by Jillian Hart
And all this after only two days.
They ate quickly, the boys in a hurry to be finished, for the lure of Elizabeth reading to them was one they could not resist. Even Lucas finished quickly and, as at noontime, he carried his plate and silver to the sink, Josh and Toby following his example. She was pleased, not only because they were helping her, but because it was obvious that they were attempting to mold their lives after that of the man they so admired.
She washed the dishes quickly and Lucas picked up a towel, standing beside her at the sink. She looked up at him, surprised to find him so ready to help. “You don’t need to do this, Lucas. You’ve worked hard all day and this is your time to rest.”
“How about you, ma’am? Have you been sitting on the sofa all afternoon? How did the sheets get washed, dried and then back on the beds?”
“That’s different. I was late making the beds, for I dithered around with the books too long, and then was almost too late to begin supper. I lost track of time, Lucas. And don’t think I don’t appreciate you helping me with the dishes or for setting an example for the boys with carrying your dishes to the sink after meals today. It’s how they will learn good manners and the behavior that will stay with them for their whole lives.”
“I want you to know that I appreciate the way you’ve tried to fit in so readily, Elizabeth. My boys are fond of you already.”
“Well, they’re champing at the bit right now, waiting for the story I promised them,” she said, drying her hands and swiping her hair back from her face. Then she walked to the parlor, Lucas on her heels.
“There sure are a bunch of books, Miss Lizziebet,” Toby sang out as they neared him, standing before the big cabinet. “Look, there’s red ones and blue ones and some just plain brown stuff, too.”
“Sometimes the plain brown covers hold the best stories inside,” she told him, opening the glass door, trying to decide on one of the books to read. Deciding that the fairy tales would not be appropriate, she went on to the adventure stories, spotting a favorite of hers, one she’d read to the children at the orphanage a year or so ago.
“This is a story about a special horse,” she said, opening the book she cherished. “It is one of my favorites.”
At the word horse, both boys perked up, for it was an animal familiar to them and they had no problem with being interested in such a creature. So Elizabeth read from the book to a rapt audience, for Lucas also sat, the three of them entranced by the cultured voice that read of the adventures of a horse and the perils it faced.
Halfway through the book, Elizabeth set it aside, amid pleas from Toby to finish the story, but she was adamant, for it was well past the boys’ bedtime and she wanted them to anticipate the time to come tomorrow night when she would finish the story. With protests on their lips, the two boys climbed the stairs to their bedrooms and Elizabeth readied herself for the night. She checked over the kitchen, adding two chunks of wood to the stove lest the fire burn out before morning, then started for Lucas’s bedroom, the flight of stairs assuming an enormity that was daunting, staring her in the face, Lucas beside her, keeping pace with her slowing steps.
“Are you worried about this?” he asked, and she only looked at him and nodded.
“I’d thought at first that once you had consummated our marriage, it would be enough for you, for a time, at least. But it doesn’t look that way right now.”
His smile was her answer, and his eyes glistened in the light of the candle he carried. “I don’t see me tiring of you in a hurry, Elizabeth. I find you to be an attractive woman and an able wife, for your cooking has endeared you to the boys and myself already. Reading the book to them was the best thing you could have come up with, for you read well, and your choice of material was excellent. They’re primed already for the rest of the story tomorrow evening.”
“That was my aim, Lucas. I’m pleased that I was successful in involving them in a book. I find that children who read are the ones who accomplish much in school, and if they enjoy being read to, it bodes well for their own reading in the years to come.”
He steered her into his bedroom, then shut the door, watching as she went behind the screen to wash and change into her nightgown. “How did you get so smart, Elizabeth? And I don’t mean the education you’ve obviously enjoyed, but your knack with knowing how to deal with children.”
“I’ve given you chapter and verse of my work with the orphans, Lucas,” she said from behind the screen, just as her dress was tossed to drape over the wooden barricade.
He sat on the side of the bed and tugged off his boots, then scraped his stockings off, before rising and allowing his trousers to fall to the floor. He picked them up, tossing them toward the basket of soiled clothing, and his shirt followed, leaving him in his drawers. Without hesitation he dropped them to the floor and, lowering the sheet, found his pillow and covered himself to the waist, awaiting the appearance of his bride.
She splashed water into the basin, a sound he recognized, and then he heard her humming as she washed and readied herself for bed. He narrowed his eyes, silently cursing the screen that hid her from his view, and by the time she appeared, covered totally by the white gown she wore to bed, he was impatience personified.
“You sure diddle around a lot, putting on a nightgown,” he said, ruing the impatience that tinged his voice.
She lifted her chin and sniffed. “I had to wash up first and I knew you weren’t going anywhere. There wasn’t any hurry that I could see.”
Lucas tossed back the sheet, presenting her place in his bed with a flourish. His hands itched to touch her skin, his body throbbed with the arousal he could not conceal and his eyes were filled now with the glorious abundance of the woman who lay beside him. He rolled to her and his lips found hers without hesitation. Wonder of wonders, she accepted his kiss and her arm encircled his neck, drawing him even closer.
Life just didn’t get any better, Lucas decided.
They worked and sorted out their lives together for the next week, each day much like the last. But there was a sense of peace and happiness in the house he lived in, Lucas decided. Since Elizabeth had arrived, he’d found new purpose in each day, new joy in each night spent in his bed. He even enjoyed watching her at the kitchen table one evening, writing industriously—a letter to her parents, she’d said. A letter telling of Lucas and his sons and the new home she’d found in Missouri. And best of all, his sons were coming to accept Elizabeth’s place in their lives, were treating her as a mother, even though they hadn’t designated her as such. A fact Elizabeth didn’t seem to feel was important, for she just kept on with cleaning the house, cooking for them, reading to them in the evenings and treating them as her family.
And then one morning was a different kettle of fish, for news arrived from town, a wire from the stationmaster, hand delivered by his boy. Lucas met the lad on the back porch.
“A wire from Boston for Mrs. Harrison,” the boy said importantly, handing Lucas a sealed envelope. “Mr. Cunningham thought she should see it right off, so he sent me out.”
Lucas drew a coin from his pocket and presented it to the lad, who lost no time in pocketing it and then turning back to his horse. Lifting a hand in farewell, the boy was gone, leaving Lucas to enter the kitchen, missive in hand.
“A wire for you from Boston, Elizabeth,” he said, walking to the table where she was cutting out biscuits on the cutting board from the pantry.
Her eyes widened at his words and she dusted off her hands on her apron and stepped away from her task, taking the proffered envelope. Her fingers trembled a bit as she opened the flap and drew forth the slip of paper the stationmaster had written the message on.
She read it aloud, her voice low, her words trembling. “‘Sissy died yesterday. Stop. Beware of Amos Rogers’s arrival there. Stop. Your aunt Hildegarde’s will read last week. Stop. You are the beneficiary. Stop. Laura.’”
“I’d say you’re in for some sort of adventure of your own,” Lucas
said shortly. “Who is Laura? Amos Rogers is the gentleman who jilted you for your sister, right? And he’s coming here to see you? If your sister indeed passed away, why didn’t he send a wire himself? What purpose would he have in coming here?” Lucas seemed angered by the news.
Elizabeth could barely get her breath, so close to tears was she. The news of Sissy’s death was before her, but it hadn’t penetrated her mind fully. Perhaps this was a joke of sorts, she thought. But no, Laura was too serious, too devoted to her to do such a thing.
“Laura is my best friend back home.” she said, confusion seeming to be engulfing her. “She would know I’d want the news as soon as possible. I wonder that my parents didn’t write, too.”
She read the message over again, unable to find a connection between the two deaths of her loved ones. Then the burden of grief swept over her and she dissolved, her tears falling, her hands trembling, her legs barely able to hold her erect.
Lucas moved quickly, his arms circling her. His chest a resting place, and his voice a welcome comfort as she leaned on him. Her tears soaked his shirt quickly and his hands were warm against her back. She vaguely heard him issue a command to the boys as they called from the porch and then there was silence as he led her to the parlor and allowed her to weep, offering his handkerchief as she sought to speak.
“Wipe your eyes and blow your nose, sweetheart,” he said softly. Then he waited until she’d done as he’d said. Her eyes were swollen as she looked into his gaze and she could only shake her head in bewilderment.
“How could Sissy die? She’s young and healthy. I can understand Aunt Hildegarde’s death, for she was old. I spent much time with her when she was unable to care for herself in the past year or so, but when I left Boston she seemed to be doing well. We were close, for I knew I was her favorite. We were so much alike.”
“Obviously she loved you, sweetheart. And until we know more about Sissy’s death, you won’t have any answers there. What I don’t understand is Laura’s reference to Amos coming here. I’d think he would be grieving in Boston and preparing for his wife’s burial.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I can’t imagine why he would come unless it was to tell me of Sissy’s death, and that doesn’t seem likely. As you said, I’d think he was busy with her funeral and such. And taking care of his children.”
“We may find out sooner rather than later just what his intentions are,” Lucas said, holding Elizabeth in a firm grip, as if he would not release her until he was sure she could stand alone. Her first spate of tears was past, but he knew there would be more to come, and he regretted deeply that she must face this double loss with her family so far away.
“I’ll do what I can, Elizabeth. We’ll wire Laura today and try to find out more details about your sister. Do you think you are up to a trip to town this afternoon?”
She nodded, her face against his neck, her shoulders still trembling, but seemingly she was able to speak, for she whispered his name against the side of his throat and then drew back to look up into his eyes.
“Thank you, Lucas. I don’t know what I’d have done without you here with me. I’m not usually such a watering pot, but this has hit me like a ton of bricks, and I’m just beginning to take it all in.”
He turned her back to the kitchen. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ll get breakfast put together and afterward we’ll talk.”
The biscuits were ragged looking, the coffee a bit strong and the eggs a bit overcooked, but the boys didn’t complain, so pleased were they that their new mother seemed to be more composed by the time they were allowed into the kitchen to eat their morning meal. Lucas spoke to them about the chores to be done, keeping the conversation to their daily tasks and relieving Elizabeth of having to speak. For she was obviously shaken by the news she’d received and merely nibbled at a biscuit half and pushed her eggs around on her plate.
Lucas took charge of the day’s events, helping Elizabeth in the kitchen while the boys tended to their chores, gathering eggs and feeding the chickens and releasing the other animals into the pasture for the morning.
It was a quiet noontime meal, with a kettle of soup and thick slices of bread, but there were no complaints, for it was nourishing and hearty food and Lucas was more than satisfied with Elizabeth’s efforts.
They ate quickly, then he sent Elizabeth to the bedroom to change her clothes for the trip to town. He and the boys washed up the dishes, Toby thrilled at the chance to dabble in the basin, for he’d never been given so illustrious a chore. Lucas rinsed them and Josh did the honors with a dish towel. Before fifteen minutes had passed Elizabeth appeared in a clean dress, and the kitchen was in decent shape.
They headed for town in the farm wagon, for Lucas wanted to buy some lumber from the mill as long as they were making the trip. Beside him on the wide seat, Elizabeth was busy with paper and pencil, composing a wire to her parents, and another to Laura.
“Lucas, this is going to be an expensive thing, sending two wires, and even though I’ve tried, it’s hard to limit my messages to ten words each. I know that’s the preferred length, but it’s difficult to achieve in this case.”
He shot her a quick look, and his smile was reassuring. “Don’t worry about the expense, Elizabeth. I can afford it and it’s necessary. Just write what you have to. I’ll take care of it.”
By the time they had reached the stationmaster, she had finished her scribbling, busily wiping tears as she went, for her grief was deep and she felt a million miles from those she loved. Lucas took over the task of sending the wires and she waited in the wagon for him to be done. Then he reappeared, a look of consternation on his face.
“It seems that a gentleman appeared this morning on the early stage. I’m wondering if it could be the man Laura warned you to expect.”
“How could he get here so soon?” Elizabeth asked, confused by the turn of events.
“If he left Boston night before last and traveled without any rest, he could have taken the train to St. Louis and then caught the early stage here this morning.”
“I don’t want to see him,” Elizabeth said quickly, bending her head lest her falling tears should shame Lucas.
“Then you don’t have to, sweetheart. At least not today. He can find his own way to the farm, and I doubt if it will be before tomorrow. We’ll go to the emporium and do our business and stop at the mill for my lumber.”
“I don’t need anything from the emporium,” Elizabeth said quickly, wanting to leave for the farm before she was seen by Amos.
“Just the mill, then,” he agreed, climbing up to the wagon seat and snapping his reins over the horses’ backs. The amiable plow horses set off for the other end of town, where the mill sat next to the river that wound its way south from Thomasville.
Lucas picked out the lumber he wanted and between the two of them, he and the mill owner loaded the boards onto the wagon. Within a few minutes they were on their way to the farm, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief that the ordeal of seeing Amos had been put off.
While Lucas and the boys unloaded the wagon, Elizabeth went into the kitchen and prepared for supper. She had plenty of time, and after she’d set preparations in order she went to the parlor, a rag in one hand and a jar of beeswax she’d found in the pantry clutched in the other. It seemed that Doris had believed in making her furniture shine with a coat of beeswax and Elizabeth had no problem in using what was left in the jar.
She worked until the wood on the library cabinet gleamed, using the vinegar to wash the glass and polishing to her heart’s content on the lovely piece of furniture. Turning then to the large library table on the other side of the windows, she emptied it of the pictures and knickknacks that sat there, removed the family Bible and cleaned the whole surface.
When the wood was shining to her satisfaction, she dusted the small objects and replaced them, then turned to the rocking chair.
Within an hour, the room had taken on a new glow, and aside from the carpet, which needed to
be hung outdoors and beaten, she was satisfied. Perhaps Lucas didn’t own such a weapon as a carpet beater, she decided, but it was worth a look. The attic was a good starting place.
She found the doorway leading to the attic at the end of the hallway upstairs and opened it to find a steep staircase before her. How they had managed to carry that cabinet down those stairs was a conundrum, she thought, for surely it had been a job requiring more than one man. Josh was a good help, but Lucas must have used every muscle in his big body to accomplish the task. She stood with her head and shoulders above the attic floor and looked around.
There were boxes and trunks beneath the sloping eaves, and furniture in several places, chairs, a large table, a desk and various other pieces. She saw nails pounded into the wood wherever she looked and objects of all descriptions hung upon them. A set of curtain stretchers was leaning against one wall, and she filed away that information for future use, for they were familiar objects to her, having helped her mother for years with the job of stretching wet curtains on such a frame at home.
Tools of all sorts hung against the rafters, and there, back in one corner, was a familiar-looking object—the carpet beater she’d been doubtful of finding up here. With a sound of triumph she crossed the dusty floor, took the wire tool from its nail and carried it back to the stairway. She looked around, wishing she had an hour to spare to investigate some of the boxes beneath the eaves, then with a shrug, went down the stairs, bearing her carpet beater like a sword.
Only to come upon Lucas in the hallway by his bedroom door.
“Where were you, Elizabeth? I’ve looked all over the house and finally thought you might be sleeping. And what on earth is that thing you’re carrying?”
“You obviously haven’t used one of these or you’d know what it is,” she said with a grin.
“Well, you’re right on the spot there, for it doesn’t ring a bell with me.”