Jeanie sighed. “Jake can handle this. You know it. He helped with several of the other cabins. If he decides he needs a blueprint—which he won’t—he can make one himself.”
“Jeanie!” Michael’s eyes left his spreadsheet, and he glared at her. A look that years ago would have sent her “Yes, Michael”-ing and “No, Michael”-ing.
But she was made of sterner stuff now.
She also knew he was so tired and hurt that he wasn’t fully responsible for his actions.
Glynna came out of the kitchen wiping her hands, her mouth in a tight line. “Is there a problem?”
Jeanie shook her head. “We’re fine.” She turned back to Michael. “You need two hours, even though you’re near collapse? Fine. I’m giving you two hours. That’s it. No excuses. After that, if you don’t let me take you home to get some rest, I’m calling the ambulance again and having you hauled home strapped to a gurney.”
Michael’s fury faded to a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the unbandaged side of his forehead. “Good boy.”
Michael snickered as he turned back to the figures.
“I’ve got to get out there, Jeanie. Don’t touch my laptop. You’ll mess it up. And don’t even think of doing the café accounts. It’ll take me longer to fix it than if I just do it myself.”
“I’ll leave it alone, honey.” Jeanie came back to the table where Buffy sat next to Emily. Emily cradled her little son in her arms.
Through the window, Jeanie saw Michael waving his good arm. She’d kept him quiet for nearly four days, mostly because he had a wicked headache. Now he couldn’t do things himself, but he could order his crew around.
Their wedding day had come and gone without notice—or a wedding. Jeanie had ached when she realized Michael had forgotten to renew their vows but found the energy to oversee the cabin construction.
As Jeanie slid into her chair, Emily looked up from Logan.
Buffy set her coffee cup aside. “What’s going on with you and Michael?”
Jeanie straightened, surprised. She hadn’t expected this. “Nothing. He’s doing great. We’re supposed to go to the hospital in Hot Springs Monday and have his stitches out. He might get his cast off, too. The pins and plates in his arm are supposed to work faster than normal healing.”
“I don’t mean, how is his arm? I mean, why are you letting him talk to you that way?”
“What way?”
“We’ve been in here for half an hour,” Emily said. She had a foundation of common sense that neither Jeanie nor Buffy seemed to possess. Buffy had too many of the same old wounds Jeanie had. But Emily had a great set of parents, dead now, but they’d given her solid values, a clear understanding of God, and a plentiful supply of self-esteem. When Emily had advice, Jeanie listened.
“And?” Jeanie waited.
“And Michael has been barking at you like a junkyard dog.” Emily looked at Buffy. “Is this the way he used to treat her?”
Buffy nodded. “How does he have the nerve to talk to you like that? ‘Don’t touch my laptop. Don’t even think of doing the café accounts.’ You were doing the accounts for the Golden Days Senior Center for a year before he came dragging himself in here.”
“I don’t even like bookkeeping.” Jeanie smiled. She was so glad Michael was getting better she couldn’t help the joy in her heart. She’d nearly lost him. “I know he was a little cranky this morning.”
“A little cranky? Wyatt would never talk to me that way.”
Jeanie patted Buffy’s arm. “I’m handling it, okay? He’s hurting and frustrated because of his arm, and he hates having to ask for help.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Buffy interrupted. “He’s asked everyone in this town to work like dogs since he moved here.”
Jeanie plowed on. “Right now he’s just a little out of control. But he’ll stop barking when he’s rested. I remember Wyatt after the buffalo stampeded his ranch. He couldn’t speak without shooting fire bolts out of his eyes for weeks.”
“That was different. We weren’t married. He’s never—”
“Buffy, will you just drop it?” Jeanie was startled by her tone. It was a whiny, querulous tone that she hadn’t used for years.
Buffy fell silent, too. Their eyes met. Jeanie looked away first.
Logan chose that moment to spit up half of his breakfast.
“I’ll get a rag from the kitchen.” Jeanie jumped up, glad for an excuse to run.
By the time they’d cleaned things up, Jake came in. “The slave driver is giving us a fifteen-minute coffee break. I’m here to warn you about the stampede.”
The coffee crowd outlasted Buffy. Jeanie breathed a sigh of relief when her little sister, who’d always been more grown-up than Jeanie, headed for home.
“Jeanie, don’t make the guys wait for a refill.” Michael leaned back in his chair, massaging his casted arm.
“I’m sorry.” She hurried around to warm up the coffee.
“And can you reset that table Emily and Buffy used so it’s ready for lunch?”
It had been thoroughly wiped after Logan’s mess, but she hadn’t put clean silverware out or replaced the paper placemats advertising Cold Creek. Michael had created them with his desktop publishing software.
She hustled to set the table. Yes, he was barking. But he had nearly died. Her heart still trembled with fear when she thought of his white face, so still, the blood flowing too fast. The helicopter. The long hours of waiting, praying. All she wanted now was to take care of him, make him happy, be a good wife who met her husband’s needs.
The work crew cleared out with a scraping of chairs and thumping boots.
Michael heaved himself to his feet. Jeanie saw him flinch with pain. He was so determined, so strong. And all hers.
God, You gave me a miracle. You showed me how much I cared. I will insist he behave better once he’s well, and I’ll bet I don’t have to. He’s just tired and frustrated. Right now I need patience. Thank You for sparing him, Lord.
“Jeanie, stop daydreaming. We’ve got a lunch crowd that’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.” She considered telling him she’d been lost in prayer, but she didn’t want him to think she was chastising him by sounding super religious.
“Yeah, right. You’re thinking.” He left the room, shutting the door a bit too hard.
As Jeanie watched him head for the cabins, she wished he’d let her bring him a chair outside so he could sit, but she’d offered earlier and he’d been embarrassed by it. She needed to be more sensitive to how he felt.
Glynna came out, her stout body wrapped in a white apron. A large bowl in her hands, she stirred as she talked. “He’s a big grouch today.”
“He’s in pain. He needs time. This isn’t the real Michael.”
Glynna sniffed as she glared through the window at Michael’s back. “A real man doesn’t use hurting as an excuse to hurt others. He’s from the city though. Must be in touch with his feelings or something. I like a man with a stiff upper lip myself.”
Jeanie smiled as she cleared the tables. Before long the lunch crowd came in, and she hustled until nearly two o’clock.
Michael came in for lunch, but he didn’t speak to her beyond an occasional sharp remark.
Wanting to insist he go home, she kept her worries to herself. He wouldn’t thank her for hovering.
twenty-one
Michael awoke alone, as usual.
Why wouldn’t she stay in here with him? They were married.
Yes, they’d missed that dumb recommitment ceremony. But they’d already had a wedding. Another one was just a waste of time. If she loved him, she’d stop playing these stupid games and be his wife again.
He was feeling better. She knew that. She wasn’t staying away because of his injuries.
He rolled out of bed. Today he’d get this cast off. As he struggled with his clothes, he wished Jeanie would come in and help him.
It stung his pride, but he did need help.
He went out into the kitchen and found her pouring eggs into a sizzling skillet.
“I heard you moving around. Breakfast will be ready in two minutes.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. A perky smile that reminded him of when she was just a kid and they’d fallen in love. As she stood in the sunlight of the kitchen window, he noticed her hair glinting in the light. She’d lightened it once, but even so it was a lot darker than it had been at one time. He’d loved the shining blond hair of her youth.
“Your hair bleaches out in the summer, doesn’t it?”
Jeanie shrugged. “It used to. I don’t spend much time in the sun.”
“Since you colored it, I see traces of the girl you used to be. You were so pretty.”
“I’ve let it get so dark. The highlights have faded. I should get it redone.”
“No, it’s fine. Whatever.” He kissed her head.
She used her spatula, lifting the edges of the omelet, then sprinkled cheese on the eggs.
“You used to shred fresh cheese.” Michael watched her, wishing they could get this meal eaten so he could get to work. “Remember that aged cheddar you’d buy in the deli?”
Jeanie flipped the omelet, turning the circle into a half moon. She was concentrating hard, which is why she didn’t answer for a few long seconds. “We use what we have, Mike. No deli in Cold Creek, so I buy shredded cheese at the grocery store. Don’t you like it?”
“Hmm.” Michael kissed her cheek this time and slid his good arm around her waist. “It’s okay if you can’t get the good stuff.”
She turned before he got a solid hold.
With her hot cast iron skillet in one hand, Michael had to step back quickly. “Be careful with that.” Frowning, he went to the table.
“I’m sorry.” She slid the omelet out onto his plate. “Go ahead and eat. I’ve already had breakfast. I’m going to wash up and walk over to the café.”
She began running water in the sink. He liked her to sit down with him, but she was bustling around, ignoring him.
“I’ll be done in a second. Give me a few minutes to get ready, and we can ride over together.” He ate the omelet. A little dry. Too much cheese. He didn’t say it though. He’d learned his lesson about finding fault with his wife.
“I’d rather walk. I like the exercise.” She clanked the pan noisily and began scrubbing. Michael tried to ask her questions, but she just scrubbed and gave him noncommittal noises for answers.
“We need to go to Hot Springs this afternoon to get the cast off.”
“Do you need me along?”
Of course he didn’t need her, but he’d have liked the company. “No, I can handle it.”
“If you’re sure, I’ll stay home.” She wiped her hands and went into the bathroom, clicking the door closed.
Michael hurried, but Jeanie was already gone when he’d finished dressing. He passed her, driving, only a block from the café. She glanced up when he slowed down, but she waved him on with a smile that bothered Michael. Not a friendly smile, more polite or forced maybe. What was the matter with her today? As if he didn’t have enough problems in his life, now he had a moody wife to deal with.
For a second, thinking of Jeanie as moody reminded him of the old days. She used to do this. Answer in single syllables, find countless excuses to leave the room. He didn’t want the old days back.
God, I know I’m impatient. I’m sorry. Once I get this cast off and can go back to work, it’ll be better. We’ll have the wedding, and Jeanie and I will be together completely.
His prayer made him realize it’d been awhile since he’d prayed. And he and Jeanie hadn’t been having their devotion time or counseling sessions. He needed to get back to all of that. Then he pulled up to the construction site and saw the men already hard at work. He’d hired himself a real gung-ho work crew.
They spent the morning getting the framing done for all of the remaining cabins. Michael could help one-handed now.
He didn’t see more than a glimpse of Jeanie at coffee or lunch. By the afternoon break, she was gone.
He drove to his doctor’s appointment and wished she’d ridden along, because he felt shaky after the cast was off. His elbow, wrist, and shoulder burned like fire. The surgical wounds were tender. His whole arm looked sickly and wrinkled and white. He’d lost muscle mass in just these few weeks, and his right arm looked almost withered in comparison to his other.
The doctor assured him it was normal and the stiffness and pain would fade and the muscles would develop again fast. Still, it would have been nice to have Jeanie fussing over him. She had a gift for comfort.
A servant’s heart, Pastor Bert had said. He needed to remember that and not demand too much, because Jeanie would give until she had nothing left. He went into the house, determined to apologize for all the growling he’d been doing, and saw his wife was now almost completely blond.
Diverted from his apology, he reached out his good arm to hug her, but she picked up a stack of mail and didn’t notice.
“I like your hair. It’s pretty.”
“I’m glad you like it. I was a little afraid to let Mamie at In-Hair-It bleach it, but I couldn’t drive into Rapid City since you had the truck, so it was her or nothing.” She began laying junk mail in one stack and making a pile for him and her. He noticed her mail was skimpy.
“How’s your arm?” She didn’t even look.
“It hurts like crazy. Stiff—the joints are used to being held still.”
A furrow creased her brow, and she looked at him and laid her hand on his wrist. “I’m sorry.”
She turned to him enough that he could see her face clearly. “You’re wearing makeup, too.”
Jeanie smiled and turned back to the mail. “I remember you used to like me to fix myself up a little. I’ve really let myself go in the last few years.”
“Well, why wouldn’t you? There was no man around to impress.” He tried to flirt with her, coax a smile.
She didn’t even look up. Instead, she stared at a sales flyer as if she wanted to memorize the price of sirloin steak.
He flexed his arm and nearly gasped from the pain. Why was Jeanie so moody? Why when he was the one in pain? And he’d just told her she looked nice.
A buzzer went off in the kitchen. “There’s supper.” She turned away from him without so much as looking in his eyes. In fact, he didn’t think they’d made eye contact since he’d come in.
“It’ll be ready in a minute. Come on and eat whenever you’re ready.” She vanished through the kitchen doorway.
His jaw set, annoyed by her strange attitude, Michael flicked through the mail, noting she’d kept several pieces for him that she knew he wouldn’t want. What a waste of time to have to sort through it twice.
He went into the kitchen to find she’d grilled a steak. That meant he’d have to cut his meat and that would hurt. Like she even cared.
twenty-two
Michael fought to keep his teeth clenched against the angry words.
Three days without the cast and his whole arm still ached with every move. The August heat was oppressive. The crew worked hard and would make the deadline, but it would be close. He needed those cabins done in time for Labor Day weekend, and that was coming up fast.
God, please make this nuisance of an arm heal. It makes me feel so out of control. I know I’m being a grouch. Help me stop, Lord.
He sat down at the table and saw— “Hamburgers again?” It had been five weeks since his accident. His stitches were out, the cast was off, and his bruises were mostly gone. Only the aches and pains in his arm reminded him of his brush with death.
“Last night I made pork chops. You said a hamburger was the only thing you could eat with one hand. You said to make this.”
He got so sick of her “I’m sorry.” If she did things right, she wouldn’t have to apologize all the time. She slid bread onto the table.
Michael stood up, too afraid to
speak to ask Jeanie to get him anything. He got the ketchup and mustard out. He’d need it to choke down another dry burger. She should have known that if she was going to serve him the same garbage every night, he’d need to smother the taste.
He set the condiments on the table and noticed the loaf of bread, still in the plastic bag. Grabbing a small plate out of the cupboard, he put a few slices on and centered it. Nicer.
“Sorry, I’m in pain, okay. I don’t mean to pick at you.” The pain was definitely easing, but he’d figured out sweet Jeanie would put up with anything if he played the pain card. He picked up his sandwich one-handed, remembering how convenient a burger was. He straightened his silverware but carefully said nothing about the sloppy way she’d set the table.
“You yelled about the ketchup and mustard being messy the last time we had burgers.” Jeanie took two slices of the bread and started her own burger.
“It’s just hard to eat plain when you let the burger get cold. My fault. That call lasted a lot longer than I expected. I noticed that you left the meat on as long as you could.”
Jeanie didn’t look up from her plate. “A nice way of saying it’s burnt.”
“It’s fine. Let me tell you about the call.”
Jeanie listened but stayed focused on making her sandwich then picked at her food. She always picked, couldn’t just sit down to a meal. It irritated him, but he said nothing. He’d found fault with her before. Those days were over. He was a new man.
God help it to become an instinct so I don’t have to watch my mouth all the time.
He hit a particularly crunchy part of the burger and left the table to spit it out in the trash. Coming back, he finished telling her about the progress on the cabins.
“I’ve finally got the Web site done. I’m going to load it tomorrow. I’m hoping it will really bring in the customers.”
Jeanie nodded, but Michael had the sense that she wasn’t excited. He wanted her to be a full partner in every way. She got up and took her plate to the sink, but his frustration made him rise from the table and pull her away from the dirty dishes.
Bossy Bridegroom Page 13