“Come on, Liddie, let’s explore,” Joe said. He swung off down the hill, his strides long and purposeful.
Liddie matched his pace with ease. As they walked, Joe pointed out a fence to be mended, a pile of trash to be cleaned up. She found herself looking at a farmyard for the first time through adult eyes. This farm needed a lot of work, but she could see him warming to the task. She could imagine him walking down this hill every morning to do chores, making a mental list of tasks to be done in the coming day.
The barn looked to be sound, though it wanted care. A Dutch door opened onto an alleyway that ran the length of the barn. Bridles, the leather cracked from lack of oiling, hung by the tack room door. Past the tack room were horse stalls that hadn’t been mucked out. Dust-covered pails hung from nails.
Liddie wrinkled her nose as she stepped over a pile of horse manure. “I’m used to how Papa kept our farm. How Vern still does.”
Joe picked a rope up off the ground, coiling it before hanging it on a nail. “A good cleaning would take care of most of it.”
At the other end of the barn, Joe opened the top of another Dutch door and leaned on the bottom half, arms folded, leaving room for her to join him. “You could see the livestock and most of the fields from right here.”
Standing inches away, Liddie felt the heat from his body, smelled the soap he’d washed with that morning. She felt herself lean toward him and pulled back. Instead, she held out her hands, using her thumbs and index fingers to create a frame in front of her as though she were looking through a camera. “Don’t you love the way the hills slope toward the lane? It makes me want to walk there.”
“You think in pictures.”
“Working with Littmann has made me more aware.” She stopped. Talking about Littmann with Joe was awkward. “It would be an even better picture with cows grazing on the hills. Do you think there are cattle?”
“Probably down in the pasture. Let’s check out the haymow.” He headed to the ladder at the center of the barn. “You first,” he offered.
“You go ahead.” She demurred, embarrassed to think of him watching her from behind as she negotiated the ladder.
Joe went ahead and reached down to steady her up the last steps. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dust motes floated on shafts of sunlight streaming like golden arrows through cracks in the barn walls and piercing the darkened recesses of the loft. The mingled scents of hay and dust and livestock evoked a flood of pleasant memories.
“Watch your step.” He held her arm firmly. “The boards are uneven.”
“I’ll be careful.” Her skin pulsed where he touched her. “I haven’t been in a haymow in years.” She dusted her hands on her skirt. “I forgot how hot it gets.”
“It is that.” Joe rolled up his shirtsleeves. He picked up handfuls of hay, rubbed the stalks between his fingers, held them to his nose. “The hay he put up was good.” He handed the dried alfalfa to Liddie.
She breathed in the dry, sweet smell. “I loved playing in haystacks when I was little.” The idea was so appealing she plopped down in the hay and drew an armful to her face. “I can’t think of anything that smells better than this.”
He laughed. “It smells good, all right. But a loaf of your bread smells even better. Any chance you’ll bake while I’m in Iowa?”
“Since I have to go back to town, I don’t know when that would be. Besides, I haven’t had much time for that since I’ve lived in town. Who knows how it would turn out?”
“A pity. Many’s the time I thought about your bread. Cooking for myself . . .” He laughed again. “Let’s just say I didn’t overeat often.”
“You could use some meat on those bones.” She grinned, enjoying the familiar sound of his laughter. But she saw he was watching her look at him, and she flushed. She scrambled to her feet, brushing bits of hay off her skirt. “I’ll try to make something for you.”
“That alone would make the trip to Iowa worthwhile.”
He walked to the other end of the mow and back, then pushed open a small door just big enough to throw hay out of.
Sunlight poured into the dark loft, silhouetting Joe as he stood with one hand braced on either side of the door frame. A halo of sun accentuated the leanness of his body, his strong shoulders, his slender hips.
“This is what I want,” he said.
She came to stand beside him, taking in the fields laid out like a quilt top on the hillsides. “It is beautiful.”
“You have hay in your hair,” he said.
When she realized he was looking at her again, not at the fields, she self-consciously plucked at her hair.
“I’ll get it.” He stepped closer and began to untangle leaves and stalks.
As he worked, she found herself drawn to his eyes. In this light, they were more dark green than hazel. Standing so close, having him touch her with such care made it difficult for her to breathe. Littmann had never touched her so intimately.
“There. I think that’s all of it,” he said. After he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his finger lingered on her cheek.
“Thanks.” That was all she could think to say.
He didn’t step back and she couldn’t make herself move, either. Nor, she realized, did she want to.
Voices carried up from the lower level of the barn. They both turned toward the hay chute as Vern’s head poked up into the mow.
“You two up to no good?” Vern asked.
Liddie blushed and stepped back.
Joe looked at her steadily for another moment before turning his attention to Vern. “He put up some good hay,” he said, and headed toward the ladder.
After they climbed down from the haymow, Liddie left the men to talk. What she’d felt when Joe touched her cheek was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, and the sensation unsettled her. She only knew she needed to get away, so she rode home ahead of the men.
Back in the Treadway kitchen, Liddie threw herself into making a cobbler with blackberries Minnie had picked the week before. She brushed off Minnie’s questions about why she’d come home alone with a light comment about making herself useful since the men were talking farming.
As Liddie worked, she reasoned that the feelings she had were nothing more than a foolish crush. A crush no more reciprocated now than when she was twelve. Besides, she was betrothed to Thomas. In less than three weeks, they’d be married and off to Paris.
At first, Liddie felt awkward when the men came in for supper, but the conversation was so easy her discomfort soon passed. They were all interested in hearing Joe’s stories about life in Canada, and he was more than willing to share. Liddie encouraged him with questions based on things he’d told her in letters. They all stayed at the table long after they finished eating, the conversation full of jokes and interspersed with stories of life on the Canadian prairie.
“Has Canada been all you expected?” Margretta asked.
“Mostly. A man can make a living growing wheat if the weather’s good.”
“Mostly?”
“I miss having folks close. Talking with people every day like we’re talking here.” He looked around the table. “I go into town on weekends for the dances and potlucks. During the week, days go by when I don’t see anyone. Just the other day, I was out in the field and scared up a flock of geese. If we saw game like that here, we’d be off hunting.” He nodded to Vern.
“I figured you’d have a girl by now,” Vern said.
“A few came courting me. None that struck my fancy. Never figured you’d be one to beat me to the altar, but I can see why you did.” Joe turned to Minnie. “Now that was a fine meal, Mrs. Treadway,” he said. “Thank you.”
Minnie colored at the compliment. “Any time you’re in the country, stop on by.”
“The cobbler was a treat, too, Liddie.” He smiled to her. “You haven’t
lost your touch. Now for the bread!”
“There’s no time with me leaving tomorrow. I told you that.”
“If you stayed for a few days, I’d be glad to turn baking over to you,” Minnie offered.
“Could you?” Joe asked. “Stay?”
She hesitated. “Thomas will be here tomorrow morning. There’s so much to get ready before we leave,” Liddie said, though she was already mentally reworking her list to figure out how she could spend more time on the farm.
They moved to the porch and continued to talk until well past dark. It was the most relaxed, wide-ranging conversation Liddie could remember having in a long time. It was the kind of easy, give-and-take conversation she’d have with Mrs. Tinker or Minnie. It was not, she realized, the kind of conversation she ever had with Littmann.
The next day, Liddie found herself on edge from the moment Littmann stepped out of his auto. As they drove back to Maquoketa after dinner, she wondered if her inability to talk with Thomas was her problem or his.
He had spoken solicitously to her mother and to Minnie, engaged Joe in a discussion of the Canadian landscape, even recalled some of the points about livestock Vern had pointed out at the fair. It was she who had been uncomfortable, sitting on the edge of the conversation rather than participating. Imagining a slight. Anticipating a snide remark. Even when none came.
Now, on the drive back to Maquoketa, Littmann said, “I thought that went well.”
“It did,” she admitted. “Thank you.”
He nodded. As though his good behavior was something she should thank him for.
“Now we can get back to business. We have the Schneider and Baker sittings tomorrow morning. I’ll develop and print proofs in the afternoon.” He glanced over at her. “What else is there?”
She searched in her bag for the list she’d taken to carrying with her everywhere. He relied on her to keep track of their work, and she knew he might question her at any time.
“We’re waiting for proofs and orders from three families,” she said. “I’ll remind them they only have a couple weeks before the wedding.” She peeked at him to see if he reacted to her mention of the wedding, but his face was impassive as he watched the road.
She turned to the next page. “We’re caught up on billings.” Just then they hit a particularly deep rut. She grabbed the seat with one hand, crumpling the list in her other hand as her stomach did a somersault. “I’m feeling a little queasy. Can we go over this when we’re not moving?”
He glanced at her. “Close your eyes.” They rode in silence for several minutes. He cleared his throat and she opened one eye. “You’ll have to handle more motion than this on the boat,” he said.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She closed her eye again, willing her stomach to level out. As her queasiness abated, her thoughts returned to the farm. “I thought I might go home again on Wednesday and spend the rest of the week there.”
“Not possible. We have too much to do.”
“I need to look at the list again, but I believe I can get all caught up with two days in the studio. There’s really nothing to keep me in town.”
He was quiet for so long she opened her eyes again. “Please. I’m going to be away from my family for so long, I’d really like to spend time with them.”
He threw her a black look. “Is this about that hired hand?”
“I have two days to get everything done, Thomas. Have I ever failed to complete an assignment?” She swiveled so she could look at him directly. “And his name is Joe Bauer.”
“You are completely reliable. That’s why I want you by my side. Now, if you’re feeling better, let’s get back to the list.”
“It has everything you wrote about in your letters, but I thought it would be a lot bigger,” Joe said when Liddie led him and Vern into the room where they did the photo sittings.
Liddie laughed. “All part of the magic.” Proud to show off where she worked, Liddie pointed out the reflectors, the props, the way the windows slanted to let in the most light. “It’s familiar now, but I still feel a thrill when I see photos we take in here being developed. Thomas is in the darkroom now, or I’d show you that, too.”
Just as she’d predicted, she’d completed her work in two days. Littmann had glowered when she said Vern and Joe were coming on Wednesday afternoon to pick her up. He’d gone into the darkroom early that afternoon and told her not to interrupt. Since he’d been out of sorts all morning, she wasn’t disappointed not to have to deal with his mood.
Joe struck a distinguished pose in the high-backed chair as though he were having his photo made. “And you never came to see this?” he asked Vern.
Vern shrugged. “We had our wedding picture taken here.”
“I suppose people who come for sittings don’t think too much about how it all works,” Liddie mused. “At first, I was afraid to get close. When Littmann let me look through the camera, it was like a different world.” She went to the camera, leaned down, and peered through the viewfinder, remembering how hesitant she’d been that day.
“Come.” She motioned to Joe. “Vern, you sit there, so Joe can see how it appears through the camera. Then we’ll switch so you can see.”
She posed Vern in the chair, positioning his head, arms, and hands. She stepped back to consider the effect, then had him cross his legs. “There. That’s right,” she said.
“We’re not taking a photo, are we?” Vern asked.
“No. It’s just for fun. Look now,” she said to Joe.
“Is it supposed to be upside down?” he asked.
“It takes a little getting used to.” She smiled.
“What are you doing?”
Liddie jerked at the strident tone of Littmann’s voice. She stepped back from the camera as though she’d been caught doing something wrong. “Nothing,” she said. “I mean, I was showing them the camera.”
“This is expensive equipment. It’s not a toy.” Littmann glared at her. “You should know better.”
Liddie was stunned by his tone, humiliated to be chastised in front of Vern and Joe. She struggled for a response. “I wanted them to see how we make the photos.” She corrected herself. “How you make the photos.”
“You don’t even know what damage you could do.” Littmann brushed past Joe and made a show of examining the camera.
“No one touched the camera,” Liddie said. “I’m sorry if we interrupted you. I wanted them to see where I work.”
He frowned. “I heard noise. You can understand why I’d be concerned.”
His comment was disingenuous. He knew she was in the studio. She seethed at his rudeness but steeled herself to act as though everything were all right. “Would it be convenient to let them see the darkroom, too?”
“Since I’ve already had to stop, they may as well. Come this way.” He headed down the hallway without waiting to see if they followed.
Liddie was grateful when they left the studio.
The first thing she did after breakfast Thursday morning was mix up a batch of bread. She easily fell back into the rhythm of kneading the dough. She found the feel of the dough taking shape under her hands deeply comforting. It surprised her how much she missed this simple task.
Vern and Joe had gone fishing that morning, and Minnie didn’t expect them back until dinner. But as the yeasty smell of baking bread filled the air, the men showed up on the porch.
“I think he could smell bread a mile away,” Vern said.
“I expect I could,” Joe agreed, settling down at the kitchen table. “How soon until it comes out?”
“Another five minutes should do it,” Liddie said. She set out a butter crock and a jam jar, then sat down across the table from him. “So what do you think about Gib’s farm?”
“It’s a good place, all right. Did you see what there was for equipment, Vern?”
/> “Didn’t note it.”
“That’s another reason to go back over.”
As they talked, Liddie took the bread out of the oven; the crust of each loaf was golden brown. When she tapped the pans on the breadboard, popping the loaves out on their sides to cool, Joe came to stand at her elbow.
“Smell that! I’m in heaven, Liddie.” He licked his lips in anticipation.
She cut thick slices off each end of a loaf, then handed him both heels. She grinned as he bounced the hot slices in his hands.
“You going to leave any for me?” Vern asked.
“You men sure know how to make a woman feel good.” Liddie laughed. She cut a half-dozen slices and brought them to the table.
Joe buttered both heels and spread them with jam. When Liddie sat down, he handed one heel back to her.
“Don’t you want it?” she asked.
“I’ll share the best with the girl who gave me the best.” He winked at her.
Liddie ducked her head to hide the color she knew was rising on her cheeks.
“I thought Vern was coming with us,” Liddie said as she and Joe rode over to Gib’s farm on Friday.
“He’s hunting down a sow that’s ready to farrow. It’s Gib I need to talk to, anyway.”
Liddie accepted the explanation without another thought. When sows were ready to give birth, they often went off by themselves, and farmers had to search out their well-hidden nests.
“I don’t see Gib yet,” Joe said when they dismounted in the farmyard. He tied the reins of their horses to the hitching post.
“Look there.” She pointed at two trees near the house with their branches drooping under the weight of mature pears. The ground beneath the trees was dotted with ripe yellow fruit. “It’s a shame letting things go to waste. If Gib doesn’t mind, I’ll take some home with us.”
“You can get them later. Let’s go down to the barn. There’s something I want to show you.”
Liddie’s heart beat faster as she recalled the last time they were in the barn. “What is it?”
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