Tonight, she warmed up the leftover ham she’d brought from her mom’s, made biscuits while the potatoes fried, and opened a jar of green beans. The pears she’d canned over the summer would have to do for dessert since there wasn’t time to bake one. She put a pot of coffee on the stove to perk. The evening had cooled, and she imagined Will would appreciate a cup with his dinner.
She had just untied her apron when her new partner knocked on the door. A feeling of panic struck hard and fast. What was she doing? Will was an absolute stranger, and she was letting him into her home. He rapped again. She wondered crazily what he’d do if she ignored him—probably limp back to his bunk and go to bed hungry. She shook her head at herself. The man hadn’t eaten a meal since this morning when she served him at Ray’s, he must be starving. She was too softhearted to let him go to bed with an aching belly, and besides, a deal was a deal.
The rap came again, and she heard Will say her name.
“Coming,” she called as she squared her shoulders and went to let him in, then stepped back abruptly. She almost didn’t recognize the man. Now clean shaven, he looked like a different person—a bloody handsome one, scars and all. She quickly glanced down to calm her racing heart and to get her emotions under control. The last thing she needed was to develop an attraction to the ex-Marine.
Will’s eyes narrowed, and he cleared his throat. “I can eat in the barn if it bothers you. My mother always insisted we shave before we set down at the supper table.” He seemed to speak with difficulty.
His eating in the house had been one of the things she had planned to discuss with him, but now she couldn’t help but be puzzled by his words. “And why would you think I’d want that?” she had to ask, suspecting her reasons and his weren’t quite the same.
He gave an embarrassed shrug, took a deep breath, as if struggling with an emotion he was loathed to admit, then shifted his gaze to hers. “I realize the scars on my face offend some ladies’ sensibilities.” His jaw locked after that comment, and he shifted as if he were going to turn and leave.
Amy stood there silently trying to process his words. He thought his face offensive, she would have said quite the opposite. It was full of strength and character, and the scars he referred to only made it more intriguing. She wondered where he’d gotten that cock-a-mammy idea from. She grabbed Will’s arm to keep him from leaving. “I can’t imagine who put that foolish notion in your head, Will Henderson, but I will be severely put out if you walk off my porch without having your dinner first after all the trouble I went to, to fix it.” She refused to let go of his arm until he turned around.
Slowly as if with consideration, he nodded and followed her into the house.
Chapter 12
Will limped across the worn linoleum to the scarred wooden farm table and waited for Amy to serve the food before he took a seat. “Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”
“No, please sit. Give your leg a rest. Everything’s ready, and it will only take a second.”
Will continued to stand despite her request. Both his mother and the Marines had drilled into him proper respect for a woman. He could no more take a seat while she stood and worked than he could walk again without a limp.
She scraped the fried potatoes into a bowl on the table. “You’re not good at taking orders, are you?” she said with exasperation in her voice.
Will chuckled. “A number of my commanding officers had a similar complaint.”
“I’m not surprised. There, that’s it.” She slapped the empty pan into the sink and turned back to the table. “Will you please take a seat now, Mr. Henderson?”
Will limped over to the chair nearest the curly-haired spitfire and yanked it out. “After you,” he said, dryly.
Amy harrumphed then took the seat. “Thank you. Can we just eat without any more ado? I’m hungry and I’m tired.” She passed him the plate of ham.
They ate in silence. Starved, Will wasted no time filling his belly. “I noticed . . .” Amy glanced over at him. “There’s no vehicle in the yard, did you park yours in the barn?”
Ah, here come the personal questions. He knew she had every right to ask them, but he didn’t have to like it. He swallowed the bite of meat he’d been chewing. “No, I don’t own one anymore.”
“But how do you plan to get to town? You can’t possibly mean to spend all your time here. What about when you need things?”
Will had hoped she’d let him borrow her truck to get any necessary farm supplies, but he sensed perhaps now wasn’t the time to bring it up. “I don’t need much. During the war I only had what I could carry in my pack, so I’m pretty proficient at managing without. If I need anything, Travis will give me a lift to town.” The thought of him being stuck on the farm seemed to bother her more than it did him. Amy’s expressive face hid nothing. “It’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll be lucky to get a day off between now and harvest. The farm’s small, but we could really use another hand or two, especially come late summer.”
“I can help,” Amy volunteered. “I’ve already dug a small vegetable patch behind the house.”
“I noticed it when I came for dinner. If you don’t mind, I’d like to enlarge it. That way there will be more produce not only to eat, but to can for the fall and to sell at the farmer’s market. If you want, I can build a small roadside stand in front of the house that would bring in a little extra money if you have time to tend it.”
“I can during the week, but I’ll still have to work at Ray’s on Saturdays and Sundays.”
Will hated that Amy had to work on the farm and then in town on the weekends, but there was little more he could do to help her. He had his hands full as it was.
“About those ground rules . . .” She cleared her throat as if she were about to say something distasteful. “First, any and all decisions to be made about the farm in the future must be discussed with me. Is that clear? No more surprise chickens.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Will stifled a grin. He felt as though he were six again and being scolded by his mom at the table.
“Second.” She ticked off on her fingers. “No cursing around my son.”
Ah, now that would be a challenge. As a hard-fought Marine, his language had grown more than a little salty over the past few years. He’d need to be careful he didn’t slip with that one. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he responded, tongue in cheek. “Anything else?”
“Third.” The little curly-haired Napoleon hesitated as a red hue crept up the edge of her collar to her delicate jawline.
“Yes?” He arched a brow. “Go on, spit it out.”
“And third,” she repeated. “No entering the house when I’m not here or without knocking if I am.”
Will crossed his arms and nodded. “Naturally, I wouldn’t think to do otherwise. Is that it? If you’re done, I have a few requests of my own.”
“No.” Amy’s cheeks flushed even darker, and her gaze shifted away from him before returning to meet his eyes. “No getting drunk on the property and . . .” She shifted in her seat and stuttered, “And, and no women here. I mean it.” Her voice rose an octave.
Will clamped his jaw down tight to prevent the chuckle dying to escape from his closed lips. His eyes must have given him away.
She jumped up from the table, placed a hand on her hip, and paced back and forth before she stopped and wagged a finger at him. “I won’t have it, you hear me, Will Henderson?”
If she only knew the humor in the situation, after having been jilted by his fiancée, there was no way he’d put himself in a position to expose his injuries to another female again. Just remembering Amy’s expression tonight when he’d shown up at the door clean shaven left him in little doubt how she or any other woman would react when they saw what was left of his leg. “I have no problem with either of those requests, and I can promise you
there won’t be any women,” Will said in a tone a little sharper than he meant. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever come to terms with his wounds, both inside or out.
Amy began to clear the table while Will finished the coffee she poured him.
“Before I go, I have a couple of things I would like to say.”
Amy turned from the sink, a mulish expression on her face.
“One.” He ticked off on his finger like she did. “I should have checked with you about the chickens beforehand. I apologize. I thought with you having to feed an extra mouth, the eggs and meat would be helpful. Any decisions I make in the future I will run by you. Two, I wanted to thank you for fixing up the tack room for me. It was a pleasant surprise. Last, I ask that you respect my privacy as well. I’d prefer not to be interrupted when I settle in for the evening. If you feel the need to speak with me, I’d appreciate it if you knock before entering. I hate to be caught unaware. Agreed?”
Amy tucked her hands under her arms and nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Okay, now that the ground rules have been laid, can I help you with the dishes before I head back to the barn?”
“No, I got it. They won’t take me long. Breakfast will be at seven tomorrow. Is there anything else you need tonight?”
Will studied the woman in front of him and thought of a hell of a lot of things he needed or wished for. For starters, he’d like to kick her ex-husband to kingdom come and back for the position he put her in. Second, that he had more to offer her than his labor, but mostly there was a deep ache inside him that needed a woman’s touch. It’d been a long time since he held a woman. He’d conditioned himself into believing intimacy was one more casualty of the war he had to bear. It had been a bitter pill to swallow.
With a gruff goodnight, he turned and went out the door.
Chapter 13
Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, but not for Amy. Bright and early, the new rooster began to crow, and Amy wasn’t sure whose neck she wanted to wring more, Will’s or the damn cock’s. Maybe they’d have fried chicken for dinner. The only saving grace was she’d forgotten to wind her alarm clock the night before and she would have overslept if it hadn’t been for the irritating bird waking her at the first light of dawn. Unfortunately, that was an hour earlier than she needed to be up.
“Thomas,” she called on her way to the bathroom. “Wake up. It’s time to get ready to go to Grandma’s.”
Her tousle-headed little boy ran into the bathroom and wrapped his pajama clad arms around her leg all excited. “Did you hear it, Momma? The rooster, it cock-a-doodle-dooed, just like Will said it would. Did you hear it Momma? Er, er, er.” Thomas tucked his arms into wings and flapped them like a banty rooster.
She side-stepped her excited son and pushed him toward the potty. “I heard him,” she said wryly. “Kind of hard to miss. And . . . it’s Mr. Will to you, you hear?” She tugged off Thomas’s nightshirt. “Now, hurry up and let’s get you washed and dressed. I have to fix breakfast before we leave.”
Amy had the coffee perking and the oatmeal boiling when she heard a knock at the back door. She popped two slices of bread into the toaster then went to let her new partner in.
“Morning.” Will nodded and stepped into the kitchen. “I hope I’m not too early.”
“No, it’s fine.” Amy turned her back to him to butter the toast that had popped up.
“Help yourself to the coffee. The oatmeal is almost ready.” She put two more slices of bread in the toaster and set the buttered ones on the table. “There’s a bottle of milk in the fridge if you need some.”
“Black’s fine.” He poured his coffee and stood staring out the window while she spooned oatmeal into the three bowls on the table.
“Mr. Will.” Her son charged into the kitchen on his stubby little legs and skidded to a halt in front of the big man. “I heard the rooster. Did you hear him, too?”
Will spoke in an odd, but gentle voice, his stern morning features softening as he responded to Thomas. “I surely did. Mr. Tom woke me right up out of a sound sleep.”
“Me, too.” Her son’s head bounced back and forth in agreement. Then he started to prance on both feet when he realized what Will had said. “His name is Thomas too? Did you hear that, Momma, Mr. Will named the rooster after me?”
“I did.” She couldn’t keep the smile from her voice.
“Wait ‘til I tell Gamma I got a pet rooster named Tom.”
Thomas’s remark put a quick end to any good humor she was feeling. “No, Thomas, you’re not to tell Grandma a thing about the rooster or Mr. Will. You hear me?”
“Why?” His chocolate eyes so like hers gazed at her questioningly.
Suddenly at a loss for words, she glanced from Thomas to Will trying to think of what she could say that would keep him quiet until she had a chance to speak with her mom.
“Because . . .” Will glanced at her son. “It’s a surprise and you must keep it a secret. Can you keep a secret?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you know what a secret is, Thomas?”
Her son shook his head from side-to-side.
Will’s expression turned serious. “It’s something you’re not supposed to tell anyone. Your mom wants you to wait to tell your grandmother about Mr. Tom until she can be there to share in the surprise. Do you think you can keep the secret until your mom comes to pick you up? Then you and she can tell her together.”
“Can I tell Gamma, I gots a secret?”
Amy ruffled her son’s head and attempted a smile. “Yes, as long as you wait until I get there to tell her what it is. Okay?”
“Otay.”
Relieved, she settled him in his chair and took her own. “Now, let’s hurry and eat your oatmeal before it gets cold.”
Breakfast was a quick, mostly silent affair. Amy had gotten used to not having another adult around in the morning and preferred not to converse until she’d had at least one cup of coffee under her belt. She suspected the man across the table needed a whole pot. Neither said much by silent agreement and as soon as Will finished his breakfast, he stood and put his dishes in the sink.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He nodded and limped to the door.
“Wait.” Amy clambered up and followed him out. “I’ll leave you a couple of sandwiches wrapped in a towel on the porch for your lunch.”
“Be much obliged.” Will thanked her and abruptly left for the barn.
She shook her head, wondering what went on in her new partner’s head.
The diner had its usual after-church crowd which kept her on her feet until three o’clock when she clocked out. She found her mother baking cookies in the kitchen when she arrived to pick up Thomas. Her son managed to snatch two from the table and held one in each hand.
“Mommy.” He ran to her and she swung him up in her arms. He wrapped his cookie laden hands around her. She could feel crumbs falling down the nape of her neck.
“Did you miss me?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.” He shook his head against hers, and she hugged him close.
“I missed you, too.” The best part of her day was her son’s exuberance upon her return.
“How about a cup of tea?” her mother asked then proceeded to make a pot without waiting for a response. “I believe we need to talk.”
“What do you mean?” Amy attempted to stall, afraid she knew exactly where her mother was leading.
“Sit,” her mom ordered in the voice Amy learned to obey without question at an early age.
Feeling like a guilty child, she wondered how much Thomas had spilled to her mom.
“I gather you have a secret regarding a man named Mr. Will that we need to speak about.”
“What did Thomas say?”
“Only that he had a secret about chickens,
but Mr. Will said he had to wait until you got back from work before he could tell me.”
At the word chickens, Thomas’s ears perked up. “Can I tell Gamma about the chickens and Mr. Tom now, Mommy? Can I? Can I? Pweeze.”
“In a minute,” she responded. “I want you to take your cookies and go sit at the table in the dining room. When you’re done with them, you can come and tell Grandma all about the chickens.”
Her mom poured them each a cup of tea and placed the milk pitcher between them along with a plate of warm cookies. “Well . . .” she said in a no-nonsense tone.
Amy sighed, then launched into the whole story recognizing if she didn’t her mother would pry any remaining details from her. Once done, she sat back and waited for the explosion that did not come.
Her mother laid her hand on Amy’s arm. “You’re a big girl now and a mother. It’s not my place to tell you how to run your life, but you are of course welcome to move back here with Thomas. You could sell the farm and be done with it.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it.” Amy placed her hand over her mom’s. “But I would feel like a failure if I did. The farm is for Thomas, and I need to see if I can hang onto it for him. I don’t want to give Rob the satisfaction of saying I told you so.”
“This Mr. Henderson, do you trust him?”
“I do. He can be a little brusque at times, but there’s a strength about him that’s steady and reliable, and even a little vulnerable. I think he’s a man you can count on in a pinch.”
When The Geese Fly North Page 6