Should I trust him, Gram?
She was answered by the hoot of an owl, reminding her of what had her up in the middle of the night in the first place. Phinneas Gulch.
Had that really been a raccoon outside her window? Trey had run out with his shotgun. Why would he have done that? What or who had he expected to find in his trap? Was it really an invention he was testing?
She wasn’t quite ready to trust the man with her secret.
Chevonne had the feeling that things between them had changed. The marriage was supposed to be one of convenience. But then he’d kissed her. Now she had a strange feeling when she thought about him that was anything but convenient.
Did Trey feel the same way?
Chapter 12
The next day, Chevonne awoke to the smell of bacon frying. Bacon? Was someone cooking? How late was it? She lurched out of bed and the zing of pain in her ankle reminded her of last night's escapade.
And of Trey's kiss.
Last night the kiss had been exhilarating but this morning, in the light of day, Chevonne wasn't exactly sure what to make of it.
Leaning on the bed for support, she tested her ankle. It wasn't so bad—painful but she could hobble around on it. She wrapped it tightly before getting dressed. She then carefully maneuvered herself down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Trey was at the range on which a skillet of bacon sizzled. Eggs cooked in another skillet. Griddle cakes were cooking on the range's griddle.
It was breakfast time. She'd slept so late. Her adventure the night before must have really taken it out of her.
"This smells delicious," Chevonne said.
Trey turned, his face lined with concern. His eyes flew to her ankle. "Should you be on that?"
Chevonne shrugged. "It's not that bad. I can manage."
He was at her side in a second, pulling out a chair and carefully helping her into it. He pulled out a second chair and lifted her foot, gently setting it on the chair. His fingers lightly probed her ankle that was wrapped snuggly in a strip of muslin, sending jolts of feeling up her leg.
"Does that hurt?" he asked.
"Not too bad," she managed to answer.
"It's not swollen. Try to stay off it today." Trey turned back to the stove. "I didn't want you to have stand at the range on that ankle, so I fixed breakfast."
She saw that he had a tray ready to bring her breakfast in bed. Chevonne watched Trey fill two plates with griddle cakes, eggs and bacon. He then set the table with the cloth and napkins, and everything else that was possibly necessary. He poured her a cup of fresh coffee, set her plate before her, and then sat down across from her.
"I didn't realize you could cook." Chevonne cut off the whites of her eggs with her knife and spooned the yolks onto Trey's plate.
"I've had to fend for myself for some time now." Trey put his whites on her plate. "A guy learns a few things." He smiled and added, "And your Mrs. Harland gave me a hand with the griddle cakes."
Chevonne saw her Cookery for Beginners book open on the countertop. His easy smile made her thoughts return to the previous night's kiss. She studied his face as he hungrily ate his griddle cakes that he'd drenched in maple syrup and butter. His face was all strong lines and deep tan. He must have shaved since his chin was baby smooth.
He looked up at her and their eyes locked.
Chevonne could not look away, and her every nerve strained to reach out to him. Looking into his eyes she felt dizzy, like she was being pulled down deep into his soul. She wondered if he was seeing the same thing in her eyes. Or would they tell him that she was hiding something? She looked away, overcome by guilt.
They ate breakfast in silence.
Trey finished the last of his food then offered, "I'll clean up. Do you want me to get you situated in the sitting room?"
Panic rippled through Chevonne. She was afraid if she got close to him he might kiss her again, or she might kiss him. It was better to keep a distance.
"No. I'm fine, really. I'm going to go back up to my room anyway to work on fixing your mother's reticule and to run up the curtains for the house. My right foot can work the treadle."
Trey's eyes narrowed. "Back up the stairs?"
"I can make it." Chevonne pushed herself up from the table and hobbled toward the door to prove that she could, indeed, make it.
Trey followed her. "Those stairs are steep. I'll stay here just in case."
Chevonne grasped the railing, put her good foot on the first step and pulled herself up, then repeated it for the next step. Her ankle ached, but going up the stairs was easier than she'd thought it would be. She got to the landing and turned to see if he was still there.
At the bottom of the stairs, Trey was still watching her. "Looks like your ankle is healing up fine. If you're well enough tomorrow, we could go into town and meet my family for church."
Church? Chevonne hadn't even thought about whether Trey attended church or not. He'd asked her religion in one of his letters, and they found that they were compatible. At home, Chevonne and Gram had not missed a Sunday, but after Gram passed, Chevonne lost heart. Well, she had a new life now and it was time to get back on a spiritual track.
"I'm sure I will be able to make it. I wouldn't want your parents to think I was some kind of heathen." She grinned cheekily. "Especially not your mother."
Trey laughed. "Mom will come around. She's not as bad as she seems."
Chevonne pulled the key out of her pocket and bent down to unlock her door. Glancing down the stairs again, she caught Trey still watching.
"Thanks for cooking breakfast," she said, then she unlocked the door and hobbled into her room.
It had been a nice gesture for Trey to cook breakfast. Chevonne couldn't help but notice that he didn't mention the kiss. That was a relief. Or was it a disappointment? She wasn't sure, and it seemed like she wasn't sure of much of anything anymore, and that bothered her tremendously.
Did he even remember that he'd kissed her? It had probably meant nothing to him. Gram had told her that men were usually more experienced by the time they reached a marriageable age. Chevonne realized that Trey had probably kissed lots of other women but the thought sent a pang of jealousy straight to her heart.
Shoving away her feelings for Trey, she hobbled over to the chair before the sewing machine. This was only a marriage-of-convenience, Chevonne reminded herself. It was just as well that Trey was not interested in turning their marriage into a real one. The last thing she needed right now was to start falling in love with her husband-of-convenience.
* * *
Trey watched Chevonne close the door. The sound of the key turning in the lock echoed down the stairs. Was she locking it because she was afraid of him after his behavior the night before? But the door had been locked when she got to the room.
Trey couldn’t think of any good reason for the room to be locked when Chevonne wasn’t in it. Did she think he would go through her things? Did she have something to hide?
He didn’t recall seeing anything suspicious in there the night before. Then again, he couldn’t recall much from the night before except the kiss. His heartbeat kicked up a notch remembering how her soft, warm lips had felt against his.
Chevonne hadn’t mentioned the kiss at breakfast. He’d been half afraid she wouldn’t speak to him, but she’d acted as if nothing had even happened, which, Trey had to admit, bruised his ego just a bit. Had the kiss not affected her as much as it had him? Or maybe she was too embarrassed to even talk about it.
He’d spent half the night kicking himself for not having more sense. He’d acted like some kind of animal that attacked anything in a thin nightdress. Trey’s body reacted to the thought of Chevonne in her nightclothes. He spun away from the stairs hastily.
Feeling like this about his wife of convenience was not in his plan. Of course, he should never have kissed her in the first place, but he couldn’t take it back now. The memory of the searing kiss and the feelings that surged through him
every time he thought about it was going to make living in the same house with Chevonne awkward. Not taking things further was going to be very difficult.
With any luck, Chevonne would never mention it and they could both forget about it, eventually. He was sure she wanted the same type of unemotional marriage he did. Although, the flush in her cheeks, the look in her eye and the way her body had melded into his last night seemed to indicate differently, at least for a few moments.
The project. That’s what he should be focusing on.
As he turned toward the study, the mason jar of flowers in the foyer caught his eye. It was homey and cheery and he had to admit he did like that nice little touch. Glancing around, he saw for the first time how bare his house was. It was a house but not a home.
His mind started picturing what it might look like as a home: a cozy sofa and chairs in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, the hearth warm and glowing... and Chevonne curled up on the sofa next to him.
He shook the image out of his head. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous. But he did appreciate the nice touch of the flowers and how she’d been cooking his meals, and fixing his mother’s reticule, and now sewing the curtains even though her ankle hurt her. He wanted to do something nice to repay her, and he knew just the thing.
The other day she’d wanted a bath but hadn’t seemed keen on using the tub out on the porch. The more Trey had thought about it, the less keen he was on her using it out there with his ranch hands so close. He’d come up with a design that required the canvas. He’d work on that now and surprise her with it before supper.
As he headed out to the tool shed, he tried to shake the image of Chevonne in a sudsy tub out of his mind. He couldn’t afford to waste precious time daydreaming about his wife.
Chapter 13
Chevonne relaxed into the warm, sudsy water. It felt like she hadn’t had a delicious bath in years. She reached for the bottles of soaps she’d brought from home—one to wash her hair and one for her body. Slowly, she soaped every inch of herself as she breathed in the sweet Lily of the Valley scent.
Her heart warmed at Trey’s thoughtful gesture. He’d remembered that she wanted a bath and he had provided her with privacy. She admired his handiwork.
A three-canvas-paneled screen created a room around the tin tub on the back porch. It was perfectly made to fit on the porch, set against the house wall which made the fourth wall of her improvised room. No windows opened onto her bath space.
There were hooks over the wooden frame for her to hang her wrap, clothes and towels. After her bath, old Luke would fold it away and empty out the bath water. She’d left him some of the cinnamon-current rolls she’d made for breakfast on the range as a thank you.
So much thought and precision work had gone into the bath screen, it warmed Chevonne’s heart. It was a beautifully thoughtful gift. It made her feel special in a way that no one had ever made her feel before... except for when he’d kissed her.
The thought of their kiss sent a shiver of delight through her body. She quickly pushed all thought of it out of her mind. No sense in thinking about that. It was not going to happen again.
A sigh escaped Chevonne’s lips as she sank deeper into the suds. The water was cooling off and she had to get dressed for church anyway, but she just wanted a few more minutes of relaxing bliss.
When she finally stood, the water was downright chilly. She dried off and carefully blotted the excess water out of her hair. Then she put on her wrap and slippers, gathered her things, and went to her room.
Her hair dried quickly in the already warm air. She closed the windows to keep the hot air out while they were in town. From the window and saw Trey driving the buggy out of the barn. She had to hurry.
Chevonne lowered the window shades and closed the sheer curtains in her room. Trey had hung all the new curtains the minute she had them ready. They made the house look instantly like a home, he’d said with one of his easy smiles, warming her heart.
She put on one of her favorite dresses—pale blue with a lace bodice and matching edging on the sleeves. She told herself she wore it because she loved it, not because she now knew Trey loved that color.
Underneath, she dared to wear a scandalous pair of knickers that stopped just above the knees. They weren’t the most risqué design in her grandmother’s repertoire, but they were the only ones that she’d managed to put together thus far.
She’d had several problems with the designs in getting the right materials and cutting them so that they fit properly. Using drawstrings or buttons seemed to be problematic with the designs. But she had added lace and ribbon adornments even though the undergarment did not feel as comfortable as she knew it should.
Once she was dressed, she collected Trey’s mother’s reticule, which she had repaired and adorned with a gorgeous piece of black lace, and put it in her handbag.
Chevonne then hurried downstairs. She had to admit she was looking forward to seeing Celia, and she was curious to see how Trey’s mother reacted to the repair job.
The buggy was in front of the house as she rushed outside.
“I see your ankle is better.” Trey sat in a rocking chair on the porch and glanced in the direction of her ankle.
“Why, yes, it’s like new.” Chevonne had almost forgotten about it. “The bath must have done it some good as there is barely an ache now. I hope we’re not going to be late,” she said as he helped her up onto the buggy seat.
“We should make it just on time.” Trey’s nose twitched. He climbed aboard and flicked the reins to set the horse going. He leaned over toward her so close that her heart leapt at his nearness. He confided, “I have to admit, I’m not much for churchgoing. But Mama likes me to be there, and sometimes it is just easier to go along with what she wants.”
Chevonne laughed. “I haven’t been much of a church-goer since Gram passed. We used to go every Sunday.”
Trey nodded and focused his attention on the road ahead before saying softly, “I can tell you miss her dearly.”
Chevonne just nodded, too overcome with emotion to reply. She leaned back in the seat and enjoyed the feeling of being with someone who understood her better than anyone in the world in that moment.
She was relaxed from the bath and with the swaying of the buggy and the sun’s rays warming her, she may have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes, they were much closer to town. She looked off to the side of the road. Squirrels scurried along the edge. Birds flittered in the trees, their melodic chirps filling the air. She realized how content she was here, especially with Trey at her side.
As she watched the countryside, a monarch butterfly flew up beside the buggy, keeping pace with them as if to say hello.
Was it a sign from Gram?
She hoped it was Gram letting her know she’d made a good decision. As she watched the butterfly, it flitted over to Trey, landing on his arm for an instant then flying off. How odd.
Was Gram sending her a message?
Trey sniffed.
“Are you catching a cold?” Chevonne asked with real concern.
Trey chuckled. “No, it’s just that ... well, you smell so good.”
“Oh.” Chevonne blushed. “Thank you. I brought soaps from home which I used in my bath. The bath screen was a wonderful, and a very thoughtful surprise. I feel so clean.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Garner.”
Chevonne giggled at their private joke, their pretend marriage.
Trey drove the buggy into town then stopped it in front of a simple wooden building painted white with a tall spire for a bell that was yet to be installed. A stream of people was pouring into the church through the wide open double doors.
Trey lifted Chevonne down then held out his elbow for her. She tucked her hand inside as if she’d been doing that for ages. They entered the church side-by-side.
In the middle pew, Iona Garner twisted around in her seat, looking for them no doubt. Her face lit up when she saw Trey then her eyes
drifted to Chevonne, the light on her face dimming.
Chevonne didn’t let that bother her. She smiled even wider and clutched Trey’s arm even tighter. They joined the family in their pew and nodded their greetings just as the preacher approached the lectern.
* * *
Through mass, Chevonne was increasingly aware of Trey’s close presence next to her. It distracted her from the sermon. Sarah Perkins distracted her too. The young woman sat two pews in front of them, and she took every opportunity to dart glares at Chevonne.
The First Methodist Church wasn’t as fancy as the church Chevonne frequented with her grandmother. Trey had told her over supper last evening that it was as old as the town, and the first services were conducted right on the plot of land at the corner of Fourth and Robinson the first Sunday after the first land run. Back then there was only a tent, but a church was soon built.
It was sturdy and utilitarian. The pews were hard pine, the tall windows plain glass. Unlike the churches back home, there were no fancy carvings on the pews. The only similarity to the church she knew well in Massachusetts was the stifling air.
To keep from dozing off Chevonne glanced around at the other women, taking note of their attire. For the most part, their dresses were plain, and their hats unadorned. But Chevonne could see a few women had used some extra touches. These were the women who would appreciate Gram’s designs.
One woman who sat in the very front pew appeared to be particularly stylish. She was a young woman and Chevonne felt certain that she would appreciate the designs. Her clothing looked expensive so Chevonne assumed she had money.
The warm air inside the church made it difficult to breathe. Chevonne was thankful she’d had a chance to bathe, but apparently many of the others had not. The smell was pungent.
She fidgeted in her seat. Not only was the bench hard but the new undergarments she had carefully sewn had twisted around and were causing her discomfort. The design would need modifications to be wearable.
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