Waking Lucy (American Homespun Book 1)

by Lorin Grace

He looked at her quizzically.

  She returned the look. Surely he would not read the entire Old Testament in order. Papa Marden had once told her the Song of Solomon was to be read by married people. And just this afternoon, Emma had told her now was time to read the pages. Lucy had peeked years ago and knew it started off with kissing. Samuel could not read it aloud in front of Sarah. He couldn’t read it out loud in front of her. Kissing!

  Samuel studied Lucy and looked back at the last verse he read. He continued reading.

  Lucy tried to follow the words. If Samuel inquired about what had disturbed her, she needed a different answer.

  He closed the Bible, but before he could stand to put it away, Sarah kissed him on the cheek and spun to tug on Lucy’s arm. “Hurry, Lucy! Tonight we get to sleep in the big bed!”

  Lucy leaned on the table to support her wobbly legs as she stood from the bench. Samuel was soon at her side, cupping her elbow for support. “Are you ready for this?” he asked in a low voice.

  Lucy nodded. “I dare not put her off another night. She is so excited.” Lucy shuffled to the bedroom, leaning on Samuel more than she liked. There was a pleasant wood spice about him tonight, mixed with the usual smell of him. Lucy chided herself for noticing.

  Sarah bounced onto the big bed.

  “Oh, Lucy! Isn’t it wonderful? But tonight is the onlyest night I can sleep here. ’Cause then it is Samuel’s bed too.”

  Samuel and Lucy both stopped midstep as Sarah continued. “Samuel’s brothers told me all about it. They said I was silly to want to sleep in the big bed with Lucy ’cause married people sleep in big beds so they can have big families.”

  Lucy stiffened and heard Samuel’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Sarah, darling, what exactly did Samuel’s brothers say?” Lucy managed to ask as she sank onto the corner of the bed, her arm wrapped around a bedpost for support.

  “I told them you promised we could sleep in the big bed. Joe asked me when you promised. And I told him before you got sick. Then he said you wouldn’t want to sleep in a bed with me now ’cause you were married, and married people enjoy sleeping together. But I told him you promised, and you always keep your promises. He laughed at me. So I stomped my foot and told him it was true. Then John said he was sure it was and he was sure you would keep your promise. Then he said Samuel made his bed and would have to lie in it. And I told him Samuel always makes his bed, and he laughed again.” Sarah crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

  Lucy let out a sigh of relief that the twins had not said anything more by way of explanation to her little sister. She wondered if she could knock their heads together.

  “So is it true Samuel, do you want to sleep in this bed with Lucy?” Sarah asked innocently.

  Lucy wondered if she would faint.

  Samuel cleared his throat. “Sarah, until your sister is completely better, I will sleep upstairs.” Lucy did not miss the emphasis on completely.

  “Why?”

  “I get up early to do the chores in the barn. I don’t want to wake her up.”

  “Oh, Lucy, should I wait too?”

  “No!” Lucy and Samuel shouted in unison, and Sarah slipped into the bed. “Tuck me in, Samuel, please?” she pleaded. When he came around the bed, Sarah threw her arms around his neck. “I love you, Samuel. You’re the bestest brother.”

  “Are you forgetting something?”

  “Prayers!” Sarah leaped from the bed and knelt to pray. Lucy took advantage of both sets of closed eyes to slip out of her robe and ease under the covers. When Sarah finished, she climbed back into the bed.

  “Lucy, aren’t you going to kneel for your prayers too?”

  She hadn’t thought about praying, just not being seen in her shift in front of Samuel. No way was she going to get out of the bed and kneel with him watching. He’d seen that and more, but now she had a choice.

  Samuel came to her aid. “Sometimes we don’t kneel when we pray. Like at dinner. Lucy might get too cold if she kneels. So tonight she is going to say her prayers in bed.”

  His eyes met Lucy’s over Sarah’s head. Lucy mouthed “Thank you.” To which Samuel replied with a wink.

  Sarah nodded and scooted down in the bed. Samuel kissed her on the forehead and started to leave the room.

  “Wait!” cried Sarah.

  Samuel halted in the doorway.

  “You need to tuck Lucy in, too.”

  Samuel advanced toward Lucy’s side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. Lucy pulled the covers up to her chin as she sank deeper into the bed. By the time Samuel reached her, there was nothing left to tuck in. As Samuel lowered his face to hers, Lucy’s eyes grew wide. At the last moment, he changed course and landed a kiss on her cheek.

  “Sweet dreams,” he whispered in her ear, sealing the thought with a second kiss before leaving the room.

  Lucy couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but she thought he’d winked at her again.

  Sarah snuggled into Lucy’s side and gave a contented sigh.

  Lucy was not content. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard the footfalls from the ceiling overhead and wondered what it would be like to…

  Twenty

  Samuel shoved open the barn door. The cock had yet to crow, but he found the sleep that had been slow in coming had fled before the first fingers of dawn had crept through his window. He thought it best to occupy his mind with things other than Lucy.

  That proved impossible as he milked Lucy’s goat, cleaned the stalls in her barn, and wondered when her new calf would be born. Contemplating the birth of the calf reminded him that Lucy’s birthday was about a week away. He wasn’t sure if it was Tuesday or Wednesday, but his ma or the family Bible could provide the information.

  What does one get a reluctant bride for her first birthday as a wife? Old Brown’s ideas were unhelpful and self-serving. Apples and carrots. The pigs were worse. Samuel contemplated the beautiful wood Pa had given him. The swirled burl would make a fine trinket box. Between the tools he’d brought with him and the collection James Marden left behind, he had everything he needed, other than time. To carve a box the way he envisioned, it would take more than a week.

  His eyes fell on the tack room. Inspiration hit. The box could wait for Christmas. He bent to examine the door. He could fix the room in a day or two, and if he could find some whitewash stored either here or at his pa’s, he knew the perfect gift for the woman who seemed to have an aversion to the room. An added bonus—between the two projects, he could stay out of the house most of the day and for several days to come. Being in the same room with Lucy was not easy. He spent half the time fighting the desire to pull her into his arms and the other half wondering if she wanted him to.

  Being near Lucy was like walking along the top of a ridgepole with a basket of eggs in one hand, an anvil in the other, and a fine china plate on his head. So much to balance. He wanted the type of marriage his parents had. They were so… he didn’t have a word for it. Together wasn’t big enough, but the word was the best he could find. They worked and laughed together. They were two halves of the same whole. So far his marriage could be summed up in one word—lonely. He couldn’t blame Lucy. She was as weak as the newborn kittens hidden in the hayloft. It wasn’t as if she had been throwing herself at him the past two months, nor had he made any effort to see her. He hoped time would fix these problems. Well, time and a lot of prayers.

  The sun streaming through the window woke Lucy. The spot where Sarah slept had cooled. Lucy stretched. Sarah was not a comfortable bed partner. Lucy might even sport a bruise or two to prove it. She’d forgotten how much Sarah tossed and kicked in her sleep. Other than the weeks after Mr. Simms had died when she’d slept with her mama, Sarah was the only other person with whom she’d ever shared a bed, that she could remember. What would it be l
ike to share a bed with Samuel? She didn’t remember sharing it with him sixteen years ago, and even if she did, it would be different now. Would he toss and kick like Sarah, or would he keep her warm like Mama? Shocked at her thoughts, she leaped out of the bed she’d shared in her mind.

  Too sudden. The room tilted, and she had to brace herself on the bedpost.

  She chided herself. The sooner she got that man out of her life, the better.

  It took her longer to get dressed than normal. Mama’s couch came in handy to rest on between layers. Her stays did not fit correctly, and she found she needed to tighten them considerably, as she had her skirt and petticoats. The illness had drained her of what little excess weight she carried. Her fingers could feel the definition of each rib through her shift. She shuddered. What would Samuel think of such a skinny wife? He’d called her beautiful, but he might not have noticed how her bones stuck out.

  “You must stop thinking of him that way,” she muttered aloud.

  The gathering room was empty. The clock on the mantel read ten minutes before eleven. Sarah must be with Samuel out in the barn. Three fires currently burned in the massive fireplace. The smallest consisted of a dozen glowing coals. As she suspected, the pot nearest it contained some still-warm pease porridge. Lucy stared at the fires. Emma had taught her son well. Most men unfamiliar with cooking would set only a single fire. A peek at the pot hanging on the crane confirmed her suspicions. The beans had started to cook. Had Samuel done all of this? Perhaps Emma had stopped by to help.

  She remembered his mother teaching them both how to make her baked beans. Samuel had groused about having to learn to cook anything, but his father had set him straight, pointing out how Emma’s lying-in with the twins had been longer than most and if he hadn’t known how to cook a few things, they would have been hungry, even with the food Lucy’s mother and others provided.

  Alongside Carrie and Lucy, Thomas Jr. and Samuel had learned the mysteries of baking beans, johnnycake, pease porridge, and fried ham. She smiled at the memory. The boys had turned it into a competition. Sadly, they learned the hard way that beans could not be hurried with a bigger fire.

  Her stomach rumbled. Though there would be a meal in about an hour, she dished herself some of the warm porridge and indulged in a cup of goat’s milk.

  Sarah giggled as she rode on Samuel’s back across the yard. She had a secret, and as a reward for keeping it, Samuel had promised her a full week of piggyback rides to and from the barn. Since she didn’t enjoy getting her shoes muddy, she declared her silence a perfect trade. The melting snow left the yard riddled with puddles. They froze over at night, but by noon the muddy spots were difficult for one with such short legs to avoid.

  The pair stomped into the house but stopped when they noticed Lucy snoring softly in the rocking chair. A half-finished sock hung precariously from her knitting needles. Sarah covered her mouth to keep another giggle inside. Lucy’s mop cap had slipped, covering one eye.

  “Look, Samuel. Lucy is a pirate, like your story.” Sarah pointed over his shoulder and giggled.

  Samuel set Sara down and closed one eye, making the pirate face he’d used earlier.

  Sarah couldn’t contain her laughter any longer.

  Lucy woke with a start, and the stocking and needles clattered to the floor.

  Samuel turned to hang up his coat—and to hide his smile.

  Sarah hung up her cloak and wasted no time in regaling Lucy with stories of pirates and how Lucy had looked identical to one when they’d come in.

  Lucy laughed with her. Pulling her cap at a more rakish angle, she grimaced and growled, “Nay, matey, a privateer I be!”

  Sarah laughed so hard she could not even speak and fell to the floor holding her sides.

  “Sam-ah-u-el is a pi-i-rat to-too,” she squeaked out, pointing at her brother-in-law before collapsing in another fit of giggles.

  Samuel squinted one eye closed and limped across the room on his imaginary peg leg. Lucy laughed so hard tears began to form. He stepped around Sarah, pretending to balance on his peg leg.

  “I be Pirate Sam. And ye be my bonny wench.” He pulled Lucy out of the rocker and planted a loud kiss on her cheek before he buried his face in her neck and tickled her with his whiskers.

  Lucy shrieked and clung to him. Samuel pulled his head back and looked at her out of his one eye for a long moment. Turning to address Sarah, he growled, “What say ye, matey? Shall I make this wench me wife?”

  Sarah laughed even louder and nodded her head vigorously.

  Samuel snaked his other arm around Lucy’s waist and drew her closer, then placed his lips on hers.

  Lucy stopped breathing, her eyes wide, then she slowly closed them and leaned into the kiss. When Samuel started to pull back, she followed up on her toes until the connection was broken.

  “And a fine bride she be,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  Sarah’s clapping and shouts of “Hurrah for the pirate’s wife!” filled the room.

  Lucy blinked and leaned back.

  Samuel did not relinquish his hold on her. All thoughts of pirating fled. Had he stolen a kiss or had it been freely given? She looked as astonished as he felt.

  Sarah’s chants grew louder, reminding him they had an audience. Samuel dropped his arms. “We should get dinner on.”

  Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth as she turned to the cupboard to hide her reddening face from her sister.

  Samuel vanished into the lean-to.

  Unspoken strains of “What have I done?” echoed through the house.

  Dinner would have been a quiet affair full of self-recrimination and covert glances had Sarah not been present. The little chatterbox kept a constant conversation going requiring minimal answers from the adults, who barely paid attention. If they could have, they would have steered the conversation into safer waters.

  Lucy had just started to sip her cider when Sarah declared, “Lucy, you should have seen your face when he kissed you. Samuel, I told you she loved you!”

  Lucy had the uncomfortable feeling the cider was going to spray out of her nose. She couldn’t swallow. With much effort, she managed to spit the cider back into her cup. A quick glance at Samuel told her he was having the same difficulty with the bit of bread he was chewing on.

  Before either of them could respond and change the subject, Sarah continued, “So now you are really married, right Lucy? You kissed him, just like Reverend Woods told Carrie to do. And you should only kiss people you marry.”

  Lucy opened her mouth to answer, but no response would come out. She wasn’t married. But after such a display, how could she deny she wanted to be? Samuel wasn’t all at fault. She kissed him back and clung to him not wanting the kiss to end. Just as a pirate’s wench would have. Her face heated again, she took an intense interest in the ham on her plate.

  Sarah didn’t stop for an answer. “Timmy tried to kiss me behind the church last summer, but I told him I was never going to marry him, and he should go way. He doesn’t smell nice like Samuel does. Timmy always smells like the barn cats. I’m never going to kiss Timmy.”

  Samuel managed to finish his supper, although it took a monumental effort. More than once he had been afraid he might choke to death. A couple of times he’d sneaked a peek at Lucy to make sure she wasn’t choking as well. He worried at one point she might spew the contents of her mug all over the table. A niggling in the back of his mind told him in a few years the story of their first kiss would be one they would laugh at. At the moment, the kiss was not open for discussion or repetition. Even if Lucy had kissed him back.

  He hid a smile behind his cup and wondered how long before there would be a successful repeat performance. Next time he would kiss Lucy without Sarah as a witness.

  Sarah’s conversation ended as she finished the last of her mi
lk.

  “Nap time.” Lucy looks as if she couldn’t live through another moment of her sister’s prattle.

  “Can’t I help Samuel in the barn?”

  Samuel shook his head. He also needed to be away from Sarah’s nonstop chatter. Hearing about the kiss again would not help him sort things through. He hadn’t planned on kissing Lucy so soon. Not that he regretted it, but he needed to revise his plan.

  Sarah dropped her shoulders and, to both adults’ relief, climbed the stairs to her room.

  Samuel started to pick up the supper dishes, but Lucy waved him off. After a mumbled excuse, he escaped to the barn.

  As soon as he left, Lucy fell into the rocker and covered her mouth with her hand and began to giggle. Her first real kiss still played on her lips. He may have been playing the pirate, but he had not stolen the kiss. She’d given it.

  Twenty-one

  Samuel wasn’t surprised to find Lucy asleep in the rocker or the dinner dishes still on the table when he returned to the house a half hour later. He debated with himself a half moment before scooping her into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. She would be much more comfortable on the bed, he reasoned, ignoring the truth that he just wanted an excuse to hold her again. He took a moment to study her after covering her with a quilt. Lucy sighed in her sleep and sort of half smiled. Samuel hoped she was dreaming of him.

  He cleared the table and added some molasses to the beans and leftover pork from their dinner meal. Tomorrow was the Sabbath, and the beans could serve as their after-meeting meal as well as tonight’s supper.

  Samuel rubbed the back of his head. Saturday night baths. That could be a bit complicated. Lucy had taken one yesterday, and considering how much she still slept each day, she wasn’t well enough to attend Sabbath services. Lucy could help give Sarah hers after supper, and he would sneak down and take his bath after everyone went to bed. He would be sure Lucy slept peacefully first.