Irene (War Brides Book 3)

by Linda Ford

  Zach laughed, catching Irene’s eye. “Your new mama understands us pretty well, doesn’t she?” He regarded his sons. The three of them grinned at each other.

  Over breakfast, Zach asked Irene, “What are your plans for the day?”

  “Nothing special. I’ll check the beans, and if they’re ready to pick I will can some. Or maybe I’ll do some weeding. Why?”

  He dragged his gaze away from the boys. “Because we’re going on a picnic.”

  Harry interrupted with a shout. “Yay!”

  Zach laughed then turned back to Irene. “How about we leave right after dinner and have a picnic supper. Is that all right with you?”

  Irene nodded. “I’ll be ready.” She studied the three smiling faces. “I think we’ll have a fine time.”

  She was glad for the time to prepare food and pick the beans to can tomorrow, but the boys could barely contain themselves.

  “Is it dinnertime yet?” Harry asked for the hundredth time.

  “Soon,” Irene murmured. “Why don’t you go find me a clean box to put the supper in?”

  He raced out to the shed with Donald on his heels but was back in a matter of minutes. “Is this good enough?”

  “It will do fine.” She piled the sandwiches and cake in carefully while Harry and Donald bounced at her side, silently willing her to hurry. “I can’t make time go any faster,” she protested.

  Harry sank into a chair. “I know.”

  “But I’ll tell you what. Set the table, then run and find your dad. We’ll eat early.”

  The boys needed no second invitation. They scurried about putting out dishes and cutlery then raced outside to find Zach.

  She heard them returning, Zach laughing as he roughhoused with them. She smiled at their noise. How good it was to hear them laughing and playing together.

  “Where are we going?” Harry demanded as Zach turned the wagon westward.

  “How’d you like to go to the river?”

  “Great,” Harry replied.

  “River?” Donald asked.

  Zach ruffled his hair. “Yes, young man, the river. You can go wading or climb trees or throw rocks. Whatever you like.”

  “Good,” Harry said, his eyes sparkling.

  “Good,” Donald echoed, crossing his arms in perfect imitation of Harry’s stance.

  Chuckling, Irene met Zach’s gaze over the boys’ heads. Her heart almost stalled at the warm depth of it. She fought a sudden impulse to sing. Then Zach turned to Harry as the boy explained to Donald how to skip rocks.

  They lost no time in eating so they could be on their way. A short wagon ride later, they pulled in under a canopy of trees, the dappled shade cool and moist. Zach leapt to the ground and swung the boys down before he reached up and lifted Irene to her feet. “Isn’t this grand?” he asked. She agreed without knowing if he meant the weather, the day, or life in general and decided he probably meant them all; he fairly bubbled with joy.

  He allowed the boys to pull him to the shore of the river, looking over his shoulder once to make sure Irene followed. Then the three of them had a rock-throwing contest. Harry had developed a deadly aim. “I see you’ve been practicing.” Zach grunted and threw a rock across the water. “You’ve developed a good throw.”

  Harry’s chest swelled with pride.

  Then Zach’s attention was drawn to his younger son as Donald grabbed his arm. “Watch,” the boy demanded.

  Irene settled on the grassy bank, her back against a tall pine and watched the trio. They seemed completely absorbed in each other. She knew they were unconsciously trying to make up for lost time. Despite her pleasure in their unity and healing, she felt shut out. She shook her head, dismayed at her selfishness. She had prayed for this to happen. She should feel nothing but gratitude.

  Zach plopped down at her feet. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “Just content,” she said. And it was suddenly true.

  “Come on.” He jumped up and grabbed her hand.

  She let him pull her to her feet. When he retained her hand, she felt the last of her unsettledness flee.

  “Come on, boys. I’ve got something to show you.” He led them along the river until it widened.

  Harry saw it first. “A boat!” He jumped up and down. “Can we go for a ride?”

  “That’s what I had in mind.”

  “Goody!” Harry yelled.

  “Goody!” Donald echoed.

  It was a wide, flat boat, large enough to seat six comfortably. Zach handed Irene in first so she could sit at one end. The two boys sat in the middle seat. Zach shoved the boat away from shore and jumped in, facing Irene. He unlocked the oars and rowed, grinning at them all. For a minute she thought he would burst his buttons, he looked so proud. He gave her a look brimming with gratitude.

  She nodded and smiled but when he turned his attention back to his sons, she looked down over the side of the boat, trailing her fingers in the water. She did not resent his happiness in his sons. She did not even mind being shut out by their love for each other. But she did not want his gratitude. It wasn’t enough. She wanted his love.

  They rowed down the river, Zach pointing out different things. “It wasn’t so long ago that explorers and fur traders paddled up and down this river.”

  “And Indians?” Harry asked.

  “Indians, too, I’m sure.” He grinned lopsidedly at Irene. “You see our country is still new and raw, not like England.”

  Harry turned to study her as if trying to picture her in a different country. “Did you go rowing in England?”

  She nodded, smiling as she remembered. “Yes, we certainly did. Ladies in white lawn dresses and big straw hats with their beaus trying to impress them with their skill and strength. Sometimes they’d let the boat drift while the young men played a banjo or sang for his fair maiden. And there were fine lawns and lots of flowers along the edge of the lake.”

  “Like you and Daddy?” Harry regarded her with wide, curious eyes.

  “How do you mean, like me and Daddy?”

  “The young ladies and their—what did you call them?”

  “Beaus?” she supplied.

  “Yes. Beaus. Is that like you and Daddy?”

  Her grin grew wide. She could feel the sparkle in her eyes. “Look at your daddy. Do you think he needs to prove how strong he is?” Two little heads turned toward Zach. Two little heads shook back and forth in answer to her question. “Me neither.” An imp of mischief took control of her mind. “Though perhaps he could sing for us.”

  Zach shot her a half amused, half annoyed look. Then to her surprise and delight, he began singing in a low, deep voice, “Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me.”

  A deep, warm glow began in the pit of her stomach and spread upward like a low flame licking at wood.

  It wasn’t until Zach jumped from the boat and pushed it the last few feet to shore that she realized they were back where they’d begun. Her palm tingling at his touch, she allowed him to help her from the boat, grateful that he dropped her hand immediately so he could secure the boat. She rubbed her hand against the material of her dress, trying desperately to settle her nerves into a semblance of order.

  “Who’s hungry?”

  “We are!” Harry yelled, and the boys raced back down the trail toward the wagon.

  Zach waited for Irene to fall in beside him. Thankfully his attention was on the boys, and he didn’t notice her nervous movements. By the time they reached the little clearing, Irene had her emotions firmly in control and had persuaded herself not to let them get away from her again.

  Zach lifted the box from the wagon; Irene spread the quilt. Their hands brushed as they both reached to set out the food. Her nerve endings felt raw and oversensitive, as if she’d stepped too close to the fire.

  She ducked her head and busied herself with distributing sandwiches and glasses of water. Zach, for his part, seemed not to notice. She smiled as she handed Harry another sandwich.

>   Why should Zach notice? She somehow managed to maintain a calm, almost detached exterior while her insides boiled and churned like water in the washing machine when Harry pumped it back and forth.

  Slowly, calmness settled through her. It was a lesson she’d learned long ago; act like you want to feel and soon you’ll feel like you act. Or almost so.

  The boys finished eating and wandered down to the water’s edge.

  “Don’t get too close and fall in,” Zach warned as he settled with his back against the trunk of a tree. He locked his fingers behind his neck and let out a long sigh. “I guess I really had forgotten how to have fun.”

  “It takes time to heal,” Irene muttered, studiously keeping her gaze on her hands.

  “Time and a little prodding, perhaps.”

  She could hear the amusement and gratitude in his voice. She could not look at him for fear he would see the hunger of her heart. Gratitude was great, she supposed. It simply didn’t satisfy.

  “Irene, come and sit down. Relax. It’s a holiday.” He patted the ground beside him.

  Her hands clenched into tight fists. If she refused, he would demand to know what the problem was, yet she feared she could not sit so close and retain her composure.

  Slowly, almost against her will, she turned to meet his eyes, dark insisting eyes, sparkling with his newfound joy. She swallowed loudly, unable to tear her gaze away.

  Again he patted the ground beside him. “Come on.”

  She nodded and scuttled toward him, knowing she entered a danger zone, yet drawn inexplicably by his smile. She knew she should run while she could—run from her own emotions, run from the risk of revealing too much and turning him against her. But she could no more stop herself than she could swim back to England.

  She pressed her back to the rough bark, keeping several inches between them. But he would have none of it. He dropped his arm across her lap and tucked her close to his side.

  “There, that’s better.” He sat back with all the confidence of a man content with his world, grinning at her while her nerves twitched.

  “Look,” Harry called, pulling Zach’s attention back to the boys. “I skipped a rock.”

  Irene let her breath ease out over her teeth and forced herself to relax. All those times of hiding her emotions as she worked in the hospital enabled her to order her body to appear calm.

  “Good job,” Zach called, his voice rumbling through her, stirring alive all the emotions she’d managed to calm.

  She bit the inside of her lip and deliberately forced herself to concentrate on the boys’ activities and called, “You try now, Donald.” Cheering the boys provided an outlet for her riotous emotions.

  “Throw like this.” Zach called instructions to Donald, lifting his arm and pulling it back to illustrate.

  It was more than she could bear, and she sprang to her feet. “Say, weren’t we promised we could go wading?” She slipped off her shoes and stockings and gathered up her skirt. “Last one in is a rotten egg.”

  The boys struggled to remove shoes and socks before she reached them. She raced past, splashing water over them.

  “Come on, Dad,” Harry yelled.

  Irene thought Zach might refuse, but he rolled up his pant legs and headed for the water.

  Zach and the boys stood ankle deep in the water, not moving.

  Irene faced them, several feet out, the water to her calves. “You’re supposed to play in it,” she called, scooping up a handful of water and tossing it at the threesome.

  Harry laughed, licking water drops from his face, then bent over and skimmed his fingers over the water, sending a spray over Donald.

  Donald giggled and jumped up and down, making little waves.

  Zach grunted. “Play, huh?” He plowed through the water toward Irene.

  Guessing his intention, she squealed and tried to escape, but she only got a few feet before his arms wrapped around her, crushing her to his chest. She struggled. “Let me go.”

  He lifted her off her feet.

  She kicked at the water, splashing as hard as she could.

  He held her out, silently threatening to dunk her.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes were so close, so intense, she could barely speak, but the threat of being dunked overcame all other emotions.

  “Wouldn’t I?” his breath whispered over her.

  She began to struggle, trying to regain her footing, squealing as he loosened his hold. She grabbed his shirt and held on.

  His arms tightened around her, pulling her to his chest. Their faces inches apart, she could see the darkening purpose in his eyes. Her insides calmed. Nothing else existed. She strained toward him, lifting her face, silently asking for his kiss.

  “You’re not going to hurt her, are you, Dad?” Harry’s voice thinned with worry.

  Zach froze. He blinked, and his arms slowly released her until she stood in the water, still clutching his arm.

  “No, I wouldn’t hurt her.” Their gazes locked. He looked deep into her eyes, promising her something. She blinked and pulled away. Was it a promise not to hurt her? Was it a promise to be grateful? She churned her way back to shore. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted it all.

  12

  Irene heard the boys playing in the hallway as she did dishes but gave it little thought. They seldom got into mischief.

  “Dad, come here,” Harry called.

  Zach drank the last of his coffee and strode across the room to join the boys, their mumbled conversation muted.

  Curious, Irene went to the doorway to see what they were doing. The three of them sat on the floor before the big chest, the boys leaning across Zach’s knees. Harry picked a picture from the stack and handed it to Zach. He nodded and, in low tones, talked about it. Irene watched for a moment. A deep contentment swelled within her. She was glad they had found their way back to each other.

  But her joy was tainted and troubled by her selfishness. She wanted it all. She wanted his home, his family, and his love.

  In an attempt to rid herself of her traitorous thoughts, she heated water and began scouring the walls although they didn’t need cleaning.

  Suddenly Harry stood before her. She jerked back, startled by his appearance. He watched her guardedly, a framed picture clutched in his hands. “Dad said we could put out some of the pictures if you don’t mind.”

  Donald at his side, Zach stood in the doorway, his expression guarded.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea.” She dried her hands. “What do you have?”

  Harry handed her the picture. “It’s me as a baby.”

  “I’d love to be able to look at this every day. Where would you like to put it?” She led the way into the front room and waited while Harry looked around, solemnly choosing the best place. Finally, he set it on the narrow table next to the clock.

  “What about you, Donald?”

  Donald stepped forward and handed her the picture of himself as a baby. “It’s me.”

  “It certainly is. Where would you like it?”

  He set it next to Harry’s picture.

  She crossed her arms and studied the pictures. “Aren’t there more?”

  Harry darted a glance toward his father, then nodded. “We didn’t know if you would want Mommy’s picture out to look at all the time.”

  Acutely aware of Zach’s dark gaze on her, Irene met Harry’s gaze steadily. She could feel the waiting in the room. “I don’t think I’d mind. Why should you think I might?”

  Harry’s gaze was so intense. “Because you’re our new mommy now.” He considered his answer and added, “And we didn’t want you to think we weren’t glad.”

  “Oh, Harry. That’s so sweet.” She bent and hugged him. “But I don’t ever want you to forget your first mommy. That would be wrong. After all, she loved you very much. You should always remember that. And if a picture helps you remember, then I’m glad for you.” She straightened, keeping her eyes turned away from Zach. She didn’t wa
nt any more gratitude. She acted out of love only and only wanted love in return. Gratitude was an insipid substitute. “Why don’t you run and get a picture to put here?”

  Harry pulled Donald after him.

  “That was very kind.”

  She spun on him, anger blazing through her. “I love them. Why wouldn’t I be kind?”

  He blinked. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Then how did you mean it? You act like it’s strange I should care about how they feel—how you feel. Did you think I could care for everyone and not feel something for them?” Breathing hard, she forced herself to stop before she said more than she wanted.

  His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think anything of the sort. I was only thinking you shouldn’t have to feel like you’re a substitute for Esther. Isn’t that what you want? Haven’t you told me often enough you couldn’t do that? You didn’t want to?”

  Her anger fled as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to explode like that. And thank you for thinking about my feelings.”

  The boys returned before Zach could answer. Irene took her time at placing Zach and Irene’s wedding picture. She truly didn’t mind having Esther’s picture for the boys to look at, but it stung more than she could have imagined to see Zach smiling down at her like that. Esther had had it all—she’d had his love. Studying the adoration on Zach’s face, she admitted defeat. Zach had loved Esther so completely, he would never love another. Something inside her fizzled and died. Slowly, she turned. She met Zach’s gaze and smiled, her eyes feeling flat and lifeless. “I better finish up my mess.” She edged past Zach to the kitchen.

  He lifted his hand as if to detain her, but she slipped away. She couldn’t face him right now.

  “Come on, boys. I need you to help me with something,” Zach said.

  Irene was grateful to hear them all traipse outside. As soon as they left, she fled to the bedroom, falling on her knees beside the bed. Scalding tears poured down her cheeks. She dashed them away. “Oh, God,” she whispered, “I wanted so much more than anyone offered. And I’ve let my feelings get in the way. Help me be able to show my love in the way I care for Zach and the boys. Help me be satisfied with that.”