms, but I know other things. And what I don’t know I can learn.”

  Jeanie was not about to be deterred. “What other things?”

  Suddenly everything Maryelle knew and understood seemed useless in these circumstances.

  “Well,” Jeanie demanded, “what do you know?”

  She began with the first thing that came to mind. “I know I love Kingston very much. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Lena said you stole him.”

  “Oh. Who did I steal him from? Did he have a girlfriend waiting for him?” Instantly she regretted asking the child. It was no one’s business but Kingston’s.

  Jeanie shook her head. “Don’t think so. But Lena says we lost a lot of our boys.”

  Maryelle hid a smile at the words coming from the child’s mouth, words she was sure Jeanie didn’t even understand.

  “Why didn’t you stay where you belong?”

  Maryelle’s smile instantly flattened.

  3

  Ignoring the pain rolling through her, Maryelle answered the child gently. “Because Kingston and I want to be together, and this is his home.”

  “Come on,” Lily demanded. “I want to show you the baby calf. Race ya.”

  Jeanie took after her sister, with Maryelle following slowly, her heart dragging like something no longer alive. For months, years, she’d ached for the time she and Kingston could be together. Now she discovered she wasn’t welcome. At least not by his family. Her dreams had turned into bitter reality.

  The girls leaned through the slats of the wooden fence. A reddish cow lifted her head and stared at the intruding humans. A calf, suckling at her side, jerked his head up and scampered away on slender legs. The cow mooed in a calming way and lumbered after her offspring.

  “I’m going to call him Scamper,” Lily announced. “Isn’t that a good name?” She turned to Maryelle for confirmation.

  “A most suitable name, I should think.” She couldn’t stop staring at the wide, soft eyes of the calf, reminding her of a shy deer she’d seen on a trip to the country with her dad.

  The calf edged along the fence.

  “Here, Calfie, Calfie,” Lily crooned until the calf was nose to nose with her. “Maryelle, come and pet him,” she whispered.

  Maryelle edged forward and gingerly touched the calf’s side. “He’s soft like a puppy.” It was entirely unexpected.

  The cow lifted her head high, lowing as she ran toward them. Maryelle jerked back.

  Jeanie and Lily laughed. “She can’t hurt us,” Jeanie said. “The fence is in the way. She only wants to make sure Scamper is all right.”

  The cow nudged the calf away from the fence.

  Maryelle laughed as she looked around. “It’s so nice here.” She filled her lungs until they were ready to burst. “Everything is so fresh and clean, even the sky.” She turned full circle, studying her surroundings—the barn, the trees and bushes, the house with fields spread out behind it. “I can understand why Kingston loves this place and doesn’t want to live somewhere else.”

  Jeanie straightened and fixed her with a curious look. “Where else would he live?”

  “No place else. This is his home.” She vowed she would make the arrangement work. She’d find a way to break down Lena’s coldness and the resentment that oozed from the entire family. No, not everyone, she amended, sensing she’d found acceptance with Kingston’s youngest sister. A little voice in her head pointed out that Lena might not be willing to be won over. Maryelle bit her lip. In that case she would learn to ignore Lena.

  Kingston stepped back. “Your bath is ready, my lady.”

  “I didn’t mean to put you to so much bother.” It turned out to be a monumental task. After tea—which they called supper—Kingston lifted a copper boiler to the stove and filled it with water. “Maryelle is going to have a bath tonight.”

  Lena snorted.

  Kingston shot her a quelling look. “She’s been traveling for days.”

  While the water heated, he lugged a galvanized tub up the stairs, Maryelle hot on his heels. He paused at the doorway. “There’s not much room.”

  “You could put the one trunk on top of the other. I don’t think I’m going to be needing Mom’s china or the linens for awhile.”

  “Good idea.” He leaned the tub in the hall and did as she suggested.

  She spread a linen runner over the top trunk and arranged her photos on it. “My family gallery.”

  Kingston draped an arm over her shoulder. “One hardly fits.” He pointed to Sheba’s picture.

  “Sheba was always part of the family and a real lady.”

  “Who mistook herself for royalty if I recall correctly.”

  “But, of course.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Welcome home, my brown eyes.”

  The tension that had mounted to explosion level during the meal eased away in his arms.

  “Now about the bath.” He brought the tub in the room and carried up hot water.

  When she reached to take the pins from her hair, he caught her hands. “Let me.” With fingers so gentle they made her want to purr, Kingston pulled out the pins, setting them on the bureau top. Her hair fell down her back.

  Kingston raked his fingers through it. “I have dreamed of doing this so many times.” He buried his face
against her head. “I love your hair.”

  “I’d like to wash it, but I’d have to sleep with it wet.”

  “It’s early yet. Go ahead. I’ll bring up water to rinse it.”

  She leaned back against him, loathe to break off the contact.

  “Your water will be cooling.” Kingston stepped away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with fresh water.”

  Not until he closed the door did she begin unbuttoning her dress.

  The tub was too small to stretch out in, but the water felt wonderful. She tipped her head back, reveling in its warmth. The sound of distant laughter reminded her the family was downstairs, and she scrubbed the stains of travel from her skin and stepped from the tub, wrapping herself in a robe before she bent to lather her hair. As if on cue, Kingston arrived in time to rinse it with clean water.

  “I’ll get rid of this mess.” His voice was husky. “Then I’ll be right back.”

  He clattered up and down the steps with buckets. When he’d emptied and dried the tub and opened the door to take it back downstairs, Maryelle caught the sound of tittering giggles.

  “You two run along,” Kingston ordered.

  Maryelle wished she could believe it was Jeanie and Lily in the hall, but she recognized the voices of Lena and Katherine. How long had they been there? What had they heard? Were she and Kingston to be allowed no privacy?

  When he returned, he took one look at her face and pulled her down beside him on the bed. “Don’t you go worrying about those two. They won’t do anything to make me mad at them.”

  “I thought they’d be glad to see me.”

  “They will soon love you almost as much as I do. You wait and see.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Have I ever been wrong?”

  She laughed at his confident tone. “Would you admit it if you were?”

  “Certainly. Now give me that brush.” He gently worked the tangles from her hair, blotting it with a towel as he did. “Too bad we didn’t have a fireplace in this room; then I could dry it for you.”

  “Like back in London.” Her voice thickened as she recalled the blissful days of their honeymoon. “Those were the best days of my life.”

  “Mine too.” He kissed her neck. “Just you and me.”